f
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
SEVENTH EDITION.
I
THE
ENCYCLOPAEDIA BRITANNICA
OR
DICTIONARY
ARTS, SCIENCES, AND GENERAL LITERATURE.
SEVENTH EDITION,
WITH PRELIMINARY DISSERTATIONS ON THE HISTORY OF THE SCIENCES,
AND
OTHER EXTENSIVE IMPROVEMENTS AND ADDITIONS;
INCLUDING THE LATE SUPPLEMENT,
A GENERAL INDEX,
AND NUMEROUS ENGRAVINGS.
VOLUME XIX.
ADAM AND CHARLES BLACK, EDINBURGH;
M.DCCC.XLII.
encyclopaedia britannica
R A B
R
T) or r, a liquid consonant, being the seventeenth letter of
_ 11 9 our alphabet. Its sound is formed by a guttural ex-
natmetung- trusion of breath vibrated through the mouth, with a sort of
quivering motion of the tongue drawn from the teeth, and
canulated with the tip a little elevated towards the palate. In
Greek words it is frequently aspirated with an h after it, as
in rhapsody, rhetoric, and so forth; otherwise it is always
followed by a vowel at the beginning of words and syllables.
In the notes of the ancients, R. or RO. signifies Roma,
R. C. Romana civitas; R. G. C. rei gerendce causa; R. F.
E. D. recte factum et dictum; R. G. F. regis filius; R. P.
res publica, or Romani principes, and R. R. R. F. F. F. res
Romana ruet ferro, fame, flamma. Used as a numeral, R
anciently stood for 80; and with a dash over it thus k,
for 80,000 ; but the Greek r, p', with a small mark over it,
signified 100; with the same mark under it, it denoted
1000 X 10 ; thus P/ signifies 100,000. In the Hebrew nu¬
meration 1 denoted 200; and with two horizontal points
over it 1000 X 200 ; thus S=200,000. In the prescriptions
of physicians, R or R stands for recipe, that is, “ take.”
RAAB, a city of the Austrian kingdom of Hungary, in
the province of the hither Danube, the capital of a circle
of the same name, and of the mouth of the Raab. It is
well built, and contains 1540 houses, with 14,000 inhabi¬
tants. It is the seat of a Catholic bishop, and of an academy
with ten professors, and of several normal schools. The
empl°yment consists in making woollen goods, and its
chief trade arises from its fairs. Lat. 47. 41. 15 Lono-
27. 31. 13. E. g'
RABANA, a sort of drum used in India as an accom-
paniment to the voice in singing.
.V a city of France, in the department of
the Tarn, and arrondisement of Caillac. It is situated ou
the right bank of the river Tarn, and is but poorly built,
but m 1837 it contained 6966 inhabitants, who were em¬
ployed m making woollen cloths, and producing some good
wine. Lat. 43. 50. Long. 1. 37. E. 5 h
RABBETTING, in Carpentry, the planing or cutting
of channels or grooves. In ship-carpentry, it signifies the
letting m of the planks of the ship into the keel, which, in
the rake and run of a ship, is hollowed away, that the planks
may join the closer. r
VOL. xix.
R A B
RABBIS, or Rabbin, a title which the Pharisees and doc- Rabbis
tors of the law amongst the Jews assumed, and which lite- ||
rally signifies “ masters.” There were several gradations be- Rabelais,
fore they arrived at the dignity of rabbin, which was not con-
ferred until they had acquired the profoundest knowledge of
the law and the traditions. It does not, however, appear that
there was any fixed age or previous examination necessary ;
but when a man had distinguished himself by his skill in
the written and traditional law, and passed through the
subordinate degrees, he was saluted as rabbi by the public
voice. Amongst the modern Jews, for nearly seven hun¬
dred years past, the learned men retain no other title than
that of rabbin; they have great respect paid them, and
the first places or seats in the synagogues; they deter¬
mine all matters of controversy, and frequently pronounce
upon civil affairs; and they have even power to excom¬
municate the disobedient.
RABBINIS FS, amongst the modern Jews, an appella-
tion given to the doctrine of the rabbin concerning tradi-
tl0T»Sa duTPPA0TSltl°n t0 the Caraites> who reject all traditions.
RABELAIS, Dr. Francis, immortalized by his Ro¬
mance of Gargantua and Pantagruel, was born at Chinon,
a little town of Touraine, in 1483. His father, Thomas
Rabelais, is generally understood to have been an apothe¬
cary of that town, and proprietor of the farm of La Devi-
mere in the neighbourhood, where, it is said, a great part of
the romance was written. According to some biographers,
however, he was a vintner in Chinon, and kept a cabaret
there at the sign of the Lamprey. The probability is. that
he combined both occupations, dealing in drugs and spices,
and other things of great price;” and also disposing of
the wine produced upon his own property, a traffic very
different in its nature from that suggested by the modern
ideas of an apothecary and keeper of a cabaret. Fie was
unquestionably a man of substance, and able to procure for
his son an education of as high a character as was then to
He sent bim to be educated by the monks
of Seville, an abbey not far from Chinon, but the boy’s pro¬
gress under their care was so unpromising, as to occasion his
removal to the University of Angers, where he studied for
some time at the convent of La Baumette, but apparently
with no greater proficiency than before. It was at this esta-
2
Rabelais.
R ABE
blishment that he made the aequaintance of the brothers
, Du Bellay, one of them afterwards the celebrated Cardinal,
a conneSn which lasted through life, and u Innately proved
nf th^Greatest service to him. After passing through the
usual preparatory studies, Rabelais was admitted into the
order o'f c'ordelJrs at the convent of Fontenay-le-Compte
in Poitou, where he assumed the religious habit. Here ne
prosecuted his studies with such zeal, as to retrieve any os
of time which indifference or injudicious tutors might pre-
viously have occasioned. Striking out of the usual rout me
of scholastic study, which then held undivided swaymthe
monastic houses, he applied himself, with unusual mdm y
and research, to the cultivation of the
aim, says Niceron, to become a grammarian, P^’ P1™
nher physician, jurisconsult, and astronomer, and his works
bear Tropic testimony to his success. He possessed a Pecu¬
liar aptitude for the acquisition of the languages 5 an apti ude
which afterwards showed itself in his cornmand of Italian,
Spanish, German, English Hebrew, and Arabi^ Att^spe
riod, in fact, he was a perfect master of the Latin and Gree
tongues, the latter of which had for some time been engag-
LAIS. . f
rambling about for some time in the diligent pursuit ^me ^i-
S’EstSac bishop of Maillezais, of an edition of Hippo-
cr^es’s Aphorisms, and the ArsParvaot Galen, published
bv Rabelms in 1532, at Lyons, and highly esteemed by t
by Rabelais ’en “)f the time, that his lectures on
Bhvsteiuhe university of that place had attracted consider-
Lbl'e attention. Such, indeed, was the distinction he attained,
£ he was selected by the university as their deputy o
procure a restitution of the privileges of which one ot its
colleges had been denuded by the chancellor Du Prat. The
means employed bv Rabelais for obtaining access to the
dianceTor have formed the subject of a story to be found
in all his biographies ; but it is too obviously a fabrication
from an incident in his own Romance, (the introduction of
Panurge to Pantagruel, book ii. c. ix.) to be worth a place
here &He succeeded in the object of his mission, and his
Rabelais.
tongues, the latter ot which haa tor some ^ ^ He suCCeeded in the object ot his mission, aim im
ing the attention of the most enlightened spirits of t e g . es to the university were perpetuated m a custom
Within the walls of Fontenay-le-Compte, howe'?r’• stiU acc0rding to the Biographic Universelle, in existence,
book was looked upon as no better than a w<\ | ^ by which evefy candidate is required to put on Rabelais'
and the man who commanded the key to its secrets pa J receiving his physician’s degree,
for a trafficker in “ the arts inhibited ; and it appears, by a g 1 established at Lyons, where he was
letter from Budaeus to a friend, that Rabelais attachment to 3’and taught and practised for several
the Greek writers drew upon him the hatred and Pe.rse 1 At^he commencement of the year 1534, his old
tion of his fellow monks. His independenceof sjnntand >ea • | h d friend Jean duBellay, then bishop of Pans,
  —o orrlnnr in the nursuit of learning, which could not sctiooneiiow aim ,   to the
tion oi ms leimw —- " r . , . , ii
generous ardour in the pursuit of learning, which could
but be felt as a reproach to their own resolute ignorance,
pedantry, and sloth, was continually furnishing fresh incen¬
tives to their rancour, and they omitted no opportunity ot
subjecting him to annoyance. Worn out by repeated ag¬
gressions, he followed the advice of his friends, and resolved
to quit a society where he found so little that was c011^6'
nial to his own disposition. It has been alleged, that the
true cause of this step was his own profligacy; but this is
only the first of the many groundless charges against him.
schoolfellow and friend,   
having occcasion to pass through Lyons on his way t0 Jhe
papal court, regarding the divorce of Henry VIII. of Eng-
laiid, took Rabelais along with him in the capacity of his
physician ; thus enabling him to realise, what had long
been his passionate wish, a personal acquaintance wUh ltal;
and the Eternal City. For, to use the words of his dedi¬
cation to Du Bellay of an edition of Marham s^ypo^a-
phia Antiques Bonus, published, under Rabelais superin¬
tendence, by Gryphius, at Lyons, in 1534, from the fi
moment that I was able to appreciate the worth of polite
ing in a misapprehension     . .
ings, namely, that of a man whose whole life was a noisy jest,
a soulless round of sensual indulgences. Had such really
been his character, as has been pertinently remarked by 1 ere
Niceron, “ these were not the days, when, for such a cause,
he needed to have left his monastery ; he might have given
free rein to his propensities there, and yet not have been
going out of the ordinary course.” The authority of a
churchman on such a point is conclusive.
In 1523, a brief was obtained from Pope Clement VII.,
allowing him to pass from the order of fet. Francis into that
of St. Benedict, and leaving this “pack of capuchins, monks,
who forbade the use of beans, that is, Pantagrueline books,
to borrow a phrase from the prologue to the fifth book of
his Romance, he entered the monastery of Maillezais in
Poitou, where he remained during several years. But he
appears to have found himself little better off in his present
situation, than in that which he had left. It did not pre¬
sent him, it is said, with such resources as he desired for
extending the limits of his knowledge, more especially as
regarded medical science. His motives for this step were
doubtless of a mingled nature, of which it is but reasonable
to suppose the chief was a disgust at the torpor and profit¬
less seclusion of a monastic life, by escaping from which he
could alone hope to find opportunities for exercising his
stirring and strongly practical intellect in a field of action,
observation, and experience, sufficiently ample for its de¬
sires. How ever this may be, he laid down the regular habit
for that of a secular priest, and quitted Maillezais without
the sanction of his superior, a breach of ecclesiastical disci¬
pline which exposed him to its severest censures. After
throughout Italy, and visit the capital of the Roman world.
The opportunity for gratifying the popular conceptions of
his character, afforded by this visit of the great satirist ot
the abuses of the Romish church to the court of its supreme
head, has not been let slip by the anecdote-mongers; and
several absurd stories of his conduct have accordingly been
handed down from biographer to biographer, till they seem
almost to have acquired the authority of undoubted trut is.
One specimen of these will be sufficient. When the Cardinal
Du Bellay was presented to the Pope, he, as ambassador
of Francis I., went through the usual ceremony of kissing
his holiness’s slipper. His suite followed his example, all
except Rabelais, who remained leaning against a pillar, and
exclaimed loud enough to be heard, That if his master, w o
was a great lord in France, w ere unworthy to kiss the pope s
feet, his holiness might untruss, and possibly, after reason¬
able abstersion, a part might be found, where an humb: e
follower like himself might presume to apply his lips. Ibe
improbability, that Rabelais should have expressed himselt
in these terms, filling the situation which he did, and when,
too, he was on the eve of supplicating a release from this
very pope from the ecclesiastical penalties he had incurred
by his unauthorised desertion of the monastery of Maillezais,
speaks sufficiently for the worthlessness of this story. But
its real source is obvious enough, and may be found in book
iv. c. 48. of his Romance. It needed but a poor invention
to construct such a tale out of the extravagant devotion of
the worthies that greeted Pantagruel and his band, on their
arrival at the Island of Papimany. That, however, which, as
told by Rabelais himself, is a stroke of the most caustic satire,
RABELAIS.
Rabelais, makes but a sorry jest in the hands of those who first built
up a theory of his character according to an idea of their
own, and then fabricated anecdotes to support and illustrate
it. Rabelais’ judgment, it is certain, was quite as powerful
as his wit; and he knew too well when to discharge his
bolt with effect, ever to let it fly where detriment to the
archer himself could alone be the result. The veil of ex¬
travagance, which he has thrown over his great satirical
work, is the best possible proof how unlikely he was to be
guilty of any such piece of superfluous imprudence. At
the same time, it is to be remarked further, in confutation
of this particular story, that it was to Clement VII. and
not to Paul III., that Du Bellay must have been introduced
in the capacity of ambassador on the occasion alluded to ;
but, as invention and historical truth are two distinct things,
this discrepancy in fact is not greatly to be wondered at.
Rabelais seems to have gone back to Lyons fora time, as his
Epistle Dedicatory to Du Bellay of his edition of Marham’s
Antiquitates Romce Antiqiue is dated from that city on the
31st of August 1534. He returned shortly afterwards to
Rome, and rejoined Du Bellay, who had been created Car¬
dinal on the 21st of May 1535. His letters to Godefroy
D’Estissac, whose favour he had won during his residence at
his Abbey of Maillezais,and continued ever afterwards to re¬
tain, are dated from Rome during the two following years.
Availing himself of the opportunity which his presence on the
spot afforded, he petitioned Pope Paul III. to be absolved
from the penalties incurred by the abandonment of his order.
Rabelais’ merits had secured him the esteem of Cardinals
de Genutiis and Simonetta, and they combined with Du
Bellay and the Bishop of Mascon, in forwarding his petition.
By their exertions a bull in his favour was obtained gratis,
contrary to the usual practice. It was granted on the 17th of
January 1536, in terms of his request, allowing him to return
into any house of the Benedictine order that would receive
him, and to practise physic upon condition of his doing so
without hope of fee or reward. This release from the
ecclesiastical disabilities consequent upon his transgression
of the church’s rules enabled the Cardinal Du Bellay to
assign him a place in his Abbey of St. Maur des Fossez,
near Paris. Here he remained until the year 1542, when
he was appointed by the same friend to the cure of Meu-
don; and he continued in the zealous discharge of the
duties of this station down to the time of his death. “Ever
mindful,” says Niceron, “ to instruct his people, he made
it part of his care to give their children a knowledge of
church music, of which he was himself a thorough master.
His house was ever open to the poor and wretched, whom
he assisted to the utmost of his means ; and he was in the
habit of drawing men of learning and science about him,
to discourse with them upon their several pursuits. Against
women, however, his gates were barred, and his reputation
on this score is wholly without blemish. This,” he adds,
“ is the uniform testimony of contemporary biographers ;
and Antony Le Roi, who wrote a life of him in 1649, avers
that such was then the prevailing tradition at Meudon. His
knowledge of medicine rendered him doubly useful to his
parishioners, who invariably found him ready to minister to
their wants both corporal and spiritual.” He died in Paris,
in 1553, in the Rue des Jardins, parish of St. Paul, and was
buried in the cemetery of that church.
His death-bed has not escaped profanation by the cater¬
ers for the jest-books ; and there are few stories more com¬
mon, than his calling for his domino, when he felt his end
approaching, with the words, “ Beati qui in Domino mori-
untur.” Another anecdote, even more detrimental to his
character, is in every-day circulation, by which he is reported
to have replied to a page sent by Du Bellay to inquire
after his health, “ Tell your master the state you find me
in; I am going in quest of a Great Perhaps. He is up in
the jay’s nest. Bid him keep where he is; and for you, vou
s
will never be anything but a fool. Draw the curtain ; the Rabelais,
farce is ended.” Those who have read Rabelais’ spirit
aright need no confutation of this slanderous fabrication of
monkish malice, the miserable patchwork from some half-
dozen threadbare facetiae. The simple fact recorded by
Du Verdier, is worth a thousand such tales ; and it deter¬
mines, if, indeed, such evidence were necessary, Rabelais’
opinion as to the momentous doctrine which he is here re¬
presented to have viewed as no more than “a great perhaps.”
In a copy of Galen, annotated throughout in the handwrit¬
ing of Rabelais, that had come into the Bishop of Evreux’s
possession, opposite a passage in which Galen argues for
the mortality of the soul, Rabelais had written, “ Hie vero
Galenus se plumbeum ostendit.” Du Verdier also states,
whilst at the same time he retracts what he had formerly been
led, in accordance with the popular voice, to say against
Rabelais in his Bibliotheque Fran^aise, that “ the manner
of his death compels us to form a judgment of him totally
at variance with that which is currently received.” The
particular circumstances of this event are not now known,
but they were doubtless such as became a pious and emi¬
nently thoughtful man.
One cannot help regretting, with Coleridge, “ that no
friend of Rabelais, and surely friend he must have had, has
left an account of him.” Had any such account existed, it
would unquestionably have conveyed an impression of his
personal character very different from that which the cur¬
rent anecdotes of him are calculated to produce. It is the
peculiar misfortune of distinguished humourists to have the
paternity of such jests as are tossing unclaimed about the
world laid to their charge. They become a sort of Found¬
ling Hospitals for Wit; and Rabelais has had more than his
share of this abandoned progeny thrust upon him. His re¬
putation as a man has suffered accordingly, and this for an
obvious reason ; for just in the degree that a great man’s
mind is marked by features, which puzzle the finest saga¬
city to discriminate and reconcile, are people disposed to
pronounce an authoritative judgment regarding him. In
all such cases, a lively anecdote, or sparkling witticism, is
too cheap and pleasant a method of settling a doubtful cha¬
racter, not to be generally adopted. They commonly fall
in with the conclusion that lies nearest the surface, and, be¬
ing thus most easily come at, they are eagerly caught up
and borne along from mouth to mouth, till their mere repe¬
tition sanctifies the delusion out of which they sprung. One
common character runs throughout all the anecdotes of which
Rabelais is the hero. They show a mind without gravity
or depth, giving head to its most wayward sallies, neglectful
of self-respect, and reckless of present circumstances, or of
possible results. Such is just the character which a super¬
ficial observer is likely to form of him from his own ro¬
mance. The rhodomantade, the coarseness, the downright
nonsense, the reckless exuberance of humour, are easily
noted ; whilst the vein of deep and earnest thought that ever
and anon shows itself amid the surrounding extravagance,
the infinite good sense, the high-toned and enlightened phi¬
lanthropy, and the great moral purpose which the author had
in view, escape the careless and unpenetrating eye. The
vices, which he has laid bare with such masterly tact, have
been set down as his own, and he is charged with having
been a profligate, a debauchee, and a buffoon, destitute alike of
self-respect, and reverence for whatsoever is sacred or noble.
But every thing that is known of his life, as well as what
may be inferred from a study of his works, goes to dis¬
countenance such a conclusion. He was beloved and re¬
spected by many of the most illustrious and virtuous pre¬
lates of his time, admitted into their most private councils,
and charged with the most important trusts. All his works,
except his romance, which, being a reflection of the time,
must needs carry its grossness and licentiousness upon its fron t,
are conceived in a. uniformly grave and learned spirit; and in
RABELAIS.
Rabelais, his letters, where certainly a light or ribald mind was mos
Hkely to have shown itself, there is nothing to be found un¬
worthy of the scholar and the churchman. These facts are
utterly inconsistent with the charges of buffoonery,
alitv, and irreligion, which are usually coupled with his
name; and who can doubt, that, had his life given any war¬
rant for such charges, there were jealous enemies enough to
have placed the fact beyond the uncertainty of mere as-
sertion ?
In common with the other great assailants of religious
abuses, Rabelais was branded with the names of heretic and
atheist, and the Dedication of the Fourth Book of his Ro¬
mance makes an indignant allusion to the circumstance.
Epithets like these, however, he could well afford to share
with such men as Erasmus, Luther, and Melancthon. Had he
escaped them, indeed, there would have been some cause
for wonder; for, assuredly, the severest blow ever levelled
against the Roman Catholic church was the publication of
the Chronicle of the Wondrous Deeds of Gargantua and
Pantagruel. The popularity of its form secured it attention,
where a formal censure would have been disregarded ; and
it was read on every hand with unexampled avidity. Calvin
spoke of part of it with asperity, but others of the reformers,
penetrating its real spirit, gave it their warmest approval,
and Beza’s well-known epigram has long graced every edi¬
tion of the book.
Qui sic nugatur, tractantem ut seria vincat,
Cum seria faciet die, rogo, quantus erit ?
If be, who in his frolic mood
Outdoes the lore of toilsome sages,
Should don grave wisdom’s reverend hood,
What might be looked for from his pages ?
“Beyond a doubt,” says Coleridge, “he was among the
deepest as well as boldest thinkers of his age. His buf¬
foonery was not merely Brutus’ rough stick, which contained
a rod of gold ; it was necessary as an amulet against the
monks and bigots. Never was there a more plausible, and
seldom, I am persuaded, a less appropriate line, than the
thousand times quoted
Rabelais laughing in his easy chair
of Mr. Pope. The caricature of his filth and zanyism
proves how fully he both knew and felt the danger in which
he stood. I could write a treatise in praise of the moral
elevation of Rabelais’ work, which would make the church
stare, and the conventicle groan, and yet would be the
truth, and nothing but the truth. I class Rabelais with the
great creative minds of the world, [Homer,] Shakspeare,
Dante, Cervantes, &c.” The prevalent coarseness, though
this even is not always without its meaning, of Rabelais’
great work, makes it repulsive to the mass of readers ; and
this it is, probably, which has enabled modern writers to
appropriate its thoughts and witticisms with impunity. But
the richness of invention, the dramatic force of the charac¬
ters, the originality and vigour of thought, the wit, the
learning, the satire, poignant yet without cynicism, the
wise philosophy, and the atmosphere of triumphant joyous¬
ness that invests the whole, justify the praises of Coleridge,
and will secure its fame, as long as vice remains to be
lashed, and folly to be ridiculed, or the love of genial humour,
and far-sighted wisdom is not utterly extinct.
It is impossible not to admire the robust and healthy na¬
ture of the mind of Rabelais, which, at a time when earnest¬
ness was constantly running into extravagant excesses in
the persons of the other great reformers of the period, main¬
tained its equipoise, without losing any of its intensity in
seizing and grappling with the predominant abuses. Nor is
its moral culture less conspicuous, which, in an age when the
face of society presented so much to impress a conviction
of the farce and hollowness of the world, preserved him, in
despite of his acute sense of the absurd, the false, and the
contemptible, as well as of his strong satirical bias, from be-Rabelais,
coming a morbid and misanthropical reviler of mankind.. ^
“ I ask not,” says Coleridge, “ the genius of a Machiavel, a
Tacitus, ora Swift; it needs only a worldly experience, and
an observing mind, to convince a man ot forty, that there
is no medium between the creed of misanthropy and that
of the gospel.” Which of these, then, was Rabelais f Most
certainly the latter. He hates cant in all its shapes, hypo¬
crisy under all its disguises; tyranny, intolerance, villainy,
selfishness, and all its brood of tyrant vices, are his abhorrence;
mere folly he makes his sport, and he dallies with absurdity
with a very wantonness. But he never forgets, that he, the
satirist, is himself come of the stock of Adam, or libels hea¬
ven, by flying in the face of that nature, which, good or bad,
is all that himself and his fellow-men have got to struggle
through the world with. He takes life as it is ; he would lain
see it better, and lends a helping hand to make it so. Like
his great countryman Beranger.
De 1’univers observant la machine,
II y voit du mal, et n’aime que le bien.
He detests the evil that is in the world, but he never
abandons his faith in the good. His satire is not the angry
yelping of a currish nature, the overflow of sour secretions
and accumulated bile. Where it is grave, it is the com¬
manding voice of honest indignation ; where jovial, there is
a kindliness of tone with it, that makes you like the man,
whilst you admire his genius. He is essentially good-na¬
tured even in his severest moods; and this is apparent in
the very form of his satire. Its most caustic strokes are
given with a merry voice and laughing eye ; and yet, whilst
apparently revelling in the most unrestrained ebullitions of
mere animal spirits, and licentious fancy, he is covertly
stripping sensualism of its enticements, and enforcing the
strongest lessons of humility. He possessed, in short, the
wisdom of love, which is “ the creed of the gospel,” and this
his book testifies in a hundred places. At the same time,
its defects are great and manifold, and these cannot be bet¬
ter summed up than in the words of La Bruyere. “ Rabe¬
lais is inexcusable in having scattered mere filth through¬
out his writings. His book is a chimera. It is the face of
a beautiful woman with the tail of a serpent, or of some
other still more unsightly monster. It is a monstrous jumble
of a fine and delicately wrought moral, and of the most of¬
fensive grossness. Where it is bad, it is as bad as can be,-—
the very scum of the world might batten on it; where it is
good, nothing can be more choice or excellent; it can fur¬
nish most dainty fare.”
For bibliographical details as to the works of Rabelais, see
Biographic Universelle, tome xxxvi. A careful memoir of
him will be found in Niceron’s Memoires des Hommes 11-
lustres, and also in Chauffepie’s Supplement to Bayle. Ra¬
belais has been naturalised amongst ourselves, more success¬
fully, perhaps, than any other foreign writer, by Sir T. Urqu-
hart and Motteux’s admirable version of his romance, (b. f.)
RABBIT. See Mammalia.
RABIRIUS, C., a Roman knight, who lent an immense
sum of money to Ptolemy Auletes, king of Egypt. The
monarch afterwards not only refused to repay him, but even
confined him, and endangered his life. Rabirius escaped
with difficulty from Egypt; and at his return to Rome he
was accused by the senate of having lent money to an Afri¬
can prince for unlawful purposes. He was ably defended
by Cicero, and acquitted with difficulty.
In the age of Augustus, there wras a Latin poet of the
same name, who wrote a poem on the victory which the em¬
peror had gained over Antony at Actium. Seneca has com¬
pared him to Virgil for elegance and majesty ; but Quin¬
tilian is not so favourable in judging his poetry.
RABNABAD, a low muddy island in the bay of Ben¬
gal, formed out of the sediment deposited by the river Gan-
R A B
Rabogh ges, or by the Rabnabad, one of its branches, and separ-
II ated from the mainland by a narrow strait. It is fifteen
Kacme. m;ies jn length, by five in breadth, and at neap tide it is
scarcely above water, whilst at high tides it is nearly sub¬
merged. It is covered with long grass and underwood, which
affords cover for deer and tigers.
RABOGH, a village of Yemen in Arabia, near the coast
of the Red Sea, and occupied by Arabs living in tents. It is
seventy-eight miles north of Zidda.
RACCA, a town of Diarbekir, in the pachalik of Onafa,
situated on the eastern bank of the Euphrates, at the mouth
of a small river named Beles. It was once the favourite
residence of Haroun al Raschid. The town and adjoining
country are inhabited by different tribes of wandering Arabs.
Long. 38. 50. E. Lat. 36. 5. N.
RACE, in general, signifies running with others in order
to obtain a prize, either on foot, or by riding on horseback,
in chariots, or otherwise. The race was one of the exer¬
cises amongst the ancient Grecian games, which was per¬
formed in a course containing one hundred and twenty-five
yards; and those who contended in the foot races were
frequently clothed in armour. Chariot and horse races also
formed a part of the ancient games. Races were known in
England in very early times. Fitzstephen, who wrote in
the days of Henry II. mentions the great delight which the
citizens of London took in this diversion. From his words,
however, it does not appear to have been designed for the
purposes of gaming, but merely to have sprung from a ge¬
nerous emulation of showing superior skill in horseman¬
ship. Races appear to have been in vogue in the reign of
Elizabeth, and to have been carried to such excess as to
injure the fortunes of the nobility. George earl of Cum¬
berland is recorded to have wasted more of his estate than
any of his ancestors, and chiefly by his extreme love of
horse-races, tiltings, and other expensive diversions.
Race, in genealogy, a lineage or extraction continued
from father to son. See Descent.
RACHORE, a town and district of Hindustan, in the
province of Bejapore. It is bounded on the north by the
river Kistnah, and on the south by Tungbudra. The capi¬
tal, of the same name, is pleasantly situated on the south
back of the river Kistnah. Long. 78.52.E. Lat. 16.20. N.
RACHONTY, a town of Hindustan, in the Balaghaut
ceded territory, and district of Gurrumcondah, 125 miles
north-west of Madras. Long. 78. 49. 20. E. Lat. 18. 26. N.
RACINE, John, a great and illustrious French poet, was
born at Ferte-Milon on the 2 Ist'of December, 1630. He was
the son of John Racine, controller of the salt magazine of
that city, and of Joan Sconin, daughter of the king’s warden
of the woods and waters of Viliers-Caterets. Deprived of his
father and mother at the early age of three, he passed under
the guardianship of his paternal grandfather, also named John
Racine, who, not long afterwards, bequeathed the trust to
his widow. He studied first at Beauvais; next at Paris, in the
college of Fearcount; and lastly at Port-Royal-des-Champs,
whither a number of eminent persons had retired to devote
themselves to piety and the instruction of youth, amongst
whom were the advocate Lemaitre, Dr. Hamon, Nicole,
Lacy, and Launcelot, authors of the Logic, the General
Grammar, and other works, known under the title of Me-
thodes de Port-Royal. Launcelot, in particular, under¬
took to teach Greek to the youthful Racine. But besides
the taste for sound literature and serious studies, these im¬
mortal solitaries inspired their pupil with those religious
principles which never abandoned him, and which were
common to all the great writers and great men of that age.
The docility of Racine towards his masters equalled his ar¬
dour for study. On one occasion, however, he showed him¬
self refractory. Having accidentally met with the Greek
romance of Theagenes and Chariclea, he commenced the
perusal of this work of fiction, when his master surprising
RAC 5
him, whilst thus engaged, took from him the book, and con- Racine,
signed it to the flames. The youth procured another copy,
and learned it by heart, after which he placed it in the hands
of Launcelot, saying, “ You may burn this also.” An act
of disobedience of a kind so novel was the more readily ex¬
cused because it was not likely to have many imitators.
The first poetical essay of Racine was Nymphe de la
Seine, an ode which he composed for the marriage of Louis
XIY. and which having made him known to Chaplain, the
temporary arbiter of literary reputations and court favours,
produced him a hundred louis, which Colbert sent him on
the part of the king; and not long afterwards, he received a
pension of six hundred livres. Four years later, towards
the close of 1663, another ode, La Renommee aux Muses,
composed on the occasion of the establishment of the three
Academies, procured for him a second royal gratuity, the
order for which was couched in terms peculiarly flattering
to the youthful poet. This ode, though inferior to the pre¬
ceding, was nevertheless more fortunate. Recompensed,
like the other, by the king, it had the good fortune to be
criticised by Boileau. The poet took an early opportunity
to thank the critic, and this proved the origin of that con¬
nexion so intimate, so honourable, so useful to Racine, and
which was not one of the least advantages which fortune
gave him over Corneille. A little before this period, Ra¬
cine had made the acquaintance of Moliere, and had com¬
municated to him a tragedy, entitled Theagene et Chari-
dee, taken from the romance, which had afforded him such
delight at Port-Royal. Moliere, disapproving of this produc¬
tion, gave him the plan of the Thebdide, ou les Freres En-
nemis, a subject on which it is alleged that he had himself
been engaged. Racine executed the design, and the piece
had some success. Alexandre, which was performed the
following year, 1665, met with a still more favourable re¬
ception, and showed great progress in the versification of
the author, who was then only twenty-five years of age.
But, excepting the verses, neither of these works gave any
indication of what Racine afterwards proved. They were
but feeble imitations of Corneille, of whom, by a misfortune
common to all imitators, Racine had only adopted the de¬
fects ; that is, the cold gallantry mixed with heroism, the
idle maxims, the metaphysical reasonings, and the elabor¬
ate declamation. Corneille, to whom Racine read his Alex¬
andre, counselled him, it is said, to write no more tragedies.
At a subsequent period the same advice was given to Vol¬
taire by Fontenelle, after the reading of Brutus. But it is
fortunate for letters that such counsels are never followed.
Voltaire replied to Fontenelle by the production of Zaire,
and Racine responded to Corneille by that of his Andro-
maque. Finding himself pursuing a wrong direction, he
suddenly changed his route and took a different one, llPu-
known perhaps even to Corneille himself. The latter had
astonishedand surprised his audience; his young rival sought
to move and to soften them. Pity appeared to him a tragic
resource more active, more extensive, and of an effect more
penetrating and less transitory, than admiration. He stu¬
died the human heart, its passions, its weaknesses, and its
most secret recesses, and there he discovered a species of
tragedy altogether new, of which he gave the first and pro¬
bably most inimitable model in h\s Andromaque; that one of
all his tragedies which,,without being the most perfect, pro¬
duces the greatest effect on the stage, by the vigorous and
just expression of the sentiments and characters, and by the
alternations of hope and fear, of terror and pity, with which
the poet agitates the soul.
The representation of the Andromaque in 1667, was fol¬
lowed almost every year by a new masterpiece. But at first
Racine surprised the public by an excursion into the do¬
main of Moliere. The Plaideurs, imitated from the Wasps
of Aristophanes, is a comedy the plot of which is somewhat
feeble and inartificial; but in nature, truth, facility, and
6
RACINE.
Racine. gaWy, it is admirable, and its verses became so fixed in the
General mind that they passed into proverbs. The piece
was first represented at Paris in 16^> wbe" “Jy^eV
entlv received ; but it succeeded pretty well at Versailles,
and die players, elated with the success, came to awaken
Racine in the middle of the night, to communicate the good
news. The noise of vehicles at such an hour, m the Ru
des Marais, convinced first the neighbours and next day ad
Paris that iustice had avenged itself on the author ot
Plaideurs, by causing him to be seized and sent to the Bas¬
tille. This pleasant mistake, and the knowledge which soon
became general, that the comedy had obtained the suff g
of the monarch, conciliated the favour of the loyal Pans
ans; and from that time the piece has continued in po
session of the stage, privileged to extort a perchanc
a lau°h, even from the iron visage of justice herself,
not true, as has sometimes been said, that the Plaid™r°
the work of several hands. Racine may have received from
his friends hints or suggestions for some scenes and bor-
rowed from certain hommes de palais, or gentlemen of the
robe some formulas and expressions foreign to his habitual
studies ; but the unity of the style and the general coher¬
ence of the whole are too perfect to be the work of any but
one and the same hand. j
The success of the Andromaque, which was only equalled
bv that of the Cid, had excited envy ; perhaps, also, it had
rendered the public fastidious. In 1669, Bntannicus was
coldly received, and with difficulty reached the eighth re¬
presentation. At first no one felt the truth, the depth, an
the force displayed in the magnificent historical picture of
Nero and his court. Boileau alone was struck with its me¬
rit and hurrying to embrace Racine, he exclaimed, \ oila
ce’que vous avez fait de mieux.” This great critic was not
only useful to Racine in praising his performance, his se¬
verity was of full more service in inducing him to suppress
two scenes which deformed his work; one between Burr¬
hus and Narcissa, at the commencement of the third act,
and another, in the fifth, in which Junia is brought back
into the presence of Nero. Britanmcus was followed by
Berenice, which, in some respects, is one of the most remark¬
able of Racine’s works. At the solicitation of the celebrat¬
ed Henrietta of England, Racine and Corneille both treated
this subject which is so little fitted for representation, nei¬
ther being aware that the other was engaged upon it. Be¬
sides the pleasure of seeing two illustrious rivals unconsci¬
ously contending for the palm, this princess secretly pro¬
mised herself another, in the treatment of the heroic separ¬
ation of the two august lovers ; but a premature death de¬
prived her of the pleasure she had anticipated, in witness¬
ing this singular competition. Three words of Suetonius
represent the subject of the piece : Invitus invitam dimi-
sit; too slight a foundation upon which to work, and in the
case of Corneille, who was now old, an ungrateful task, far
more dangerous to him than even to Racine. The two
rival plays were represented towards the close of 1670 ; that
of Corneille at the Palais-Royal, by the company of Mo-
Here, and that of Racine at the Hotel de Bourgogne. Cor¬
neille’s totally failed; that of Racine had thirty consecutive
representations, during which it drew tears alike from the
court and the city. The great Conde replied to some criti¬
cisms which were made in his hearing in the following ver¬
ses of the piece itself:
Depuis cinq ans entiers chaque jour je la vois,
Et crois toujours la voir pour la premiere fois.
It has been said, and even zealous admirers of Racine have
confessed, that Berenice was not a veritable tragedy. But,
tragedy or drama,what signifies the title which maybe given
to it, provided we be agreed that it is a miracle of art, and
that never, in any piece, were greater difficulties more meri-
toriously overcome. The style possesses exquisite beauties
in detail, and an inexpressible charm pervades the diction —>
‘''itoS appeared in 1672,and obtained immediate «gue,
partly, no doubt, from the novelty of the manners and cos-
tutnes, but in a greater degree, from admiration of the force
and truth with which the poet had delineated the characters
of Roxana and Acomat; two real creations, which, in spite
of all its faults, will make Bajazet immortal. At the same
time there is not a little truth m the remark of Corneille,
that’though the costumes be Turkish, the characters are
French. Mithridate, which was represented for the first time
in January 1678, is, according to Laharpe, the work where
Racine appears to have come nearest to Corneille in bring¬
ing on the stage the great personages of antiquity, as they
are delineated in history. Few characters, indeed, have, up¬
on the whole, been more vigorously traced than that of Mi-
thridates ; and were it not that Racine, sacrificing to the
taste of the time, has made the hero amorous and jealous,
Corneille would not have enjoyed unquestioned supre¬
macy in reviving and reanimating history. Voltaire regards
Iphiqenie, first represented in 1674, as the masterpiece of
the stage. Do we desire grandeur? We find it in Achilles.
Do we wish for true policy ? It is exemplified in the part of
Ulysses; a policy founded solely on the love of the public
good, and equally adroit, dignified, and resolute. Clytem-
nestra is the model of the lofty pathetic; Iphigema, that of
noble and touching simplicity. Agamemnon is as he should
be; and, then as to the style, Voltaire has declared it to be
the true sublime. Three years elapsed between the ap¬
pearance of Iphigenie and that of Phedre, which was first
represented in 1677. The former had been the object of
sundry ill-natured and depreciatory criticisms; but all these
were only a feeble essay, or rather a mere foretaste, of the
attacks which were now directed against the latter, chiefly
at the instigation of the Duke de Nevers and the Duchess
de Bouillon, nephew and niece of Cardinal Mazarin, the de¬
clared enemies of Racine, though for what reason does not
appear. Every engine was put in action to ensure the con¬
demnation of Racine’s Phedre, and extol to the skies that of
Pradon, a person of no genius, and whose name is not worth
remembering, except that he was employed by the chiefs of
his odious cabal to have a drama on the same subject ready
for representation against the time when Racine s was to ap¬
pear. Pradon lent himself to the vengeance of these in¬
triguers ; his Phedre was represented four days after that of
Racine ; and, for the moment, the cabal were successful.
But, in about a year, each piece found its natural level, and
Pradon and his Phedre were alike forgotten or despised.
This tardy reparation, however, could not console Ra-.
cine; and, besides, it was poisoned by new indignities,
which were heaped upon him by his indefatigable enemies.
Disgusted with the theatre, where he had met with such in¬
justice, he now determined to renounce it for ever ; though
not more than thirty-eight years of age, and still in all the
vigour and maturity of his genius. Besides, in his infancy, he
had imbibed a deep sense of religion, which, suppressed for a
while by his connexion with the theatre, now returned in full
force. He conceived that his past life had been full of errors,
nay, even tainted by vices, and, under this impression he not
only resolved to write no more plays, but had even thoughts
of devoting himself to penitence and prayer in monastic soli¬
tude. His spiritual guide, however, justly distrusting a zeal
springing out of wounded feelings, advised him to marry and
settle in the world; and this judicious advice Racine had the
good sense to comply withal. In the year 1677 he mar¬
ried the daughter of the treasurer of Amiens, a fortu¬
nate choice, which greatly contributed to his future hap¬
piness. He next effected a reconciliation with the soli¬
taries of Port-Royal, whose censures of dramatic compo¬
sition, which had formerly offended him, he now acknow-
RACINE
Racine, ledged. He first made his peace with Nicole, who received
—him with open arms ; and Boileau introduced him to Ar-
nauld, who also embraced him tenderly, at the same time
freely forgiving him all his satire. About the same time
Louis XIV. appointed Racine and Boileau historiographers
of France, upon the understanding, of course, that they were
to write the history of his reign ; and the public expected
great things from two writers of such distinguished reputa¬
tion. But both the king and his subjects were equally dis¬
appointed. Boileau and Racine, after having for some time
laboured at the work, perceived that it was entirely oppo¬
site to the genius of each ; and they also judged, with reason,
that the history of such a king could not, and indeed ought
not, to be written until long after his death, unless it were to
be made up of extracts of gazettes and such like materials.
During a period of twelve years, Racine had steadily ad¬
hered to his resolution not to write any more poetry, espe¬
cially for the stage; but the entreaties of Madame de Main-
tenon so far prevailed as to induce him to resume his dra¬
matic character, and in consequence he composed his Esther,
which was to be represented, not on the French stage, but in
the house of Saint-Cyr. On the 20fh of January 1689, it was
performed for the first time, and had prodigious success.
“ It appears to me very remarkable,” says Voltaire, “ that
this tragedy should then have had universal success, and
that two years afterwards Athalie, though performed by
the same persons, had none. It happened quite otherwise
when these pieces were acted at Paris long after the death
of the author, and when prejudice and partiality had ceased.
Athalie, represented in 1717, was received, as it deserved to
be, with transport; whilst Esther, in 1721, inspired nothing
but coldness, and never appeared again. But at that time
there were no courtiers who complaisantly acknowledged
Esther in Madame de Maintenon, and with equal malignity
saw Vashti in Madame de Montespan, Haman in M. de
Louvois, and above all, the persecution of the Hugonots
by this minister, in the proscription of the Hebrews.” The
same writer, who had no taste for scriptural subjects, thinks
the story of Esther uninteresting and even improbable;
M but, notwithstanding the badness of the subject,” he adds,
“ thirty verses of Esther are of more value than many tra¬
gedies which have had great success.”
Athalie, composed, like Esther, for Saint-Cyr, had, as al¬
ready intimated, a very different fate. Envy masked under
a false zeal prevented the representation. It was only per¬
formed twice at Versailles, in a chamber without scenes
and costumes, by the ladies of Saint-Cyr. Racine having
originally intended it for publication, now sent it to the press ;
but, to the eternal disgrace of the age and nation, this mas¬
terpiece of sublime genius, unsurpassed either in ancient or.
in modern times, found no readers ; and, in some societies
of pretended wits, the perusal of it was ironically prescrib¬
ed as penance. It is in truth lamentable to think that Ra¬
cine should have descended to the grave suffering under
this injustice, and with the bitter feeling of seeing his age
dissatisfied with his immortal work. In vain did Arnauld,
from the depth of his solitude, try to sustain, by his suffrage,
the sinking spirits of his old pupil; in vain did Boileau re¬
peat, “ C’est votre meilleur ouvrage, le public y reviendra.”
Racine almost believed that he had survived his genius, and
the authority of Boileau, so potential with posterity, was
disregarded during the lifetime of his friend. This second
injustice of the public towards Racine reopened the wound
inflicted by the first, completed his disgust, and decided him
to abandon definitively writing for the theatre, which, in
fact, his religious impressions had, for some time, led him to
regard as incompatible with the Christian life. He accord¬
ingly withdrew from all connection with the stage, and em¬
ployed the remainder of his days in the grateful and almost
filial task of composing a history of Port-Royal, the place of
his education, which is drawn up with equal taste and ele¬
gance, but was not published till 1767, when it appeared in Racine,
two volumes 12mo.
Racine, although he had conversed much with the court,
had not learned to disguise his sentiments, the usual, per¬
haps the necessary accomplishment of a courtier. In 1697,
during one of those interviews which Madame de Mainte¬
non frequently granted him, the conversation having turned
upon the misery of the people exhausted by long wars, and
the best means of affording them relief, this celebrated wo¬
man entreated the poet to throw his ideas on the subject
into the form of a memoir, promising that the writing should
not pass out of her hands. Racine consented, not from the
mere complaisance of a courtier, and still less from any am¬
bitious view, which the whole tenor of his life contradicts,
but solely with the design of being useful. The king sur¬
prised this memoir in the hands of his mistress, and the name
of the author was disclosed. Perhaps the lesson was a little
too direct, since the monarch, who had all along favoured the
poet, immediately took offence. “ Because he makes good
verses,” said Louis, “ does he think he knows every thing?
and because he is a great poet, does he pretend to be a states¬
man ?” Racine was greatly hurt by this observation, not
from any selfish consideration, but from the idea of having
unnecessarily offended his royal benefactor. But to say as
some have done, that it shortened his days, is manifestly
absurd. His constitution had for several years been sinking
under the wasting influence of excitement, and, in conse¬
quence, the term of his earthly career was now fast ap¬
proaching. During his last illness, however, the king evinced
the greatest interest in the expiring poet, about whom he daily
sent to make the most anxious inquiries; and his benefits
followed him even beyond the tomb. Racine died on the
22d of April, 1699, after much suffering, borne with truly
Christian fortitude, and was interred, according to his wish,
at Port-Royal, at the feet of Dr. Hamon, that he might not
be separated even in death, from the master whom he so
loved and respected in life. After the destruction of this
monastery, his remains were transported to Paris, and de¬
posited in the church of Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, where they
were placed beside those of Pascal.
Racine was naturally melancholy when albne, though gen¬
tle and pleasing with others. His nature was tender and
affectionate, inclined to indulge sorrowful or religious emo¬
tions rather than those which spring out of mirth or joy. He
was generous, and knew how to preserve the means of being
so by much order and economy. He afforded assistance to
a number of distant relations, and had a regard almost filial
for his nurse, whom he did not forget in his will. There was
no better husband, no more affectionate father. The Christ¬
ian education of his children formed his chief concern. He
had family prayers daily, at the same time reading and ex¬
plaining a portion of the gospel to his wife, his children, and
his domestics. During the last ten years of his life, all his
pleasures, and all his happiness were concentred in his do¬
mestic circle. He no longer went to court except when
called thither by the duties of his charge, and the interests of
his family; and yet who else could boast of the same means of
pleasing and making himself beloved ; his fine and noble
figure, his gracious manners, all the charms of wit, all the
splendour of renown, united with the happy art of causing
them to be forgotten ? He was, indeed, what the ladies of
Saint-Cyr described him, a man of great genius and great*
simplicity; and he had, in fact, enchanted the world, more by
the amenity and grace of his instructions, than by his talent
for declamation, which, however, he possessed in the very
highest degree. No man of his time read and recited bet¬
ter than Racine. One day, at Boileau’s, in his house at
Anteuil, reading and translating off-hand the (Edipus of
Sophocles, he drew tears from all present. He also taught
Baron and La Champmale a system of declamation more
conformable to nature and good taste, or, to express it
8
RAC
RAC
Racing, more correctly, lie taught them to speak and not to de
Hack* cl&iin# i i
As to his works, his countrymen have reason to beproudot
them. He isthepoetof the heart and the affections, and yields
to none in the truth, the beauty, and the force of his delinea¬
tions. If Corneille surpassed him in heroic sentiments, and the
grand character of his personages, he was inferior to Racine
in moving the passions, and in purity of diction. Such is
the perfection of Racine in this last respect, that in all his
pieces, there is not perhaps, we do not say a scene, but even
a single verse, which could be replaced by another. All is
iust and true ; all is full of that poetry of images and sen¬
timents, and that continued elegance which, since the time
of the Greeks, Virgil and Racine have alone possessed.
But above all, it is in Esther and in Athahe, particularly
in the choruses of these two tragedies, that, sustained by the
most sublime models, he is himself almost always sublime.
It is there that Racine has all the elevation of a Hebrew
prophet, who had come to announce divine truths in strains
almost divine. But that which chiefly characterises Racine
is the complete union, perhaps unique, of two qualities
which appear to be incompatible ; of imagination the most
brilliant, and reason the most perfect, ot sensibility the
most exquisite, with good sense the most invariable. Rea¬
son, in fact, as much and even more perhaps than imagi¬
nation, predominates in the conception of his most touching
productions, in the execution of his most dramatic seenes,
in the choice of his richest expressions, and in his boldest
combinations, as well as most elliptical turns. Boileau, who
has been surnamed the poet of reason, is not, even m this
view, superior to Racine; and, besides, the quality here
mentioned is the less astonishing in him, because it is ac¬
companied with an imagination much less lively. Racine
has often been pronounced the greatest of the French poets.
He should also be set down as the most rational; or rather,
it is precisely because he really is the most rational, that he
is likewise the greatest.
There are some smaller pieces of Racine which have not
been mentioned in the course of this article, particularly
Idylle sur la Paix, 1685 ; Discours prononce a 1’Academic
Fran^aise, en 1685 ; Cantiques Spirituelles, 1689; and
Epigrammes Diverses. The most complete edition of the
Works of Racine is that which M. Aime Martin published at
Paris in six vols. 8vo. in 1820, reprinted by Lefevre in 1822.
RACING, the riding heats for a plate, or other premium.
The amusement of horse-racing, which is now so common,
was not unknown amongst the great nations of antiquity,
nor wholly unpractised even by our ancestors in Britain. In
1599, private matches between gentlemen, who rode their
own horses, were very common; and in the reign of James I.
public races were established at various places, when the
discipline, and mode of preparing the horses for running,
were much the same as they are now. The most celebrat¬
ed races of that time were called bell-courses, the prize of
the conqueror being a bell; and hence, perhaps, is derived
the phrase “ bearing the bell,” when applied to excellence.
For a full account of the race-horse, see Horse.
RACK, Edmund, a person well known in the literary
world by his attachment to, and promotion of, agricultural
knowledge. He was a native of Norfolk, and a Quaker.
His education was common, and he was originally appren¬
ticed to a shopkeeper. In this situation his society was se¬
lect, and by improving himself in learning, his conversation
was enjoyed by some respectable acquaintance. He wrote
many essays, poems, and letters, and some few controver¬
sial tracts. His last engagement was the History of So¬
mersetshire, where the parochial surveys were his. This
work, in three volumes 4to. was published in 1791, by his
colleague, Mr. Collinson. Mr. Rack died of an asthma in
February 1787, aged fifty-two.
Rack, an engine of torture, furnished with pulleys, cords,
Rackoke
and other means, for extorting confession from criminals.
The trial by rack is unknown to the ^"^and ^ though RadJliffe>
once, when the Dukes of Exeter and Suffolk, and other mi¬
nisters of Henry VI. had formed a design to introduce the civil
law into this kingdom as the rule of government, they erect¬
ed a rack for torture, which was called in derision the Duke
of Exeter’s Daughter, and still remains in the Tower of Lon¬
don where it was occasionally used as an engine of state,
not of law, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth. But when,
upon the assassination of Villiers duke of Buckingham, by
Felton, it was proposed in the privy council to put the assassin
to the rack in order to discover his accomplices, the judges,
beino- consulted, declared unanimously, that no such pro¬
ceeding was allowable by the laws of England. It seems
astonishing that the usage of administering the torture
should be said to arise from tenderness to the lives of men ;
and yet this is the reason assigned for its introduction
m the civil law, and its subsequent adoption by the French
and other foreign nations, namely, because the laws cannot
endure that any man should die upon the evidence of a
false or even a single witness, and therefore contrived this
method that innocence should manifest itself by a stout de¬
nial, or guilt by a plain confession; thus rating a man’s vir¬
tue by the hardiness of his constitution, and his guilt by
the sensibility of his nerves. The Marquis of Beccaria, in
an exquisite piece of raillery, has proposed this problem,
with a gravity and precision that are truly mathematical:
“ The force of the muscles and the sensibility of the nerves
of an innocent person being given ; it is required to find
the degree of pain necessary to make him confess himself
guilty of a given crime.”
RACKOKE, one of the Kurile isles, about 13 miles in
length, and the same in breadth. It contains an active volcano.
RACONIGHI, a city of the province of Saluzzo, in the
kingdom of Sardinia in Italy. It is situated on the river
Maira, where there is a magnificent palace of the Prince Car-
ignan. It contains four monastic and two parish churches,
and 1300 houses, with 11,200 inhabitants, who produce silk,
and make it into various articles, and have also a consider¬
able trade in corn, as well as in raw and organzined silk.
RADCLIFFE, Mrs. Ann, the celebrated author of the
Romance of the Forest, and the Mysteries of Udolpho, was
born in London on the 9th of July 1764. She was the
daughter of William and Ann Ward, who, though in trade,,
were respectably connected, and nearly the only persons ot
their two families not living in handsome, or at least easy
independence. Her paternal grandmother was a Chesel-
den, the sister of the celebrated surgeon, of whose kind re¬
gard her father had a grateful recollection ; and her mater¬
nal grandmother was Anne Oates, sister ot Dr. Samuel
Jebb of Stratford, the father of Sir Richard, on which side
she was also related to Dr. Halifax, bishop of Gloucester,
and to a gentleman of the same name, who was physician
to the king. Of the history of her early years, during which
the mind usually gives indications of its prevailing tenden¬
cies, no record whatever has been preserved. About the
time of her twentieth year, however, she is described as pos¬
sessing a figure exquisitely proportioned, a fine complexion,
a beautiful and expressive countenance, and tastes which
led her to take delight in contemplating the glories of cre¬
ation, particularly the grander features they display, listen¬
ing to music skilfully performed, hearing passages from the
Greek and Latin classics recited and translated, and pre¬
ferring the pleasures of meditation to those of society.
Thus respectably born and connected, Miss Ward, at the
age of twenty-three, acquired the name which she subse¬
quently rendered so celebrated, by marrying Mr. William
Radcliffe, a graduate of Oxford, and then a student of law.
This gentleman, however, renounced the prosecution of his
legal studies, and afterwards became proprietor and editor
of the English Chronicle. Mrs. Radcliffe having thus a
R ADC
Radcliffe. strong inducement to cultivate her literary powers, first
‘^“’’came before the public as a novelist in 1789, two years after
her marriage, and when she was yet only twenty-five years
of age. The romance which she then produced, however,
gave but a faint indication of the eminent pow ers afterwards
displayed by the author. In the Castles ofAthlin and Dun-
bayne, the scene is laid in Scotland during the dark ages, but
without any attempt to delineate the peculiar manners or
scenery of that country ; and although we may trace some
germs of that talent for the wild, the romantic, and the mys¬
terious, which she afterwards employed with so much effect,
yet, on the whole, this production cannot be regarded as at
all worthy of her pen. Mrs. Radcliffe’s genius, however, was
more advantageously displayed in the Sicilian Romance,
which appeared in 1790, and attracted a considerable share
of public attention. This work displays the exuberant fer¬
tility of imagination which formed the principal characteristic
of the author’s mind. Adventures heaped on adventures, in
rapid and brilliant succession, with all the hair-breadth charms
of escape or capture, hurry the reader along with them ;
whilst the imagery and scenery by which the action is re¬
lieved, resemble those of a splendid oriental tale. Still the
work bore marked traces of the defects incident to an un¬
practised author. The scenes were inartificially connected,
and the characters hastily sketched, without any attempt at
individual distinctions; the staple materials consisted of ar¬
dent lovers and tyrannical parents, with domestic ruffians,
guards, and others, who had wept or stormed through the
scenes of romance, without much change of character or
features, for half a century before. Nevertheless, this praise
may be claimed for Mrs. Radcliffe, that she was the first to
introduce into her prose fictions a beautiful and fanciful
tone of natural description and impressive narrative, which
had hitherto been exclusively applied to poetry. Her style
was as full of imagination as her subject, and she established
a clear title to be considered as the first poetess of romantic
fiction, that is, taking poetry in its true acceptation, apart
from the mere accessory of rhythm.
The Romance of the Forest appeared in the year 17 91, and
at once raised the author to that pre-eminence in her own
style of composition, which her works have ever since main¬
tained. In this new effort, her fancy was more regulated,
and subjected to the fetters of a regular story. The char¬
acters, too, were depicted with skill far superior to that
which the author had hitherto displayed, and the work at¬
tracted the public attention in proportion. That of La
Motte, indeed, is sketched with particular talent, and the
interest of the piece mainly depends upon the vacillations
of a character, which weakness and vice are at every mo¬
ment on the point of rendering an agent in the greatest
atrocities. He is the exact picture of the needy man who
has known better days ; one who, spited at the world, from
which he had been driven with contempt, and condemned
to seek an asylum in a desolate mansion full of mysteries
and horrors, avenges himself by playing the gloomy despot
within his own family, and tyrannising over those who were
subjected to him only by their strong sense of duty. The
heroine, too, has some pleasant touches of originality, which
she displays in her grateful affection for the La Motte fa¬
mily, and her reliance on their truth and honour, when the
wife had become unkind, and the father treacherous. But
this was not the department of art on which Mrs. Radcliffe’s
popularity rested. “ The public,” says Sir Walter Scott,
“ were chiefly aroused, or rather fascinated, by the won¬
derful conduct of a story, in which the author so success¬
fully called out the feelings of mystery and awe, while chap¬
ter after chapter, and incident after incident, maintained
the thrilling attraction of awakened curiosity and suspend¬
ed interest. Of these every reader felt the force, from the
sage in his study, to the family group in middle life, which
assembles round the evening taper, to seek a solace from
VOL. XIX.
L I F F E. 9
the toils of ordinary existence, by an excursion into the re- Radeiiffe.
gions of imagination. The tale was the more striking,
because varied and relieved by descriptions of the ruined
mansion, and the forest with which it is surrounded, under
so many different points of view, now pleasing and serene,
now gloomy, now terrible ; scenes which could only have
been drawn by one to whom nature had given the eye of a
painter, with the spirit of a poet.”
In 1798 Mrs. Radcliff’e visited the scenery on the Rhine,
and it is supposed that the Mysteries of Udolpho were writ¬
ten, or at least corrected, after the period of this journey ;
the mouldering castles of the robber-chivalry of Germany,
situated on the romantic banks of that celebrated stream,
having, it is thought, given a bolder flight to her imagina¬
tion, and a more glowing character to her colouring. The
scenery on the Lakes of Westmoreland, which Mrs. Rad¬
cliffe had about the same period visited, was also calculated to
awaken her fancy; nature having in these wild but beautiful
regions, realised the descriptions in which she delighted to in¬
dulge. Her remarks upon the countries through which she
travelled were given to the public in 1793, under the title of
a Journey through Holland, &c. This, however, was merely
a sort of intercalary production. As already hinted, her next
effort in the province of romance, was the Mysteries of Udol¬
pho. Of this much was of course expected ; and the book¬
sellers felt themselves authorised in offering for the work,
what was then considered as an unprecedented sum, name¬
ly, L.500. But although a writer’s previous reputation
often proves the greatest enemy he has to encounter in a
second attempt upon public favour, yet Mrs. Radcliffe’s po¬
pularity stood the test, and was enhanced rather than abated
by the Mysteries of Udolpho. “ The very name,” says Scott,
“wasfascinating; and the public,who rushed upon it with all
the eagerness of curiosity, rose from it with unsated appe¬
tite.” The author pursuing her own favourite bent of com¬
position, and again waving her wand over the world of won¬
der and imagination, had judiciously employed a spell of
broader and more potent command. Every thing in the
Mysteries of Udolpho is on a larger and more sublime scale
than in the Romance of the Forest. The interest is of a
more agitating and tremendous nature ; the scenery is of a
wilder and more terrific description ; the characters are
distinguished by fiercer and more gigantic features. “ Mon-
toni, a lofty-souled desperado, and captain of Condottieri,
stands beside La Motte and his Marquis, like one of Milton’s
fiends beside a witch’s familiar. Adeline is confined with¬
in a ruined mansion-house ; but her sister-heroine, Emily, is
imprisoned in a huge castle, like those of feudal times. The
one is attacked and defended by bands of armed banditti;
the other only threatened by a visit from constables and
thief-takers. The scale of the landscape is equally differ¬
ent ; the quiet and limited woodland scenery of the one
work, forming a contrast with the splendid and high-wrought
descriptions ofltalian mountain grandeur which occur in the
other. In a word, the Mysteries of Udolpho was, at its first
appearance, considered as a step beyond Mrs. Radcliffe’s for¬
mer work, high as it had justly raised her ; and this impres¬
sion has been confirmed by subsequent comparative perusal.”
The next production by which Mrs. Radcliffe arrested
the attention of the public, w'as destined to be her last.
The Italian, which appeared in 1797, was purchased by the
booksellers for L.800, and favourably received by the pub¬
lic. Sir Walter Scott praises the author for her judgment
“ 1° taking such a point of distance and distinction, that
while employing her own peculiar talent, and painting in
the style of which she may be considered the inventor, she
cannot be charged with repeating or copying herself.” But
mere change of subject, or taking a point of distance and
distinction, as remote as possible from the scenes in which
her imagination had previously expatiated, does not neces¬
sarily imply originality of invention in the construction and
B
development of her story. On the contrary, she selected rffect,hgained bfmSns inSependenJ
blished in its paramount superiority ; and instead of con ition> The force of the production consists in the
templating it calmly as reflected in the glass °t history she P n of external incidents, whilst the character of the
adopted all the conventional and ready-made horrors that de subordinate to the scenes in which they
came in her way, and had thus at her disposal the usual ap- agents ^ ^ distinguished by such outlines as to
paratus of monks, spies, dungeons, the mute obedience o^ geem appropriate to their respective situations,
the familiars of the Inquisition, and the ^ dommeeri g ^ introduced bear the features, not of individuals,
spirit of the crafty emissaries of Rome. 4-1 hands vt 0f t]ie class to which they belong; and if they be
adoption,” as Sir Walter Scott calls it, placed in the hands the r costume, and converse in language
of the authoress, a set of agents powerful enougl to act a fiate t0 their stations and qualities, no-
forcibly on imaginations in which ^ey were associated mth ft if Puired. The primary object is the genera-
torcioiy Oil iiiiagujatiwuo m   -j -
all imaginable kinds of atrocity and wickedness, and fur¬
nished at once the means of producing a strong effect, with¬
out the trouble of inventing new characters, or creating
original combinations. But it may be questioned whether
such agents, with all their conventional attributes, were
suited to the purposes for which they were employed, or
whether, even by their instrumentality, any tinge of proba¬
bility could be imparted to those parts of the story which
are most at variance with the ordinary course of human ac-
thing more is required.  t - i . * ru
tion of awe and terror, and everything ministers to the pro¬
duction of this effect. It is enough if the characters be truly
and forcibly sketched in outline ; they are accessaries rather
‘than principals, and for the most part rather passive than
active, so that in throwing upon them and their actions just
enough of that dubious light which mystery requires, Mrs.
Radcliffe does all that is requisite for the accomplishment of
her object. It were easy to find fault with a proceeding
e with the ordinary course ot human ac- er uuj ^ dispensing with scenes of passion such as
tions and events.” The Italian, however, was we receiv ^ of Richardson, or delineations of life and manners, as
by the public, to whom delineations which flatter their e d ^ of Fielding and Smollett, carries us back to the
gious Pf‘de or hatred ' fJ 0f‘ th0e nursery, and gorges us with the wild and impro-
cation in 1797, the w orld were not favoured with any more
of Mrs. Radcliffe’s works. “ Like an actress in full posses¬
sion of applauded powers, she chose to retire from the stage
in the very blaze of her fame ; and, for more than twenty
years, an imagination naturally so prolific, was, for reasons
which we are left in vain to conjecture, condemned to in¬
action and sterility.”
Ill Lilt ^   ' .
fare of the nursery, and gorges us with the wild and impro¬
bable fictions of an overheated imagination. And there
might be some truth in this, if it were only predicated ot
the crowd of copyists who came forward as imitators ot Mrs.
Radcliffe, and assumed her wand, without having the power
of wielding it with the same magical effect. But no author
can be arraigned for the deficiencies of servile imitators.
Radcliffe's domestic life seems to have -
been peculiarly calm and sequestered. She appears to have applause with which the romances of
declined the notoriety which in London society usually at- a guedagreat and increasing
Wk£$^E5&&
pirrrbSsnu,rd\*ehre “ ^ «he ^
at length been overcome, and that the gifted author of the
Mysteries of Udolpho existed only as the inmate of a pri¬
vate madhouse. For this belief, however, there neither
was, nor ever had been the most distant foundation; although
the rumour on which it was founded had been generally
spread, and confidently repeated in print as well as in con¬
versation. During the last twelve years of her life, Mrs.
Radcliffe suffered from a spasmodic asthma, which consider¬
ably affected both her health and her spirits. This chronic
1650. He was educated at Oxford, and enrolled himself
in the physical line; but it was remarked that he recommend¬
ed himself much more by his ready wit and vivacity, than
by any extraordinary acquisitions in learning. He began to
practise at Oxford in 1675, but never paid any regard to
established rules, which he censured whenever he thought
fit, with great freedom and acrimony; and as this drew all
the old practitioners upon him, he lived in a state of conti¬
nual hostility with them. He died in 1714 ; and if he never
ably attected botn ner neaun anu ner spirus. iiuscmumu nuai , ,.aw,o
disorder, however, at length took a more fatal turn, on the attempted to write any thing himself, he has perpetuated his
9th of January 1823, and on the 7th of February ensuing, memory by founding a fine library at Oxford, to preserve
it terminated the life of this ingenious and gifted woman, at the writings of other men. ,,
her own house in London. RADE, sometimes called Bade by the Forest, a city of
Mrs. Radcliffe, considered as an author, is fully entitled the Prussian government of Cleves, in the cnde ot l.en-
to take her place amongst those who have been distinguish- nep. It is fortified, and haying been burned down in lobA
ed as the founders of a class or school. She led the way in has since been regularly built. It contains 510 houses, with
a species of composition, which has since been attempted by 4950 inhabitants, diligently employed in manufactures oi
many, but in which no one has attained, or even approach- cloths,Jiosiery, serges, and hardware.
J11 Cl it J J KJ Cl C/ J.J.A »» ^ — S X
ed the excellencies of the original inventor. The species of
romance which she introduced bears nearly the same rela¬
tion to the novel that a melodrame does to the legitimate
drama. It does not appeal to the judgment, by searching
delineations of human feeling, nor stir the passions by scenes
RADICAL, in general, something that serves as a basis
or foundation. Hence physicians talk much of a radical
moisture. In grammar, the appellation of radical is applied
to primitives, in contradistinction to compounds and deriv¬
atives. Algebraists also speak of the radical sign of quan-
deiineations ot numan teeling, nor stir tne passions oy scenes auves. ^.igeuraists aiso speaic ui uie ~
of deep pathos, nor awaken the fancy, by tracing out the titles, which is the character expressing their roots,
higher marks of life and manners, nor excite mirth, by RADICLE, that part of the seeds of all plants which
strong representations of the ludicrous or the humorous. It upon vegetating becomes their root, and is discoverable by
attains its interest neither by the path of comedy nor by the microscope.
RAD
Radius RADIUS, in Geometry, the semidiameter of a circle, or
II a right line drawn from the centre to the circumference.
Radnor- Radius, in Anatomy, the exterior bone of the arm, de-
81‘r^i scending along with the ulna from the elbow to the wrist.
RADNOR, NEW, a market and borough town in the
county of Radnor, in South Wales, 159 miles from London.
It was formerly defended by a strong castle at the entrance
of the pass between the two hills in which it is built, but
that was destroyed by Owen Glendower in the reign of
Henry IV. It is still a borough, and has a market which is
held on Saturday. The population was in 1801, 329 ; in
1811, 380 ; in 1821, 426 ; and in 1831, 472. It now returns
one member conjointly with the boroughs of Knighton,
Rhayadyr, Cefn-llys, and Crwclas.
RADNORSHIRE, an inland county of South Wales,
bounded on the north by Montgomeryshire, on the west by
the counties of Cardigan and Brecon, on the south-east by
Herefordshire, and on the north-east by Shropshire. Its ex¬
tremities from east to west are twenty miles, and from north
to south twenty-four miles, as under. Its surface is com¬
puted to measure 426 square miles, or 272,640 English sta¬
tute acres.
The population in 1811, amounted to 20,900 souls, in
1821 to 22,503, and in 1831 to 24,651, of whom 12,453
were males, and 12,198 females. The total sum charged to
the property tax in 1811, under the heads of rents of land
and tithes, was, for the former, L.88,250, and for the latter,
L.9373. On comparing these numbers with the other re¬
turns of Great Britain, it appears that this county is the
lowest in numerical population, except the county of Rut¬
land ; although its annual rental is higher than either An¬
glesey or Merioneth.
This district of country continued under the jurisdiction of
the Lords Marchers, until it obtained the privileges of a county
by act of Henry VIII., and was divided into the hundreds of
Radnor, Knighton, Painscastle, Rhayder, Coluyn, and Ke-
venlleece. By the same act it was also empowered to re¬
turn two members to Parliament, one for the county, and
one for the contributory boroughs of Radnor, Rhayder,
Knighton, Knuclas, and Kevenlleece. The county is fur¬
ther divided into parishes and townships. The former are
fifty-two in number, and are all in the diocese of St. David’s,
except five, which are included in the English diocese of
Hereford. New Radnor, said to have been at one period
the principal town, is now a very poor village ; it was an
ancient borough by prescription, and has also had charters
granted by Queen Elizabeth, and by George II.
Two-thirds of the whole area of the county are supposed to
be unenclosed and uncultivated. An extensive mountainous
tract, nearly in the centre, is usually called the Forest, though
there is no reason to believe it was ever covered with trees. A
part of this range still belongs to the Crown, although the fo¬
rests of Radnor and Blathvagh have both been alienated,
and are now held by Mr. Thomas Frankland Lewis, and Mr.
Richard Price, as foresters. There is nothing remarkable in
the circumstances or character of these mountains, the sum¬
mit of which was ascertained by Colonel Mudge, to be 2163
feet above the level of the sea. Within their limits is a tor¬
rent, called by a name, which, when translated, is “ Water-
break-its-neck,” that falls abruptly from a height of about
150 feet. The higher ranges produce only heath, but the
sides and lower parts of the hills, which are less exposed to
the winds, are entirely devoted to the pasturage of sheep and
small horses. The north-western angle of the county is
mountainous and unenclosed, and it was in the recesses of
these wilds, that the British monarch, Vortigern, retreated
from the Saxons. On the eastern and southern districts,
the valleys are wider and more fertile, and abound with
small rivulets; but the hills are less elevated, and are partially
clothed with wood.
The soil of this country is as varied in quality as its po-
RAD 11
sition differs in elevation. A small portion of the southern Radnor-
angle is composed of the fertile red earth which prevails in shire,
the adjoining counties of Brecon and Hereford. The moun-
tains upon the western side are chiefly of the primary slate
rocks which abound in Wales; and the valleys between
these and the forest have frequently a clayey substratum re¬
tentive of water. The forest, and the other subordinate hills
connected with it, consist of a slatey rock, containing a por¬
tion of lime, which decomposes rapidly on exposure to the
atmosphere. The valleys to the eastward of this range are
chiefly of a fertile loamy soil, incumbent on an extremely
absorbent gravel. The climate is wet and stormy, and the
spring months are particularly cold and ungenial. It is, ne¬
vertheless, healthy ; there are no peculiar or prevalent dis¬
eases, and the inhabitants are robust and long-lived.
The principal river is the Wye, which enters the county
at Savan y Coed, and flows to the south till it divides it
from Brecon. Its tributary streams are the Elan, the Ithon,
the Edda, and the Mackwy. The river Terne flows on the
eastern border, and continues its course by Ludlow to the
Severn. The Lug and the Arrow, in the more central parts,
form considerable streams before they enter the county of
Hereford. There are some small lakes or pools requiring
notice only as contributing to the beauty of the scenery.
These are, Llyn, Llanbychllyn, Hendwell Pool, and Llyn-
Gwyn. A cataract at Rhayader, was formerly an object
much visited by travellers ; but the construction of a bridge
has widened the channel, and deprived it of much of its re¬
markable character.
The agriculture of the county is gradually improving.
Irrigation has long been practised to a considerable extent,
and its effects on absorbent soils are found to be highly be¬
neficial ; but the process is not conducted in the most scien¬
tific manner. Lime is abundantly used as a manure, and
is chiefly supplied from a valuable stratum of rock near Old
Radnor. The ploughing was usually performed by two oxen
and two horses; but oxen are now seldom used, and the
plough with two horses is in gradual adoption. The imple¬
ments of husbandry are, for the most part, in a rude form.
Most of the farms consist of an equal portion of arable and
of grass land. The latter is generally appropriated to the
dairy, and the young cattle are reared on the more hilly and
barren spots. About one-fifth of the county is under the
plough, and one-tenth meadow; the remainder is generally
used for sheep walks.
In the mountainous districts the cattle differ little from
those which are common in the principality of Wales, but
in the more fertile parts, the Herefordshire breed prevails.
The sheep are small, and when fattened, their mutton is ex¬
cellent; the horses also are generally small, strong, and hardy.
S There is little commerce carried on in this county, and
the only manufactures are of flannels and coarse wool¬
len cloths, which the inhabitants make for their own use.
Cattle, sheep, horses, woollen, butter, and, from the south¬
east districts, a surplus of grain, are sent annually to the
markets of England. The county is not known to contain
any valuable minerals. A lead mine has been opened and
abandoned, and, in some places, an uncertain belief has pre¬
vailed of the existence of copper. Various mineral springs
are known, and Llandrindad is a place of resort on account
of the medicinal qualities of its saline, sulphureous, and cha¬
lybeate wells. In several other parts there are similar springs,
the properties of which havenotbeen accurately ascertained,
i In Radnorshire there are many vestiges of antiquity. The
Abbey of Cwm Hir stood formerly in a singularly retired and
romantic situation on the banks of a rivulet which runs into
the Wye. A small vestige remains of a castle at New Rad¬
nor, which was assailed and destroyed “ by the irregular and
wild Glendower,” previously to the battle noticed by Shak-
speare, in the first part of Henry IV,, when Mortimer was
taken prisoner. It w’as fought at Pilleth in this county.
12
Raft
II
Ragusa.
R A F
A Roman road, which reached from Chester to Caennarthen
traversed this county, entering its confines on the northern
extremity, in the direction of Newtown, blowing theval-
'ley of the river Ithon, and crossing the Wye into Breck¬
nockshire, near the town of Beulth. At Cwm, near L a -
drindad, the remains of a Roman station, on this road, are
still discernible.
The market towns, and their present pnpidation, in 1^.51,
were as follow : Presteign, 1529 ; Knighton, 1259; Riay-
adRAFT, a sort of float, formed by an assemblage of va¬
rious planks or pieces of timber, fastened together side by
side, so as to be conveyed more commochously to any slio
distance in a harbour or road than if they were separate.
The timber and plank with which merchant-ships aie laden,
in the different parts of the Baltic sea, are attached to¬
gether in this manner, in order to float them off to the slop¬
ping.
"RAFTERS, in building, are pieces of timber, which,
standing by pairs on the reason or railing piece, meet in an
angle at the top, and form the roof of a building.
RAFUR, a town of Hindustan in the Mahratta territo¬
ries, and province of Aurungabad, forty-three miles SJ.E.
from Ahmednuggur. Long. 75. 20. E. Lat.18. 26. •
RAGECS, a market town of Hungary, in the province
of Hither Danube, and circle of Trentsin. It contains two
churches, a synagogue, 490 houses, and 4560 inhabitants,
who carry on the trades of sadlers and paper-makers. Aear
to it are warm baths, much frequented by invalids. Eat.
49- 5.35. Long. 18. 32. 25. E.
RAGMAN’S Roll, so called, as some think, from one
Rao-imund a legate in Scotland, who calling before him all
the beneficed clergyman in that kingdom, caused them on
oath to give in the true value of their benefices, accoiding
to which they were afterwards taxed by the court of Rome ;
and this roll, amongst other records, being taken from the
Scotch by Edward I. was delivered to them in the begin¬
ning of the reign of Edward III. .
RAGNIT, a town of the province of East Prussia, in the
government of Gumbinnen. It is the capital of a circle
of the same name, which extends over 466 square miles,
and comprehends one city and six parishes, with 23,100
inhabitants. The town is on the river Memel, where that
stream enters the Prussian from the Russian dominions.
It contains 196 houses, with 2200 inhabitants, chiefly de¬
pending upon agriculture and internal trade. Lat. 55. 1.
Long. 21. 56. E.
RAGSTONE, a coarse kind of sandstone which is used
as a whetstone for coarse cutting tools. It is found in the
hills about Newcastle, and in many other parts of England,
where there are large rocks of it.
RAGULED, or Ragged, in Heraldry, jagged or knot¬
ted. This term is applied to a cross formed of the trunks
of two trees without their branches, of which they show
onlv the stumps. Raguled differs from indented in this that
the*latter is regular, and the former not.
RAGUSA. A circle in the Austrian province of Dal¬
matia, composed of what was formerly the independent
state of that name, of the peninsula of Sabioncello, and of
several islands on the shores of the Adriatic. It was for¬
merly an aristocratical republic, with the peasants feuda¬
tories to the nobles; and its constitution was under the
guarantee of the Sultan, of the king of the two Sicilies, and
of the republic of Venice. When, in the course of the
war, the French took possession of the district, the bondage
of the labourers was lightened, and when it was ceded to
Austria by the congress of Vienna in 1815, the freedom of
all was secured. The circle is 1232 square miles in extent,
and contains about 50,000 inhabitants. The capital is the
city of the same name, the Rausium of antiquity. It is si¬
tuated in a small bay which forms an excellent haven, from
RAT
beintr protected bv the island of St. Locromo. It is sur- Ragusa
rounded with walls, and the gates whichj im cr t e o axis Raillery
tocracv, were only opened a few hours each day,
stantl/afford ingress and egress to strangers and ^habitants.
There is a fine palace formerly the residence of the chief,
the cathedral of a Catholic archbishop^ several monasteries
and churches for both Catholics and Greeks, a college, an
hospital, 1280 houses, and 7450 inhabitants, who are em¬
ployed in building ships, in manufacturing silk, and in
making soap, snuff’, and various cordials. There belong¬
ing to the port more than 300 vessels, of which about thirty
are equipped for distant voyages. This place is celebrated
for having <nven birth to the celebrated Jesuit and mathe¬
matician Boscovich. Lat. 42. 36. 40. Long. 18. 6. 25. E.
Ragusa is a city of the island of Sicily in the district of
Noto, and intendency of Liragosa. It is situated on an Alpine
mountain, but watered by the river of its own name. The
situation is tolerably salubrious, and 120 miles from Paler¬
mo It contains 16,600 inhabitants, who make woollen
cloths and some other goods, and have a considerable ge¬
neral trade. It was the ancient Hybla, and near to it are
many remains of antiquity, and several caverns in which the
celebrated honev is still to be obtained. T i a u-
RAHABEK, a village in the desert part of Irak Arabia,
near the Euphrates, on the road frequented by the caravans
from Syria to Irak Arabia, 110 miles south-west of Mosul.
Also a village of Diarbekir in Asiatic Turkey, on the Eu¬
phrates, fifty miles south of Kerkesich.
RAHALY, a town of Irak Arabia, ten miles distant from
the Euphrates, and seventy miles N.W. of Meshed Ah.
RAHAPA, a small island in the eastern seas, near the
east coast of Borneo. Long. 119- 4. E. Lat. 4. 58. N.
RAHAT, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Alla¬
habad, and district of Bemdelarnel, forty miles N.N.E. from
Chakerpoor. Long. 80. E. Lat. 25. 32. N.
RAHDUNPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Gujerat, and district of Werrear, belonging to a Mahom-
medan chief, who formerly possessed a much more extensive
territory. Itcontains 6000 houses, 1400 ofwhich are inhabited
by shroff's or bankers, some of whom are possessed of property,
and carry on an extensive commerce. It is well situated tbi
commerce, and forms an emporium for the trade of Merwur
and Cutch, though the road has of late years been infested
by a tribe of robbers, called Coolies. The valuable caiavans
formerly travelled by this route ; but they are deteried by
the danger of the road* The inhabitants are mostly engaged
in agriculture, and they have brought the vicinity of the town
into a high state of cultivation. They have no manufactories
of any consequence, except one of very coarse cloth for the
Coolies. This principality was founded by a Balvocky chief
who came from Paakur ; and Shah Jehan built the wall in
order to repress the invasions of the Coolies. When the
Gurcowar compelled the father of the present nabob to re¬
sign his claims to Pattan and its nine dependent pergun-
nahs, he was permitted to retain Rahdunpore, Manjepoor,
and Sommee, which formed part of the original possessions
of the family. Long. 71. 45. E. Lat. 24. N.
RAHOON, a town of Hindustan in the Sikh territories,
and province of Lahore. It is situated about four miles west
of the Sutlege river, and has a considerable manufacture
of cotton cloths. During the height of the rains, the river
here is above one andahalf mile broad. 1* rom Rahoon,buffas
and piece goods are carried to the fair at Hurdwar, 115 miles
south-east from the city of Lahore. Long. 75.35. E, Lat.25.
53. N.
RAIE, a small town of Diarbekir in Asiatic lurkey, 118
miles south-west of Diarbekir.
RAILLERY, according to Dr. Johnson, means slight
satire, or satirical merriment; and a beautiful writer of the
last century compares it to a light which dazzles, but docs
not burn.
13
RAILWAYS.
Railways. In treating of the construction and mode of working rail-
ways, we shall confine ourselves principally, to those which
are intended for the transit of passengers and goods, and
which are now opening so vast a field for the improvement
of the human race ; an improvement, in fact, entering into
all the relations between man and man, and which no one,
be he ever so sanguine, can venture to fix a limit to.
From the middle of the seventeenth century various con¬
trivances have been in use for decreasing friction on roads,
particularly near the collieries in the north, such as laying
down tracks of wood and stone for the wheels of waggons; it
having been found that the much greater quantity of work
performed by horses on these tracks, or, in other words, the
less number of horses required to do a given portion of la¬
bour, more than repaid the expenses attendant on forming
the tracks. These, in general, gave way to the flat or tram
rail, made of iron; but the improvements were very slow, and
at last were only applicable to certain circumscribed locali¬
ties and materials for carriage.
Possessing little general interest, and chiefly benefiting
individuals, the attention they attracted was principally con¬
fined to the parties immediately connected with them. But
how different is the prospect now before us, since we have
seen the magnificent creations of George Stephenson? Pack-
horses are still the only mode of transit for traffic in many
parts of the world; and within seventy years this was the
general mode of conveyance for the carrying trade to York¬
shire and Lancashire fromthe west of England and Birming¬
ham. In the year 1830, when the London and Birmingham
railway was projected, the expense of constructing it was stat¬
ed at L.6000 per mile with one line of rails, which were to be
worked by horses, and warranted to go eight miles an hour ;
now the public are complaining of going only twenty miles an
hour, and we have a right to expect that, at no very distant
period, this velocity will at least be doubled; in fact, at the
rate improvements have been advancing for the last few years,
we know not where to place a limit of increase in speed.
It is of these splendid creations that we have here to speak.
We shall shew the method of conducting a modern railway,
from its earliest commencement, through allits various stages
in each department, both in and out of doors, up to the pe¬
riod of its final completion ; and shall end by explaining the
method of setting it in full operation, pointing out, in each
division of the labour, those modes of proceeding which will
most conduce to a satisfactory result, and marking those
things which practice has shewn should be avoided; collect¬
ing the contrivances and appliances which have been found
useful, from whatever source they may be derived, and set¬
ting a beacon upon shipwrecks, that they may become other
men’s landmarks.
When a railway is proposed between any two places, the
public want to know how to distinguish between a bubble
speculation, got up by a few interested individuals, a crude¬
ly-formed and hastily-adopted, but really good project, and
a line got up with care and attention through all its parts,
shewing it to be the result of patient research and of matu¬
red judgment; and according as inquirers find the follow¬
ing directions more or less attended to, they may place con¬
fidence in the scheme which is laid before them.
These undertakings generally begin with a few indivi¬
duals interested in the line of railway proposed, when the
project is honestly intended ; but the great mass of original
proprietors are men of a speculative and adventurous turn
of mind, who enter into these concerns for the mere purpose Railways,
of making money. If the thing succeeds, and the shares rise
to a large premium, as they often do, the original holders
realize the profits at once, by selling out, and then apply their
surplus capital in other projects, with the same hope of gain.
These people, by going out, make way for another class of
proprietors, namely, those who look to their shares as a per¬
manent investment, and hope to make by them a greater
annual receipt than they can get in the public funds, or by
any other means.
In the earlier stages the directors are generally self-elect¬
ed. They should be men of local interest, rather than the
lions who are too often found in these situations; men who
can influence members of Parliament in either house, con¬
ciliate landholders, get off the shares, &c., and, above all, they
should be of regular and businesslike habits. After a few
meetings, they will find out what are their respective quali¬
fications, and can allot themselves into sub-committees ac¬
cordingly ; some to look after the traffic, others the survey¬
ing, others the share list, others to attend to the canvassing
along the line, &c. Almost their first duty will be to choose
the secretary, the engineer, the solicitor, and the banker.
On the appointment of the first three much of the future
success of the company will depend. The secretary should
be a man of firmness and nerve, with conciliatory and gen¬
tlemanly manners ; of a strong habit of body, able to rough
it out in travelling, and possessing a stock of scientific and
mechanical knowledge. If he is a draughtsman so much the
better, and he should have been habituated to command
large bodies of men, and be able to make a public speech
at a short notice. With these qualifications, habits of order,
and plain common sense, he will be a most valuable man.
The engineer must be judged of by the works he has ex¬
ecuted, either by himself or under the direction of a supe¬
rior; the first, of course, being the most conclusive, but the
second by no means to be neglected. Skill and genius may
often be very prominent in subordinate situations. Of course,
all other things being equal, one who has been employed on
railways should be preferred to one who has not. The soli¬
citor should, if possible, have been connected with a railway
bill before, and should have not only ability, but zeal. The
advantage of having one who had been connected with a pre¬
vious undertaking is obvious, and if he has had much expe¬
rience in parliamentary business, so much the better; a local
acquaintance amongst the landowners and residents along
the line is also of much use.
We suppose that, prior to advancing even thus far, the pro- Prelim -
moters of the undertaking have travelled between the termini nary in-
of the intended railroad, and have ascertained that there are (luiries-
no engineering difficulties of a marked character; and from
our present stage, if the share list be found to fill, we have
next to ascertain the nature and quantity of the traffic, first,
as to whether it will pay for a railroad at all, and secondly,
for what kind of a railroad. These questions should be met
openly and honestly, or the consequences will be most
disastrous.
The proper way to gain a correct knowledge of the traffic
along any given line of country is, first of all, to station a
man by day and another by night for two or three weeks, to
count all vehicles passing a given number of spots along the
intended line, (these spots should be near the principal
towns), leaving out the largest terminus, as, for instance,
London, and keeping the men on that side of all the respec-
14
railways.
Railways, live towns which is nearest the largest terminus For this
—^-^purpose memorandum-books should be furnished them to
note down all that passes. These should, at the end of their
twelve hours' beat, be digested into printed forms, where
;ach class is to be placed in its proper column, and any re¬
narks made, if necessary. The forms are then to be dai y
transmitted by post to the secretary, who should make it
his business to ascertain that, by fairs, races, elections, or
any other causes of local excitement, the traffic is not m an
unusual state. He is then to consider attentively the returns
he has received, discriminating that which would be avail¬
able for the railway in question, from that which would not,
and bring the whole series into one general total, under
the head of “ direct traffic.” The men are also to make a
return, as nearly as they can, of the number of persons tra¬
velling in each vehicle, the quantity of goods in each wag¬
gon, van, cart, &c., distinguishing the nature ot it, when
practicable ; also the number of all kinds of cattle passing
the road, and where all the various passengers and goods
are being conveyed to, as far as can be ascertained.
A similar series of observations must be carried on along the
canals, if any, which lead from those parts of the line likely
to become available for the intended railway, distinguishing
the nature and quantity of the traffic. Most canal-boats are
marked at the head and stern with the draught of water; and
by finding out what they sink for every half-ton, a sufficient¬
ly near estimate may be found of the weight they carry. In
certain situations the entries at the custom-house will be
useful auxiliaries; the returns from clerks of markets will
often materially assist as checks, as will also the rental or
the various turnpikes; and no means are to be neglected to
obtain a fair and honest statement of the general traffic in
actual existence along the proposed line.
Traffic to The next object is to find out what will be the probable
be expect- increase on this existing traffic, when it shall be carried so
ed- much quicker and cheaper by a railway. The usual method
of doing this has been to assume some ratio of increase, deduc¬
ed from other undertakings of a similar nature, and two to
one have been considered rather under than over the truth;
but when it is remembered that the increase of passengers,
these being the main contributors to a railway, has been, in
all proportions, up to eighty to one, it is obvious that this is a
very uncertain mode of ascertaining such an essential ele¬
ment.
A much better method of arriving at this point will be to
take, with the help of a map, all those stage-coaches which
run from places where travellers can go cheaper and quicker
by the proposed railway. The numbers of these, their daily
journeys and their mileage, can be readily got from the
stamp-office returns, printed in Robson’s Directory. When
these various returns and data of every possible kind have
been collected, and information has been brought to bear
from every quarter whence it can, by any means, be ob¬
tained, the whole must be drawn up ready for calculation,
so as at last to exhibit, in the simplest manner in which it can
be shewn, a tabular result not only of the existing traffic,
but also of that which can be affected by the proposed rail¬
way under any circumstances, which latter may be called
“ contingent traffic.”
The best mode of computing the data, as above described,
is to multiply the distance between the stations by the num¬
ber of coaches ; then by the number of daily or weekly
journeys made by each ; and then by the number of passen¬
gers they may fairly be presumed to carry. By proceeding
in this manner, the last results, in this case, can be added
in a column, which will give the number of passengers car¬
ried one mile, daily or weekly, as the case may be. This,
divided by the number of miles there will be on the intend¬
ed railway, and augmented so as to exhibit the yearly quan¬
tity, will give the first step in the inquiry. The same me¬
thod exactly is to be made use of for the canal traffic, if any,
Fisr. 1.
substituting tons for passengers, which is also to be done Ra ways,
with the waggons, vans, and other public conveyances.
The contingent traffic, or that which is obtained from
the stamp-office returns, is to be handled in a similar man¬
ner, only taking care that the various coaches and other
vehicles are only taken for that distance which in all pro¬
bability, they will go upon the railway. When the whole is
reduced, it must be put into money, andwill then contrast with
the amount of the same quantity of traffic at existing prices.
It is very easy to determine a limit beyond which none
of this contingent traffic will, by any possibility, be available
for a railway. We shall shew how this is done, as it may
serve thus far as a guide, so that no place beyond the limit
need, of course, be paid any attention to.
In any triangle a, c, d, (fig. 1), let (ad) represent any in¬
crement uniformly generated with any given
velocity (h), and let (ac) and (cd) represent any
other increment uniformly generated with any
other given velocities (6)and (p). Now all these
velocities being in this case comparable with
each other, if we represent the different incre¬
ments by the times in which they are gene¬
rated, we may shew by the respective portions
(ad) (ac) and (erf), the progress of any object
whose motion is uniform.
Let (ad) represent a part of the road now
used between any two towns (a) and (rf), let
(ac) be a portion of a railroad, and let (cd) be a cross-road
joining the railroad (ac) with the turnpike road (ad). Then
if the velocity (b) (p) and (h) in the respective times (t")
(t') and (t) are such, that.
or=t
the point rf would be at the limit, and no person beyond it
could travel along (rfc) and (ca) in order to get from (rf)
to (a) with advantage.
As a railway may, in general, be taken in comparison
with a coach-road, both as to time and price, in the ratio of
1 : 2, price may at once be excluded from the investigation,
and time only taken into account; because those to whom
time is an object in travelling, by attending to that alone,
will evidently reap, along with it, the benefit of cheapness
also ; and those to whom price is an object, will, in attend¬
ing to time only, gain that advantage, and in conjunction
with it, the minimum of price likewise. Particular circum¬
stances may, in a few cases, modify this ; but the general
features of the comparison will be as above.
Taking, then, the ratio of p : b=h : b=2 :1, and consi¬
dering p: A to be a ratio of equality, and that for one hour
h—pzzlO miles, and consequently, b=20 miles, or, in other
words, that on the railroad (b), the rate of travelling will
be 20 miles an hour, while on the direct road (h), and the
cross road (p), the rate will be at 10 miles an hour ; we
have then only to add the whole of the perpendicular (p)
to half the base (b), and subtract the same from the hypo-
thenuse (h), which is got from the stamp-office returns for
each town, and the remainder, if any, will be the miles gained
by travelling over the two sides of the triangle instead of over
the third, and if there is no remainder, that particular town
is beyond the limits, and will not be benefited by the rail¬
way, consequently, it mustbe rejected from the traffic returns.
It is well there were no railroads in Euclid’s days. We do
not know what he would have said to our thus making the
perpendicular and half the base equal to the hypothenuse;
but such is the practical fact in the question we are
considering, and this fact has been exemplified on every
railway where the traffic can partly be derived from towns
right and left of the line, which is the case almost invari¬
ably. We shall give a few instances, taken from the traffic
returns of the London and Birmingham railway.
It is required to know whether the coaches running from
Bedford to London ought to be included in the returns of
RAILWAYS.
Railways, traffic for the London and Birmingham railway, or, in other
words,whether the inhabitants of Bedford would go cheaper
and quicker to London, by first getting to the London and
Birmingham railway, and then proceeding by that route to
London, or whether they had better go by the old direct
coach road, and vice versa, on their return from London,
whether it would be cheaper and quicker for them to go
along that railroad, and then by a cross country coach to Bed¬
ford, or continue to use the old road ?
The nearest station for the people of Bedford on the
London and Birmingham railway, is at a place called ol-
verton ; from Bedford to Wolverton (p) is 15 miles, to which
add (l b) half the distance from London to Wolverton,
which is 251 miles, and the total 40^ miles, (\b-yp) is the
equivalent distance from London to Bedford, via the rail¬
way ; that is to say, by travelling along the two sides of the
triangle. Now, in the stamp-office returns, it will be
found that the direct road (A) is 52 miles, consequently,
either in going to London, or coming from it, the people of
Bedford would in each case save 11^ miles in equivalent
distance, or 1 hour and 9 minutes in time, besides money.
It is clear, then, that Bedford ought to be included in the
traffic returns of that railway company.
The same question is proposed as to the town of Hatfield.
The nearest station on the railway to this place is at Two-
waters, and the distance between them (p) is 10 miles; add¬
ing to this (^5), half the distance from London to Two-wa¬
ters, which is 10^ miles, we have the equivalent
distance via the railroad between London and Hatfield,
equal to 20^ miles. Turning now to the stamp-office re¬
turns, we find (K) the distance from London to Hatfield by
the direct road, is also 20| miles, and consequently, the two
routes being equal, that town ought not to be included in
the estimate of traffic.
It is required to know the same thing with respect to the
town of Kitchen ? Here the inhabitants would join the
railway in question at Leighton Buzzard, and we find
(p)=l6i miles, (15)=19 miles, total or (i&+p) 351 miles,
whilst (A) =36 miles; and there would be a consequent
gain of half a mile in distance, or 3 minutes in time.
In the case of Oundle and London, the station where the
inhabitants of that town would join the railway, is near
Northampton, and we have miles, (■j5)=32 miles,
total or (15+/))= 5 8, whilst, by the stamp-office returns,
we have (4)=81 miles ; consequently, there is a gain of 23
miles, or of 2 hours and 18 miuutes, by thus travelling over
two sides of the triangle instead of the third.
It is desired to know, whether the inhabitants of Leices¬
ter, in their communication to and fro with Birmingham,
and vice versa those of Birmingham in the communication
with Leicester, will be benefited by the London and Bir¬
mingham railway. Here the point where each party would
either join or leave the railway would be Coventry, and we
have (/))=25 miles, (-^5) =9 miles, total or (^5+/)) =34
miles, whilst (5)=36 miles, shewing a gain of 2 miles, or 12
minutes in time.
We will throw a few more examples into a tabular form,
as this part of our subject is a very important one, and can¬
not be too well understood. Care will, of course, be taken,
that all the distances are those really existing on the respec¬
tive roads in question ; and it will also be advisable to re¬
ject all minute savings from the traffic returns, in order to
be under, rather than over, in the estimate.
The best way of commencing to make out the following
table, will be to take a map of the railway for which it is to be
formed; and this should embrace a considerable portion of the
adjoining country. Draw on the map a straight line from
the one terminus to the other ; this will represent (5) in fig.
1, and from this, lay off at right angles from each of the
termini, other straight lines ; these will represent (/)) in fig.
1. We shall now shew how to ascertain the point in (/>)
Between what
places.
Place where
the railway
would be
joined or
left.
ShenleyHill)
and London J
! St. Neot’s \
and London )
Uxbridge \
and London J
Woodstock \
and London J
Stamford \
and London J
Oxford )
and London j
town or (p).
Watford
Blisworth
Stanmore
Stoney
Stratford
Rugby
Fenny
Stratford
IHalfthedis-
tance from
London to
the point of
junction
with the
railway, or
m
26
25
40
27
Total
equiva¬
lent dis- | h
tance, or
W+P).
27
5i
25
42J
22
14
53
11
50
824
49
17 3
57 4
17 6
Gain
in
time.
18
0 24
0
i
6414 1
8974 0
36
24
45
58 9 0 ‘54
15
Railways.
from which (5) is to be drawn in each case to the more dis¬
tant terminus, and then shew the mode of using this figure
when thus laid down on the map.
We have given to us by the conditions of the problem.
5= -I- +p, (1)
5=^,
(2)
(3)
and from the relations of a right-angled triangle we have
h=Jb>+P*. (4)
Substituting in this latter expression the value of (p) from
equation (2),
5=y
52 + ^— 2 ,
5*
we get
whence we have 5=^ 52+A2—55+—,
or, h3=b*+h?
5*
-55+—,
whence 0=5*—55+
5*
or, 55=5*4—— ;
4
and finally, 5=5+ ~ =~+ = 1'25 5,
and substituting this value of (5) in equation (2),
we have, p~ — =0-75 5.
From this we see, that the length of (p) will always be
three-fourths of (5), and the length of (5) once and a quar¬
ter that of (6).
On the map then, calling (a) (e) the termini, we set oil
on (/>) in four directions three-
fourths the length of the
straight line (5), and then
draw the four lines (5), (see
fig. 2,) and we are sure that
the four triangles (5, p, 5,)
include every town that can
by any means come to our
termini to use our whole line,
and if the line 5 was in rea¬
lity a straight one on the
ground, as it is in the figure, the triangles would include
RAILWAYS.
every other town throughout the whole tract of coun¬
try, the inhabitants of which could avail themselves of the
benefits of the railway, therefore, in using our figure, we
must make the outer boundary lines (h), respectively
curve right or left as the line of railway departs m either
of those directions from the straight line (b). The values of
(U) may then be found and marked ready for use, as nearly
as can be judged, by seeing where the stations would, it is
presumed,be ultimately placed; then having ascertained the
values of (jo) and (h) from the stamp-office returns, or any
other equally authentic document, they may in each case be
marked against the roads for all the towns which we may
see fit to calculate upon for putting or not into the traffic
returns, according as their inhabitants would gain or not by
using the railway. f
It will, on a very slight inspection, be self-evident, that tor
perhaps three-fourths of the whole space included within
the lines (jo) and (h), there will be no need of any calcula¬
tion, except to shew the quantity of saving. In the earlier
stages, therefore, if it is merely required to know the amount
of traffic ; but only the doubtful places need be computed,
and the rest may be deferred till it is desirable to complete
the whole table. It must also be noted, that although a place
may be actually without the boundary lines, yet there may
not be a conveyance from it to either of the termini, as
the case may be, and that the inhabitants, in order to be
enabled to travel thither, may have to come to a place
within the lines. They are then to be tried for as if they
were themselves situated within the lines, and, of course,
all towns beyond the termini must benefit, when travelling
towards the opposite end of the line.
The effect of railways will be this : They can only be
made upon main lines, because such lines will alone pay; the
stage coaches will go off these lines when the railway has
been a short time in operation, but the same coaches will
be employed on cross country roads to feed the railway ; and
it is a curious fact, that through this operation one more
coach was licensed at Liverpool and Manchester the year
after the railway opened than there was the year before.
If the above rules be attended to, a tolerably correct know¬
ledge of the traffic to be expected may be obtained, and it is
sure not to be an exaggerated one. Whilst this has been going
on, the engineer will have been employed in looking at the
general features of the country preparatory to surveying
and levelling it; and in most cases a man of a practised eye
at this kind of work will be able at once to decide on all the
principal points along which the line should go. During the
same time the solicitorwill havebeen feelinghis way amongst
the landowners and the occupiers, so that where much dis¬
sent is manifested, that property may if possible be avoided.
Landholders have been proverbially hostile to railways, and
enormous in their demands for compensation, yet they have
invariably found that their property has been benefited in¬
stead of being injured ; and when more land has been re¬
quired from them, they have asked a higher price on account
of that very railway running through their property, whose ex¬
istence they had in the first instance declared to bea nuisance.
This state of things cannot last much longer; but whilst it
does, it must be met as far as possible in the above manner.
There are many things to be taken into consideration be¬
fore definitely fixing on the precise line in which a railroad
is to run. Borings should be largely taken to obtain a cor¬
rect geological knowledge of the various strata. A consider¬
able subsequent expenditure may often be saved in this way.
It is of no use to put a penny on our eyes to hinder us
from seeing a guinea. Borings may be carried to any depth
by sinking a well part of the way, and without this they
have been worked to a depth of760 feet. The nature of the
traffic must also be taken into consideration, so that when
all other things are equal, the line may be run so as to in¬
clude particular towns. The population of all the adjacent
places should be ascertained and marked on a map; the na-Mwaj^
ture of the various markets and fairs should be examined
into and the state of trade ; the wants of persons connected
with it ought also to be taken into account; the quantity
and quality of the existing goods traffic, its nature, and the
demands on it with reference to any probable increase ; and
the capabilities of harbours, if any are within reach of the
line, their draught of water, the nature of the protection
they afford, their present trade, and the effect of the railroad
on that trade. In this, as well as in all other cases, the results
of a transition from peace to war, and vice versa, should be
well considered, together with the effect of any future line
of railway w hich may become a partially competing one.
The more effectually these inquiries are made, and the
more fully their results are honestly put before the proprie¬
tors, together with separate estimates for the engineering
department and the managing department, so will their con¬
fidence in the undertaking increase ; and it is a most essen¬
tial point to place this confidence on a sure basis, so that
if any little mishap, which none can avoid, take place, the
shares may not be suddenly thrown on the market at a ruin¬
ous sacrifice, and the undertaking abandoned, through the
projectors not having had the necessary information, to
enable them to see that the result of their labours would
be a profitable speculation, notwithstanding any trifling
losses arising from causes against which perhaps no human
foresight could provide.
Railways with two lines of rails in very favourable situa- Cost of
tions have been completed for L.l0,000 per mile in Eng-radways-
land. This however must be taken as the exception, and
not the rule. Under very unfavourable circumstances they
have cost L.50,000 per mile; and of course there will be
found an expense per mile at all differences between these
two, which may fairly be taken as the extreme limits. Now
it is certain, that with a line 80 miles in length, a traffic of 75
tons of goods per day from each end, or 120 passengers per
day each way, or with 35 tons of goods and 60 passengers
per day each way, the railway, if even constructed for
L.l2,000 per mile, which will rarely happen, would not af¬
ford a dividend of more than a quarter per cent, and (our
numbers throughout meaning daily each way) it would
require 100 tons of goods, or 160 passengers, or 50 tons
of goods and 80 passengers, to pay 1 per cent.; 125 tons
of goods, or 200 passengers, or 62 tons of goods and 100
passengers, would but little exceed If per cent.; and it
would take 200 tons of goods, or 320 passengers, or 100 tons
of goods with 160 passengers, to pay 4f per cent.
The Americans have such facilities for these construc¬
tions, that 1600 miles of railroad have been made in that
country (a good deal of it, however, being only single line)
at an average cost of only L.5081 per mile ; whereas in Eng¬
land the mere permanent way alone would amount toL.4400
per mile, if the rails were 45 lbs. to the yard, and laid upon
longitudinal timbers ; L.4900 per mile, with rails 42 lbs.
per yard, having chairs and cast-iron supports between
them, on longitudinal timbers ; L.5300 per mile, with rails
42 lbs. per yard, on blocks 3 feet apart; L.4800 per mile,
with the same sized rails on wmoden sleepers; L.5600 per
mile for 62 lb. rails, on blocks 4 feet apart, and L.5100 for
the same rails on wooden sleepers ; L.6000 per mile for
rails of 75 lb. per yard on blocks 5 feet apart, andL.5500 per
mile for the same on sleepers. These prices do not include
laying the way, ballasting, and draining. Thus wre see that
the mere cost of the permanent way in the country, ave¬
raging L.5200 per mile, exceeds that of the whole expense
of a complete railway in America ; and 75 pound rails on
blocksand sleepers, including laying, ballasting, sidings, turn-
plates, and every expense, has exceeded L.8000 per mile.
The mean receipts for five years on the Liverpool and Man¬
chester line give the following proportions: Revenue 100, ex¬
penses 55, profits 45; and the expenses have been as high,
RAILWAYS.
17
Railways, or higher than 60. The average, however, gives the ratio of
revenue to profit at 1 to .45. On the Dublin and Kingston
railway the same ratio for 26^ months gives 1 to .4344. On
the Brussels and Mechlin railway the ratio for 1 year is 1 to
.488. On theGrandJunctionrailway,for6months,itisl:.48.
On the London and Birmingham, no data exist to form a
judgment. There is a very singular coincidence intheseratios
on lines so very differently circumstanced, and of lengths
varying from six miles to more than 100; but we have not
yet acquired any sufficient experience in railway statistics to
enable us to speak with confidence on the subject. If every
railway would publish yearly its experience, as was so hand¬
somely done in the Liverpool and Manchester for several
years, analyzing every source of expense, and reducing
them to the ratio per passenger and per ton per mile, we
should then soon acquire such a stock of knowledge as would
enable all these points to be decided ; indeed, of so much
consequence are railways now becoming, that the legislature
should take up the question, making it a law that returns
should be sent yearly, according to a form arranged by some
person thoroughly conversant with the subject.
When matters are so far advanced that the engineer can
be directed to make out his plans and sections, he will com¬
mence by consulting the ordnance map, and by the help of
that and his geological knowledge, obtained from the bor¬
ings and trial shafts, together with his inspection of the
wells, mines, quarries, and other excavations in the immediate
vicinity of the intended work, he will proceed to lay down at
least three or four lines, if some local circumstances do not ab¬
solutely limit him to one particular tract of country ; endea¬
vouring to cross all streams and rivers as near their source
as possible, that being the lowest point; and where hills in¬
tersect his progress, aiming at some position where streams
run down on either side in the direction as near as possible
to his intended line. He should avoid going along the sides
of hills, particularly if they are composed of clay or shale,
in order to be clear of the unpleasant consequences which
slips would give rise to in these strata. He should run
through no more seats or ornamental pleasure grounds than
possible, and avoid towns and villages where the land would
be expensive. He should, as far as practicable, be furnish¬
ed with lists of the population, the state of trade, and the
numbers of the assenting and dissenting owners and occu¬
piers of land, together with the quantity and value of their
property. He should have the water analyzed with refe¬
rence to its fitness for locomotive engines, inquiring into
the state of the existing roads and canals, as to the facili¬
ties they afford for getting coke, building materials, &c. on
to the line ; also whether lodgings can conveniently be had
for large bodies of men, and whether the necessary labourers
and mechanics can be procured at reasonable rates in the
immediate vicinity of the line ; and generally he should en¬
ter into all inquiries necessary to enable him to choose the
best line, and construct it at the least cost.
In order to save time and expense, it will be quite suffi¬
cient if what are called rough or flying levels are taken of
these preparatory lines, for which purpose the mountain ba¬
rometer will be amply sufficient, if proper care be taken to
apply the necessary corrections, and strict attention be paid
to comparing it as often as possible, and at stated regular
times, with a stationary standard barometer. Cross stations
between the lines should likewise be taken, in order to as¬
certain the lowest point. The rates at which streams run
will also assist in giving indications, and the ordnance map
may be sufficient authority for distances. He should par¬
ticularly attend to curves and gradients ; a curve of three-
quarters of a mile radius, in conjunction with a rise of 16
feet in a mile, reducing the speed of a locomotive to nearly
one-half. Where the gradient is good, curves are not of
so much consequence. A curve of a quarter of a mile ra¬
dius on the Bolton and Leigh railway is constantly passed
VOL. XIX.
with safety at a speed of thirty miles an hour, but the wear Railways,
of engines and carriages must be increased.
The whole question of gradients is only beginning to be Gradients,
understood ; and we have no doubt that at some future time
railways will be made much more level than they now are.
There is no reason why in many cases hydraulic locks should
not be used to carry the trains up and down different levels, and
to do away with the inclined planes. The practical effect of
gravity is not well known. We have long had the angle of
repose given as 1 in 280. This is correct with some car¬
riages and waggons, but others differ extremely. Care must
be taken where two planes meet that they are eased into each
other if their difference is much. This is best done by lay¬
ing a short piece of the line level. We have known an in¬
stance in which, at an inclination of 1 in 330, a waggon ran
down 4 miles, and acquired a velocity of 8 miles an hour.
The question is not at what angle a carriage will just be¬
come quiescent, but at what angle will a velocity be ac¬
quired which can have a useful practical effect. The Irish
railway commissioners have taken this at 1 in 140 ; whilst
on the London and Birmingham railway the Euston exten¬
sion plane is for a considerable part of its length 1 in 75,
the trains on it attaining a velocity of 30 miles an hour,
and working remarkably well. It is unfortunate, too, that
their classification of engines does not contain at all, those
in use on that line. The third class is the nearest, but will
give much too little as the power of those engines, which
go 60 miles an hour up considerable inclined planes. The
third class has 11-inch cylinders, 18-inch stroke and 5-feet
wheels, the weight being, engine, 8^ tons, tender, 5^.
The principal difference between this class and the en¬
gines on the London and Birmingham railway is, that the
latter have 5^-feet wheels and 12-inch cylinders. Taking,
however, the above third-class engine, and allowing the fric¬
tion of the engine gear to be 51 lbs., the friction of the en¬
gine on the railway 68 lbs., the friction of the tender 491-
lbs., and the atmospherical pressure upon the piston 190.06
inches, reduced in the inverse proportion of twice the stroke
of the piston to the circumference of the working wheel,
or 533^ lbs., we have a total absorbed power of 702 lbs.
before the engine can move, or, which is the same thing, a
steam pressure of 702 lbs. is requisite for that purpose. Now
the whole power being the area of the piston multiplied by
the pressure, say 64.7 lbs., when the steam is at 50 lbs., we
get for the whole power of the engine 2337 lbs., or the
power to propel the load 1639 lbs., which, even with 9 lbs.
per ton friction caused by the load, gives a fraction of 182
tons on a level.
Supposing a load of 88 tons, including the tender, on a
level, to be drawn at the rate of 20 miles an hour, and that
it has to ascend afterwards a plane of 1 in 140, we have then
the absorbed power =702 lbs.; 88 tons at 9 lbs. per ton
=792 lbs. or 1494 lbs. power of steam pressure required for
this load on a horizontal plane. But when the train comes
to the inclined plane, the weight of the engine has first to
be added, making the load 100 tons, or 224000 lbs., and 1 Ijj
of this, or 1600 lb., is the additional traction required, and
taking every 8 lb. traction to cause 1 lb. additional friction
on the engine gear, gives 200 lbs., therefore the whole power
or steam pressure required is, up the plane, 3294 lbs., and
the velocity being inversely as the pressure, we have 3294 :
1494=20 : 9, or the velocity will be reduced to 9 miles an
hour; in other words, the time expended in ascending the
inclined plane will be more than double that which would
be required on an horizontal plane, but as the descending
will be performed in the same time as if it was a horizontal
plane, and as 1494 : 3294=1 : 2*2, the equivalent length of
the horizontal plane, the length of the ascending plane being
unity, will be 2*2, and the average of the two will be 1*6.
It is upon these data the Irish railway commissioners give
tables of the lengths of equivalent horizontal lines to gra-
c
RAILWAYS.
IS ... . , , „,|lat i, would amount to if the line was Railways.
Railways, clients from 1 in 90 to 1 in 1500, and as the errors in the ‘ beJ"“ ^ what it would be with no incline beyond
,-w (.ct, are principally on the safe side, we g.ve here the most level,
0 n - 7u(3‘
dients irom i m yu u> i m _
data are principally on the safe side, we give here the most
useful one for the description of engine we have betore stat¬
ed, the gross load, including the engine and tender, being
80 tons, and the length of the inclined plane being taken
as unity.
Gradient.
Equivalent horizontal lines.
Ascending. Descending
1 in
90
95
100
110
120
130
140
160
180
200
250
300
350
400
500
750
1000
1500
2-66
2-58
2-50
2-36
2-25
2-15
2-07
1-94
1.83
1-75
1-60
1-50
1-43
1-37
1-30
1-20
1*15
M0
1-00
1-00
1-00
1-00
1-00
1-00
1-00
•83
•83
•83
•83
•83
•83
•83
•83
•83
•85
•90
Mean.
1-83
1-79
1-75
1-68
1-62
1-57
1-53
1-43
1-33
1-29
1-21
1*16
M3
M0
1-06
1-01
1-00
1-00
The following table will be useful in calculating gradients:
The following table from Mr. Pambour’s work will also
assist in forming a judgment; it is for engines of 8 tons,
the loads being tha- of the train and tender. The errors
here are also on the safe side.
The great disadvantages arising from bad gradients, are
capable of being tolerably well estimated by these tables;
but the principal evil is the expense which they occasion,
since the load to be carried along the whole line must not
be heavier than can be drawn by the engines up the in¬
clined planes, or else additional engines must be employed
to assist at those places. On some of the American rail¬
ways, there are planes so steep that sails are made use of
in descending them to check the velocity. The Irish rail¬
way commission have computed the cost of working loco¬
motive engines with different loads, as in the following table,
in which, as in the preceding one extracted from them, the
engine may be expected to do more than is stated.
This table, as far as expense goes, can only be consider¬
ed as an approximation; the steam pressure too, which is
taken at 9 lb. per ton, is higher than what is now found to
be the case ; but it will, nevertheless, shew the relative ex¬
pense ; for instance, if the engine can draw 191 tons on a
level, and there are gradients of on the line of railway,
the load, to enable the engine to ascend these, must be
only 75 tons, and the ratio of expense will be 1’04—’72=
•32, or the increased cost of the engine will be 32 per cent,
on its journey, besides, there being three journeys to carry
the 191 tons, so that the expense and locomotive power
Table of Gradients.
Feet
per
mile.
Inches
per
chain.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
Ratio of
height to
length.
Feet
per
mile.
0-15
0-30
0-45
0-60
0-75
0-90
1-05
1-20
1-35
1-50
1-65
1-80
1- 95
2- 10
2-25
2-40
2-55
2-70
2- 85
2-00
3- 15
3-30
3-45
3-60
3-75
3- 90
4- 05
4-20
4-35
4-50
4-65
4-80
4-95
1 in 5280
„ 2640
„ 1760
„ 1320
„ 1056
880
7542
660-0
586-6
528-0
480-0
440-0
406-1
377-1
352-0
330-0
310-6
293-3
277-9
264-0
251-4
240-0
229-5
220-0
211-2
203-1
195-5
188-6
182-1
176-0
170-3
165-0
160-0
Inches
per
chain.
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
Ratio of
height to
length.
6- 75
6-90
7- 05
7-20
7-35
7-50
7-65
7-80
7- 95
8>10
8- 25
8-40
8-55
8-70
8- 85
9*00
9*15
9- 30
9- 45
9-60
9- 75
9-90
10- 05
10- 20
10-35
10-50
10- 65
10-80
10- 95
11- 10
11-25
11-40
11-55
1 in 117-3
„ 114-8
„ 112-3
„ 110-0
„ 107-7
„ 105-6
, 103-5
, 101.5
, 99-6
, 97*8
, 96-0
, 94-3
, 92-6
, 91-0
, 89-5
, 88-0
„ 86-6
„ 85-1
„ 83-8
„ 82-5
„ 81-2
„ 800
„ 78-8
„ 77-6
„ 76-5
„ 75-4
„ 74-4
„ 73-3
„ 72-3
„ 71-4
„ 70-4
„ 69-5
„ 68-6
RAILWAYS.
19
Railways
Table of Gradients continued.
Feet
per
mile.
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
Inches
per
chain.
Ratio of
height to
length.
Feet
per
5-10
5-25
5-40
5-55
5-70
5- 85
6- 00
6-15
6-30
6-45
6-60
1 in
155-3
150-8
146-6
142-7
138-9
135-4
132-0
128-8
125-7
122-8
120-0
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
Inches
per
chain.
Ratio of
height to
length.
11-70
11- 85
12- 00
12-15
12-30
12-45
12-60
12- 75
12-90
13- 05
13-20
1 in
67-7
66-8
66-0
65-2
64-4
63-6
62-9
62-1
61-4
60-7
60-0
When, therefore, the flying levels are complete for the
three or four lines, as we have before directed, the engineer
and manager, or secretary, should bring all their information
together, and throwing it into one common stock, select
that line out of the whole, which, on the fullest delibera¬
tion, appears to be the best with reference to its gradients,
geology, commercial importance, and the facilities it affords
for soundly and cheaply constructing the necessary works.
This subject will of course require deep attention, and the
reasons for the selection should be written out in the ful¬
lest and clearest manner, for the inspection of any proprietor
who may desire to see them, publicity always insuring con¬
fidence ; and in most cases, it would be best to submit vital
points of this kind to a general meeting of the whole body,
before proceeding to parliament to obtain an act of incor¬
poration. This would entirely prevent any mistrust.
That these matters require the greatest consideration,
will be apparent from the difficulty, delay, and expense of
obtaining acts of parliament for railways. The cost of that
for the Liverpool and Manchester line, for instance, thirty
That for the London and
unavoidably resorted to ; and in one case, where the pro- Railways,
prietor was a clergyman, he was watched on Sunday until'
he went into his church, and a strong party immediately set¬
ting to work, just succeeded in finishing the business as he
concluded his sermon.
The facilities of opposing a bill in parliament are so great,
that every temptation is held out to do so, especially when
the rich harvest to counsel, solicitors, and witnesses, is con¬
sidered ; and as has been well observed by the Irish rail¬
way commissioners, discussions are mooted of the most dis¬
cursive and discordant kinds, relating to all the abstract
professional matter in the most distant manner connected
with a railway. The principles of curves and gradients are
entered into with mathematical precision, and the laws of
friction and gravity are investigated; questions about which
the counsel and the court are often equally ignorant, the one
side seeking to swell the estimates and lower the profits,
and the other pulling in the opposite direction, like the
bulls and bears on the stock exchange, till at last, probably
after the expenditure of thousands, the bill is thrown out,
not on its own merits or demerits, but because, perhaps, a no¬
tice to the proprietor of five or six yards of a cabbage garden,
was left next door by mistake.
The parliamentary rules are now as much too strict, as
they were at first too loose. The time when the required
plans and sections are to be deposited, is very inconveni¬
ent ; two years at least being required between the de¬
posits being paid and the act obtained. Thus, at the present
time, if any line is wished to be procured, the surveys must
be made in the autumn of 1838, the plans must be lodged
and the notices given in March 1839, the petition for the
bill presented to the Commons in February 1840, and sup¬
posing the act obtained the same session, little if any real
work can be done until the spring of 1841. The subscrip¬
tion of ten per cent, required on the capital, merely leads to
delusion ; bankers in general advance the money, and whe¬
ther the bill succeeds or fails, they get it back with interest
and commission, for by the very terms of the order of the
House of Commons, it may be paid back to the person ad¬
vancing it. The public obtain no security against a bad pro¬
miles, was about L.900 per mile —      ^ _ _ _
Birmingham, 112 miles, was L.72,869, or L.650, 12s. per ject by this regulation, whilst a good one may be crushed
mile ; and it is well known that the expense has reached for want of a speculating capitalist. Nobody is benefited
L.1000 per mile on long lines, and that latterly, in every
new session of parliament, there have been fresh difficulties
thrown in the way of obtaining the necessary acts, till it is
now nearly impossible to succeed at all.
Parliamen- There are many very great hardships connected with
tary stand-Q-^—ng an act 0f- incorporation for a railway. Parlia-
in fact, except the banker and the broker; and that this
is the process largely employed all are perfectly aware.
If a bill be lost in one session, it cannot be proceeded
with in the next without a new contract deed being sign¬
ed. This is a considerable hardship. The deviation in sec¬
tion is too limited, and should only apply to raising em-
intr 01L*ers,ment requires that a plan and section of every part of the bankments and lowering cuttings ; the reverse should be
ground through which the intended line is to pass, shall be
lodged with their clerk, and with the clerks of the peace in
every county through which the railway goes. This is a
very proper regulation, in order that every landholder may
be able, by travelling a convenient distance, to have a per¬
sonal inspection of a duly authorised document, so as to
examine the nature and extent of the benefit, or the incon¬
venience which it may occasion to his particular property;
but parliament should at the same time have given the rail¬
way companies the power of complying with this whole¬
some regulation, in the same way as road surveys are made
in Ireland, by an order from two magistrates to enter any
requisite grounds. This, however, is not done, and there¬
fore it follows, as a necessary consequence, that the pro¬
jectors of these undertakings, no matter how beneficial or im¬
portant soever to the community at large, are left entirely
at the mercy of the landholders, whether they can make
their survey or not. We have ourselves known, that when
decided opposition has been evinced to the undertaking,
the engineers and surveyors have been put to all pos¬
sible shifts to obtain the necessary data for their plans and
sections. Working by night with lanthorns has even been
allowed to any extent, and the deviation should be reckon¬
ed from the surface of the ground, and not the lateral line.
If the same line is kept, the effect would be the same, but
by removing to a different level, what may be cutting in
one respect may be embanking in another. The limita¬
tions in all respects as to deviations may be considered as too
strict, and they always have the effect of cramping the com¬
pany and their engineer ; palpable improvements in many
cases, have been abandoned on account of the heavy cost
of going to parliament for new acts; and others in all pro¬
bability would never have been made, except that the com¬
panies in question were forced to apply for a new act, in
order to enable them to borrow more money, and then the
improvement is put in along with the rest as a rider.
When the intended line is once decided on, the survey¬
ors should be sent out as speedily as possible; and these are
followed by the levellers, who are the engineers. It will be
best to survey wide, when you are not quite certain of the
exact position of the line ; the surveyors give in their plans
to the engineers, who proceed to lay down upon them the
line as their levelling goes on, taking care as nearly as pos¬
sible to balance the cuttings and embankments. It will
RAILWAYS.
plainly see that if he does so the line will never be made, land required for stations and approaches to bridges,
although it would be a profitable speculation. We should It will be necessary to compute, in many cases, whether
recommend, nevertheless, that no other but a correct and a viaduct will not be cheaper than an embankment, ihe
fair estimate should in all cases be furnished, in order to method of doing this will be found in the article Yia-
compare it with the traffic. For this purpose, every known duct. Where expense is a great object, timber may be
bridge and viaduct should be separately computed, and made use of; beams of which, trussed with iron, have lately
ample allowance made for occupation bridges; the land, been introduced instead of arches, and to a great extent in
too-ether with all the earthwork, tunnels, fencing, and per- some cases, for instance the Midland Counties railway,
manent way should then be calculated, the secretary fur- On the North Union railway, a timber viaduct isconstruct-
nishing an estimate of the office expenses, printing, sta- ed o. great height; several similar works are in course of
tionery, travelling expenses, law, advertising, conveyancing, execution in the north of England ; and in some of the
and all other items of this kind. At least ten per cent. Scotch railways the system of trussed beams of timber has
should be added to the engineering estimate for stations, been applied to very large spans. In many instances, a
and the machinery connected with them, and a full allow- considerable reduction in the cost of bridges and viaducts
ance for engines and carriages. When every thing that may thus be made, especially where the crossings are very
can be thought of is thus collected together, allow not less oblique, or where the additional height of arches would in-
that twenty-five per cent, for contingencies ; and note that volve great expense in embanked approaches,
by a mean of nearly 100 railways, the whole number of Should money be short and time so valuable as to make
bridges average 2{- per mile. the expeditious opening of the line a subject of the first
In estimating for rock, as this is seldom found except in importance, great part of the excavations may be removed
deep cuttings, it may generally be taken as earth-work, at night after the line is open, where they are not required
with the necessary slopes. For instance, in a cutting forty- for the embankments. This plan is not, however, to be
five aeep, with slopes two to one, and a base of thirty feet, recommended, and still less so making the embankments
the sectional area of the opening, and of course the cubic less than their fvdl width at first; the additional patch of em-
contents of any given length, is four times the area of the bankments hardly ever uniting equally with the part first
cut of the same length with vertical sides, and a price on a made, but sliding off, and leaving the side of the embank-
rock cutting thus taken out, may be put at four times as ment as smooth as glass.
much as the earth cutting with slopes, without any increase Expense again may be saved where land is valuable, by
of estimate. In shallow cuttings this does not hold good; iron colonnade viaducts, by which means towns may be
but the excess may safely be thrown on the contingencies, entered much farther than is now possible to do without
the amount not being great, and the occurrence seldom, an enormous outlay. The cost of such a viaduct will in
In a thirty-feet cutting, the difference is only three times, general not exceed two-thirds of a brick one of the same
which may be sufficient when the rock is not very hard, height and width; in fact, there are many ways in which
with the saving in land to assist the price; but in a sixty- expenses may be lowered, and the railway got into work
feet cutting, with slopes of two to one, the quantity is five in a speedy and safe manner at a moderate outlay; after
times that of vertical cutting, and with the saving in the which, if the project turns out a successful one, ornament
land occupied by the slopes, would make the rock cutting may be attended to, to any extent which may be thought
much the cheapest, unless of extraordinary hardness. It advisable.
will take more time to cut through the rock, length for In the same manner it should be calculated whether a
length, but would not if it could be entered at several places tunnel or an open cutting will be the cheapest mode of
at once. Where land is extremely valuable, it will in many getting through hills of importance. The method of doing
cases be cheapest in a cutting to support the sides with re- this will be shewn in the article Tunnel. Where rock
RAILWAYS.
21
Railways, is found at the bottom of the cutting, of course the sides
' may be nearly vertical, and the upper strata may have any
required slope given to them. In such a case it will be ad¬
visable to have a tolerably wide bench where the change of
slope takes place ; this should be done in every case where
there is a variation in the slopes, and the drainage well at¬
tended to. By attention to these points, a greater saving
will be made in the quantity of land required.
There are so many ways of computing earth work, all Railways,
of them equally accurate, that the choice consists mainlyv ~ ~
in using the one which occupies the least time. Tables
have also been published for taking out the cubic contents
by inspection. The following formula, however, which we
have arranged for this purpose, is so very quick in bringing
out the results, that we have always given it the preference
over any other method.
Table of Earthwork in Cuttings or Embankments 2,0 feet wide.
Height
in feet.
Slopes 1 to 1.
Half
width
at top.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
Area in
square
yards.
Contents in
cubic yards,
per chain
forward.
3-444.
7-110
11-000
15-111.
19-444.
24-000
28-777.
33-777.
39-000
44-444.
50-111.
56-000
62-111.
68-444.
75-000
81-777-
88-777-
96-000
103-444-
111-111.
119-000
127-111.
135-444-
144-000
152-777-
161-777-
171-000
180-444-
190-111.
200-000
210-111-
220-444.
231-000
241-777-
252-777-
264-000
275-444.
287-111'
299-000
311-111
323-444
336-000
348-777'
361-777
375-000
388-444'
402-111
416-000
430-111,
444-444,
75-777
156-420
242-000
332-444
427-777
528-000
633-110
743-110
858-000
977-777
1102-444
1232-000
1366-444
1505-777
1650-000
1799-110
1953-110
2112-000
2275-777
2444-444
2618-000
2796-444
2979-777
3168-000
3361-110
3599-110
3762-000
3969-777
4182-444
4400-000
4622-444
4849-777
5082-000
5319-110
5561-110
5808-000
6059-777
6316-444
6578-000
6844-444
7115-777
7392-000
7673-110
7959-110
8250-000
8545-777
8846-444
9152-000
9462-444
9777-777
Slopes to 1.
Height
in feet.
Half
width
at top,
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
16-5
18
19-5
21
22-5
24
25-5
27
28-5
30
31-5
33
34-5
36
37-5
39
40-5
42
43-5
45
46-5
48
49-5
51
52-5
54
55-5
57
58-5
60
61-5
63
64-5
66
67-5
69
70-5
72
73-5
75
76-5
78
79-5
81
82-5
84
85-5
87
88-5
90
Area in
square
yards.
3-500
7-333.
11-500
16-000
20-833.
26-000
31-500
37-333.
43-500
50-000
56-833.
64-000
71-500
79-333.
87-500
96-000
104-833.
114-000
123-500
133-333.
143-500
154-000
164-833.
176-000
187-500
199-333.
211-500
224-000
236-833.
250-000
263-500
277-333.
291-500
306-000
320-833.
336-000
351-500
367.333.
383-500
400-000
416-833.
434-000
431-500
469-333.
487-500
506-000
524-833.
544-000
563-500
583-333.
Contents in
cubic yards,
per chain
forward.
77-000
161-333
253-000
352-000
458-333
572-000
693-000
821-333
957-000
1100-000
1250-333
1408-000
1573-000
1745-333
1925-000
2112-000
2306-333
2508-000
2717-000
2933-333
3157-000
3388-000
3626-333
3872-000
4125-000
4385-333
4653-000
4928-000
5210-333
5500-000
5797-000
6101-333
6413-000
6732-000
7058-333
7392-000
7733-000
8081-333
8437-000
8800-000
9170-333
9548-000
9933-000
10325-333
10725-000
11132-000
11546-333
11968-000
12397-000
12833-333
Slopes 2 to 1.
Height
in feet.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
Half
width
at top.
17
19
21
23
25
27
29
31
33
35
37
39
41
43
45
47
49
51
53
55
57
59
61
63
65
67
69
71
73
75
77
79
81
83
85
87
89
91
93
95
97
99
101
103
105
107
109
111
113
115
Area in
square
yards.
3-555.
7-555.
12-000
16-888.
22-222.
28-000
34-222.
40-888.
48-000
55-555.
63-555.
72-000
80-888.
90-222.
100-000
110-222.
120-888.
132-000
143-555.
155-555.
168-000
180-888.
194-222.
208-000
222-222.
236-888.
252-000
267-555.
283-555.
300-000
316-888.
334-222.
352-000
370-222.
388-888.
408-000
427-555.
447-555.
468-000
488-888.
510-222.
532-222.
554-222.
576-888.
600-000
623-555.
647-555.
672-000
696-888.
722-222.
Contents in
cubic yards,
per chain
forward.
78-222
166-222
264-000
371-554
488-888
616-000
752-888
899-554
1056-000
1222-222
1398-222
1584-000
1779-554
1984-888
2200-000
2424-888
2659-554
2904-000
3158-222
3422-222
3696-000
3979-554'
4272-888
4576-000
4888-888
5211-554
5544-000
5886-222
6238-222
6600.000
6971-554
7352-888
7744-000
8144-888
8555-554
8976-000
9406-222
9846-222
10296-000
10755-554
11224-888
11704-000
12192-888
12691-554
13200-000
13718-222
14246-222
14784‘000
15331-554
15888-888
22
RaiUvays. Let a= the area in square yards.
c— the content in cubic yards, per chain in length.
w— the width in feet of the cuttings or embankments.
}, the height in feet of the cuttings or embankments.
m\\z= the ratio of the base of the slopes to their altitude.
Then the rules applicable to every case will be
wh -f- mh2
«= -
c=22a
And as 30 feet is a very general width, if we adapt our for¬
mula to that, we have with slopes of 1 to 1,
30A + /i2
RAILWAYS.
The column of half-widths, when required for any other Railways,
slopes or widths than those we have given, may be readily
computed by the formula
w
And with slopes to 1,
And with slopes 2 to 1,
9
c= 22a
6
c=22a.
_ 30// 4-
_ _
c=22a
a;=— + mh
Jj
where ar is the half-width at the top, and w, m, and h as be-
folThe column of cubic contents, when required for any
other width than 30 feet, may be readily found, by using a
correction c' to the cubic contents at 30 feet, which correc¬
tion is -f- when the width is above 30 feet, and — wrhen
below,
(/ — z±=. 2-4444 in cubic yards,
27
where w' is the number of feet above or below 30, and hf
is the height in feet. The correction is the same for all
slopes, taking care to add or subtract it from the cubic con¬
tents for 30 feet at the given slope.
With reference to apportioning the work, so that the cut¬
tings and embankments may be equal, regard must be had
to the nature of the soil to be moved. For instance, in the
London clay it will be found that any quantity of cutting
will not make the sdme quantity of embankment by about
ten per cent., whereas in common earth just the reverse
takes place, and the cutting will make an embankment
nearly ten per cent, greater.
There is a point, which, in the early stage of laying out
a railway is too often lost sight of, that ought to be a sub-
And for any other widths and slopes the results will be
brought out very quickly, by an adaptation of the general for¬
mula. By the particular ones given above, the tables on the
precedingpage were computed, giving the cubic contents per   ^ ^ ^
chain in length, at one view, for every foot in height, up ject Gf t^e deepest consideration ; in fact, it is of vital im-
to 50. In the column for the area, the decimals are given p0Vtance to the whole interest of the line in question, and
to three places of figures, but four places were used in cal- ri0 pajns ought to be spared in most fully and rigidly inves-
culating the cubical content. Where a dot is placed after dgating it; and this is, to what extent cutting and embank-
the last figure in the column for the area, it denotes^ that ;ng can pg advantageously carried, that is to say, a line per-
the same figure goes on in infinitum. In using the column
of cubic contents, increase the last decimal figure by 1
when it is above 5.
The columns of “ half-widths,” in the preceding tables,
will enable the engineer to set out his work from the centre
pegs as he proceeds. This is done at once, where the coun¬
fectly level, allowing for the curvature of the earth, from
one end to the other, being the point of perfection, how near
ought this to be approached, looking on the one hand at the
first outlay, and on the other at the future gain, in the cost
of locomotive power, and repairs of engines, carriages, &c.
We can calculate the cost, for instance, of making aline
try is level, on the cross section; but in sidelong ground a iiav}n2. no inclinations in any case greater than 1 in 300.
   i.:  *n u~   : i 1^1 f    , , , , ^ i • ,i • i
correction will be required, to obtain which, after the half¬
width has been staked out, the level should be planted over
the centre peg, and the height above and below the cross
level taken at the points which mark the half-width. It is
evident, that for each foot which these points may be above
and below the level of the centre peg, one foot must be
added to the half-width on the side which is above the cen¬
tre, and subtracted from it on the side which is below, where
the slopes are 1 to 1, and a corresponding alteration at all
other slopes ; or if we put
h'= the height above the centre, or depth below it,
m : 1= the base to the perpendicular,
c= the correction,
c= =±r mh',
where c is + on the high side, and — on the low one.
This will give a first approximation, and may be repeated
if necessary, by levelling to the half-width thus corrected,
and proceeding as before, and the cubic contents must re¬
ceive a similar correction when necessary, our tables pre¬
suming the cross section to be on a level. The average
height, however, can in almost every case be taken perfectly
near enough for every practical purpose.
It is a great pity that the custom has not been generally
introduced of taking all the measures in yards and decimals,
surveying staffs being marked to r^5ths of a yard. This
would reduce the calculations considerably ; and the reduc¬
tion of any of them to feet, for plans and sections required
in Parliament, or any other isolated purpose, would be in¬
finitely less troublesome than using feet throughout, and hav¬
ing to divide by 9 or 27 for the area and cubic content.
With this line we should have a determinate outlay in lo¬
comotive power and repairs. The question to be consider¬
ed then is simply this: If we make the line, instead of hav¬
ing no inclination, greater than 1 in 300, to have none
greater than 1 in 500, or 1 in 1000, do we lay a foundation
for a yearly saving, when the railway comes into work, suf¬
ficiently great to pay us for the consequent first cost of
these reductions in the inclinations?
In order to enter properly into this question, experiments
must be made for the purpose of determining the cost of
locomotive power on the various inclinations, selecting some
railway where different engines can be employed on inclines
suitable for the case in hand, there being no data in exist¬
ence, in this country at least, which can with certainty de¬
cide this point. The following table, by the engineer of the
New York and Erie railroad, may help us a little:—
Ascent per mile,
in 1'eet.
Level.
10, or 1 in 528
20, or 1 in 264
30, or 1 in 176
40, or 1 in 132
50, or 1 in 105-6
60, or 1 in 88
70. nr 1 in
Gross load in
tons, 2080 lbs.
each, ex tender.
75-25
49-53
37-35
27-24
20-22
17-04
13-92
11-31
Cost of motive
power per ton
per mile, in cwts.
3- 50
4- 20
4- 90
5- 95
7- 28
8- 19
9- 66
11-41
RAILWAYS.
23
Railways. This table, giving principally impracticable gradients, will
only serve to shew us that the ratio of expense is an in¬
creasing one, the first differences being respectively 0-7:
0-7 : 1-05 : 1*33 : 0*91 : 1*47 : 1*75.
If we admit, till we can obtain better data, that altering
our gradients from 1 in 250 to 1 in 500, saves turn-tenths of
the expense of locomotive power, and that reducing it to a
level instead of leaving it at 1 in 500, saves two more
tenths, we can easily see what the effect of that would be.
The number of tons carried, as given in the table, is not
decreased according to the law of gravity alone, but con¬
tains another element, most probably the result of expe¬
rience on the road in question. Suppose then that on the
road we are about to construct we may expect to work se¬
ven trains per day each way, with passengers, there being
ten carriages in each train, averaging four tons each, and
travelling at the rate of twenty miles an hour, and two
trains each way with goods, in ten waggons per train, ave¬
raging goods and waggons five tons each, and going at the
rate of ten miles an hour; also let the railway in question
be one hundred miles in length; then at a cost of L.304 per
day, the passengers being taken at eighteen in each carriage
at £d. each per mile, and the goods at |d. per ton per mile,
at which price it is known they can be carried, wre may
presume, that if, instead of having an inclination of 1 in 250,
our road was level, we should decrease these expenses four-
tenths, or bring them to about L.182 per day, or L.66,430
per annum. Thus presuming the above to be correct, we
should be saving money, if our road could be made level at
an additional expense of one million.
Each particular railroad must of course form a separate
case, but we are persuaded it will generally be found that
a large outlay will be justified in approximating to a level
as near as possible ; and where the line is entirely so, the
cuttings can always be cleared of water, by sloping the side
draining down each way, from the centre till they arrive at
the nearest water course, where as usual they will deliver
their contents. Our practical knowledge of this subject of
reducing railways to a level is founded on such slight data,
that a careful set of experiments in order to shew the way
more fully into such a question is very much wanted; and
we question whether hydraulic locks will not be found to
save a considerable expense in difficult situations, bringing
the trains from one level to another, by which means rail¬
ways may be made through tracts of country w hich would
otherwise never pay for the necessary outlay.
When the contracts along the line are fairly at work,
one of the first knotty points which the directors will have
to decide on, is, the width of the rails, their shape, the
length of their bearing, and the form of their chair. The
width between the rails has only lately become a subject of
dispute ; nearly all the railways prior to the Great Western,
having been laid down 4 feet 8^- inches apart. Mr. Brunei
has extended it to seven feet; the Irish railway commission
recommend six feet two inches; several of the Scottish rail¬
ways are laid down at five feet six inches ; in fact, the va¬
riations run from four and a-half to seven feet.
The question of the stability of the carriages on the rail¬
way may be left out of consideration in looking at this mat¬
ter, because the machinery will always require sufficient
space between the wheels to insure this. Now, as four feet
eight inches and-a-half are found to be enough for the good
performance of an engine, which, with five and a-half feet
wheels, will go on a level upwards of 60 miles an hour; as
with five-feet wheels, Marshal Soult, on his visit to Liverpool
just after the Queen’s coronation, was taken over 10J miles
of favourable ground on the Grand Junction Railway with¬
in 10 minutes; and as an engine has gone 60 miles an hour
on the London and Birmingham Railway up an inclined
plane, is it wise or prudent to make any change at all,
Width and
(shape of
rails.
and will any additional speed, which may be gained by Railways,
increasing the width of the rails and the diameter of the'
wheels, compensate for the greater expense and the outlay
which will constantly be required to keep the road in order
on account of the increased weight ? This will receive light
from the experiments on the Great Western, but will not
be fully decided until it be tried on the Irish or some other
railways, as Mr. Brunei’s rails are altogether different from
most others in use. The plan recommended by the Irish
railway commissioners, of putting the rails farther apart but
not widening the carriages, merely making the wheels run
outside the bodies, is a good one in some respects ; but it
would add to the expense of the works considerably, and
the result would be exceedingly questionable.
It must not be forgotten, that, where a different width from
that in common use is adopted, the railway on which it is
used becomes isolated. None but its own carriages can
travel on it, and they can travel on no other line. This alone
will, in most cases, be a serious objection. For our own parts
we should say, let well alone ; wait for more experience ; we
are yet infants amongst railways, and we ought not to inno¬
vate on that which has been proved to do well, until we be¬
come giants. The majority of opinions, however, are be¬
ginning to lean towards some increase in the width, although
there is every diversity in the quantity which practical men
think necessary. Certainly the machinery under the boiler
is compressed into its minimum space, and more room for
it would be a great advantage, if it does not induce an in¬
commensurate loss in other ways.
With respect to the form of the rail, it can be proved that
a fish belly has greater strength, weight for weight, than
any other. A 60lb. fish belly at three-feet bearings, rolled
with a lower web, would be the best form of all; and this
has been effected, as the original Liverpool and Manchester
rails had partially this shape. The question, however, must
be looked at in conjunction w ith the length between the
supports. We have given below those forms most appro¬
ved of in practice, and have added that in use on the Great
Western Railway, which is however light, and does not
stand well, three feet having been the original distance of the
bearings.
Fig. 3 is the old Liverpool and Manchester rail, laid down
at three-feet bearings ; weight thirty-three lbs.per yard, with
square joints. This rail was rolled with a lateral swell at the
Fig. 3.
bottom, which on one side wras continued the whole length,
but on the other did not quite reach the chair. One side
of the chair was cast with a cavity, into which the lateral
swell fitted, and the opposite side had a nearly similar open¬
ing, in which was driven an iron key, shaped like a wedge,
which, entering in a longitudinal direction, not only forced
the swell into the cavity which was formed to receive it, but
by this means, at the same time, kept the rail down in the
chair.
Fig. 4. Losh’s patent rail, in which he sought to gain a
still more powerful mode of keeping the rail down in the
chair, by having his key tapered vertically as well as longi¬
tudinally, so as to act as a wedge downwards, as well as in
the direction of its length ; whilst, at the same time, the ne¬
cessary expansion and contraction is allowed to take place.
RAILWAYS.
24 'TLo rifrLi hand one is the London and Birmingham seventy- Railways.
Railways. A key on each side has also been used with this o rail, T1 g Raiis 0f this kind are laid on seventy-five
"SAS miles of that railway, and were intended to be at five feet
Fig. 4.
Fig. 7.
at the part which lies in the chair, where a corresponding
cavity was cast to receive it, so that the effect of expansion
or contraction would have a tendency to raise the rai in e
chair, and thus wedge it tighter. The upper part of the
notch for receiving the key in the chair was also formed with
a slight curve, to allow of a small motion in the block, and
the rails were made with a half-lap joint, formed not by cut¬
ting the middle rib of the rail, but by setting it back, so as
to preserve its whole strength. They were laid down at three
feet bearings, and weighed forty-four lbs. per yard, but of
course were not restricted to that, or to any other
Fig.5. The London and Birmingham fifty pound fish-Del-
lied rail. This was laid down at three-feet bearings, and the
half-lap joint formed by setting back the middle rib instead
bearings, but proved a complete failure at that distance, which
had to be reduced to three feet nine inches. The left hand
one was intended to be at four feet bearings. These rails
were both laid down contrary to the opinion of the engineer,
Mr. Stephenson, and have entailed a vast expense on that
company. They have wooden wedges.
Fig. 8 is the Great Western rail, laid on longitudinal tim¬
bers,°and forty-four lbs. per yard. Felt is laid between the
Fig. 8.
Fig. 5.
&
of cutting it, in the same way as Losh’s rail. It was keyed
down by a pin going through the side of the chan m a i-
rection sloping downwards. The end of this pin went into
a notch in the side of the rail, at its lower parts; the pin was
forced tightly in by an iron key acting through the chair,
and also through a hole in the pin, by which it was driven
both in and downwards; and the end of the key being split, was
then opened, to prevent it being shaken loose. Mr. Ste¬
phenson has a patent for this chair. The rails did not rest
on the bottom of the chair, but on a loose piece of iron, the
lower part of which was the segment of a circle, and the
upper part flat, and of the same width as the middle rib of
the rail; and this worked in a circular cavity in the chair, so
as to allow a motion when deflection took place in the rail.
These rails had no bottom webs.
Fig. 6 is the St. Helen’s and Runcorn rail, with a bottom
web, having a semicircular base. These rails are forty-two
lbs. per yard, and were laid dow n at three-feet bearings. A
Fig. 6.
%  -
wedge on both sides is used, which acts downwards as well
as sideways, from the opening in the chair to receive it be¬
ing narrower at the top than at the bottom.
Fig. 7 shews the parallel rails laid down on the Grand
Junction, and London and Birmingham railways. The left
hand one is sixty-four lbs. per yard on the London and Bir¬
mingham,and sixty-two lbs. per yard on the Grand Junction.
rail and the timber, and the former is fastened down with
screws. It has been found deficient in strength for the
heavy engines used upon that railway.
Fig. 9 has been frequently adopted on railways formed
with longitudinal bearings.
It is spiked down to the
timbers, and requires no
chair. The weights have
varied from thirty-five to
sixty lbs. per yard. Some¬
times the spikes have not
gone through holes in the
rail as in the figure, but have
been driven in just outside each edge of the rail; in which case
they are made with large heads, which come down and clip
the rail firmly to the timbers.
The London and Birmingham Railway Company, after a
long, discussion, decided to try four and five feet with a
parallel form instead of a fish-belly, which, requiring one-
third more height in the chair, had, in addition to other
disadvantages, that of being more liable to wring the chair
from the block, which is found in practice to take place di¬
rectly as the height of the chair. The block is also more
loosened in the ground by a high chair, and the continual
repairs arising from this loosening, amount to one-half the
wages expended in repairing thewayin general; hence every
means of diminishing such a heavy item, which can possibly
be devised, should be put in practice. As usual, where all
was theory, there were considerable diversities of opinion.
Those who wish to enter more at large on this subject, may
consult Professor Barlow in favour of lengthening the bear¬
ings, and Lieutenant Lecount against it. As the matter has
had a fair trial, it is only necessary here to state the results.
On the Primrose Hill contract, which was laid with four-
Fig. 9.
RAILWAYS.
25
Railways, feet bearings, it was found much more troublesome to keep
the permanent way in order, than with bearings of three
feet. With the four-feet bearings, it was found, that, in a
very short time, the rails were put out of gauge, the width
continually increasing, until it became absolutely necessary
to readjust the whole. This was observed in a very marked
manner with a part of the line near Kilburn, which had been
recently laid down.
On the Harrow contract, from the crossing of the Harrow
road to No. 12 cutting, the permanent road was used for
conveying away the material from a side cutting. The traf¬
fic was of course considerable, but not by any means such as
to account for the absolute difficulty which the contractors
had in keeping the railway in guage. They were obliged to
put sleepers at the joints in addition to the regular number of
blocks, which of course kept the rails in guage at those points ;
but notwithstanding this, the intermediate blocks moved out¬
wards. When the engineer’s attention was first called to
this position of the permanent way, he was inclined to think
that something might be attributed to the blocks being pla¬
ced anglewise ; but after giving this part of the subject his
careful consideration, he felt satisfied that the position of
the blocks was at least as firm as the square position ; and
he felt confirmed in this opinion, by the fact, that, in another
portion of the line near Kensal Green, where the road was
laid in the ordinary manner with blocks three feet apart,
and placed anglewise, and where locomotive engines had
been constantly running for eighteen months, there was not
found any greater tendency to amotion outwards, fhan when
they were laid square to the direction of the rail, in the old
manner. If, therefore, the diagonal position of the blocks
had been defective, this was the place to try it; for the
quantity of material conveyed over this part of the perma¬
nent road in waggons without springs, and with heavy lo¬
comotive engines, was very great indeed, and under circum¬
stances well calculated to detect any marked difference in
the construction.
On the Berkhampstead contract, where five-feet bear¬
ings were in use, and where a locomotive engine was at
work, the contractors made heavy complaints of the greater
difficulty they had experienced in keeping the rails in gauge
than there was with the shorter bearings. In fact, in the
eighteen months prior to June 1837, the three-feet rails in
some parts of the line, had more work than they now have,
where the line is open ; yet they stood it well, whilst the five
feet have been so put out of gauge by one day’s work, that
the waggons had to be stopped till one and two additional
sleepers for each five feet could be laid down, and even
then they were but indifferent; and similar complaintshaving
come in from other quarters, together with the fact that the
five-feet bearings on the Liverpool and Manchester rail¬
way were found to cost double the sum for keeping the way
in repair that was required with three feet nine-inches bear¬
ings, the whole question had to be opened again, and-the
directors resolved to shorten the bearings from five feet to
three feet nine inches.
Deflection This lateral deflection is of most serious importance, when
ot rails. we reco]lect that the rails being out of guage will throw
the trains off the line. The lateral blows which an engine
may give are such, that several chairs in succession have
been broken or knocked off the blocks and sleepers; and
the absolute weight passing over any one rail may be fairly
taken as three times the nominal weight, for the effect from
lurching has been experimentally found with engines having
three tons’ weight on each of the driving wheels to increase
that weight to seven tons; besides which, we know that four-
wheeled engines, for instance, will, in practice, be frequently
running on three wheels, no railroad being a perfect plane ;
and when these three points are in the act of shifting, the
engine during that time is only supported on two wheels.
VOL. xix.
The flexure produced by this weight perpendicularly Railways,
has also this bad effect, that the engine and train are con-
stantly ascending an inclined plane in practice, although
the railway is considered as level, and of course where the
railway has an inclination, that inclination will be propor¬
tionally increased. This was first pointed out by Profes¬
sor Barlow, and is an important fact; for on the short planes
between each block or sleeper caused by the deflection of
the rail, the gain in descent is so insignificant, that it may
be entirely neglected; consequently the engines and carriages
are constantly going up an inclined plane between each sup¬
port of the rails equivalent to the central deflection divided
by twice the distance between the supports. This is, from
calculation, ascertained to be as follows, viz.:—
Bearing distance,
Deflection.
Equivalent
Planes.
Increased Power
required per ton.
Ft. In.
3 0
Inches.
•024
•037
•041
•064 .
•082
1 in 3000
1 in 2432
1 in 2341
1 in 1875
1 in 1756
•75 lb.
•92 lb.
•95 lb.
1-20 lb.
1-30 lb.
Although the deflection of rails will generally be differ¬
ent from the above, and the increase of power required to sur¬
mount the consequent planes will also require considerable
modification to suit the action of locomotive engines, which
depend upon so many other circumstances besides the ac¬
tion of gravity; yet the fact remains the same, namely,
that with deflection there is a consequent loss, and the sub¬
ject deserves much more consideration than it has received, es¬
pecially as we know that fish-bellied rails do not fail in the
middle, but about eight inches from the supports. A rail ought
not to act as a spring; but as this to a certain extent must
be the case, it should be made to do so as little as possible.
A spring should only be used to get over an obstacle where
one must be met, but if the rail acts as a spring it creates
an obstacle where none existed before. We must also re¬
member that when deflection becomes permanent, fracture
begins, as we break a thing we are not strong enough to
pull asunder, by bending it backwards and forwards. In
fact, the experiments on deflection have hitherto been such
that they have merely served to unsettle all opinion, and
to place one set of deductions in opposition to another. The
mode of estimating this element by two wheels on an axle,
loaded at their peripheries, and oscillated on the rails, is
one which well deserves attention. In all cases, the firmer
the rail is fixed to the chair, as respects rising in it, the
less will be the deflection. Of course it must always have a
motion in the direction of its length to allow for expansion
and contraction, the force of which will vary in good or to¬
lerable iron from nine to six tons per square inch of section.
The expansion of a fifteen-feet rail may be taken at -00126
inches for each degree of Fahrenheit, and as it will not be safe
to take less than 90° for the range of our climate, this gives
T134 inches for the total, or *0567 at each end of such a
rail.
In order to understand the action which takes place in
the case of a deflected rail when a heavy weight passes
over it, we must know the effect of gravity at the velocities
used on railways. For this purpose, if we take three, four, and
five-feet bearings as those which seem at present likely to
be the limits, the following table will give us the time occu¬
pied in going over half the rail in each case; and from this
we shall be able to ascertain the effect of gravity during
that time.
D
Velocity
in miles
per hour.
10
20
30
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
Velocity in
yards per
minute.
293-33
586-66
879-99
1173-32
1466-65
1759-98
2053-31
2346-64
2639-97
2933-30
Velocity
in inches
per
second.
Parts of a se
cond in which
18 inches are
passed over.
176
352
528
704
880
1056
1232
1408
1584
1760
i
9-8
1
i9¥
i
29-3
1
39-1
1
48-9
1
587
1
78-2
88
1
97-8
Parts of a se¬
cond in which
24 inches are
passed over.
Parts of a se¬
cond in which
30 inches are
passed over.
7-33
1
147
1
22
1
2!KJ
1
367
JL
' 44
1
5P3
1
587
' 1
66
1
73-3
RAILWAYS.
wheels of which touched the paint for 22 inches. This Railway.
affects a railway in three ways. First, when the engine has' 
f fall throug^a bad joint, the rail which it leaves being
higher than die rail it is coming upon, the inci eased mo¬
mentum from the fall will here occasion a arger deflection
than ordinary, and a consequent inclined plane against the
engine, from the time it comes on the rail till it passes the
next chair. Secondly, when a rad is permanent y bent,
where the resistance on the second or rising part of the
rail will be less than in the first case. And thirdly, when the
rail is simply deflected by the weight of the engine, and re¬
stores itself to its original level when that weight has pass¬
ed • here the effect will be least of all, the rail taking the
form of a receding wave before the wheel, and a following
"^In tbefsecond case, where the rail is permanently bent,
the formula for the space the engine would fall will be
5=S.i93-^,
i
5-86
1
11-73
1
rfg
i
23-47
1_
29-3
1
35-2
1
4pl
1
46-9
1
52-8
1
587
Or putting a for the velocity in miles per hour, v lor the
velocity in yards per minute, and v' for the velocity in yards
per second, we have
1760-a on qqq
v=—-—=29"333a
where H is the height of the plane, and L its length, s and
t being as before. For instance, if the bend is -1 of an inch
in a 3-foot rail, we have s=-L.l93?^-^r=-00125 of an
60
1760-a
•00278
3600
=4-888a
"180 858-49
inch, at 30 miles an hour, and $=jgQ‘193
of an inch at 20 miles an hour, or of inch at 20, and
i of an inch, at 30 miles an hour, would be descended by
And in the table, taking either of the three right-hand the engine by the effect of gravity, m the same time that
columns, according to the length of bearing, for instance the steam and gravity together ta*e it along 18 i
eighteen-inch column for a three- feet rail, we have the number rail
P-  tUc ono-inp nr ntiv other bodv would
of inches through which the engine or any other body would
fall by the action of gravity in free space, in the time which
it takes to pass over 18, inches at the given velocity, by
the formula
s=*M93,
where t is the time in seconds, and s the space in inches.
Thus at 20 miles an hour, with a three-feet rail, where 18 inches
are passed over in Tt}.5 of a second, the engine would fall
during that time
1   193
(lFa)‘
•193=
"384-16
-’•193=—-—-=-5, or half an inch.
'384-16
Again at 30 miles an hour, with a 3-feet rail, 18 inches
of which are passed over in of a second, the engine
during that time would fall
1 193
(As)8-1931
•193=
858-49“
•225,
"858-49
or not quite a quarter of an inch.
And denoting by t and s the time and space as above,
we have conversely, knowing the space an engine would
have to fall, for instance, through a bad joint, the distance
the engine would pass over without touching the lower
rail, by the formula
- / —
1QQ
193’
Thus when s=-225, we have
'=^/'1='/-ooii66=-o341=4
oi a second, in which, at 30 miles an hour, we find by the
table the engine would pass over 18 inches of the lower
rail without touching it, describing in its fall a parabola
modified by the effect of the springs on the engine.
This has been put to the test of experience by bending
a rail nearly half an inch, and then painting it. An engine
and train of carriages were then run over it, none of the
Let us next suppose we have steam enough to carry the
engine along at a velocity so great, that gravity will not bring
it down the -1 of an inch perpendicular, whilst steam carries
it along the 18 inches horizontal, we shall find this velocity
to be at and above 44 miles an hour, for it takes 55 of a se¬
cond for a body to fall one-tenth of an inch by the eftect
of gravity, and ?V': 18 in. =3600" : 44 miles; hence at
44 miles an hour, and at all velocities above it, the engine,
after arriving on the rail, bent one-tenth of an inch in the
middle, and forming two planes, will no longer touch the
rail till after it has passed the middle of it, and velocities ol
60 miles an hour have been attained.
In the third case, the engine does not go down a plane,
as above, but has to make its own curve through its weight,
deflecting the rail. The necessity then of knowing the laws
of deflection is such, that no idea can be formed of the ef¬
fects these importants matters will have on the economy ol
railroads ; yet we have up to the present day positively no
data to go upon, which will lead us at all near the truth;
and railways are constructing, at a cost very little short
of seven millions, without the means having been taken to
put such essential points as these out ot the pale of doubt and
uncertainty, which could be done by a few well conducted
experiments. Weknow, for example, that in an iron bar, if/—
the half length, x— any variable distance,^= the correspond¬
ing depth, and A = the sine of the elementary deflection, the
/’a’2
sum of the deflections when x=l isj ^ ^or a Para^e^
a2 8a A
bar, and
•fd
+ bx)'
for a fish-bellied rail, in which latter
expression a — the least depth, and b = the difterence of
the depths divided by the half length.
In some cases, where we have good experiments, the
mode by which they have been calculated, in order to ge¬
neralize and render available their results, is inaccurate,
and the effect may be shewn by the following table, giv¬
ing the deflection of rails, with three tons’ weight on the mid-
RAILWAYS.
Railways. dle of them, each column deduced from the same set of
experiments, differently computed, and varying to an enor¬
mous degree.
Length
of bear¬
ing in
inches.
33
42
45
57
60
69
024
037
041
064
074
■oy2
026
050
063
122
150
■210
•03
•06
,072
139
171
241
02357
•047
•056
•108
•1335
•188
■0272
■0538
•064
•123
•153
•216
/
■0286
0569
•068
•131
•162
•228
■072
111
123
192
222
246
0858
1707
•204
•393
•486
•684
Column a gives the deflections at 3 tons, deduced from
the experiments by the experimenter, except for the sixty-
inch, which is derived from the fifty-seven inch bearing. Co¬
lumn 6 gives the deflections derived from the formula given by
the experimenter as the results of the same experiments.
Column c gives the deflections from this formula, recom¬
puted by another person. Column d gives the deflections
computed from another formula given by the experimenter.
Column e gives the deflections in column d, computed by
another person. Columny gives the mean of columns c and
e, which appears to be the best approximation we have.
Column g and h give the deflections for 9 tons’ weight, the
first being derived from column a, and the second from
column f, the difference in the longest bearing 69 inches,
being nearly 3 to 1.
With this lamentable uncertainty in the data for a de¬
duction of such importance as that of a deflection in the
rails causing an engine to be constantly ascending an in¬
clined plane, there is no hope of arriving at any commonly
accurate results. For instance, if we take the bearing of 5
feet, which Mr. Barlow gives, as occasioning the ascent of
a plane of 1 in 1875, the deflection, with 3 tons’ weight, be¬
ing -064, and substitute for •064 the deflections in columns
a to f successively, we have as follows:—
By column a
— b
— c
— d
— e
— /
Deflection.
•074
•150
•171
•1335
•153
•162
Consequent Planes.
1 in 1621
1 in
1 in
1 in
1 in
1 in
800
702
899
791
741
In which there is more than two and a-half to one differ¬
ence in the results, all of which are drawn from one set of
experiments, whilst at the same time the probability is, that
the planes ought to turn out less steep instead of being
more so.
From the effects which arise in consequence of deflec¬
tion, it will be well worth considering what advantages are
derived from the use of felt under the chair. If the rail
was perfectly stiff, then, when the engine came over a chair,
and compressed the felt, it would afterwards have to go up
an inclined plane, through the rail being depressed at the
block it had just passed over; and this would continue to take
place till the engine arrived towards the next block, when
it would depiess the rail again in a similar way, and thus
its course would be continually up a partially rising plane,
the assistance downwards being almost insensible.
But as every rail deflects more or less, the inclination pro¬
duced by this cause acts just exactly in the opposite man¬
ner to that which takes place through the depression and
spring of the felt; for whilst the wheel, from the effect of
deflection in the rail, descends during its passage over the
first half of the rail, and ascends while going over the se-
cond half, the effect which the compression and springing Railways,
of the felt has upon it, is to make it ascend a plane during
its passage of the first half, and to descend during the time
it is going over the second half. The felt acting as a spring,
however, is exceedingly questionable, although maintained
by some persons. Its use will be found to consist more in
giving a steady seat for the chair when the block is com¬
posed of hard stone, and offering a defence against the grat¬
ing of the chair on the block, which will otherwise take
place, producing a grinding, a loss of surface, and conse¬
quently a looseness, which, when once arrived at, rapidly in¬
creases.
From the above observations on the effects of inclined
planes, we may see how desirable it is to have the blocks
and sleepers placed in the most accurate manner, as re¬
spects uniformity of height. For we must recollect, that in
a three-feet rail, a difference of one quarter of an inch in the
height of two adjacent blocks, or, more properly speaking,
in the height of the basis of two adjacent chairs, converts
that three feet of rail into an inclined plane, rising 1 in 144.
With respect to placing the blocks diagonally, this is a Placing of
less stable position in the line of rails than when they are blocks,
placed square, for the resistance of the ground to the sink¬
ing of the block, whether conceived to be similar to a col¬
lection of springs acting under the block, or a collection of
weights acting above it, must in either case be referred to
the centre of gravity of each half of the block, considering
it as moved by the passing weights about a line drawn
through its middle at right angles to the line of the rails ;
that is to say, in a block two feet square, and one foot thick,
there are 12 inches in the direction of the rails, 24 inches
across them, and 12 inches in depth, acting on each side
the axis of motion when the block is laid square, the sur¬
face of each half being 288 inches. Now, any uniform ef¬
fect on these 288 square inches drawn into the distance of
their centre of gravity from the axis of motion, gives for the
stability of each half 1728. Any uniform effect on the 288
inches of a diagonal half block will give a less number; for
the distance of the centre of gravity from the axis of mo¬
tion was 6 inches in the square block, but it will be only
5-65682 in the diagonal, being l-3d the altitude of the tri¬
angle, and hence we have only 1629* 16416 for the stability in
the direction of the rails. The diagonal block will conse¬
quently have its maximum resistance to sinking at 45° from
the line of the rails, or in the position where stability is least
required. Circular blocks have been proposed in order to
get equal resistance in all directions, but the gain would not
be equal to the extra expense, and the stability, although a
trifle more than that of the diagonal block in the line of the
rails, is less than that of the square one; for the area, as be¬
fore, being 567 square inches, =,785398cP, and^beingthe
diameter, we have g?=n/733-386=27-081 1, and the ra¬
dius =13,5405, and as the arc is to the chord, so is f radius
to the distance of the centre of gravity from the centre, or
3-14159 X 13-5405 : 27-0811 =9’02703 : 5-74678 inches,
and 5-74678 x 288=1655,=07264 for the resistance.
We have experimented on the two positions of the blocks,
and found that when placed diagonally, there was rather
more resistance to lateral motion than when placed square,
and they are more conveniently got at to repack in the for¬
mer position than they are in the latter; but when placed
as close as they ought to be, in order to form an economical
road, the diagonal position is inadmissible.
It will be seen from the following tables which we have
computed, that instead of increasing the bearings from three
feet, if we study economy, we should reduce it; and as we
have in these tables taken into account all ordinary varia¬
tions in the elements of expenditure, we must consider it
proved that except under very extraordinary circumstan¬
ces, the nearer the supports are brought together up to the
limits here given, the cheaper will the railway be made,
28
RAILWAYS.
Table IV.
Railways.
Railways, whilst of course it will possess more ^ P™Pved°be- v,r t nf a decrease of one-eighth in the price of a block
the number of resisting bodies which have to be , Effect of coJparative cost of long and short rails.
fore it can be thrown out ofits proper position. complete on the comparand ^
Table I.
Comparative Cost of Long and Short Rails.
Length
of rail in
feet.
Length
of rail in
feet.
2
2i
A
2!
3
3t
3|
3|
4
4l
41
lb. per
yard
40
45
50
55
60
65
70
75
80
85
90
95
100
lb. per
rail.
Cost of Price per
block. | rail.
26‘66
33-75!
41-66;
50-42!
60-00j
70-42,
81-66;
93-75
106-66,
120-42
135-00
150-42
166-66
•4
■425
•45
■475
•5
•525
•55
•575
•6
•625
•65
•675
•7
Price per
block.
d.
4
21
24
34
6
9i
2|
8^
4
04
10i
9
10
s. <
8
8
9
9
10
10
11
11
12
12
13
13
14
Total
price.
6 27
d.
4
8i
2i
94
6
34
24
24
4
64
104
3I
°2
10
Price of one
yard.
S.
17
16
17
17
17
17
18
18
19
19
19
20
20
d.
0
11-50
04
24
2
6f
0
4i
11
4f
101
Price per rail.
2
24
24
2f
3
34
34
3f
4
44
44
41
d.
4
24
24
34
6
s.
3
4
5
6
7
8 9|
10 24
11 84
13 4
15 04
16 104
18 94
20 10
Price per block.
S. d.
7 0
7 54
7 104
8 3f
8 9
9 24
9 74
10 Of
10 6
10 114
11 44
11 9f
12 3
Total price.
Price per yard.
s. d.
10 4
11 7f
13 1
14 74
16 3
17 Ilf
19 10
21 94
23 10
25 Ilf
28 3
30 7f
33 1
s. d.
15 6
15 6-33
15 84
15 Ilf
16 3
16 74
17 0
17 5
17 104
18 4
18 10
19 4
19 104
Table II.
Table V.
Effect of a decrease of one-sixth in the price of the rail,
and one-eighth in the price of the block, on the compa¬
rative cost of long and short rails.
Weight of Rail when the Prices per Yard are equal.
Length
of rail in Price per rail.
Length
of rail in
feet.
Price per yard,
2
24
24
2|
3
31
34
3f
4
t-
4f
5
s. d.
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
17 0
Price of block
per yard.
s. d.
12 0
11 4
10 9-6
10 4-36
10 0
9 8-31
Price of rail per
yard.
Weight of rail
which costs that
price.
5-14
9 2-4
9 0
8 9-88
8 8
8 6-32
8 4-8
s. d.
5 0
5 8
6 2-4
6 7-64
7 0
7 3-69
7 6-86
7 9-6
8 0
8 2-12
8 4
8 5-68
8 7-2
40
45-33
49-6
53-09
56
58-46
60-57
62-4
64
65- 41
66- 66
67- 786
68- 8
Price per block.
2
24
24
24
3
si
3|
4
44
44
44
5
s. d.
2 94
4
4
3
3
4
6
94
11 14
12 64
14 Of
15 8
17 44
s. d.
7 0
7 54
7 104
8 3f
8 9
9 24
9 74
10 Of
10 6
10 114
11 4i
11 9f
12 3
Total price.
S. d.
9 94
10 1H
12 2|
13 6f
1*5 0
16 64
18 14
19 1*0
21 74
23 5f
25 54
27 5f
29 74
Price per yard.
S. d.
14 7-875
14 7-333
14 7*8
14 94
15 0
15 3
15 64
15 104
16 24
16 6|
16 114
17 44
17 94
Table VI.
Table III. Effect of a decrease of one-sixth in the price of the rail,
Effects of one-sixth °n tke pa^LZffftJf Ind K
'J —   t «/
comparative cost of long and short rails.
of rafnn Price per rail. | Price per block,
feet.
2
2i
24
24
3
34
34
34
4
44
4f
5
d.
94
64
4
3
3
4
6
94
U 14
12 64
14 Of
15 8
17 4i
s. d.
8 0
8 6
9 0
9 6
10 0
10 6
11 0
11 6
12 0
12 6
13 0
13 6
14 0
Total price.
Price of 1 yard.
S. d.
10 94
12 Of
13 4
14 9
16 3
17 10
19 6
21 34
23 If
25 Of
27 Of
29 2
31 4f
s. d.
16 1-875
16 0-33
16 0-1
16 1-1
16 3
16 Sf
16 8f
17 Of
17 4
17 84
18 Of
18 5
18 94
Length
of rail in
feet.
Price per rail. Price per block,
24
24
24
3
34
34
34
44
44
4f
d.
94
64
4
3
3
4
6
9 94
11 14
12 61
14 Of
15 8
17 44
s. d.
6 0
6 41
6 9
7 14
7 6
7 101
8 3
8 74
9 0
9 41
9 9
10 If
10 6
Total price.
S. d.
8 94
9 10f
11 1
12 41
13 9
15 2f
16 9
18 4f
20 14
21 11
23 9f
25 94
27 101
Price of 1 yard,
S. d.
13 1-875
13 2-33
13 31
13 6
13 9
14 04
14 44
14 81
15 1
15 54
15 101
16 34
16 84
Railways.
Table VII.
RAILWAYS.
29
Railways.
Effect of an increase of one-sixth in the price of the rail,
and a decrease of one-sixth in the price of the block, on
the comparative distance of long and short rails.
Length
of rail in
feet.
2
2A
2l
2|
3
3f
3|
3|
4
%
^2
4|
5
Price per rail.
Price per
block.
S. d.
3 10-666
4 11-0625
6 0-915
7 4i
8 9
10 31
11 11
13 8
15 6£
17 6f
19 8^
21 lU
24 3l
s. d.
6 8
7 1
7 6
7 11
8 4
8 9
9 2
9 7
10 0
10 5
10 10
11 3
11 8
Total price. Price per yard.
S. d.
10 6-666
12 0-0625
13 6-915
15 31
17 1
19 01
21 1
23 3
25 61
27 Ilf
30 61
33 21
35 ll|
s. d.
15 10
16 0-833
16 3J
16 8
17 1
17 6f
18 0
18 71
19 2
19 9
20 41
20 Ilf
21 7
Table VIIL
Effect of a decrease of one-sixth in the price of the rail,
and an increase of one-sixth in the price of the block, on
the comparative cost of long and short rails.
Length
of rail in
feet.
2£
2f
i
°2
4
4i
44
4I
5
Price per rail.
S. d.
2 94
4
3
3
4
6
9 91
11 H
12 61
14 Of
15 8
17 41
Price per
block.
Total price.
S. d.
9 4
9 11
10 6
11 1
11 8
12 3
12 10
13 5
14 0
14 7
15 2
15 9
16 4
s. d.
12 11
13 5|
14 10
16 4
17 11
19
21
23 21
25 If
27 11
29 2f
31 5
33 84
Price of 1 yard.
d.
24
s.
18
17 11-0
17 9-6
17 9-8181
17 11
18 1
18 34
18 64
18 10
19 H
19 5f
19 10
20 21
From these tables, it will be evident that the prices of the
materials comprising the permanent way, will very rarely
be greater or less than the rates at which they are given;
and that consequently it is no longer a question, as far as ex¬
pense is concerned, which is the best mode of laying a rail¬
way.
In these tables we have exhibited each item separately, in
order that the component parts of the expense may be seen,
as well as the gross sum. The right-hand column in each
table shews the price of one yard of single rail, or one-fourth
the price of two lines of rails. In Table I. the rails are taken
at L.14 per ton, to include freight and carriage, and 10s. as
the price of a block, containing five square feet of stone,
with its chair, See., complete, including carriage; but in each
table the cost of laying the way is excluded. This price
for the block will give 8s. for a two-feet rail, which may be
thus divided:—
s. d.
2 treenails at L.4 per 1000,  0 04'
2 spikes, at L.19 per ton, 2400 to
the ton,  0 3f
1 piece of felt, 0 Of
1 wedge,  0 If ,
1 chair, at L,9 per ton, weight 20 lb., 17'
1 block, 1 foot thick, and 1 foot 10
inches each side, 5 Ilf
Including all
charges to
the place of
delivery.
8 0 -
In calculating for any intermediate lengths not in the ta¬
ble, for every tenth of a foot increase in the length of bear¬
ing, add 2 lbs. to the weight per yard, and 2-4d. to the price
per block, in each case to the tabular number, in a line
with that length to which the addition is made. Thus, for
2-2 feet say 44 lbs. per yard, and 8s. 4-8d. for the block ;
and when a different price is taken for the block, increase
it g^th for each 3 inches of increase in the length of the rail,
and proportionally for all other lengths.
The minimum price in Table I. is when the length of
bearing is 2-2 feet, being then 16s. ll-45d. per yard single
rail.
Table II. is computed to shew that if we take the same
proportion for the blocks as in Table I., and at the same
time keep the total expense per yard the same at all
lengths, we shall have too little money left to get an effi¬
cient rail; it is calculated, by turning the price of the blocks
in Table I. into the price per yard, and subtracting this
from 17s., the remainder will be the price of the rail per
yard, which, at 14d. per lb., will shew how heavy a rail can
be got for that price. Thus, we see that we can only have 81bs.
more in a five-feet rail than we ought to have in a three-feet;
besides which, we cannot get up to our standard, namely,
60 lb. at three-feet bearings.
Table III. shews the comparative cost with the rails at
l^d. per lb., or L.ll, 13s. 4d. per ton, and the minimum
laying between 2^ and 2f feet of bearing, we shall shew
how to ascertain where it exactly is, which method answers
for the other similar tables. Let us first take 2*6 feet for
the length of bearing, and adding, as before directed, 2 lbs.
for this additional tenth of a foot, to the weight for 2-5 feet,
we get 52 lbs. per yard, as the weight at 2-6 feet, and
3 feet : 52 lbs. = 2-6 feet : 45-066 lbs. for the weight per
rail, which at l|d. per lb. is 56-332d. The price of a block
for a 2-5 feet length is 108d., and adding 2-4, we get 110*4d.
for the block at 2-6 feet; and this added to the price per rail,
gives 166-732d. for the total price per rail, or nearly 13s.
10fd. Thus, as 2-6 feet : 166-732d. = 3 feet : 16s. 0-38d.
for the price per yard complete of single rail, whereas at
2-5 feet it is 16s. 0-ld.; hence the minimum lies between
2- 25 and 2-5 feet, and not between 2-5 and 2-75 feet.
Resuming our trial with 2-4 feet, we have 45 -f 3 = 48
lbs. for the weight per yard at 2-4 feet, and 3 feet: 48 lbs.
= 2-4 feet: 38-4 lbs. per rail, which at l^d. per yard, costs
4s. The price of the block at 2-25 feet is 102d., and adding
3- 6d. we get 105-6d. for the block at 2-4 feet; that added
to the price of the rail, gives a total of 12s. 9-6d., and as
2-4 feet: 153-6d. 1= 3 feet: 192d. or 16s. 0d., whereas the
price at 2-5 feet is 16s. 0-ld. In the same way we may re¬
peat the calculation till wre arrive at what extent of accu¬
racy we choose.
Having seen the effect which lowering the price of iron
has, we know that by raising it, we should find it cheaper
to put the blocks close together than our first table indi¬
cated ; thus, if iron is l^d. per lb., we have for 2-feet rails
3s. 10-666d. as the price of the rail, and 11s. 10-666d. as
the price of the rail and block complete, which gives us
17s. lOd. as the price per yard, whereas with 2-25 feet rails
it would be 4s. ll-0625d. the rail, and 13s. 5-0625d. for the
rail and block, or 17s. lOfd. per yard.
Table IV. shews the effect of cheaper blocks on the total
cost at each length of bearing; it begins at 7s. per block
j • oqc nr —Uth, for each 3 inches of increase in the
WthTthe rail' The price of rails will never materially
diffe in any part of England, the freight being the pnnci-
tl vadable quantity, but the price of blocks will alter m a
verv great degree, and the effect of this may be shew n ,
take, for example, 2s. 8d. as the price of one for a two-feet
bearing, and we know they have been procured cheaper ,
adding to this, as we have done before, 2s for the other
items connected with the block, we get 4s. 8d. as the price
of a block complete, and the price of the ^ be1^ 3s' -
the total price is 8s. per rail, or 12s. per yard. In tne same
way we have 12s. 6d. per yard at t ^
at 2! feet; 13s. 7d. at 2f feet; 14s. 2d. at 3 feet, and
l ftd 21 Id at 5 feet; hence in a railway 31 miles long, we
shall find the saving, by having the blocks at two feet apart,
L.75,293, viz.
SlmUe.a1 5
Tj^293"
railways.
16s. 2id., or per yard 19s. 5-299d
And as an useful approximation to this calculation, we may
take each farthing per yard increase of cost m die
price per yard of single rail, to give L.7-3333 per mile oi
double line, or in the above instance, there being 33^ la¬
things between 12s. and 18s. lid., we have 7-3333 X 33-
X 31 = L.75,474. , .
As we are obliged to place our supports close together,
to set a minimum cost when the blocks are less in price
than the cost we first assumed, so we shall find that w'hen
greater, we must increase their distance. For instance, u a
block for a two-feet bearing costs 9s., the cost per yard of
block and rail complete will be 18s. 6d.; at 2¥ feet, 18s.4g .
and at 2| feet, 18s. 4|d., the minimum being between
Wefhave next to see what will be the effect when the
rail and block are both either greater or less than in Table
I 'Phis divides itself into three branches ; first, when they
decrease or increase in an equal ratio ; secondly, when the
rail decreases or increases in a greater ratio than the block ;
and, thirdly, when the block decreases and increases in a
greater ratio than the rail.
In the first case, the ratio of the price per yard will re¬
main evidently the same as in Table I. Thus, if both rail and
block are reduced in price fth, we shall have at 2 feet, the
price per yard, 14s. 1 -875d.; at 2^ feet, 14s. l-66d. per yard ;
and at feet, 14s. 2-4d.; hence the minimum is as before
at about 2 feet 2 inches, and the same will hold under any
other increase or decrease, the ratio in rail and block being
equal. , , ...
For the second case, when the rail decreases m price in
a greater ratio than the block, Table V. shews the corres¬
ponding effect, and the minimum will be found again at
about 2 feet 2 inches, for at that distance we have 44 lbs.
for the weight of the rail per yard, or 32-267 lbs. for the
weight per rail, which at l^d. per lb. is 40-334d.; for the
block, if -25 of a foot, increases the price 5|d., then -2 of a
foot will increase it 4-2d., which added to 84d., the price at
2 feet, gives 88-2d. for 2 2 feet. Hence the total price of rail
and block is 10s. 8ld., or 14s. 7-27d. per yard, which is ra¬
ther less than at 2^ feet.
It will be found, in like manner, that the effect of an in¬
crease of price in the same ratio will not affect the minimum;
for example, with an increase of |th in the price of the rail,
and |th in the price of the block, we have at 2 feet the rail
3s. 10-666d., the block 9s.; total, 12s. 10-666d., or 19s. 4d.
per yard. With 24 feet, the rail will be 59-065d., the block
and with 2-2 feet, we Railw
have the rail 56-466d., the block llS-376<i.! total
1 842.1., or per yard, 19s. 3-6d., or rather less titan at 2*
‘“For the case where the rail increases or decreases in a
less ratio than the block, Table VI. shews the comparative
effect on the minimum, which is here at about 2 feeb w«h
a decrease in the prices; for trying 2-2 feet, we get foi the
raU 40 334d., tlJ block 75-6d.; total, 115.934d. or per
vard 13s. 2-09d.; and at 2-1 feet, we have for the rail
36-75d., the block, 73-8d.; total, 11055d., or per yar
^ ^When there is an increase of £th in the price of the rail,
and 4th in the price of the block, we have for 2-feet bearings,
the rail, 46-66d., the block, 120d.; total, l66-66d., or per yard,
20s. 10d.; for 24 feet, we have, rail, 59'0625d., block, 127.5d.;
total 186-5625d., or per yard 20s. 8.75d.; for 24 feet, the
rail is 72*915d., the block, 135d.; total, 207*915d., or per
vard 20s. 9-498d. Hence the minimum is at 2% feet, tor
at 2-3 feet the rail is 6T7l65d., the block 129d.; total,
190*7l68d., and the price per yard, 20s. 8-76d.; and at 2.2
feet,the rail is 56-4665d.,theblock,126d.; total, l82-4665d.,
and’the price per yard, 20s. 8-8Id. .
We have now only left the cases where the price of the
rail increases, while that of the block decreases ; the effect
of this is shewn in Table VII.; and when the price of the
rail decreases, while that of the block increases, this is given
in Table VIII. In Table VII. the minimum expense is at
the distance of 2 feet, and in Table VIII. at 2| feet, this
bein" the greatest distance yet obtained ; hence cheap rails
and very dear blocks are the only conditions which will war¬
rant a distance at all approaching to those now in use; 2f
feet appearing to be the limits under any ordinary prices,
and in general only 24, while in some instances 2 feet only
should be taken, in order to lay down a railroad at the mi¬
nimum expense, as far as the cost of the permanent way is
coriccmLcl*
In Table VIII. we do not know on which side of 24 feet
the minimum expense will be ; we shall therefore, in ordei
to complete the inquiry, investigate this as we have done in
the other cases. Taking, then, 2-6 feet, we get 62 lbs. per
yard for the weight, or 45-065 lbs. per rad, costing at l^d.
per lb. 56-332d.; for the block we have as -25 feet: 7d.
= •1 foot : 2-8d., or 10s. 8-8d.; total, 185-132d., or per
yard, 17s. 9’Id., being rather more than the price at 2-5
feet. Trying now 2-4 feet, we have 48 lbs. per yard, or
38-4 lbs. per rail, costing 48d., and for the block 119d., the
price at 24 feet plus 4-2d., the proportion for -15 feet, or
123*2d.; total, 171-2d., or per yard, 17s. lOd. which is
more again than at 2-5 feet; the minimum price will there¬
fore be very near 2*5 feet, but rather more if any thing.
It now remains for us to shew, why the particular rate of
increase and decrease in the size of the rail and block, which
have given in the tables, has here been assumed.
And, first, of the blocks. Every person, when calculating
this effect of prices for any particular railway, will of course
take into consideration the cost of rails, blocks, and sleep¬
ers for the railway in question; and as the rate of in¬
crease we have given, viz. one-fourth in the price of t e
block chair, and all appurtenances complete for each foot in¬
crease in the length of the rail, is more than whatis necessary
rather than less, and as a decrease in the price of the blocks
will lead to shortening the rails still more, it will be seen
that any error will be on the safe side. It will most pro¬
bably be found in practice, that whatever the distance be¬
tween the supports may be, the same absolute surface
should be preserved in every case; for although it has been
said that each block, be its distance what it may, has but
^ ^         to support a certain weight passing over it, yet this is not a
114-75d.; total, 14s. 5-815d., or per yard, 19s. 3fd. With correct mode of reasoning, because it has to support that
24 feet the rail will be 72-915d., the block 121-5d.; total, weight for a longer time, when the distance between eacfi
RAILWAYS.
SI
Railways* is increased, which is the same thing as having to support
a greater weight. For instance, with blocks five feet apart, if
we only took them at four square feet each for the interme¬
diate ones, and five square feet for the joints, we should have
183040 square feet, supporting the train for one hour, at a
velocity of twenty miles per hour, whilst the same sized
blocks at three-feet bearings would afford 281600 square
feet to support the train for the same time at the same
speed, being a difference in favour of the short bearings of
98560 square feet, or more than one-third. Our increase
in the tables is rather less than would be required to pre¬
serve the same absolute surface.
Weight of With respect to the increase in the weight of the rails
rails'. which we have taken, viz. sixty lbs. per yard at three-feet
bearings, as a standard, and adding or subtracting five lbs. for
every three inches of increase or decrease, we can only state
that we have taken this from an attentive consideration for
some years of the practical effects exhibited by the rails now
in use on various lines. A mathematician will say, this is fol¬
lowing no known law. It is not, and we firmly believe that
to attempt to lay down mathematical laws for the dimen¬
sions of rails wrould be perfectly premature, in the present
state of our ignorance on this subject. Before this can be
done, a complete and satisfactory set of experiments must
be made, to settle the many points now in dispute ; and so
much depends on the form of the rail, and the quality of
the iron, that the weight and dimensions must be left to the
judgment of the engineers of the respective lines, who, hav¬
ing their characters for ability at stake, will be influenced
in every possible way to take all the necessary steps for
coming to a right conclusion, and when in doubt, they will
of course resort to experiment, every penny spent in which
will in all probability save many pounds.
To assist in computing similar cases to those which we
have above given, we may observe, that each farthing per
lb. in the price of iron gives L.2, 6s. 8d. per ton, and each
pound per ton gives *428571, &c. of a farthing for the price
per lb.; hence, multiplying the number of pounds and de¬
cimals of a pound in the price per ton by *428571, will give
the price per lb. in farthings and decimals.
In computing the relative strength, &c. of the various
rails, the following table will be useful:—
Length
of rail;
inches.
30
33
36
42
45
48
57
60
69
72
Square.
900
1089
1296
1764
2025
2304
3249
3600
4761
5184
Cube.
27000
35937
46656
74088
91125
110592
185193
216000
328509
373248
Depth
of rail;
inches.
3|
4
it
™ 2
43
5
^1.
a
°2
Square.
12*25
14*0625
16*
18-0625
20*25
22-5625
25-
27-5625
30-25
33-0625
Cube.
42-875
52-734375
64-
76-765625
91-125
107-171875
125*
144-703125
166-375
190*10937
Our experience is yet so small, that various opinions ex¬
ist even amongst those best informed, as to the proper form
and weight of the rail and chair, and the size of the blocks
and sleepers; and there is no doubt that in a few years a
material alteration will take place in all these things. Un¬
til the present time, however, there has been nothing but
change both in rails, chairs, and keys, and in the distance
between the supports. Every rail should be tested before
it is received from the contractor, and it should be always
remembered that too much care cannot be taken with the
permanent way materials. All the expense incurred in earth¬
work and masonry is only a means to an end, viz. the per¬
manent road. We recommend the fish-bellied rail as pos¬
sessing, weight for weight, the most strength; and this would Railways,
be increased by rolling them with a lower web. How much
depends on the manufacture will be apparent, when it is
stated that no less than thirty rails broke on the Liverpool
and Manchester railway, in the fortnight ending on the 21st
January 1837.
The question of expense, as far as the present mode is
concerned, is a simple problem of maximum and minimum ;
and it has been so treated in the preceding tables, algebraic
formulae having been omitted, to make them more generally
useful. But there seems to be little doubt that w-ith a 60-pound
rail on three-feet bearings, and a block one foot thick, contain¬
ing five cubic feet of stone, the increase we have given for
longer bearings will not be considered as too much, when we
recollect that the block has not only to support the rail, but has
to sustain it against lateral deflection. When the blocks merely
sink, the unusual motion of the engine and the carriages will
at once detect it, and the proper remedy must be resorted to ;
but it might easily happen that the rails would be laterally de¬
flected without its being observed until the train was thrown
oft' altogether, particularly when it is taken into considera¬
tion that the carriages are still matter of experiment, and
that the play of the wheels between the rails and upon the
axles is not by any means a fixed quantity, and also that
the whole weight of the engine acts laterally, whereas ver¬
tically that weight is divided.
A breadth of from 2 to 2^ inches for the top of the rail,
seems admitted by nearly all parties to be sufficient; less
would induce considerable wear on the engine and carriage
wheels. The wear of rails on the top surface may be taken
at one-thirtieth of a pound per yard per annum, and the
total loss of weight at one-ninth of a pound per yard per
annum ; but more accurate experiments are yet required on
this head, particularly as to the top surface wear ; and the
curious fact is yet unaccounted for, that rails laid on the
ground, or keyed into chairs on blocks, but not run over
by engines or carriages, oxidize considerably more than
those which are used.
Six feet between each line of rails, seems also generally Width of
adopted as a convenient width ; but this, of course, de- rahs.
pends in some measure on the width between the rails, and
the construction of the carriages. Should the plan of plac¬
ing the wheels outside the carriages be generally adopted,
a less width between the lines may suffice, but the distance
would not bear to be much decreased. The width of em¬
bankments outside the rails should at least equal the width
between the rails, so that, when the engines or carriages
get off the line, their wheels will be so confined between
the rails, that the outer one will not get off the embank¬
ment. The mode of action when an accident of this kind
happens, appears not to be well understood. We frequently
hear of engines being expected to drag their trains off the
embankments; but this is a thing unlikely to occur often ;
for when an engine gets off the rails, it will generally strike
so hard against the blocks and sleepers, that its velocity, in¬
dependently of the shutting off the steam, or reversing the
motion, will very quickly be lessened. When this takes
place, the train, by its momentum, either forces the engine
farther along, or, if it strike it at an angle, which is gene¬
rally the case, throws it over on its side ; and it is from
this momentum of the train that the damage proceeds. In¬
termediate carriages getting oft' are the cause of much less
danger. From the weakness of the present axle-guards,
however, these generally break when the wheels strike the
blocks or sleepers ; and there is a great want of strength in
the second and third-class carriages. We have known four
of these, fortunately empty, crushed into toothpicks when
a collision took place.
The following formula will enable manufacturers of fish-
bellied rails to fit their rolls to any required size of rail.
Thus, for three-feet lengths of bearing. In figure 10
32
Rail wavs.
RAILWAYS.
thoroughly tested when received from the manufacturer,
Ind the results in each case registered. Tins would soon
enable such a valuable collection of facts to be made as
that all hypothesis would cease ; whereas, hitherto, there
have been such discrepancies between expenments made
bv nersons of the first eminence, that, practically, the sub-
iect is involved in as much uncertainty as ever.
J Wooden sleepers, which should be laid on all embank¬
ments till they are thoroughly consolidated, ought to be
wide and long, and it will not be found too much to give
them ten feet in length and one foot in width for a three-feet
hparinff having a proportional increase and decrease at
any^othev bearfng. ’ The cheapest way will be to buy the
sleepers in the round, and have them ripped m two by cir-
„ cular saws of about three feet in diameter, or even more, and
and y^h-Jk+q^* m the first quadrant of the roller, withallthe teeth broken offexcept every third or fourth. I his
or from 0° to 9ot or from 1 to 9 inches in a three-feet rail, m prevent the saw from choaking, and, m a great mea-
iu the second quadrant, or front 9 sureffromheating,whichoccas.onsthernstrunrenttobuckle.
Let r=CD=the radius of the rolls EF and mn.
r?= maximum depth of rail.
d'=minimum depth.
^ d d
e==CB = distance of real and false centres = — •
z = the angle LCD.
r/= 2re.
A=r2 + e2. ....
a’=the abscissa in inches ( 0p tpe rad<
?/=the ordinate in inches )
/i=BI.
2r-\-d-\-d'
We then have h= r >
Railways.
but 2:
to 18 inches ;
2r.3,14159 ^
360
hence y—Jk—9 cos
— h—Jkzi-g cos,[
^22.3,14159 ^0^for every inch ofx,
360
/r. 6,2831852
360
. lOx
ory
ox v—h s/H^zg cos (r. ,0174533. lOx)’
The rolls EF and mn should be both equal, and likewise
equal to the required length of the
rail between the bearings, which, as
the above formula stands, is 3 feet,
but having the length, breadth, and
depth of any required rail given, the
size of the rolls may be determined;
for their circumference will always
be equal to the given length of rail
between the bearings, viz. 3, or 5
feet, as the case may be, and all the
rest is got from the above equation, g
which is general for all sizes, by
merely noting, that when the length
J 480
is any other than 3 feet, . x,
must be substituted for lOx; where a equals the numbei
of inches of half the length of the rail between the sup¬
ports. Thus, for instance, for a five-feet rail the part in the
final equation within the brackets will be (r . ,017453.6x).
The natural cosines are to be used, and g is to be applied
although the cosine may = 0. , . , , .
A fish-bellied rail, 50 lbs. to the yard, and with depths
of 5 inches maximum and 3-8 inches minimum, compared
with a parallel rail of the same weight, and the depth due
to that weight, namely, 4*4 inches, each laid at three feetbear-
fogs, andhaving the thickness of their ribs and the form of their
heads exactly similar, will be deflected, as the numbers 1881
for the fish-belly, and 2282 for the equivalent parallel; that
is to say, a thickness of iron of about 3-10ths of an inch, must
be added to the parallel rail in order to make it equal to the
fish-belly. This proposition will nearly shew the gain obtain¬
ed by the use offish-bellies for all the usual lengths of bearing,
and may be taken at 11 to 9, since, in all cases, it is stiff¬
ness which is so essentially required. Mere strength w ill
always be had with the sizes now generally adopted; and
it is consequently against deflection which we have to
guard, at the same time looking to economy, and not ex¬
pending immense sums of money unnecessarily, as has
been done in purchasing rails much heavier than are re¬
quired. So much, however, depends on the quality of the
iron, that we wo.i!d strongly recommend every rail to be
as it is termed. ''The boring of the blocks should also be
done by machinery before they are delivered to the contrac¬
tor, and a proportional decrease be made in his charge for
laying the permanent way ; and if the company do not per¬
form this part of the work, the contractor will find it much
to his interest to set up a machine for himself, it his con¬
tract exceed half a mile in length. ,. , ~ T0ints of
Various have been the opinions respecting the kind of Jo
ioint by which the rails are connected, or, more properly
speaking, respecting the shape of their ends; but this di¬
versity of opinion ought not to have existed, and has only
been a consequence of our want of experience on the sub-
iect. Itstandsto reason, andhasbeen found to be a tact, that
butt ioints, that is to say, when the ends ot the rails are at
right angles to their length, will always occasion a shock
in passing over them, even if ever so well fitted ; and if, as
is too generally the case, no regard is had to the tempera¬
ture in laying the way, wide gaps will be found at each
ioining, particularly in winter. Half-lap joints are much
preferable to butts, and greatly diminish the shock, but are
still liable to objection; in the first place, through then*
weakening the rail; and, in the second, for still giving a very
unpleasant jar to the carriages, although in a less degree
than the butts. If they are laid right and left, as shewn
below, it will improve them for diagonal joints^ ine
form of joint we should recommend is given in fig. 11,
Fig. 11.
in which the arrow shews the direction of the train. The
slope of the joint must be placed exactly contrary upon the
other line of rails, so that the wheels never meet the point¬
ed end of the rail, but always run off. It then needs no
other care, than that the point should of the two be the
most prominent towards the wheel, and, if it is not so, the
joining rail should be taken down a little with a file.
Treenails should be made of good heart of oak, well
seasoned, until thoroughly dry, or ot African teak, straight-
grained; and each treenail should be cylindrical, one inch and
a half in diameter, and six inches in length, having a cir¬
cular hole, half an inch in diameter, and six inches in leng th,
bored through the centre for the insertion of the iron spike
to fix the chair. They are sometimes made by being turned
RAILWAYS.
33
Railways, in a lathe} and are also done by being passed through a
cutting knife; but by whatever process they are brought
to the required shape, regard should in all cases be had to
the grain of the wood, which should in every instance be
completely followed. The most usual way of contracting for
these is, at so much per thousand, stating the place of de¬
livery; but if a steam-engine be used to make wooden keys,
it can also work lathes for the treenails, which, in that case,
will be no cost, except for labour, as, in cutting up planks
for the wedges, plenty of waste pieces will be found to
make the treenails A plan has grown into use on some
railways, of dropping the treenails loose into the hole of the
block, and then driving the spike in and splitting them; but
this is not so good as driving them in tight. Oak spikes
have formerly been much used, and have been known to
last twenty years; we should not, however, recommend
them, with the rate of speed chat has now been attained.
F„rm of The best form of chair is a subject requiring deep con-
cliairs. sideration, and on which engineers of eminence are by no
means decided; we have, therefore, given several draw¬
ings of those which are most approved. The leading dis¬
tinctions are, whether the rails have been keyed in by iron or
by wood. The latter method, indeed, is almost indispensable
when the rails have lower webs; for, as it would by no
means do to have the chair following the shape of the rail,
as in that case it must always be detached from the block
whenever it is required to take the rail out of it, this con¬
sequence ensues, namely, that the opening in the chair
must be as large as the lower web of the rail. A chair
of this kind, with its wooden key, is shewn in fig. 12.
Fig. 12.
In every mode of keying it must always be remembered,
that the intention is merely to keep the rail down in the
chair, and not to attempt to confine it from longitudinal
motion. The right way of making these wedges is an es¬
sential thing, and should be done by the company. The
original mode was to purchase oak plank, thoroughly sea¬
soned, and of the thickness required. If it be not seasoned
in the most complete manner, it will not answer; but this pro¬
cess may be hastened by steaming it in a tank, with a pres¬
sure of about 12 lbs. on the square inch. When it is tho¬
roughly seasoned it should be removed into a drying-house,
having hot air flues under the floor, made of iron pipes,
where all moisture must be extracted; and when thoroughly
dry, it is cut into the proper scantling, and into thirteen-
inch lengths, each of which when complete is cut into two
for joint chairs, or three for intermediate chairs. They are
first prepared by joiners to the right shape for going through
the cutters ; a joiner will prepare about 100 in a day. The
cutters are composed of four blocks of iron, fixed one over
the other, with openings between each of about one inch,
sloping downwards. In the centre of the three lower blocks
are steel cutters, the lower one being exactly the shape of
the key, and the others above gradually larger. The key is
put in at the top, and forced through by a lever about
seventeen feet in length, brought down by a chain and crab
winch, with eighty teeth in the wheel and ten in the pinion.
Three men will work this, and in ten hours will cut 500
pieces, thirteen inches long, to the required shape. The
shavings come through the spaces between the iron blocks,
and by the gradual cutting, each one taking off a part, the
knots in the wood go through without breaking, and the
key comes out perfectly smooth.
The next process is compressing them, which is done by
VOL. XIX.
forcing them through an iron block, ten inches thick, with Railways,
twelve holes in it, 3-16ths of an inch smaller than the key at the '***^-,
lower part, and tapering to the top to admit the key. They
are forced through by the ram of an hydraulic press, work¬
ed by two pumps, one of an inch and-a-half in diameter, the
other of one inch, the diameter of the ram being nine inches,
and the safety valve loaded to about nine hundred tons.
Four men work the large pump, and two the small. They
will get through 900 per day. A little rough grease is first
rubbed over them. They are then cut into two or three,
or more, in the proper proportion, according to the re¬
lative number of joints to intermediate chairs, and packed
up in bags, care being taken to keep them in a dry place.
This method of manufacture has been much improved
by the erection of an engine on the London and Birming¬
ham railway, by which circular saws, running from 900 to
1100 revolutions per minute, rip the plank into scantling,
and afterwards cross-cut the thirteen-inch lengths. Two
more cutters were adapted on the top of the other four, but
gradually larger. These took in the thirteen-inch lengths
without their going into the hands of the joiner ; and the
key was forced through by a plunger working up and down,
by a guide and parallel motion on the end of an iron
beam. A similar plunger force them through the compres¬
sing box; and 1100 were completed in ten hours. A
part of the power may also be applied to drill the stone
blocks for the permanent way. The cost of the whole, with
the necessary shops, amounted to about L.l 500; but the keys
may be made for L.8 per thousand, if a cheap pattern be
adopted. The circular saws also cut up the waste wood
into treenails, which were bored by a lathe adapted to that
purpose, the whole being worked by steam. It is found to
save the labour of fifteen men. When this sort of chair is used,
it will occasion a great saving of time and trouble, if all the
chairs are either made by one contractor, or every one gaged
before it is received ; for if there be the least difference in
the size, it requires a different set of cutters, and a different
compresssing block for each sort, besides giving a great deal
of trouble to the men employed in laying the way. The same
remark applies to the rails. The best wray is to take plenty of
time, by beginning early. Find a respectable man, and let him
have the wrhole job, at a sum varying with the price of iron.
In iron keys there are many more ways of shaping them.
The accompanying drawing (fig. 13.) shews a very good
one, where the rail has a wTeb on one side of the bottom
only, and the other side of the chair is notched to receive
an iron pin. The only objection ever urged against iron
pins is, that they are apt to get loose. This might be obvi¬
ated by splitting the end which enters first, and opening it
when driven home. If this be done, the other end should
have a head, so that a clawed crowbar could be applied in
order to draw it out.
Fig. 13. Fig. 14.
The annexed drawing (fig.l 4.) shews another good form, in-
ventedby Mr. Robert Stephenson, where the rail is confined by
two bolts having angular ends, which enter a small score in
the rail, and are keyed home by iron keys with split ends ;
the key hole in the chair, and that in the bolts, being so
proportioned, that the effect of keying up is to press the end
of the bolt against the rail. In these chairs there is a
moveable piece of iron, the bottom of which is circular, and
the top flat, laid in a properly-formed receptacle in the bot¬
tom of the chair; and on this the rails rest, so as to give
perfect ease to any motion produced by flexure.
E
34
RAIL
Railways. Mr. Buck’s chairs (fig. 15.) are well spoken of. T e
wedge is driven against the rail by a vertical key. I he
accompanying drawing (fig. 16.) shews another good form,
Fig. 15. Fig. 16.
in which an iron ball takes against the rail, and is keyed
close up to it by a longitudinal key. The joint chair is laid
down, not at right angles with the rails, but diagonally, and
is cast with a split end, rather smaller than the rail, it has
therefore to be chipped to get the rail in.
There is however a great loss on all these chairs, througn
their beinc made of cast iron. This occasions numbers to be
broken in "fixing and keying. To prevent this, wrought iron
chairs may be made, by rolling the iron into the required
form in lengths, and then cutting up the lengths into chairs
by shears ; after which they may be drilled and completed.
’ A chair upon a universal joint has been patented, so as to
allow the rail to accommodate itself to the sinking of the
block ; but it has not been adopted on any railway that we
are aware of. The inquiries necessary under these and
other heads, as the works increase in their number and mag¬
nitude, will be best met by the directors dividing themselves
into sub-committees under the various necessary branches,
which is always advantageous, as long as there is one manag¬
ing head to bring all the parts to bear upon a common focus.
Points and Points and crossings are things which require considera-
crossings. ble attention ; and great care should be taken that they are
laid down on a plan which combines simplicity with safety.
Where one line intersects another, and the crossing is a
fixture, or as it is called, a through-crossing, no more will
be necessary than to bolt the sleepers well together, and pay
rigid attention to the adjustment of the rails ; but where it
is requisite to have the power of going either on one line or
the other, as at a siding, the matter becomes more difficult,
and the mode of doing so may be considered as far from
settled, opinions being still very various.
The oldest form is the common switch, where, upon one
side of the line of rails, is a bar, moveable on a hinge, ca¬
pable of being laid into either the main line, or the line of
sidings. (Fig. 17.) Abreast of this is a fixed check rail,
Fig. 17.
WAYS.
turned at the top by means of a lever key which can be ta- Bad ways,
ken off at pleasure, and which no person should be allowed
to touch except the switchman. This form, although the
oldest, is a very good one, and is very easily understood
and managed. There is, however, a very cheap and good
plan of moving them, instead of an eccentric. 1 his is a ver¬
tical lever, which draws them backwards and forwards, the
handle snrinffing against an arc with notches to receive it
fnlh Pin! This might be placed insWe the switch-
man’s sentry-box, where it could be locked up if he was
unavoidably absent, and no one could touch it. .
Another form, also much approved of, is what is called
the check-rail, to distinguish it from the former, which is
called the switch-rail. In the check-rail there is a move-
able bar to both sides of the line of rails. These are moved
simultaneously, by the eccentric being connected to each
of them bv a cross bolt. The action of the check-rail and
the switch-rail has this difference, that it takes place on
different sides of the flange, the check-rail acting on the
outside of the flange, and the switch-rail on the inside.
The check-rail is not so good as the switch, nor is it so easily
understood. Itisshewnwith its eccentric in Plate CCCCXX.
Fig. 1 is the slide rail in plan, fig. 2 the elevation, hg. 3
the elevation of the eccentric, fig. 4 the point, and fig. 5
the general arrangement. . ,
Another form which has been much adopted, is Curtis s
slide rail. This has a double bar upon each side of the
line of rails, is moved by an eccentric like the others, and
is very effective, but expensive. In fact, they all an¬
swer the purpose, but the slide rails require signals, which
we shall hereafter describe. But this is not the case with
the others. Opinion seems now coming back to the old
switch rail, modified by making the switch part of it
considerably longer, and having it kept in the right posi¬
tion for the main line, by a weight or spring, so that when
the train is to go on the siding, the switchman has to hold
the switch all the time the train is passing. This is objection ¬
able. But the construction has an advantage which overbal¬
ances any thing which can be said against it; namely, t lat
it will be opened by the wheel of the engine, if purposely
put wTong, so that the train can by no possibility get oft the
line of rails, unless it is actually wedged immoveably in the
improper position. This is susceptible of further improve-
Fig. 18.
W
the main rail being bent, and having a nick in it (a) for
allowing the flange to pass when the carriage is not to shift
its line. The left hand half of the figure exhibits the same
thing for the opposite line of rails. A check rail
must also be placed at each point, so as to ensure the train
going upon the required line when the switch is placed
in the proper position. The switch is generally moved
by a horizontal bar or rod of iron connected with it, which
is drawn in and out the required distance by an eccentric,
at the opposite end to that which is connected with the
sw itch. This eccentric is attached to a vertical rod, com¬
ing up about three feet inside an iron standard, and it is
ment. As it stands, it is the subject of a patent, but we ques¬
tion whether it could be sustained.
We have seen a very cheap, simple, and effective switch
on the Great Western Railway, adapted for peculiar situa¬
tions, where fixed crossings would be disadvantageous.
This consists of a switch moveable at the middle by a pivot,
instead of at the end. This connects two lines in either di¬
rection, but is not to transfer trains from one to the other.
Whichever plan may be adopted, we should recommend
one set to be made rigidly accurate, and then that templates
should be formed from these as a guide for all the others.
No method but this will ensure the correctness of the whole;
and crossings being always dangerous, they should never be
used if it can be helped, except on a station.
RAILWAYS.
35
Railways. There is still a difference of opinion amongst engineers
whether the rail should be inclined or not. The gain and loss
may be thus stated. The advantages consist principally in
preventing so much wear both on the tire of the wheel and
the rail, but chiefly the former, for when the rail is upright,
the wheel, theoretically speaking, is only in contact with it
on a line having hardly any breadth This is found to wear
away the wheel very fast, and the rail likewise suffers a loss
on the side where the contact takes place ; besides which,
the wear approximates the tire of the wheel more and more
to the shape of a cylinder instead of a cone; and the rail also
partially adapts itself to this action, in each case, through the
abrasion of the w orking lines. In addition to the increase
in repairs, through these causes, the wear is to a certain ex¬
tent unequal, and an irregularity is produced which conse¬
quently leads to an unsatisfactory performance between the
engine and the rails. But this is avoided by inclining the
rail so that it receives the wheel on nearly the whole of its
bearing surface; and 3-8ths of an inch in 11 inches is the
inclination of the blocks on the London and Birmingham
railway.
The disadvantage consists mainly in this, that if the wheels
do bear on the whole of the surface, say two inches, there
must be a constant rubbing action going on, arising from
the unequal velocities with which the outer and inner tire of
coned wheels revolve, and this will of course be equivalent
to dragging the whole train for a certain distance with every
one of the wheels locked. Let us see what this dragging
will amount to.
Let d be the greater diameter of the coned wheel, and
df its lesser, each in inches; taking the bearing surface at
two inches, and supposing that in this breadth the two dia¬
meters differ half an inch, both which suppositions are in ex¬
cess, we then have
d d!
—. 3,141593, or (d—dr). 1,570796
Jj
for the rubbing at a mean in each revolution of the wheel,
and the length of this revolution will be
3,141593, or (d+dr). 1,570796.
If we take d=Q0\ inches, and </=59f inches we get
(d—d') . 1*570796=, 5 . 1*570796=*785398 inches,
which is the quantity of dragging for each revolution, the
length of which will be (d-\-d'). 1*570796 = 120.1*570796
= 188*49552 inches, we then have this proportion,
Yards. Inches. Yards. Inches.
5,235986 : 785398 = 1760 : 264
Hence, the dragging of the whole train will be 264 inches per
mile, or 733 yards in 100 miles for each wheel. This, at first
sight, appears considerable, but in practice it will be much less.
The data have been taken large to shew the limit of this ac¬
tion, and the whole bearing surface is not practically in con¬
tact with the tire of the wheel, arising from the various im¬
perfections inseparable from the manufacture of both wheels
and rails, particularly the latter, although it must be allowed
that the better they are made, the more dragging will take
place; and likewise the more the surfaces come into contact,
the greater will be the effect of shocks from bad joints and
other imperfections. Still our opinion tends to inclining the
rail.
It appears absolutely necessary in railroad engines and
carriages, that the wheels should be keyed to the axles, the
wheel and axles both turning round together ; several at¬
tempts have been tried to introduce fixed axles, but al¬
though the greatest care has been taken in the manufac¬
ture, both in boring the hole in the nave, and turning the
axle, yet a lateral shaking has always been found to take
place, throwing the carriages off the rail on very moderate
curves.
The quantity of inclination which the cone of the wheels Railways,
should have, will, strictly speaking, depend on the radius of
the curve. But, as half an inch on 3^ in width, or l-7th of
the width is found to be practically advantageous, in keep¬
ing the flanges of the wheels from rubbing against the rails
in straight lines ; and, as by raising the outer rail, the effect
of gravity may at any given velocity be made to neutralize
the centrifugal force, that inclination of the tire of the
wheel may be adopted, except in very extraordinary cases.
With this slope, and a wheel of three feet in diameter run¬
ning on a line of rails 4 feet 8^ inches in width, with a play
of one inch, Mr. Pambour gives the following table of the
elevation necessary in the outside rail:
Radii s of the
curve in feet.
Surplus elevation of the outside rail.
At 10 miles
an hour.
At 20 miles
an hour.
At 30 miles
a n ho ur.
250
500
1000
2000
3000
4000
5000
Inches.
1*14
0*57
0*29
0*15
0*10
0*07
0*06
Inches.
5*60
2*83
1*43
0*71
0*47
0*36
0*28
Inches.
12*99
6*56
3*30
1*65
1*10
0*83
0*66
To enable this calculation to be made for any other in¬
clination, or suitable curves to be made where the inclina¬
tion is determined, we shall explain the method of inves¬
tigating the subject.
The resistance on curves is of two kinds, one from the
carriage having to turn on the rail without any correspond¬
ing play on the axle, thus producing a dragging of the w heel,
which takes place on that which is going over the inner part
of the curve; and, secondly, that which arises from the cen¬
trifugal force, and which causes a friction to take place be¬
tween the flange of the wheel and the rail. To correct
these, the inclination of the coned wheel, the radius of the
curve, the velocity and the elevation of one side of the
line of rails, must have definite relations, and the wheels
must have sufficient play between the two rails to admit the
centrifugal force without being able to induce the second
resistance, yet under given conditions to correct the first.
To arrive at this result, whilst the outside wheel of the
carriage describes the arc mm’, (fig. 22.) the inside one must
describe the arc nn' terminating at the same radius ; the
working circumference of the wheels must therefore be re¬
presented by these arcs, and putting
D==diameter of the outside wheel,
D'=diameter of the inside wheel,
5r=the ratio of the circumference to the diameter,
we have ?wm/=jrD
nn'= **D',
Also, as the two arcs arej,terminat-
ed by the same radii, we have
mm' mo
nn' no’
and if we put the radius of curvature
(os)=rand the half breadth of the
road = e, the above proportion will q
become
Fig. 22.
or
and
mm'
nn'
D
D'“
D—D'=D(1-
r-X-e
— ! 5
r—e
r + e
r—e \
r + ej
2cD
r+e
which gives the difference necessary in the diameters of the
36
railways.
inclination of the tire at -i-> we find this to be
i « (D-D')
and substituting for D-D', its value found above, we have
the lateral motion equal to
«eD
W+e)'
We have now to obtain the necessary displacement y
nJns of Ihe centrifugal force, and for this purpose puttmg
/•r=rradius of curvature,
V=: velocity,
w=mass of the moving body, second,
<7=324, or the accelerating force of gravitation m 1 secona,
/=the centrifugal force produced on the curve,
V2
we have f=m >
^ r
but p=the weight of the same body, we have
P—gm,
P
or m=—»
9
py3
and /= 
j gr
,he inclination of the plane on which the carriages will be,
?/
2e—/d-
whilst, at the same time, from the coned form of the wheels,
the tire having an inclination 4 this lateral deviation to
the extent p, has produced a difference of height in both
wheels amounting to =fc £ that is to say, the outer wheel
will be raised £, and the inner wheel lowered 'j, and the
result or total inclination^ will have to be added to that
which has been produced by the difference between the
height of the rails, hence, the outer wheel will be raised
and as the base between the bearing points is 2e—/i, the
carriage will be on a plane equal to
2u
2/ + W
2e—/i
Z/ +
2/i
P.
PV2
whence y=
2e—/i gr
2V2m-4-V2n/i—2/iffr
agr
I* 
a
eX* /_ «D
2V2e V-
9r
= —-.(^
qr \
eD
— a- ar , consequently to establish the equilibrium between gravita¬
ting a foot in each case for the unit of space, and a se- tion and the centrifugal force required in practice, we must
cond for the unit of time, we get the measure of the cen- have
trifugal force represented by its proportion fo the weigh .
Thus on a curve of 500 feet radius, at a velocity of-0 mile,
an hour, or 29-25 feet per second, we have
29^5)2.
32^.500
or about A . P, the effect of which force in the direction of
the radius, will of course he to press the carnages against
the outside rail till the flange of the wheel stops them ; and
the elevation of the outer rail must be such that the centr
fugal force is so balanced by the natural tendency from gra¬
vitation, by which the carriages would slide towards the in¬
ner rail, that the coned wheel corrects the effect of curva¬
ture without producing a friction on the flange,
calling ?/=the elevation of the outside rail,
° 2e=the breadth of the way,
the inclination of the plane on which the carriage wheels
are placed, will be
y
2e
and the gravity of a body weighing P, will be
Py
2<? ’
and this force tending to bring the carriages towards the in-
t T)'\7r*2 x
gr \ 2{r-\-e)j r-\-e
by which formula the table of surplus elevation for the outer
rail has been computed, and of course the value of the ra¬
dius of curvature, or any other element may be found, the
others being given. As an example of the calculation, let
us take the inclination of the wheel, or -=^ ; theveloei-
citv = 29*25 feet per second ; the breadth of the way —
4 feet inches, or e=2*3542 feet, D =3 feet, when pro¬
perly situated on the rail, and r=500 feet, we then have
193
with g —
6
2*3542.29*25)2
, r /PV2
ner rail while the centrifugal force  
V
gr
\ occasion them
to approach the outer one, the height y of the outer rail
above the inner one, if we wish the carriages to run in the
middle of the rails, must evidently be taken, so that
Py Pe2
2e gr
in which case we have an equilibrium between the two foi-
ces. But we require a tendency outwrards to correct for the
curvature, putting this—/x, we get
aeP) .
^ 2(t-+ e)
If we suppose this lateral displacement to have taken place,
193
6
2*3542
,500
855*5625
7.3 ^ 2*3542.3
”2(500 +2*3542)j 500 + 2*3542
(s
21
96500
6
2*3542.855*5625.6
*)
96500
2*3542.5133*375
7*0626
T60T7084^ 502*3542
(2— *0209006)— *014059
1*9790994 —-014059
1*9790994 —*014059
96500
12084*991425
96500
: 0*125233. 1*9790994 —*014059
: 0*247848 —*014059
: 0*233789 feet, or 2*8 inches.
RAILWAYS.
37
Railways. We have here supposed a =7, or the inclination of the
tire of the wheel to = ; but it is evident this must be such,
that no rubbing of the flange will be produced on any curve
on the line. We obtain this from the equation
aeT)
^ 2(r—e)*
We first establish the play between the rails. Allow this
to be two inches, or that the flanges of the wheels in their re¬
gular position are 1 inch from the rails; then n must never be
quite equal to 1 inch, and if we give to r in the last equation
above, its numerical value for the worst curve on the line,
and to fi its limit, a small quantity less than half the play of
the wheels, we obtain the value of a, which we must use
on that line, as follows :
2/x(r + e)
a— eD ’
For instance, with half the play =1 inch, or *0833 feet and
75.3525
ji:=09 inches, or, 075 feet, we have a= ~ 7.Q025 “ 10'669
or the inclination of the cone = of a foot; observ¬
ing that if we have only one or two bad curves, we must
examine whether we may not admit a little rubbing on them
for a corresponding gain on the good ones. This investiga¬
tion will shew how necessary it is that the play of the axles
on the carriages should be as small as can possibly be, or
the effect of the coned wheels will be completely deranged.
This is a matter which is much too little attended to in prac¬
tice.
Railway There is nothing in a railway which demands such serious
stations, attention as the stations, both as to their numbers, position,
and the mode of constructing them. The number and situa¬
tion will of course be mainly determined by the nature and
extent of the surrounding population; and the first step should
be to get a good map of all the places within the sphere of
the railway, and to mark upon it the population of each place
from the last parliamentary census; bearing in mind, that
taking, for the present, railway-travelling to be twice as fast
at lialf the cost of coach travelling, that a very wide portion
of country will receive the benefit of a long line. We have
explained this before; but that it may be perfectly under¬
stood, we shall shortly advert to it in a different shape.
For instance, suppose a line 100 miles long, and a person
50 miles at right angles to one end of it, who wants to go to
the other end. If he travelled in a stage-coach along the
hypothenuse of the triangle, he would go about 112 miles,
say at 4d. per mile, his total cost would be L.l, 17s. 4d., and
his time expended about 11^ hours. On the contrary, if
he came first to the terminus of the railway nearest him,
and then went along the railway to the other terminus, he
would have first 50 miles in a stage-coach at 4d., or 16s. 8d.,
with an expenditure of time equal to 5 hours, and then 109
miles by the railway at 2d., or 16s. 8d. more in 5 hours, the
total time being 10 hours, and the total expense L.l, 13s. 4d.,
consequently he would save 4s. in money, and 1J- hours in
time, by taking the longest road.
There is no doubt but that the greater the number of
stations, the more the travelling will increase ; for it has al¬
ways been hitherto found that the quick and cheap transit
by a railway has not only increased the already existing traf¬
fic, but has actually created it where no traces could be
found of it before. The nature of the produce, and the
state of trade should also be taken into account in deter¬
mining both the number and the situation of the stations.
The minor stations along the line may be divided into two
classes. The first might consist of merely one room, serving
for office and waiting-room, where nothing but passengers and
small parcels are sent either up or down. Such stations would Railways,
do for small villages or points where only a limited traffic is
expected. We do not, however, recommend these, although
they are used on several railways. All passengers pay alike,
and they are therefore entitled to the same accommodation.
The other class should be a house containing an office, wait¬
ing-room in common, or which is better, one for each class
of passengers, ladies’ waiting-room, and two rooms for the
inspector of police to reside in, a small office for the police,
and a porter’s room. To this would have to be added, if wa¬
ter was required to be pumped, a steam- engine, and the re¬
quisite room for the engineer, a locomotive engine-house when
necessary, and a covered space for holding spare carriages,
trucks, horse-boxes, &e., together with the requisite sheds,
and an office for the goods department.
The entrance to the station should be protected from the
weather, so that when carriages drive up, the passengers
can alight under shelter, and there should be a platform
next the railway, about the same height as the carriage floors,
so that the passengers can walk into the railway-carriages
without having to climb up the steps. Arrangements
should be made, for the passengers who are going into
the carriages to go all in upon one side, and those going out
should get out from the other side; for which purpose
the entrance should be on one side of the railway, and
the exit on the other side. A light roof should be thrown
over both lines of rails and their stages ; in fact, the passen¬
gers should be entirely under cover from the time of leav¬
ing the vehicles which bring them to the station, till the
time the train takes them away. This occasions very little
expense, and is a great addition both to health and to com¬
fort.
For such a station two clerks would be required, one for
passengers, parcels, and private carriages, the other for
goods. The mode of conducting the business we shall ad¬
vert to in its proper place. An inspector, and about four
policemen, with porters, according to the extent of the traf¬
fic, would probably be sufficient; the whole should be well
lighted up writh gas, if it can be conveniently got; and it
would much conduce to the comfort of the passengers, par¬
ticularly ladies, if a decent female attended in the waiting-
room, and had for sale pastry, biscuits, or sandwiches, with
lemonade and ginger beer.
Great care should be taken at each out-station, that the
following things can all be simultaneously performed, viz.
First, that the train can be setting down passengers on the
one side who are going to remain; secondly, taking up pas¬
sengers on the other side who are going on, and this on
both lines; thirdly, that the engine can be taking in coke
and water, and also raking her fire, for which purpose, a
small coke store should be built close to the water crane,
and an ash pit properly excavated in the requisite position ;
and, lastly, that horses and private carriages can be in a
situation to enable them to be attached to and detached
from the train, at the same time as the other things enu¬
merated above are being done. It will also be requisite,
that the same care be taken at the goods’ station, but goods’
waggons should also be able to be attached to and detached
from passengers’ trains, as they will often be useful, when
the traffic in passengers runs a good deal one way, in com¬
pleting the load of the engine, and economising the out¬
lay in locomotive power.
To explain how this is to be done, let us suppose a line
of railway running north and south, and that the east line
of rails is that by which the trains arrive when going from
north to south, and the west line of rails is that by which
they arrive when going from south to north. For the east
line of rails, the water crane should be so far to the south
of the station, that with an average number of carriages in
the train, when the tender is under the crane, the middle
of the train is opposite the station house. The position of
38
Railways, the crane fixes that of the ash pit coke store. The
^passengers alighting get down from thfe .west.1sid3ev°i ^
carriages, and go out from the west side of the railway. The
passengers who are getting up, do so on the east side of the
carriages, and come to the carriages from the east side of
^^The houses and carriages which are to leave the train,
must, of course, be at the end of it. These, when detached,
are to be run back, or to the northward, where a tinplate
should be fixed to take them up by the cross line, to t
spot where they are to be landed. This spot, which should
be a third line of rails farther east, should be so far to the
northward of the station house, that a siding can be run
from the third or extra line of rails into the main east line, so
as to be clear of the end of the train; andon this siding should
be the embarked carriages which ar^t0 j®1" the ^’ ddi_
the west side of the railway, there should be another addi
tional line of rails, with a cross line from it to the place
where the carriages are embarked. Along this line t e goo s
may be brought. It will be readily seen that all the icqu
ed obiects will be effected by this arrangement.
For the western line, the water crane should be sufficient¬
ly to the north of the station, to allow the centre of an aver¬
age train to be opposite the station-house, when the tender
is under the crane. The ash-pit and coke-store are, as m
the previous case, regulated by the position of the crane.
The passengers who are leaving the tram, get out on the
eastern side of the carriages, and leave the railway also on
the eastern side. The passengers who are to join the train
are waiting on the western side, and get into the carnages
on that side. The horses and carriages which are to leave
the train, are run back to the southward, past the siding
from the west additional line by which those come on which
are joining it, and are brought back to that siding, when
clear of the carriages joining the train. By the siding they
set on to the west additional line, and going to the north¬
ward, are taken across as soon as the train has left, and are
disembarked at the proper spot. .
Goods joining or leaving the train are managed exactly in
the same way. Those which are to leave it being run back
on the main line, till past the siding by which those come into
the main line which are to join the train ; and when these
are clear, those which left the train are to be brought to
the siding, and run into the goods’ station. Proper waiting
rooms for the passengers should, of course, be provided on
each side of the railway, and their exit and entrance will be
by stairs, either up or down, as the station is situated on
an embarkment or in a cutting. Afoot-bridge may some"
times be thrown across with advantage.
There is such a decided convenience in having all sta¬
tions on a level, that we should strongly recommend them
to be placed so wherever it is at all practicable, even if
there is some little sacrificed in another point of view ; but
this is a matter which will, in general, be so completely
governed by the localities, that it may not be possible, in
many cases, to attain it. When this happens, however, great
care must be taken to make the approaches wide, and of a
gentle slope.
As the works proceed towards completion, so many causes
will arise to engage the engineers and directors, even without
the occurrence of any particularly great accidents, that on
all the leading questions time should be taken by the fore¬
lock. Springs of water, rock, and quicksands, will be met
with where least expected perhaps, and the constant ex¬
ertion of every talent will be required towards the close of
the works. Good drainage will be most wanted when least
at command; and work done with wet materials will be
always slipping. Many times have embankments made of
wet clayey earth slipped at all kinds of slopes; and although
hundreds of cubic yards of dry material have been tipped
on to them, they have been swallowed up and totally dis-
railways.
appeared, whilst, at last, the only remedy to be found was
Sting the slip itself with a sufficient quantity of earth ^.-w
to enable it to bear the embankment above.
When rock occurs at any height up the sides of an ex¬
cavation, advantage may sometimes be taken of it to de¬
crease the expense, by cutting only a sufficient width for the
railway, and having no slope to the earth below the rock,
but building up retaining walls from the railway below when
bottomed out to the rock above, or what is called under¬
setting, an example of which may be seen at the great Bhs-
worth cutting on the London and Birmingham railway, (bee
Plate CCCCXXVI. figs. 2, 3, 4.)
It will often happen that many parts of the permanent
way are laid prior to its being possible to open either end ot
the line for traffic. These had better be kept in repair by the
contractor ; but when the line is once opened, or any part of
it, for the purpose of travelling, it will be much the best way
for the company themselves to keep it in order, taking espe¬
cial care that the contractor repays them a proper price for so
doing. The consequences of any accident by the engine or
carriages getting thrown off the rails are so frightful, that
no attention and expense can be thought too great which
can prevent such an occurrence. We have seen instances
in which carriages have undergone so complete a smash, that
not a square foot of plank could be picked up anywhere.
A set of plate-layers consists of nine men for turnplates ;
twelve for laying rails ; five for repairing the way ; and six
for laying in points and crossings.
To each set, the following tools will be required :
2 chissel-ended crowbars for drawing spikes. > .
1 point-ended crowbar for moving rails, the point being
put in the ground.
1 claw-ended crowbar.
1 cuddy or three-legged stand for the levers, so called
from the name of the inventor. (Fig. 19.)
2 guages for the distance between the rails.
1 spirit level. (Fig- 21.)
(Fig. 20.)
Fig. 20.
Fig. 21.
1 beetle, 6 inches diameter and 20 inches long, for draw¬
ing down sleepers, (big* 22.)
4 punning rammers. (Fig. 23.)
Fig. 22.
Fig. 23.
=a
2 adzes for trimming the sleepers to receive the chairs.
(Fig. 24.)
2 levers. (Fig. 25.)
Fig. 24.
Fig. 25.
T
RAILWAYS. 39
Railways. 2 sets of sights. (Fig. 26.)
4 beaters or wooden picks for ramming ballast under the
Railway sleepers. (Fig. 27.)
ools.
Fig. 26. Fig. 27.
2 swivel or cramp crowbars, similar to a tooth-drawer,
for drawing spikes without heads, 4 pick axes, 2 files to file
the joints, 2 shifting wrenches for screwing up seats, 1 turn-
plate to trim the sleepers to, 12 block drills, 4 hammers to
ditto, 4 keying hammers, 2 chipping hammers, 1 sledge ham¬
mer, 4*cast-steel chisels for cutting joints, 12 f-inch augurs,
1 handsaw, 1 axe, 1 hand-drill for drilling turnplates, 4 sets
of chisels with wood-rods for handles, similar to blacksmiths’.
The foregoing tools will enable them to fit in points and
crossings, switches or turnplates, as well as to lay the line.
Of course when there are sets of plate-layers wholly work¬
ing at blocks, and other sets wholly working at sleepers,
the tools which do not relate to the work they are engaged
in, may be kept back. The above list has reference to
chairs having w ooden keys ; for any other kind of chair, if
necessary, an adequate alteration must be made. One
standard guage should be kept in the engineer’s office for
the width of the rails, and another for the width between
the lines, and all others constructed from it; and they ought
to be made of iron.
Duties of The engine-man should always stand by his hand-gear
the engine whilst the engine is running, and keep a most vigilant look
man. out before him, passing all out-stations or stopping places
slowly, and upon discovering any train at a stand still, he
should approach and pass it at no greater speed than three
miles an hour. Should any train require the assistance of
a ballast-engine, it should be immediately given on an ap¬
plication to that effect from the upper guard, the engine-man
first placing his waggons on a siding ; but the ballast-engine
should not draw the train any farther than is necessary to
place it under the charge of a regular passenger or goods’
engine; and it should then return to its waggons in such a
manner as not to interfere with the next train coming along
the line. Every ballast-engine should be provided with proper
spanners, and other requisite tools, for the safe custody of
which the engine-man should be responsible. During a fog
the engine should be moved slowly, and the whistle be
blown at not greater intervals than a quarter of a mile. Fogs,
however, will always be dangerous on railways till two whis¬
tles totally different in sound are used, one for each line,
blowing by machinery at every eighth part of a mile. When
the ballast-engines stop in a fog on the line, the fireman
should be sent at least 400 yards a-head to look out.
It is the duty of the engine-men to take care that the en¬
gines are in a proper state of cleanliness and efficiency be¬
fore they quit the engine-house, that every part is in proper
and complete working order, and that the regular supply of
coke and water is in both the engine and the tender, toge¬
ther with the requisite quantity of oil and waste ; and he
should personally inspect his tool-box, and ascertain that
every thing is in it which by rights should be so, and that
Ins shovels, rakes, &c. are in readiness. He should care¬
fully examine all his oil cups and syphon wicks, his water
guage, and every other part of the engine, and when he
sets her a-going, try his pumps on both sides, and also his
hand-gear. According to the distance the engine-house is
from the point where he hooks on the train, time must be
allowed him before the minute of departure sufficient to let
him arrive at the required spot about one minute before
he is wanted, and no more.
He should be very careful in bringing his engine down Railways,
to the head of the train, where the connection should be'-**-
made by a man specially appointed for the purpose. He
should leave his condensed steam cock open as long as he
can, being very cautious that it is shut just before the time
of departure. During the journey he, in conjunction with
his fireman, should keep a vigilant look-out tor all signals
of danger, w atching each policeman as he approaches him
till he has made his notification that all is in security along
his part of the line. He must be attentive to stopping the
train at the places ordered, and that he does not exceed
the regulated speed, considering correctness of arrival his
greatest aim, and consequently making up as far as he can
in one part of his journey for any unavoidable detentions
which may have arisen in other parts.
He should be very attentive to his wrater-guage, and test
it, whenever he thinks it necessary, by his guage-cock. This,
however, should be done as little as possible if he have con¬
fidence in the water-gauge. He should never use his pumps
without turning his pet-cocks, and ascertaining by them
that every thing is working properly for the injection of the
water; particularly when one pump has got out of order,
that if any thing should happen to the other he may instant¬
ly stop the engine and examine both of them, the necessary
tools for which should be in his tool-box. He should al¬
ways when practicable take the opportunity of pumping in
water when going down inclinations, or at other favourable
times. He should attend well to his rakings, and should be
careful not to put on too much coke at once, unless he is
very strong in steam ; he should be constantly alert to the
signals from the guard of the train, and ready to stop it in
the shortest possible time when ordered to do so. The
guard should have a check-string to the arm of the engine-
man, and a flexible hollow tube should be fixed from the
guard’s carriage to the engine, through which the men can
converse, which the noise of the engine and train will other¬
wise render difficult.
After completing his journey, and placing his engine near
the engine house over the ash pit, he should see the fire
carefully raked out, and if his engine requires blowing off,
he should take it to the proper place for doing so, and then
apply for the necessai’y assistance to place it afterwards in the
engine-house. But if it should not require to be blown off, he
must of course proceed to the engine-house as soon as his
fire is out, and having placed his engine in security, he
should make his report to the foreman of all circumstances
relative to the journey, and of any defects in the line, or in
the engine, that he may have noticed, and the correct cause
of all detentions which may have taken place. The engine
should be examined and cleaned by proper persons appoint¬
ed for that purpose; but this should not supersede the neces¬
sity of the engine-man personally investigating, before he
starts on a journey, that every thing is in correct order. A
great deal of expense in cleaning engines, as well as in their
wear, would be saved by using a tarpaulin covering down
each side from the boiler, to protect the machinery from
rain. The engine-man should also have a fencing from the
wret over the place where he stands.
The resident engineer who takes charge of the line when
opened, should draw every thing by requisition from the
storekeeper. The overseer should, in the first place, make
out his weekly pay-bill, which should be checkedby the time-
book of the respective timekeepers; and when signed by the
engineer, it should be forwarded to the audit-office, and the
pay sent down to the booking-clerks of the adjacent stations,
who should pay the men in the presence of the overseer,
each man signing his name to attest the reception of the
money. The necessary clerks and draftsmen for this part o.
the engineering department should also be paid weekly in
the same way.
We have never yet seen a good mile mark on a railway, Mile marks
the obiect apparently being merely to comply with the act of
Parliament, certainly not to let the passengers see the miles,
for the marks are generally so short, that all persons in the
middle seats of the carriages have no chance whatever o
seeing them. What we should recommend would be light
IroTpostl having a box on the top The box be ntade
triangular in its ground-p an, (Plate '^tuse
and be about one foot in height, the apex of the most obtuse
ande facing the railway. This angle should be so obtuse as
merely to allow room in the box to hang a smal lamp, and
the two sides which form this angle being made <jf glas ’
should be painted or ground, except the figure8, wn
left clear. These shew the miles by day, and the nearest p
liceman lighting the lamp, they are also shewn at night. O
the Planef forming the sides of the triangle next the rail-
wav may be of sheet iron, with the figures cut out of it,
and merely that portion covered with glass ; ^
the head must have a lid moving on a hinge. 1 he heig
S these should be just half way up the «
Tn the cuttings, the post should be very short, and the mue
mark set back on the slope. On the embankments it will
be proportionally longer. It may have holes, or other m
naments, cast in its base, serving for steps to get up to hg
the lamp ; or this may be done with projecting rings,
slide may be made to receive coloured glass as a signal of
^ WhenHuch mile marks as these are not adopted, and
it is desired to know the velocity of a tram at night, this
may be readily done whenever the blast pipe of the ongjne
sounds sufficiently loud to be heard, which is generahy the
case in most engines. The way to ascertain the speed at
which the train is going, will be to count every fourth pu
from the blast pipe in ten seconds, this giving one revolu¬
tion of the driving wheels, and the speed will be had by the
following table:
1 ^ o mnrtprs The exact number of seconds is 10’7 Railways.
and 1^.78 q The method by the tables however is the best.^y^-
and 11 7 • Ipvel with the railway are things to Tave(l
be^avotdcdb7aU®®*®8 'SPract'^ble to do so;cros91,,Ks*
but Is some cases will arise where they cannot be done away
thhTwe must render them as little liable to danger as pos¬
sible. We have given drawings of these, (figs. 29, 30,
and 31,) and an approved form of chair (fig. 28), which
Fig. 28.
Blast pipe. '.Velocity—miles.
Velocity—miles.
Numberof wheels,
fourth puffs in ^ feet diameter,
ten seconds.
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Wheels,
5i feet diameter.
16-06
17- 14
18- 21
19-28
20- 35
21- 42
22.49
23- 56
24- 63
25- 70
26- 77
27- 85
28- 92
29- 99
31-06
32.13
17- 67
18- 85
20- 03
21- 21
22- 38
23- 56
24- 74
25- 92
27-10
28-27
29'45
30- 63
31- 81
32- 99
34- 16
35- 34
Fig. 29.
Fig. 31.
The rapidity with which the cylinders of steam are ex¬
pelled through the blast pipe, would at any common velo¬
city prevent every puff being counted; but a very little
practice will render the counting of every fourth one exceed¬
ingly easy, and the rate of going may always be found to
the nearest half mile, by those who have only tried this
method three or four times. A still easier method, although
it will not generally be quite so accurate, is as follows : F or
five-feet wheels, count the number of fourth puffs in ten se¬
conds and three quarters, and these will be the number of
miles per hour the engine is going; and for five feet six
wheels, count the number of fourth puffs in eleven seconds
holds the rail, and also the two protecting irons, which should
be laid next to the rails, in order that the wheels of those
vehicles which cross the railway may not impinge upon the
rails and injure them any more than can be helped, me
whde crossing should be well paved with usual road
stones, and there must be strong gates on each side. Ihese
gates must be constructed so that when shut they may close
up the road on either hand, and when open, may tor
barrier across the railway. .  
The subject of lamps forms one to which attention is re- Lamps.
quired, and we should recommend all railways to make a
red light at night and a red flag by day, the symbols of dan¬
ger. A green light should be placed at each station at the
spot where the engine-man should slacken his sP^e ^
red light at the point where he is to stop. The Pol^j
should have hand lanthorns, with a white glass and a l e
one, which latter can be turned round in an instant, when¬
ever any thing obstructs the passage of the railway ; and the
light held up at any train approaching, on seeing w ic
train is immediately to stop. A green glass may also be
added, the signification of which would be, procee
caution ; the train should then come slowly on and ascertai
the reason for the signal. „.
For lighting the insides of the carriages, the root lamps,
contrived by the writer ot this article, and patente , ai e ie
best. The frame is circular, about six inches in diameter, and
about nine inches in height; the bottom istorme o a
glass saucer, which is let through the roof ot the coac i,
top being protected by a box ; on the inside is a sma oun
tain lamp, on an improved principle, which is very near y
shadowless ; the whole of the lamp body being a ove ie
frame, and the connection between them consisting o a
tube-A ths of an inch in thickness, which tube shou c a ways
be turned towards the carriage door. These give a so
mellow light, by which the passengers may easily rea .
Point signals should be made in the following manner.
RAILWAYS
Railways. The sliding rail, which forms the communication from one
line of rails to the other, and which is moved by an eccentric,
turned by a lever handle, should have, on the other side of
the line, an iron rod from the rail, going into a box at its end
with a pinion on it. This pinioned end of the rod turns a
rack when the sliding rail is moved, which rack is contained
in the box, and is fixed to a vertical rod, moveable in an up¬
right post, similar to a lamp post, through the top of which,
about four feet in height, the upper end of the rod comes out
for about six inches, and is in this part made square. On this
square part there is put a lamp by night, to shew a white light
when the points are right, and a red one when they are
■wrong; so that whenever the sliding rail is moved, it of ne¬
cessity turns the light round, and cannot fail to place the
different colours in front of the line of rails to which the
signal is meant to apply.
In the day time the lamp is removed from the square,
which, however, is not necessary, and the same signal is made
visible by two circular hoops covered with canvass, one being
painted red and the other white, and one being fixed on the top
of the other at right angles to it; or the hoops may be one in¬
side the other, at the same height and at right angles, no¬
thing more being necessary than that the signal should be
such that when combined in this way, the sliding rail can
never move without the signal also moving, which should
shew white when the points are right, and red when they
are wrong. These things, however, will never be properly
correct till the engine itself is made to turn the points, which
has often been tried, and is considered as having failed, but
may certainly be done with ease and elfect.
Alarms. Self-acting alarms, with gong-shaped bells standing up¬
right and fixed about twelve feet high to a wall, should be
supplied to each station, and they should be wound up by men
stationed at them, who may also act as policemen. These
alarms are for the purpose of giving notice to the station-
people of the arrival of a train. Two minutes are sufficient
time in ordinary cases, and, with active men, one would
suffice, and proper regulations must be established to en¬
sure this space of time. On the train arriving at the pro¬
per spot, the man stationed at the alarm pulls a trigger,
which allows a weight to descend. This turns a wheel, and
this wdieel w orks a pinion, to which is attached an eccen¬
tric, which gives motion to the clapper from side to side,
and the alarm is struck by the hammer in the usual wTay,
the man stationed at it being at liberty to attend to any
other business the instant he has pulled the string. A large
station-bell is also useful to summon all the persons to their
posts at unusual times, in order to receive any unexpect¬
ed trains, and for many other reasons. A bell should also
run from the station office at the out-stations, to summon
one or more porters inside the office.
A good means of preventing accidents would be, to have
the engine-man in the front of the engine. If any thing could
ensure care, this would, the generality of engine-men being
quite foolhardy ; a defect which will never be remedied till
we have a distinct class of men educated and brought up
for engine-men from their youth, to whom should be given
such a salary as would bring in young men of respectability.
Invalid car- In Plate CCCCXXV, fig. 3, we have given a plan of an
rages. invalid carriage, capable of containing four invalids and their
four attendants, (a, a) are the seats for the passengers, one
on each side of the first and second bodies of the carriage
being for the invalid, and the opposite one, lengthways of
the carriage, being for the attendantt. When the invalid
wishes for the use of the closet, he comes out by the door
(b) into the middle part of the coach (d), which is a gallery
with a raised roof, as in fig. 2. There are three portable wa¬
ter-closets (c) in this carriage, or the middle one, if thought
more desirable, may be merely an urinal; the centre one,
to whatever purpose it may be converted, is arrived at from
the gallery by the door (e), and the right and left-hand clo-
von. xix.
sets by the doors (fg) (fg) respectively. The ventilation Railways,
here wrould be very perfect, and no inconvenience whatever
could arise to any one of the passengers. An attendant be¬
longing to the railway company could attend on all the pas¬
sengers remaining in the gallery (d) till his assistance was
required, for which purpose a bell might be hung with pulls
in each compartment. By this arrangement double the
number of invalids could in each case be accommodated
with a passage.
The following are the engines in use on the London and Descrip.
Birmingham railway, and which were made by Mr. Bury oftion of en
Liverpool. The description here given applies to both thegilies-
passenger and goods’ engines, except when otherwise
stated.
The two cylinders are to have an 18-inch stroke, those of
the passenger engines being 12 inches, and the goods’ en¬
gines 13 inches in diameter, with single slide valves, brass
spring pistons, and cast iron packing ; the cover of each cy¬
linder having one oil.cup. The boilers are made of the best
Yorkshire plates, either Bowling or Lowmoor. The fire-boxes
are of the same material, and are welded so as not to have
the rivets or lap exposed immediately to the action of the
fire. They are 3-8ths of an inch thick, the back plates half
an inch, the outside of the fire-box and the backplate 3-8ths
of an inch, and the rest of the boiler -j^ths of an inch. Full-
sized drawings are furnished to shew how' the plates are to
be worked; the plate for the tubes at the smoke-box end is
half an inch thick, and a lead plug, 5-8ths of an inch in dia¬
meter, is riveted in the crown of the fire-box.
The tubes are two inches in diameter inside, and are secur¬
ed with steel hoops at the fire-box end, and iron hoops at
the chimney end. These hoops are made to a given guage ;
and the tubes are of the best rolled brass, No. 14 wire guage
thick; the arrangement as well as the exact size of the
tubes being regulated by a template.
The engines have four wheels; those for the passengers
are 5| and 4 feet in diameter, and those for the goods are
each pair 5 feet in diameter. Each wheel has a cast iron
centre; and the spokes are of wrought iron, accurately fitted
into the nave. The tire consists of two thicknesses, the inner
being 3-4 ths of an inch when finished, of the best Staffordshire
iron, well secured to the end of the spokes by riveting, the
ends of the spokes having been previously turned in their
exact position. The outside tire is made of the very best
Bowling or Lowmoor iron If ths inches thick when finished.
When the outside of the inner tire has been well riveted
to the spokes it is turned ; and the inside of the outer tire
having been accurately bored, so as to secure a perfect fit,
it is then shrunk on, and the outside turned and finished.
The naves are bored out, and the axles turned to fit; they
are secured on by two steel keys, one inch square, at right
angles with each other. The goods’ engine wheels are con¬
nected on the outside by a rod, with a ball pin at one end,
and a parallel pin at the other. These engines have also a
damper to their blast pipe.
Ihe crank axles are made from Backbarrow iron, cut out
of solid blocks, and finished according to full-sized drawings.
The straight axles are made of the very best scrap iron. The
framing ot the engine is of wrought iron accurately fitted.
There is one pump attached to each cross-head, and made
or good tough brass, the suction pieces being connected by
Macintosh hose pipes, with screw coupling joints next the
engine. The eccentrics are fixed on the crank axles in the
mode shewn by drawings. The steam and exhausting pipes
are of copper, No. 12 wire guage in thickness. When these
engines are made by other persons, templates and full-sized
working drawings are given out, from which no deviation
whatever is allowed without Mr. Bury’s approbation, so as to
secure all parts of the engines matching each other.
The top of the fire-box has a copper cover, No. 16 wire
guage thick, secured to the wooden covering on the lower
F
49
—. ^ sru
hoops; and round the fire door « me ^ 2
'Z s^brofeth" u?L the furnL, and
secured at the ends by screw nads 2 mete .^Mo fiteve^
railways.
flip tank • and two Macintosh hose pipes, one to each suction
p'Sce wi’th thfnecessary connexion to attach them to the-—^
CXhon water requires to be pumped from the tenderJuto
the boiler of the engine, previous to the starting of the trai ,
Us the usual practice to run the engine backwards and for-
wardsfor a short distance, in order to work the force pumps
nt the ends by screw nans ^ iuuhcd cv^cco, — r -- - . • ..rpases the wear and tear both of the engine and the
the fire from burning the wood casing on the boiler. Thecas- U besides inducing a liability in a crowded station of run-
ing on the barrel of the boiler is secured hyf^r hoops ^ ^ foul 0f something, if great care be not taken. The fol-
& "l-~ c— '"'A v,nnn- about 2.n inc e , ; contrivance will obviate the necessity of this incon¬
venient method of filling the boiler. A square pit should be
sunk in some convenient part of the line, selected with re¬
ference to its intended use. This pit should be large enough
to admit a pair of three-feet wheels fixed on an axle similar to
the carriage wheels. There should be no flanges, and a part
ing on the barrel oi tne uuuei 13 r , ui ;nciies in
bo*6 fftner iswappedfn'at Stoee thicknesses
Tlr^lagging^ mi the boiler is put together with irml ^fea-
The lagging on the boiler is put together with iron tea- ^ r wheels# There should be no flanges, and a part
thers by i ; the boiler is covered over the laggi g circumference of these wheels should come up through
to steel fead, about 3* feet broad along the top of the the urt ^ ^ ^ to ; aadlt.„„a
barrel. The smoke-box is No. 7 wire guage thmk, a bein in t0 6upport the ends of the rails. This
the "himney is No. 13 wire guage. The cover 0 .g & rt 0f the circumference of the wheels thus becomes a part
up safety valve is of brass, secured to the boiler , t j)f the railway, the wheels being made to lock at pleasure ;
brass fame round the door of *'k.sm°k.^; but when the engine requires to pump water into the boiler,
handle to the small door in the middle of the la g it must be brought with its driving wheels directly mi those
All the pins of the joints are of steel, and hardene thege )atter bemg then unlocked, the steam
practicable1, but if not, they are steeled nnd hardened and m t^ and the pumps WOrked as long as is found
the working parts of the engine, which are of iron, are^c ^ ® ■ ft, u^;i^ tV.P enmne advancing
hardened. "Kg the filers the ^edg. of the
rivet htr^fecorr^spld!1 The engmes^re fur¬
nished with a wooden guard, and two leather buffe
with cotton flock; and there are a draw-bar, draw-pin, and
loop in the centre of the wooden guard, to c0^ect the
the tender. They have three water guage cocks, and a &las
water guage, with a lamp stand ; also a whistle, and anum-
teplaton each sidc.of the boiler; and they are furnished
with a complete set of screw-keys. {.which
All the screws in all the engines correspond, for which
purpose, either master taps, or sets of stocks and dms, at
the option of other makers, are furnished them by Mr. Bury.
They receive two coats of paint, and are finished with tw
J   'TVicxr ovp ernnranteed tor one
is let graauaiiy on, anu liw     o
necessary to fill the boiler, without the engine advancing
from the exact spot in which it was first placed, the only
effect produced by the driving wheels of the engine, being
to turn round the wheels fixed in the pit. When the boiler
is filled, the pit wheels are locked, and the engine proceeds
to the performance of her assigned duty. How much more
advantageous this mode of filling the boiler is, will be readi¬
ly seen, particularly when it is remembered that if engine-men
are not looked well after, they will oil the driving wheels
and the rails when in the engine-house, and then letting on
the steam, fill their boiler by means of the wheels slipping
round on the rails. We have often seen this carried to such
an extent, that streams of sparks have been struck out by
the attrition. When no
month, or 1000 miles, during which trial, no other work s ing wheels are ^ ^ ^
allowed but the tightening of cotters, and tl":| . ’ The Caliban engine, made by Sharp, Roberts, and Com-
workmanship and materials that can be produced, are in a ^ Manchest|r> drew 80 tons up an inclination of 1 in
cases rigidly insisted on. „ „ , , , on ’ tv-,p Grand Junction Railway, for 3| miles, at 13 j
The framing of the tenders is of well-seasoned oak, or Xour, at a steam pressure of 50 lbs. per square inch,
ash timber, thoroughly secured with iron knees and bolts, miles p ^ . 0f coke of 480 lbs. The average
having an iron box, No. 7 wire guage thick, underneath, to a^f0”SU“P ters of a mile each, up 1 in 90, from
carry the coke, which box is secured to the wooden frame. on the London and Bir-
The tank contains 700 gallons of water. The wheels are Euston Square to ^maen lu j hv Robert
Hie tanx comains /uugcuiunc wx  
of cast-iron, turned to receive a tire of either Bowling or
Lowmoor iron, bored out to secure a perfect fit, and finished
to U inches thick. The axles are 3^ inches in thickness, of
the best hammered scrap iron; and the journals are 2f inches
in diameter, case-hardened, with brass bushes and oil box.
The steadiment for the axles consists of two plates, one
. -j.. a ^flvov Incnrlo flip frnmim?-i both of them
Huston square ru wamucu , , t> ;
mingham railway, with the great engine made by Robert
Stephenson and Company to work the trains up the mchn -
tion till the fixed engine was ready, amounted to 15 miles
an hour, with 70 tons, viz. 14 carriages and 148 passengers,
at a steam pressure of 50 lbs. per square inch. The aver¬
age of 12 trips of 24f miles, up 1 m 440, on the Grand June-
P * •.! •  :   ♦V.y-co marlO ot6-
The steadiment for the axles consists of two plates one age of 12 °Ste-
outside, and the other inside the framing ; both of them turn Railway, ^ , Sharp, Roberts, and
being bolted through the framing, and secured together be- phenson and Compa y, Y weis:ht of 58 tons.
; .. pf Ln fiptwppn the dates for steadying the Company, was 23f miles per hour, with a weigni o o
Deing DoiLeu uuuugu tuc —* .
low, by a piece of iron between the plates for steadying the
axle bushes. These are made completely parallel, and the
bushes fitted into these so as to move up and down, but in
no other direction. The tenders have bufters, a spring to
which the load is attached, and also four springs by which
they are supported, one over each oil box.
The tank is No. 10 wire guage thick, having two brass
cocks or valves, and rod handles with bushes for the top
of the rods ; also two copper pipes, If inches in diameter, for
carrying water from the tender to the engine. 1 he tender
frame and tank have two coats of paint inside and out, and
two coats of varnish. They are fitted up with a brake, and
furnished with a complete tool box ; a wire sieve in the main
hole of the tank to prevent dirt or water from getting into
pnenson anu v-ompuiy,   1: , „
Company, was 23f miles per hour, with a weight of 58 tons.
The coke consumed was 864 lbs., and the steam powe
lbs. per square inch ; this coke, however, was very bad. 1 he
average of 14 trips of 23 miles, up 1 m 440, on the Londo
and Birmingham line, with No. 16 engine, built by Mr. Haw¬
thorn of Newcastle, was 22 miles an hour, with a gross weight,
including the tender, of 70 tons. The coke consumed was
486 lbs., and the steam pressure 48. The engine No. 7, on
the London and Birmingham line, built by Mr. Bury ot Li¬
verpool, went 10 miles in ten minutes, 3d October 1838, with
only one cylinder working, namely, from Hampton to Bir¬
mingham, being for 4^ miles, up 1 in 660, % miles, up
in 1370; the rest of the way was level, and the time mcludea
the getting up and slacking down the speed.
RAILWAYS,
Railways. Whilst such machines as these can be turned out of hand,
vve may rest satisfied, although considerable improvements
will doubtless be yet made, great difference of opinion still
existing respecting the proper size of the driving wheels,
which may either be made larger to give an increased speed,
or keeping the speed the same, the piston may move with
less velocity, either of which is a desideratum. The crank
axle may also be done away with, as Dr. Church has exempli¬
fied in his engine, or by other means, or it may be cut out of
solid iron. At present, too, the steam whistle, which can
be heard several miles in a still day, is only made use of to
warn persons of the time when the engine is approaching
them. How much better would it be to have two of these
with totally distinct sounds, one to be used on the arrival
line, and the other on the departure line ? Each would then
not only perform its present office as an alarm, but would form
the most complete fog and night signal that could be de¬
sired, and would at all times, in the densest fog or the dark¬
est night, give perfect notice whenever two engines approach¬
ed each other, on which line each was travelling, and thus
prevent almost the possibility of a collision.
Bursting of There has so seldom been an instance of a locomotive en-
boilers. gine boiler bursting, that it is perhaps hardly necessary to
advert to such an accident. We know only of two amongst
the tubular boilers. One happened lately on the Liverpool
and Manchester Railway, apparently from the boiler being
used till the rivets got so worn, that they were weaker than
the tubes. The fire-box end of the boiler was blown out,
and the above is the only way of accounting for it, as tubes
must always bear a steam of 50 lbs. on the square inch. Of
course when new, they bear considerably more, and their
form gives every advantage to their strength, the pressure
on them being inwards, whilst on the boiler it is outwards.
It is also known that the safety valve was held down. The
second instance occurred on the Brussels railroad. In this
case, the lock-up safety valve was found to be loaded to 105
lbs. upon the square inch; and it had also been screwed down
more on one side than on the other. These valves are held
down by a series of elliptical springs, which move on a guide
rod passing through their centres. When they are not screwed
down equally on both sides, their position becomes diagonal,
and they jamb on the guide road instead of working easily,
as they do when rightly managed. Safety, in all the usual
cases, is insured by having a fusible plug on the top of the
fire-box, composed of four parts lead and one part tin. This
will melt before any danger can arise, and the steam will rush
into the furnace. The late American experiments on this
head may be consulted with advantage ; but the mystery
has not yet been unravelled. We have had an open vat burst
in Meux’s brewery ; and in two instances boilers have been
suffered to get quite cold. The man-hole has then been open¬
ed, and a person has gone inside, but soon afterwards, in
each instance, upon their introducing a lighted candle, ex¬
plosions took place, and they were in both cases killed. Gas
generated by boilers getting red hot, and absorbing the oxy¬
gen, has been supposed to be a leading cause ; this, how¬
ever, is exceedingly doubtful. If such be the case, it might
be well to try protecting them by means of another metal.
It would also be a good thing to rotate the safety valve, which
is locked up from the engine-man, by machinery, to pre¬
vent any improper adhesion, and by using a mercurial steam
guage, nearly all blowing-off at the safety valve might be
avoided, which now often amounts to one-fourth of the ge¬
nerated steam. The boiler tubes, as now made, are capable
of running 30,000 miles. The want of adhesion so much
talked of, is found to be nonsense, and if there had been
any, it would only be necessary, as the writer of this article
suggested several years ago, to connect a galvanic magnet
with one or more of the axles, to act on the rails, by which
means, with the addition of only a few pounds, an adhesion
equivalent to the weight of two tons could be produced at
43
each axle, being capable also of acting or not at a mo- Railways,
ment’s notice. But there is always found to be sufficient ad-
hesion, except sometimes in foggy weather, at first start¬
ing ; when once in motion, the train acts as a fly-wheel.
We have no hesitation in saying, that electro-magnetism
will at no distant day compete with steam as a motive power,
and successfully.
We are yet, however, very ignorant not only of the powers Steam,
but even of the nature of steam. No one can satisfactorily
prove whether it is a mechanical division of water, or a
chemical decomposition. The currents which take place
in water whilst it is heating, and which are reversed when it
cools, are not yet taken sufficient advantage of, and there
are many other facts which require examination. It is well
known, that if we put on our bare hand, an ix-on kettle of
water boiling rapidly we feel no sensation of heat, but the mo¬
ment the ebulition ceases, we feel a gradually increasing
warmth, which is greatest at the edge of the bottom. When
the bottom, well cleaned, is placed almost in contact with
the bulb of a thermometer, it will only raise it 8° or 10° in
thirty seconds, or about 40° in five or six minutes, although
the water, at the expiration of that time, will be at 90°
higher. With an earthenware pot, the difference is very
great, the thermometer rising 100° in thirty seconds, instead
of 8° or 10°. A drop of water placed in a metal vessel, at
a white heat, is very slowly converted into steam, whilst at
a lower temperature its conversion is so rapid, as almost to
resemble an explosion. At the high temperature, it will
spin round, and will take nearly a minute to evaporate, du¬
ring which time, if it be turned into the hand, it will barely
feel warm.
The experiments made by the committee of the Frank¬
lin Institute of Pennsylvannia, are well worth consulting on
these subjects. It is there shown, that a drop of water on
polished copper, at the temperature of 445°, took 210 se¬
conds before it was converted into vapour. It was evapo¬
rated in the smallest time, at a temperature of 292°, at
which it took three seconds. But when the copper, instead
of being highly polished, was highly oxidated, the tempera¬
ture of maximum evaporation was at 348°, and the time re¬
quired to convert the drop into steam only one-fburth of a
second, or as 12 to 1; whilst in iron the temperature suf¬
fered but little variation, whatever was the condition of the
metal, except it was very highly oxidated, the iron having
its highest evaporating points in this case about 35° above
copper in the same condition. The time varied nearly in
the ratio of the conducting power of the metals, or about
21 to 1, the copper requiring the least.
At 20° to 40° above the point of maximum vaporisation
there is a perfect repulsion between the drop of water and
the heated metal, the former rotating in all directions, with¬
out wetting the metal. When larger quantities of water
were used, the point of maximum vaporisation was much
higher; which renders it evident that locomotive engines
have yet to be considerably altered, before they can work
at the greatest advantage. The same experiments shew,
that water injected, either hot or cold, into an engine boiler,
heated to bright redness, produced no hydrogen, but that
the resulting gas was nothing more than atmospherical air,
deprived by the heated metal of more or less of its oxygen ;
that is to say, nitrogen more or less pure, according to the
quantity of oxygen which has been absorbed.
The nature of the most advantageous alloys for the fu- Fusible
sible plugs of locomotive or other high-pressure boilers, has plugs
been carefully examined by the same committee, and the
following table is deduced from their observations, the sta¬
tionary point being that of congelation.
The proportions are by weight throughout. The sta¬
tionary points are not given for the ten latter alloys, but the
decrease in temperature by which they became “hard solid,”
on the surface we presume, was as follows, viz. 25°, 24°, 20^°,
44
RAILWAYS.
Railways. 221°, 30^°, 32l°, 481°, 50!°, 49i°, 46°. The arrangement
'of the table is in the order in winch the alloy begins to so¬
lidify. A correct knowledge of the nature and properties
of steam is of such importance at the present day, that the
matter ought to be taken up by government. Private indi¬
viduals are not able to incur the expense necessary in con¬
ducting a complete course of the experiments which are re-
quired to fully develope such an intricate and voluminous
subject.
Table of the Fusing Points of Alloys for High-pressure
Engine Plugs.
Fusing points of the metals used in the alloys, of Lead, 612°;
of Bismuth, 506° ; of Tin, 442°.
Lead. Tin.
Bismuth.
26
23
20
48
16
44
40
10
12
8
Alloy begins to
solidify.
Fahrenheit.
22
20
8
9
10
8
0-2
0-4
0-6
1
8
1- 4
1-8
2- 2
2-6
3-0
3-4
3- 8
4- 6
5‘4
6-2
7-0
7- 6
8- 0
529
521
492
481
475
474f
4664
4304
415
393
387
375
369
3684
3664
3644
362
358
352
347
343
331
326
321
316
311
301
296-4
2944
2884
2834
272
Stationary
point.
Fahrenheit.
353
3534
354
2804
354
2804
2804
355
354
355
351
349
3454
3524
353
353
339f
280|
279
335
331
326
The practice of putting two engines to a train is not con¬
sidered so good as dividing the train into two, and putting
one engine to each. Whatever may be the objections to
the latter plan, those who argue in this way assert that no
two engines will have their wheels mathematically accurate
as to size, and if they had, still their rate of working, depend¬
ing as it does on so many elements, would always prevent
their velocity being precisely the same, except for a short
time, by mere chance ; and when this is not the case, a most
destructive rubbing immediately takes place. When two
are working together, for instance, with driving wheels 5
feet 6 inches in diameter, the circumference will be 17-2787
feet, and at a speed of 40 miles an hour, which is 211200
feet, or 3520 feet per minute, equal to 58-66 feet per second,
these wheels must revolve 12223 times in an hour, or 203-71
times per minute, equal to 3-395 times per second.
Now, if we only take half this velocity, or 20 miles an
hour, or 105600 feet for the one engine, and 19 or 21 miles,
or 100320 and 110880 feet respectively for the other, we
have at once a rubbing motion of no less than 5280 feet per
hour, or one mile in twenty, with a rubbing instead of a rolling
motion. In fact, the rubbing will always be equivalent to
the difference between the velocities of the two engines, and
the loss of power, the wear and tear; and the injury to the
machinery by the extra steam which must be brought on all
the working parts, if the above be true, may readily be ima¬
gined. A self-registering counter, fixed to ascertain the
number of strokes, would easily settle this point; to do which,
it must trace the work of each engine on paper, similarly to
the self-acting anemometer of Mr. Osier of Birmingham. But
for our own parts no proof is required. We are certain it is
not the case, and that the speed of both engines becomes
equalized almost immediately after they start; that engine
which would travel the fastest, doing the largest proportion
of the work, and thus relieving the pistons of the other, by
drawing her along at her own rate, as she would, in fact, if
the steam were shut off altogether. A strong man and a
weak man working at a winch is an exactly similar case.
Before long there is no doubt that signals will be estab- Signal*,
lished along all considerable lines of railway. The use of
them is sufficiently obvious, and they might be turned to
profit also, by conveying messages of all kinds, at the rate of
so much per word; they would thus, instead of being a cost
to the railway company, become a source of emolument.
Communications throughout a length of 100 miles, when they
can be made at one signal from each station, would be
transmitted in about a minute and a quarter, and any ordin¬
ary message out of the usual course in about half an hour;
a telegraph would be prevented from working by the wea¬
ther, about two months a-year in the aggregate.
There is nothing so easy as to make a telegraph book ; in Telegraph
fact, it is only numbering a dictionary, and the thing is done. book.
In fact, hundreds of messages may be sent on the usual ad¬
dress of a newspaper, without the possibility of the post-of¬
fice being at all aware of anything of the kind being carried
on. In the case of a railway, each head of the different de¬
partments should send in lists of the various messages most
likely to be wanted, and these could be added to, as time de-
velopes what is required.
The original expense of such a thing would probably be
about L.260 each station, and the annual expense about L.77
per station; to which would have to be added the salary ot the
superintendent, clerks, and a few supernumerary men. Their
great use renders them most desirable things. For instance,
an accident happens to an engine ten miles from an engine
station. The telegraph would send out another engine in a
minute, with any commonly good look-out; whereas, to
send on foot would require two hours, thus deranging the
time of all the succeeding trains. As another instance, a
train starting from one end to the other of the line, perhaps
leaves 50 passengers at some intermediate town ; the tele¬
graph might immediately make this known to the clerk of
that station, who, if he had few passengers ready for the
train, could prepare goods’ waggons to put on, so that the
engine should not go with half a load y a matter of great im -
portance, for the power absorbed by an engine before it
can put itself in motion, being one-third of its whole power,
it follows that the relative expenditure of power per ton per
mile, is nearly six times greater with a load of 10 tons than
it would be with a load of 100 tons.
When accidents do happen upon railways, they may gene¬
rally be expected to be extremely serious, and no means
should be left unprovided, for immediate assistance being
dispatched; even an advice carriage, which might be
worked at 20 miles an hour, would be but a slow method,
compared with a telegraph, for instance, if medical assis¬
tance, or what is more likely, surgical assistance, was want¬
ed. In many cases, it will be highly advantageous, parti¬
cularly in a pecuniary point of view, to run trains at diffe¬
rent velocities, passing each other by means of sidings, the
RAILWAYS.
45
ffent of
gh wind.
expense of locomotive transport increasing so much with an
increased velocity. This desirable method will no doubt
eventually be much practised. It w ould be almost impossi¬
ble without a telegraph.
The effects of high wind upon a train, especially a side-
wand, which binds the flanges of the wheels against the
rails, and very much impedes the velocity, as well as in¬
creasing the wear and tear, renders it a desirable thing to
have its force measured at all the principal stations, so that
whenever it exceeds a certain standard, to be determined
by experiment, a second engine may be sent out to assist
the train. The most complete instrument for this purpose
is the anemometer, invented by Mr. Osier of Birmingham,
now used at the Philosophical institution of that town, at
Plymouth, and in other places. This also combines so many
other arrangements, as well as that for measuring the force
of the wind, each of which it transfers by machinery to pa¬
per, that it is in fact the heavens registering themselves,
and for a cost of about L.50 leaves nothing to desire.
For railway purposes merely* a more simple contrivance
will be sufficient, although the cost will not be very mate¬
rially decreased, if it be fitted up with the requisite atten¬
tion to convenience as well as accuracy. For instance, if
a vane with a long tail, high above the top of the engine-
house, and having at its pointing end a board one foot square,
be fitted up in the following manner, it will be sufficient for
all the wants of the locomotive department. The vane should
be fixed on a hollow pole, which should turn with it and de¬
scend thruogh a tube down to about five feet of the floor of
the engine-house, where there should be a horizontal dial-
plate, on which should traverse a pointer fixed to the vane-
pole. This pointer would always indicate the direction of
the wind ; and in order to ascertain its force, the board, one
foot square, on the pointing end of the vane, should act on
a spiral spring, and work a drum by a wheel and pinion,
communicating by a cord, with a similar drum at the bot¬
tom of the vane-pole, where a vertical dial-plate should be
fixed, on the outside, and opposite to the lower drum, on
which a hand traversing round the vertical dial-plate would
shew the force of the wind.
According to the power of the engine, and the nature of
the usual traffic, experience will soon point out when a second
engine ought to be dispatched; and a table being formed for
each point of the compass for this, should then be invariably
acted on at all times, unless other local circumstances occa¬
sioned any alterations in the general average of the loads.
To estimate the force of the wind, we have, by the ex¬
periments of Dr. Hutton, a plane surface of one square foot,
at a velocity of 20 feet per second, suffering a resistance of
12 ounces ; and as it varies very nearly as the square of
the velocity, we have in pounds, calling/any other force,
and v the velocity,
Hence we obtain the results given in the following table ; Railways.
Velocity in
miles per
hour.
Force of wind
in avoirdupois
pounds.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
45
0-4
0-9
1-6
2- 5
3- 6
4- 9
6-5
8-2
Velocity in
miles per
hour.
Force of wind
in avoirdupois
pounds.
50
55
60
70
80
90
100
10.1
12-2
14-5
19-7
25-8
32-7
40-3
^/3 . */ / = 20 feet: v
feet,
and as the number of feet per second, multiplied by *6818,
produces the number of miles per hour, the above becomes,
for miles,
^ f=13*636 : v miles.
or . /nj / = 13*636 : v
2
or *866 : >/ f = 13*636 : v,
whence the velocity in miles per hour is
1^636 // or 15*746^7=
•866
and we have also sufficiently near
v*
248
and for every useful purpose, the force may be had within
2^¥th of the above by using this simple formula,
/= -OOdff2.
So much has been said about the inconvenience and dan- Tunnels,
ger of tunnels, that it is necessary, whilst there are yet so
many railways to be called into existence, to state that there
is positively no inconvenience whatever in them, except
the change from day-light to lamp-light. This matter was
clearly investigated and proved upon the London and Bir¬
mingham railway, a special inspection having been there
made in the Primrose-hill tunnel by Dr. Paris and Dr.
Watson, Messrs. Lawrence and Lucas, surgeons, and Mr.
Phillips, lecturer on chemistry, who reported as follows :—
“ We, the undersigned, visited together, on the 20th of
February 1837, the tunnel now* in progress under Primrose-
hill, with the view of ascertaining the probable effect of
such tunnels upon the health and feelings of those who
may traverse them. The tunnel is carried through clay,
and is laid with brick-work. Its dimensions, as described
to us, are as follows; height, 22 feet; length, 3750 feet,
width, 22 feet. It is ventilated by five shafts, from 6 to 8
feet in diameter, their depth being 35 to 55 feet.
“ The experiment was made under unfavourable circum¬
stances ; the western extremity being only partially open,
the ventilation is less perfect than it wull be when the work
is completed; the steam of the locomotive engine was also
suffered to escape for twenty minutes, wffiile the carriages
were stationary, near the end of the tunnel; even during
our stay near the unfinished end of the tunnel, where the
engine remained stationary, although the cloud caused by
the steam was visible near the roof, the air for many feet
above our heads remained clear, and apparently unaffected
by steam or effluvia of any kind; neither was there any
damp or cold perceptible.
“ We found the atmosphere of the tunnel dry, and of an
agreeable temperature, and free from smell; the lamps ol
the carriages were lighted; and in our transit inwards and
back again to the mouth of the tunnel, the sensation expe¬
rienced was precisely that of travelling in a coach by night
between the walls of a narrow street; the noise did not
prevent easy conversation, nor appear to be much greater
in the tunnel than in the open air.
“ Judging from this experiment, and knowing the ease
and certainty with which thorough ventilation may be ef¬
fected, we are decidedly of opinion that the dangers in¬
curred in passing through well-constructed tunnels are no
greater than those incurred in ordinary travelling upon an
open railway, or upon a turnpike road, and that the appre¬
hensions which have been expressed, that such tunnels are
likely to prove detrimental to the health, or inconvenient
to the feelings of those who may go through them, are per¬
fectly futile and groundless.”
The above will, of course, set the question at rest, espe¬
cially as the Leeds and Selby tunnel, only 17 feet in height,
and 700 feet in length, is found to produce no inconvenience ;
and as any persons may now try the experiment themselves
46
RAILWAYS.
Railways, on longer tunnels than even that at Primrose-hill. We may
instance the tunnel near Kilsby, on the London and Bir¬
mingham railway, which is 2425 yards long, and traversed
without the slightest inconvenience or sensation of cold or
damp ; the change experienced being merely that from sun¬
shine to shade, and from daylight to lamplight, and this lat¬
ter only in those seasons of the year when the days are con¬
siderably longer than the nights.
Friction. The quantity of friction in well-formed carriages we con¬
sider as certainly not more than 8 lbs. per ton ; but as about
9*3 lbs., or 245th of the weight, will perhaps be a more ge¬
neral average, we here give a table for the total resistance Railways,
arising from gravity and friction, calculated from the follow- ’
ing formula.
r 1 H . 1
G+F = siBI+ 240 = L +240’
where G is the effect of gravity, the weight being taken as
unity, I the inclination of the plane, H its height, L its
length, and F the friction, the numbers in the table being
the values of the right-hand member of the equation.
Inclination of the plane equal to 1 in
0
•004167
•1041667
•054167
•0375
•029167
•024167
•020833
•018452
•016667
•0152778
100
200
•0141667
•0132575
•0125
•01213
•0113095
•010833
•010417
•01001467
•009722
•0094298
•0091667
•0089285
•008712
•0085144
.0083333
•0081667
•0080129
•0078704
•0077381
•007615
300
400
•0075
•0073925
0072917
•007197
•0071079
•0070238
•0069444
•0068694
•0067983
•0067308
•0066667
•0066057
•0065477
•0064923
•0064394
•0063889
•0063406
•0062944
■00625
•0062075
500
•0061667
•0061275
•0060898
•006 535
•0060185
•0059848
•0059224
•0059211
•0058908
•0058616
600
•0058333
•005806
•0057796
•005754
•0057292
•0057052
•0056818
•0056592
•0056373
•005616
700
•0055953
•0055752
•0055555
•0055316
•005518
•0055
•0054825
•0054654
•0054488
•0054325
800
•0054167
.0054013
•0053862
•0053715
•0053572
•0053432
•0053295
•0053161
•005303
•0052903
900
•0052778
•0052656
•0052537
•005242
•0052305
•0052193
•0053083
•0051976
•0051871
•0051768
For any lesser inclination, divide 1 by the length of the
H
plane to a height of unity, or find—, and add to the quo¬
tient in either case •004167.
To use the table, look along the upper column for the
hundreds, and down the left-hand column for the tens of
the rate of inclination ; and at the point of intersection will
be found a number which is to be multiplied by the total
weight of the carriage and its load in lbs. for the total re¬
sistance. Thus for a carriage weighing 8000 lbs., at an in¬
clination of 1 in 560, we have 8000. ‘0059524 =r52’6192.
Calling W the weight of the carriage, the friction alone
w w
will ( Vary from — to ——, according to the care with which
550 200
it is constructed, and this may be divided into that arising
from the wheels on the rails, or the rolling friction, which
is a constant quantity, more or less, according to the
W . ,
strength, or the stiffness of the rails, =-—, the remainder
ool)
being due to the rubbing of axles on their bearings. A
great deal depends upon the unguent used, both as it re¬
spects quantity and quality. A wheel loaded with from 1 to
4000 lbs., and turned on its axle on a half bearing by a
weight and rope, which detached itself after falling 30 feet,
leaving the wheel to revolve till its own friction brought it
to rest, made 36 revolutions, when nearly deprived of oil,
and 278 revolutions when the oil was heaped on that side of
the bearing which the circumference of the axle approached
as it turned round. The ratio of bearing surface of the axles
has also a considerable effect. This should not exceed 90
lbs. per square inch, and the length of bearing should not
be much less than twice the diameter of the axles. Under
these circumstances, friction on railways will be uniform at
all velocities with well made carriages, and will be in the
ratio of the weight.
The friction of engines, without any load, and exclusive
of the tenders, will be in the average ratio of the diameter
of the wheels, and nearly as their weight; 8^ tons, with five-
feet wheels, being 15 lb. per ton ; with a load, 1 lb. per ton
must be added.
The friction of edge-rails to that of plate rails, is as 17*5
to 27’8. The wear and tear of ropes on inclined planes is
about |d. per ton per mile; and their friction, either self¬
acting or with fixed engines, will vary from -£.-g to tj of the
weight of rope wheel and sheaves in action plus the pres¬
sure of the rope on the wheel. This quotient will have to
be divided by the difference in diameter between the sheave
and its pin, and an allowance must be made for any curves
in the line of direction.
The adhesion of engines may be taken as at least equal Adhesion
to Jgth part of the weight on the driving wheels. This will of engine*
enable them to draw in the following proportions for each ton
of the weight under the most unfavourable circumstances,
and may be much increased when the weather and all other
circumstances are in the most advantageous state.
Inclination.
Level.
1 in 4480
3360
2240
1680
1120
1000
900
800
700
600
Load in tons
for each ton
adhesion.
26-25
24-21
23-58
22-40
21-33
20-86
20-37
19-82
19-14
18.31
Inclination.
Load in tons
for each ton
adhesion.
Level.
I in 500
448
400
350
300
250
200
150
100
17-25
16-59
15-88
15-03
14-03
12-83
11-37
9-56
7-25
In the common steam engine, the power is as the area of
the piston, and the pressure of the steam on it. But in the
locomotive engines this is not the case ; for the power of
raising steam in any quantity, which may always be had in
a stationary engine by increasing either the size or the
number of the boilers, has a limit in the locomotive, deter¬
mined by the weight to which the engine must be restricted.
The power in this case resides in the capability of the en-
RAILWAYS.
47
! Evapora¬
tion.
Railways, gine to generate a given number of cylinders of steam in a
certain time, and not in the diameter of the piston.
The evaporation is produced partly by radiant heat com¬
municated to the water surrounding the fire-box, and part¬
ly from that which is transmitted by the hot air passing
through the tubes, the effect of the former being to the
latter as 3 to 1. At a velocity of 18'88 miles per hour,
M. Pambour found that 55’82 cubic feet of water were eva¬
porated per hour, with a heating surface exposed to radia¬
tion of 43’12 square feet, and a surface exposed to the heat¬
ed air of 288-35 feet, equal together to 139‘24 square feet
of radiating surface; and calling a the former smtiace, and
b the latter, we shall have the evaporating power of differ¬
ent engines at the above velocity, e=a ant^ reduc¬
ing the communicative to the equivalent radiant heat as
above, we get 0-4 cubic feet evaporated per hour for each
square foot of radiating surface, of which, from blowing off,
loss from the steam ports, and half an inch at each end of
the cylinders, the effective steam is only 0-3 cubic feet for
each square foot of radiating surface. The piston must
move about 300 feet per minute to work the blast properly,
which generally requires 6 lb. per square inch, at 25 miles
per hour, and at the highest velocities, will take one-third
the power of the engine.
The coke consumed in the best kind of engines, will be
about one-fourth of a pound per ton per mile, gross load, and
one-fourth of a gallon of water, provided the load is propor¬
tioned to the capability of the engine. A great deal also
depends on the quality of the coke ; and as the power of an
engine consists so much in the quantity of water it can eva¬
porate, we subjoin a Table giving the load to the nearest
ton and velocity on different inclinations, when sixty cubic
feet of water per hour can be converted into steam, that
being the capability of the best modern engines.
Evaporation 1 cubic foot per minute.
exclusive of Tender.
Gross Load
Level.
1 in 4480
2240
1120
1000
900
800
700
600
500
400
300
200
100
346
326
308
276
270
265
256
246
235
220
201
175
138
84
251
236
223
200
195
19]
184
177
169
158
144
125
98
55
.2 3
g-C
188
176
166
148
145
142
137
131
125
116
106
91
70
38
2 3
gi
143
134
126
112
109
107
102
98
93
87
78
67
51
25
2 3
g-e
109
102
95
84
82
80
77
74
70
65
58
49
36
16
g33
82
77
72
63
61
60
57
55
51
47
42
35
25
9
g-S
61
57
53
46
45
43
41
39
37
34
29
24
16
3
g^
OJ
CN &.
44
41
37
32
31
30
28
27
25
22
19
15
8
30
27
25
20
191
19
18
16
15
13
10
7
2
railroads.
tons nett. The locomotive power is rather more than one- Railways*
fourth of a penny per ton per mile.
The maintenance of the way upon the Grand Junction
railway, for eighty-two miles to Newton, has been let at
L.244 per mile, including rails, chairs, bridges, and every
thing. We have no doubt this is amply sufficient. They
pay L.20,000 a-year to the Liverpool and Manchester com¬
pany for the use of their line and offices. The Great West¬
ern railway, under unfavourable circumstances, has been let
at L.416 per mile; and the repairs to the London and South¬
ampton line are divided, the company finding all materials,
and contracting for their labour only, for which they pay
L.140 per mile, including the use of tools. But the best data
to found any calculation on this varying expenditure, are
those contained in the reports published by the Directors
of the Liverpool and Manchester railway, for the five half
yearsending the 30th of June 1834. We shall endeavour to
set this calculation in its true light, which has not yet been
done. The following are the various items of expenditure,
exclusive of interest, with which we have nothing to do.
Liverpool and Manchester Railway expenditure for five
half years ending June 1834, exclusive of interest:—
Locomotive power, including new engines  L.67552
Maintenance of way, including new rails  38306
Coaching, including compensation for lost goods,
repairs, and office expenses  32628
Carrying, including waggon repairs, carting, and
compensation  63279
Stationary engine expenses, including ropes, &c...
Police disbursements 
Engineering department 
Direction, office expenses, rent, taxes, bad debts,
and sundries  23842
4728
5285
2084
Total, exclusive of interest L.237,704
We have included the cost of new engines in the loco¬
motive power expenditure, as otherwise we should have
had to allow an uncertain amount for depreciation. For the
same reason we have included the cost of new rails in the
disbursements for the maintenance of way ; whereas for¬
mer computers have only included the cost of new blocks
and sleepers. In the coaching and carrying departments
are included the following items, which we shall afterwards
use.
Coach repairs L.7957
Waggon repairs  6436
Let us now see what duty has been performed for these
several amounts of expenditure:—
944,113 passengers conveyed in 15,831 trips, or 59.63 per
trip 34^ miles on a level.
For power, Goods, nett, 440229 tons, viz. goods 345463
, 189533
-f- coals —-—
Goods, gross, 676065 tons, viz. 440229 +
waggons 188669 + empty do.
Annual ex- The expenses of railroads are not yet well understood,
pense of and are very variable. For instance, in America, the Bos¬
ton and Worcester costs L.157 per mile, and the Utica and
Shenectady, L.363 per mile ; whilst in England the Liver¬
pool and Manchester costs L.1000. Again, the latter costs
L.444 per mile, for maintenance of the way, whilst the Lei¬
cester and Swannington, a coal line, was let for four or five
years, at L.70 per mile, and is now let for less, the com¬
pany finding engines and ballast, at which price the con¬
tractor is supposed to have made L.500 a-year, besides in¬
terest upon the cost of his waggons. About 180,000 tons
yearly pass on this line. The engines weigh from three to
twelve tons, and the waggons thirty-eight cwt. carrying four
For wav,
ati = 47167.
Goods, nett, 489614 tons, viz. 440229 +
7411+91358
: Bolton tonnage
Goods, gross, 751914 tons, viz. 489614 +
waggons 209840 + empty do
52460.
Goods, trips, 11702 at 37*63 tons per trip,
13014
The distinction shewn here between the power and the
way arises from a small portion of the coals and the Bolton
tonnage not being drawn by the company’s engines ; and
hence these have to be omitted in any calculations on the
cost of locomotive power, but are retained in the expenses
For power,
For way,
u,
48
RAILWAYS.
Railways, of keeping in repair the permanent way. The number of
trips has also to be augmented by an average allowance for
the above tonnage. For computing the expense of the way,
we must likewise include the weight of the engines and
tenders, say 15 tons each. We then have
Goods 751914
Engines 13014, at 15 tons... 195210
if we multiply the number of passengers by 0-353585, or, Railways,
which will be sufficiently accurate, by 0-3536, it will give
us the total weight drawn in trains, averaging as those did
on the Liverpool and Manchester line at the time in ques¬
tion ; or, in other words, there are 2-8282 passengers to a
ton gross weight.
In order to apportion the expense of maintaining the
wav between the goods and passengers, we have,
Total weight of goods’ trains 947124
Passengers, at 15 to a ton  62941
Luggage, at 28 lbs. each  11801
Trains, 15831- 16.3655  259082
333824
Engines, 15831 at 15 tons 237465
Total weight of passenger trains 571289
Total load passing on the way 1518413
In the above, we have allowed coach room for 64
passengers per trip, and have taken the weight of a first-
class train at 21 tons, and a second class at 12-6 tons; the
relative numbers of each being at the time we speak of, 13 to
, „ . . 21.13 + 12,6.16
16 ; hence the average weight of a train is 13+T6
= 16*3655 tons, and more on longer lines from the lug¬
gage being heavier.
We have now to deduce the drawn and the passing
weight over 1 mile upon a level, calling the Liverpool and
Manchester railway equal to 34^ miles on a level, when
due allowance is made for the gradients.
11702 trips
15831 trips
Drawn weiaht, 1 mile on a level.
Tons.
(Goods, nett  440229-341=15187900
(Goods, gross  676065-34^=23324242
( Passengers nett, in-
^ eluding luggage, 74742-34i= 2578599
^Passengers, gross, 333824-34|=l 1516928
For maintenance of the way,
32675778 15 : 19709470-25 or 490136670 :492736750,
or as 1 : 1-005.
This gives us in money such a small difference from
equal proportions, that we may safely venture to place hah
the expense on each ; always premising, as we have before
explained, that the workmanship in the waggon springs,
wheels, and axles, is to be considered as of the best descrip¬
tion, without which the expense may be almost anything.
The result deduced from the number of trips would have
given us the goods’ expense to the passengers, nearly as
16:22, an additional proof that this method is very erro¬
neous. We are aware of the difficulties which envelope
the whole question, especially in first working a railway,
when the embankments settle down and render very expen¬
sive repairs necessary, without a single vehicle passing over
the road, whilst the more it is used, the sooner it will get in
perfect order. Nor are there any data to guide us correctly,
as respects the effect of velocity ; but from an attentive
consideration of the subject, combined writh a comparison
on many lines, we believe the foregoing method to be that
which agrees best with practical results, and with this we
must rest satisfied till more experimental knowledge is ac¬
quired.
For the locomotive power, the cost of new engines and
repairs must now be separated from that of the working
expenditure in coke, oil, grease, waste, wages, &c. We shall
find this to stand as follows:
Repairs, &c  L.42376
Working expenses    25176
Passing weighty 1 mile on a level.
Tons.
Goods, nett  489614-341=16891183
Goods, gross  947124-344=32675778
^KQ‘3^ 4.- 1 Passengers, nett.... 74742-341= 2578599
15831 trips -j Passengers> gross„.. 571289-341=19709470
Total  L.67552
This again will divide itself into, —   
Repairs, &c., Passengers  L.19131
  Goods  23245
Total L.42376
13014 trips |
We now require the ratio of expenditure for passengers
and goods, for locomotive power and maintenance of the way.
This has generally been taken in proportion to the number
of trips with each, which is clearly wrong. Both the w eight
and the velocity are evidently functions of the expenditure,
taking the drawn weight in estimating the cost of the power
and the passing weight for that of the way ; and as the cost
of passengers and that of goods is not separated, which in¬
deed could hardly be done for the way, we have no guide,
and can only make an approximation, by taking the cost
directly as the weight and velocity. We have then
For locomotive power
Working expenses, Passengers L.11366
... ... Goods  13810
Total L.25176
In the same manner we may divide the expense of main
taining the permanent way into
Wages L. 19216
Materials  19090
Total  L.38306
23324242-15 : 11516928.25 or 349863630 : 287923200,
or as 1-215 to 1.
This gives us in money,
Goods....  L.37054.5
Passengers  30497.5
Total  L.67552
A similar result drawn from the number of trips only,
would give for the goods, L.28710, and the passengers
L.38842, which is clearly inadmissible; unless we are prepared
to say that the locomotive power is used in a most disad¬
vantageous manner, of which we have no evidence. Hence,
This comes so very near a half, that we may safely esti¬
mate it at that quantity, or at one-fourth of the total, as
follows:—
Wages, Passengers  L.9576.5
... Goods  9576.5
Total  L.19153
Materials, Passengers   L.9576.5
Goods  9576.5
Total  L.19153
RAILWAYS.
49
Railways. Reducing the whole of the preceding items, we get, as
in the following Table, the expenditure per ton per mile.
Expense of
railways.
Cost of the following items
on the Livetpool and
Manchester railway re¬
duced to a level.
P,
li.2
! jro
$ s
Locomotive power,
Total 
Repairs  
Expenses 
Maintenanceofway,
Total 
Wages 
Materials  
Coach repairs....
Waggon repairs.
•6355
•3987
•2368
•2332
•1166
•1166
Sc
s
d.
2-8385
1-7806
1-0579
1-7826
0-8913
0-8913
0-7406
d.
0-3813
0-2392
0-1421
0-1407
0-0704
0-0703
0-5855
0-3673
0-2182
0-2721
0-1366
0-1365
0-1017
-rt ^ C
d.
0-4563
0-2919
0-1734
0-1755
0-0878
0-0877
The police expenses are about L.75 per mile, including
gatekeepers and switchmen ; and this would of course be
doubled for a night and day line. The porterage of the
goods at the termini, costs S^d. per ton, and has been for
some time paid at that rate by contract.
As an example of the mode of estimating per ton, and
per passenger per mile, the following accounts for the
Stockton and Darlington railway w ill be useful. The traf¬
fic on this line consists of coals carried on an average 20
miles per trip, with 63 tons 12 cwt. nett. Goods averaging
12 miles, and passengers the same distance, are conveyed
indiscriminately in the same train.
The following statement is for the half year ending the
31st December 1834 :—
No. of trips with coals equivalent to 20
miles per trip  3682-5
The expenses of locomotive power,
including the repairs, working, fuel,
wages, &c., and interest on capital... L.8310 14 9
Which gives per trip  2 5 1-61
This gives per ton per mile  0 0 0-4258
In the above is is included
Water stations  L.126 12 1
Agencies  81 18 4
Miscellaneous  294 8 4
Total  L.502 18 9
No. of trips of 12 miles, with goods and passengers, 2261 f
No. of passengers conveyed one mile   398244
No. of passengers conveyed one trip of 12 miles... 33187
Expense per trip of 12 miles L.O 12
Expense per passenger per trip  0 0
Receipts per trip of 12 miles  0 18
Receipts per passenger per trip  0 0
Total cost of locomotive power for the
half year...... L.1388 12
Total receipts from passengers for ditto, 2041 7
10
4
The cost for goods and passengers is as follows :
Working the engines  L.1207 5
Guards and clerks’ salaries.  187 2
Repairs of coaches  34 16
Miscellaneous      337 j2
Brought over—Total L.1766 16 4 Railways.
Deduct proportion of expense
for some coals drawn by
passenger engines  L.79 1 6
Deduct for goods 7185 tons,
12 miles at jVhs ofapenny
per ton per mile  215 10 11
Expenses in the goods’ de¬
partment  83 11 1
378 3 6
Expense for passengers only  L.1388 12 10
as above.
Hence 7185 tons of goods cost per
ton per mile  L.O 0 0-8337
Being L.215,10s. 11 d.-f-L.83,11s. Id.
total cost on  299 2 0
The performance and cost in locomotive power for five of Locomo-
the principal passengers’ and goods’ engines during the six tive power,
months, is as follows :
Engines.
12
mile
trips.
North Star.
Planet 
Wages, coal,
oil, tallow,
hemp, &c.
X. s. d,
370^f 74 7 8
263|f 44 1 2
Globe 286 X 27 16 6
Shildon 
Wilberforce
Average 
■2Z,
I93J4! 15 8 0
836 170 0 1
66
7 10i
Repairs.
Total.
L. s. d.
112 8 3
34 18 1
*207 7 9
136 11 7
310 14 10
L. s d
186 15 11
78 19 3
235 4 3
151 19 7
481 0 11
160 8
226 15 Ilf
The performance of eleven of the principal coal engines is
as follow's, the trips being equivalent to 20 miles each, with
63 tons, 12 cwt.
3-35
10-04
0-61
1-276
Engines.
Royal George,....
Locomotive, 
Coronation, 
Director,   
Lord Brougham,.
Adelaide, 
Earl Grey,.. 
Lord Durham,....
Experiment, 
William, 
Rocket, 
Average,...
No. of 20-mile trips.
293-01
222-93
262-82
286-11
236- 07
237- 56
278-03
249-89
227-78
212-46
217-85
247-11
The estimated expenditure per trip of 20 miles with
coals, when this railw-ay company w orked their own engines,
was, for the years 1833-4:
Locomotive power, total, L.2 2 7-344
Interest of capital, rent of shops, &c. 0 3 1187
The same expense when the power
was let to contractors in the years
1834-5, . . 2 2 4-8
Water engines, agency, and super¬
intendence, . . 0 1 5-25
L.2 5 8-531
2 3 1005
VOL. xix.
Total L.1766 16 4
Saying per trip of 20 miles, with 63 tons, 12 cwt.
nett, in 24 waggons, . ; L 0 1 10-481
G
50
Railways. The cost of L.2, 2s. 4-8d. to the contractor may be di-
' vided as follows :
Engine-man’s wages,
Fireman’s do.
Engine bars, • •
Coals,
Oil, tallow, and white lead,
Hemp and spun yarn,
RAILWAYS.
L.O
0
0
0
0
0
H
0
8
9f
n
4
Tons, 1 mile.
Nett load.
4825309
2412654
344665
Interest of capital,
Rent of shops,
Repairs and profit,
L.O 18 6-5
0 1 11-386
0 1 1-801
1 0 9-113
Per trip of 20 miles,
Or, per mile:
Wagesand consumable articles, L.O
Interest and rent of shops, 0
Repairs and profit, • 0
L.2 2 4-8
11-125
1-85935
0-45569
L.O 2 1-44
Repairs of The following is the amount of repairs for two years,
engines. 1835 and 1836, to seven engines on the Stanhope and lyne
Railway:
The work performed by these engines in the two years, RdUvay^
was as follows:
Tons, 1 mile.
Gross load.
Two years, • 10322616
Per annum, . 5161308
Per engine, per annum, / 3/330
The comparative cost of the different modes of transit
is under all circumstances, strongly in favour of railways.
For instance, in waggons travelling 2| mdes an hour, the
cost of each ton, per mile, for goods, is about 7|d., of which
nearly 3d. is the cost of horsing. In vans travelling at 4
miles an hour with lighter goods, the expense is nearly Is.
per ton, per mile, the horsing costing rather above 4d. of
this sum. The expenses of four-horse stage coaches, vary
from L.4 to L.5 per lunar month, per double mile, accord-
in «• as their rate of travelling varies from 8 to 10 miles an
hour ; their hire and repairs cost 2|d. per double mile ; the
duty is 3d. per double mile ; and the horsing is 2s. I he
coachman and guard are seldom paid except by the
passengers, say 10s. 6d. per week for them at the out¬
side; and for tolls and incidental charges 6d. per mile;
being a large allowance. The tolls on the Holyhead road,
one of the best in England, are not quite 4d. per mile, for
Materials.
Labour.
Preparing engine, cleaning do., adjusting pistons and slides, packing glands, and
putting on man-hole doors,   
Lifting, stripping, and putting together,  
Carriage, and axle-rod brasses,   
New wheels, and taking off and keying om ; 
Connecting rods, straps, keys, brasses, and liners, 
Steam pipe regulator, 
Cross heads, cross bars, parallel blocks and bars, 
Pistons,
Weigh shafts, slide spindles and shafts,    "V 
Pumps, plungers, glands, gland bolts, clack seats, union pipes, suction pipes, and hose
Lifting apparatus, with eccentric rods, straps, sheeves, forked lever, clutcn ring, and
reversing lever,       
Side rods, keys, liners, brasses, straps, turning crank pins, and keying-on cranlrs, ....
Frame with hand railing, spring, spring pins, links, frame ends, buffers, and foot board,
Coupling bar, drag holt, drag plates, cotters and ferrules 
Fire box,
£ s. d-
4 9 0
7 5f
1
1 3
Tubes, taking out and putting in do., and putting in hoops,
Smoke box, blast pipe, and chimney, 
Fire frames and bars, 
Cleaning boiler, 
Water guages, •••••
Guage cocks, 
Tools, 
Painting engine,
Tender,  
21
380
2
6 10 11
0 18 7k
29 17 6
24 0 84
103 13 9[
14 4 3f
8 7 8
30 18 2
16 14 7
46 14
246 17
34 10
71 3
0 1
0 15 11
1 13 7
11 9 4
115 ”2 11
£ s-
73 2
196 16
20 17
68 4
9 13
19 13
8 1
52 9
43 15
79 13
d.
9
84
6
6i
24
24
n
3
104
7
Total, 
Total, per annnm, 
Total per engine, per annum,
53 13 114
32 4 3|
76 0 94
17 6
105 18
47 1
98 11 84
17 9 10;
19 7 54
0 18 1
11 16 1
13 18 44
18 5 2
108 13 2f
1166 3 03
583 1 6k
83 5 114
1194 2 8
597 1
85 5 11
Total.
£ s. d.
77 11 9
196 16 84
42 4 Ilf
448 6 C4
11 14 54
26 4 14
8 19 8|
82 6 9
67 16 64
183 7 4|
67 18 3
40 11 114
1 6 18 114
34 0 94
152 12 9f
293 18 Ilf
133 2 2
88 13 64
19 8 114
1 13 0
9 8
7 9
5 2
13
25
18
223 16 L
44
2360 5 10
1180 2 11
168 11 104
a four-horse coach. This gives Is. 9d. expenses per single
mile, while the returns will be 2s. 6d. per mile. From this
calculation we have excluded the charge for parcels, &c.,
leaving it to go, with the allowance for incidentals, to the
support of the office establishments. The coaches which
ran between Birmingham and London, prior to the opening
of the railway, charged L.2, 10s. inside, and L.l, 10s. out¬
side, the distance being 108 miles, and after the opening,
L.l, 10s. inside, and 17s. out. Our computation of coach
profits we know is under the mark. The cost of this mode
of travelling is about 3d. per passenger per mile, or 3s. per
ton, taking 12 passengers and their luggage to a ton. In
canal carriage, the cost varies from 3d. to 5d. per ton per
mile, in the fly boats going at the rate of 4 miles an hour ;
and by slow boats, from l^d. to 2d. per ton per mile, at the
rate of 24- miles an hour. The passenger boats, going 10
miles an hour, charge from Id. to l|d. per passenger, per
mile, or from Is. to Is. 3d. per ton of passengers, per mile.
The cost of carriage by railways worked with horses, is Cost when
from Hd. to 2d. per ton, per mile, for heavy, and 3d. to 3^d. worked by
for light goods, and from Id. to l-|d. per passenger, per mile, horses,
or from Is. to Is. 6d. per ton of passengers, per mile. Ihose
worked by locomotives charge about the same for goods,
and rather more for passengers, or from 1 ^d. to 2^d. per
mile on an average. These latter charges however are too
high. The resistance by the several modes of transit, is for
railways, 8 lbs. per ton ; canals, 2f lbs. per ton, at 2^ miles
velocity, 7 lbs. at 4 miles, 40 lbs. at 9 miles, and 60 lbs. at
11 miles, which is the greatest hitherto attained. 1 urnpike
roads’ waggons, 76 lbs.; vans, 71 lbs. at the before mentioned
velocities ; and coaches, 80 to 88 lbs. at from 8 to 10 miles
an hour.
In whatever light we view the question, no other mode
of transit can be put in competition with railroads, except
RAILWAYS.
51
Railways, the very slow carriage of heavy goods on canals. But this
—' is not a fair comparison, as speed must be taken into account
as well as price; and we have no hesitation in saying that
upon well managed and economically-conducted railroads,
goods of every kind can be carried, with proper precautions,
quite as cheap as by any canal, and with three times the
speed at least. A great deal remains yet to be done in this
department of locomotive transit, and the question cannot
be decided on any railway with certainty, till it has been
some time in operation, and the mode of working and main¬
taining it, and of economising the locomotive ;power ex¬
penses, are reduced to a well regulated system.
Effect of Many doubts were entertained, at an early period of the
snow. railway system, as to the performance of engines when snow
lay on the rails to a depth which on the common roads in¬
terrupted the ordinary communications of the country; they
have however completely triumphed over this difficulty ; a
striking proof of which took place on the Newcastle and Car¬
lisle Railway; where the possibility of working the engines,
under the above unfavourable circumstances, was put to
the test on December 20, 1836, in the deep cutting through
the Cowran hills, where the snow had accumulated to the
depth of four or five feet, when the Hercules engine came
down on the morning of the above day. Numbers of the
country people assembled to see how it wrould act in such
an emergency, and to render any assistance which might be
necessary. On arriving at the spot, however, the engine
dashed right into the drift, clearing its way through, appa¬
rently without any difficulty; the snow at the same time
flying over the top of the engine chimney, like foam from
the broken waves of a violent sea; and notwithstanding
this and other similar obstructions, the train came down
from Greenhead, twenty miles, in one hour and a quarter, and
their times of arrival wrere properly kept up, whilst all the
communications by the ordinary roads were more or less
seriously obstructed, if not entirely cut off.
Hence any of the so often proposed plans for sweeping
or scraping the rails will rarely be found necessary, much
less the plan seriously proposed and patented so late as 1831,
of making the rails hollow and filling them with hot water
in winter. In the extreme case of rain succeeded by frost,
thus forming a coat of ice upon the rails, it will generally
be found sufficient to place a waggon, or any other empty
light vehicle in front of the engine, which will break up the
ice sufficiently to allow of the necessary adhesion. The
effect of severe frosts on the road itself will be found of in¬
finitely more consequence, and is an additional reason why
drainage should be scrupulously attended to in countries
where much cold is experienced. The manner in which
frosts acts on common roads, is sufficient evidence of what
may be expected on a railroad, if the water is not most care¬
fully carried off from the ballasting.
In America, for instance, where railways were first laid
down on blocks, similar to the way they are constructed in
England, it was found that their severe winters completely
disorganised them ; splitting the blocks, throwing the rails
out of guage, and even twisting them so as to render them
unfit for the passage of the engines, and obliging the trains
to travel at a reduced speed. From these causes, and as it
was found necessary to relay the road after each winter,
blocks have in a great measure been abandoned, longitudi¬
nal and cross sleepers being generally substituted, and laid
on broken stones filled into trenches; but the evil is yet
only partially remedied. It may, however, in all cases, be
set down as a general rule, that where timber can be ob¬
tained cheap, it should be used in preference to blocks.
The difference, however, is necessarily so great between
the railroads in that country and this, as very much to preclude
comparison. Some of theirs are constructed of plate rails
2^ inches wide, by half an inch thick, and weighing from
10 to 17lbs. per yard; their curves and inclinations are
such, from the nature of the country, as to render cross ties Railways,
more frequently required than they are in English railroads.
Continuous stone bearings have also been tried in America ;
also piles at three feet distance, as supports to the rails, which
are spiked down to them without the intervention of any
chairs.
Several of their railroads are carried across valleys by
means of wooden trestles, well braced together, and assisted
by piles; the lower ends of which in soft ground are often left
square instead of being pointed, as a means of affording ad¬
ditional stability. These sort of roads are in several cases
carried over valleys of such a depth, as to occasion no small
surprise to those only acquainted with the substantial em¬
bankments of England and most other parts of Europe. It
must be confessed, however, that the Americans, in the ex¬
pense of their railways, beat the old country hollow; and
there are many things which we should be glad to see co¬
pied from them ; we may instance their guards in the front
of the engine to remove obstacles from the road, and their
long and high carriages.
Some of their lines are worked by horses at the rate of
15 miles per hour ; and on the locomotive lines, where the
curves are bad, the driving wheels are placed next the fire
box, and the front part of the engine is supported on a four-
wheeled truck, to which it is attached by a vertical pivot,
while the weight rests on friction rollers ; this management
admits of a motion by which the wheels are in a great measure
assisted in their passage round the curves, which in some
cases have not more than 300 feet radius, whilst in others
they have gradients of 1 in 110, and inclined planes rising
1 in 10.
Another striking departure from the method of construct¬
ing these works commonly adopted in England, has been in¬
troduced by Mr. J. K. Brunei on the Great Western Rail¬
way, with a view to an increase in speed, and also to obtain
a more solid road, on embankments particularly. Instead
of resting the supports of the rails, that is to say, the stone
or wood bearings, whether longitudinal or transverse, on the
ballasting, where the repairs to the railroad consist in con¬
tinually packing more ballast under the bearings, as they
subside through the weights passing over them, or from the
various other causes which affect them, Mr. Brunei has
fixed his bearings at certain points, so that they cannot rise
up nor go down, whereas in the usual mode of construction, it
has only been attempted to prevent them from going down.
The guage of the Great Western Railway is 7 feet 2^ Construc-
inches from centre to centre of the rails, and the width be- tion of the
tween the two lines is 6 feet. The mode of construction Great Wes-
isas follows. (See Plate CCCCXX.) At every 15 feet intenK
length along the railway, beech piles are driven into the
ground, at 15 feet distance apart, transversely; they are
driven from 8 to 10 feet in cuttings, and in embankments,
they are in general sufficiently long to go about the same
depth into the original ground on which the embankment
stands. These piles are formed to the proper length, and
driven in, without any being cut off their heads, which are
nearly level with the top of the ballasting, and when this
cannot be effected, they are drawn and redriven. They do
not stand in the middle of each line of rails, as will be seen
by referring to the above measures and the plate, but are
nearer each outside rail of the two lines.
Tothesepiles double and single transverse ties, orsleepers,
sometimes called transoms, are attached as follows: A square
shoulder is cut, inches into the pile, on one side for the
single ties, and on both sides for the double ones ; the single
ties are 6 inches broad, and 9 inches deep ; the double ties
are 6 inches broad, and 7 inches deep. They are made of
American pine, and when let into the shoulders of the piles,
they are securely bolted to them; the double ties are 13
inches, and the single ones 9 inches below the line of rails.
On these are laid longitudinal timbers, 15 inches broad, and
52
RAILWAYS.
Railways. 7 inches thick; these are also of American pine, and are
bolted to the cross ties with screw bolts and washers, the
heads of which are countersunk into the longitudinal timbers.
The entire transverse section is horizontal where the rail¬
way is straight,and inclined accordingto theradiusin curves;
and when the whole is bolted together, it forms what is in
fact a road at fifteen-feet bearings. The line is then bal¬
lasted, and the longitudinal bearings are packed in the usual
manner with fine sand or gravel, till they are raised in the
middle from ahalfto one-third of an inch; they are then planed
to a uniform surface, and aplank of elm, oak, or ash, 15 inches
thick, and 8 inches broad, is laid on them, with a copious
intervening bed of tar? and nailed down ; the heads of the
nails being punched in, to allow the plank to be planed,
the upper surface of the plank slopes inwards 1 in ^0.
The rails are screwed down to the plank and longitudinal
bearer,after theformer has been planed; with felt underneath
them. The whole of the timber is kyanized, and the joints,
butts, bolts, washers, keys, spikes, and nails, also the whole
of the longitudinal bearers, are tarred. In fixing the rails,
square- headed screws are used outside the rails, and counter¬
sunk ones inside, to be clear of the flange of the wheels ;
the outside screw is first completely tightened and then the
inner one, a roller weighing about 10 tons being previously
drawn several times along the rail, and followed up closely
by the screwing.
The principle on which the railway is intended to be con-
structed chiefly consists in the piles being a constant retain¬
ing power, holding the road down against the packing, which
would otherwise force it up; so that this latter can be
driven much harder in than by the ordinary mode. Mr.
Brunei is said to calculate that he throws an upward pres¬
sure against the base of each longitundinal timber, equal to
one ton per foot forward, or about one ton per square foot.
He thus obtains 3 tons for every 3 feet length of rail, while a
stone block containing 4cubic feet, only weighs abouta quarter
of a ton, which is therefore the pressure with each 3 feet of
rail laid in the usual way ; neglecting the impact with which
the stone block is forced into its seat by the cuddy and lever,
a very uncertain quantity, but which perhaps never amounts
to, on the whole, less than as 3 : 2 in favour of the longitu¬
dinal bearings. The timber used in a mile of this railway,
is about 420 loads of pine, and 40 loads of hard-wood ; these
require 6 tons of iron bolts, and 30,000 wood screws. The
rails are about 44 lbs. per yard, and the cost of the first por¬
tion, laid from London to Maidenhead, including laying,
ballasting, sidings, draining, and all other work, is stated at
L.9200 per mile.
Such is the mode of construction on this railroad, which
has so much agitated the minds, not only of the shareholders,
but of the whole railway public. This, however, ought
not to have been the case, for the matter lies in a very small
compass, and a short experiment should have determined
it; it is merely a question of expense. The first outlay
must, of course, be great, and it is only necessary to know
whether the future saving will be commensurate with it. A
desire for a greater width of guage seems now gradually
gaininggroundamongthosebestentitled to judge on the sub¬
ject, and the public will not long rest satisfied with a velocity
of twenty miles an hour. Whether Mr. Brunei has taken
the right measures to compass these desirable objects, will
require much more room to discuss than we have here ; but
this we know, that the Great Western, for the twenty-three
miles now open to the public, is by far the smoothest and
easiest line we have ever travelled on.
Velocity of The relative ratio between the motion of the wheels and
the wheels, that of the piston will be much more advantageous at a given
velocity as the wheels are large, within certain limits ; the
greater degree of stability acquired, from the increased width
of guage is also desirable, if not carried too far ; but we must
confess we should ourselves be afraid of jumping from 4 feet
81 inches, to 7 feet, without more experience. Another Railway.,
company jumped from 2 feet 9 inches to 5 feet in their
length of bearing, and the result was sufficiently inauspicious.
The effect of the diameter of the wheels on the velocity
of the piston, may be thus computed:
Let v= the velocity of the wheels, T
p= the velocity of the piston, >- in feet,
/= twice the length of the stroke, )
m= the number of miles per hour the engine travels.
We then have
v:p=3-14159.d:l,
or,3T4159, &c. —vl,
and v=88m feet per minute ;
88 . m./ -
also/?-— 3 1^9,
28-01127 .Lot
“ d
This for all ordinary purposes may be taken at
28m/
sj=-cr’
with a stroke of 18 inches, or 1=3 feet, if we take d=9 feet,
and compute for the different values of ot, the values ofp,
we may derive from them any other values ofp, for all
diameters of wheels by simple proportion. For the quantity
p when d—9, our formula becomes
p—m. 9-33709,
and the table will stand as follows :
Table of the velocity of the piston in feet, when the diameter
of the udieels =9 feet, and the strokes =18 inches.
10
15
20
25
30
35
40
50
60
70
80
90
100
93-3709
1400563
186-7418
233-4272
280-1127
326-7981
373-4836
466-8545
560-2254
653-5963
746-9672
840-3381
933-7090
9p
840-3381
1260-5057
1680-6762
2100-8448
2521-0143
2941-1829
3361-3524
4201-6905
5042-0286
5882-3667
6722-7048
75630429
8403-3810
By means of the column 9p we have the value of p for
any other diameter of wheel, by simply dividing the number
in that column for the required value of m by the given
diameter of the wheel; thus, for instance, with a 5-feet wheel,
, 1680-6762 oorioco , ,
at 20 miles an hour, we have    = 336-1552 teet,
5
per minute, for the velocity of the piston. At 60 miles an
, , , 5042 0286 inno .
hour, with the same wheel, we have      = lUUe-4
5
feet per minute. In the same way, if we have any other
length of double stroke than 3 feet, we have only to take
the value of p from the table for the given number ol miles
per hour, multiply it by 3, and divide it by the length ol
double stroke in feet, or calling V the new double length ot
stroke, and p' the required velocity of the piston in teet per
minute,
F 1
Coming now to look at the Great Western Railway in its Reports 0"
more general bearings, we may examine the late reports on ^ bn-at
its construction, which, published as they are by the direc- ^ estt,“-
tors, have the sanction at least of authority to give them
RAILWAYS.
port
Mr. Wood’s
eport
Railways, weight. We are sorry, however, to say, that they possess
none ; they have left the main question as undecided as ever,
and present little else but irrelevant matter, or that which
contradicts itself. Our inquiry will naturally embrace, first,
the reports themselves, and, secondly, the experiments on
which they rest.
Mr, Hawk- Ihe first is Mr. I lawkshaw’s, and this is so completely set
Shaw’s re- at rest in the reply of Mr. Brunei, that no one would re¬
quire any discussion respecting it. Mr.Hawkshaw states that
at the risk of being tedious, he has endeavoured to develope
the process by which he has arrived at his “ opinions,” be¬
cause he thinks it better that his report should “ partake
more of the nature, of demonstration, than of mere asser¬
tion and he then informs us that the Great Western Rail¬
way, “ has been applauded to the skies as wonderful; it has
been derided and run down as little less than nonsensical.
Now it is neither one nor the other of these.” He has not
furnished any “ demonstration” of this fact, and is much
less fortunate in another assertion, namely, that on coming
first on the Great Western line of railway, that which im¬
mediately strikes the attention is the “ enlarged capacity of
all things.” We have travelled on that line now four times,
but are not aware, from our own observation, that all the
things which were on it possessed a larger “ capacity” than
those which we have met on other railways.
Coming next to the report of Mr. Wood, we find it stated
that nearly all the experiments upon which it rests for its
foundation, were made both by and under the superintend¬
ence of other persons, and the mere dressing them up, a
purely arithmetical operation, has alone been performed by
Mr. Wood. lo those who are at all acquainted with
that gentleman’s knowledge of formulae and figures, this
would be quite a sufficient intimation of what might be ex¬
pected ; but, in addition to this, hardly any of the experi¬
ments are given in the report, and no formulae ; and thus the
only essential things, from which a right conclusion can be
drawn, have been withheld from the shareholders. In the
meantime the farce has been played out, and the curtain
has fallen.
We shall not stop to notice such mistakes as, that one ton
and a half is to one ton and a quarter as four to three; but
proceed to the tabular matter in the report, selected from
all the records which have been taken of the various expe¬
riments, we presume, as that which was most worthy of
being laid before the directors and the public, as a fair state¬
ment of the capabilities of the Great Western Railway as
compared with others; and itshouldbe remembered that Mr.
Wood sets out by laying down a rule that, unless his in¬
quiries were conducted in such a way, as to “ elicit by in¬
controvertible and practical experiments, the relative capa¬
bilities of the two systems of forming and constructing rail-
ways, it would “ not only be a waste of time, but would
be attended with perhaps still worse consequences.”
The advantages which have been aimed at in the exten¬
sion of the guage, from 4 feet 8 inches, to 7 feet, and in
Mr. Brunei’s other alterations, are principally as follows. A
greater speed; a decrease of friction, by enlarging the dia¬
meter of the wheels ; greater stability, by keeping down the
centre of gravity, through the body of the carriages being
inside the wheels, and not over them, as in other railways.
The main objections made to his system, are the increased
cost of forming the railway ; the greater weight and size of
the engines and carriages; the additional friction on curves;
tlie extra cost of construction both in carriages and engines,
and the impossibility of a junction with other railways. It
is to strike a balance between these that Mr. Wood has pro¬
duced what he states as “ correct and indisputable results.”
On the question of speed, Mr. Wood decides that the less
powerful engines on the ordinary railways go within three
miles an hour of the most powerful ones on the Great West¬
ern, and he presumes from this, that the more powerful ones
would exceed the best of the Great Western engines ; the Railways,
effective power yielded by the former being apparently much
greater than that which is obtained from the latter. This
very extraordinary statement is attributed to the resistance
of the air, which Mr. Wood seems to think a new discovery
in railway matters, although Newton, Robins, Smeaton, Hut¬
ton, Dalton, Pambour, and others, have given it in print from
nearly two hundred years ago up to the present day, and
practical men have all along considered its effects on rail¬
ways, whilst theorists alone have stated it to be of no conse¬
quence. It is twelve months since anemometers were plan¬
ned, and estimates obtained for their erection at the stations
along the London and Birmingham railway, by the writer of
this article, at the desire of Mr. Bury, who has contracted
for the locomotive power on that line. With respect to the
speed of the Great Western engines, in consequence of
those improvements to be expected in all mere mechanical
contrivances, and which the usual engines have been ten
years benefittingby, whilst those on the Great Western line
are yet insufficiently tried, Mr. Brunei states, that since
Mr. Wood’s experiments, he has so improved the very en¬
gine with which the highest velocity was then attained on
those trials, that, all other things being the same, her per¬
formance was, and is as follows:—
Load; Average Coke per ton
tons. speed. per mile.
Mr. Wood, Sept. 1838, 15-9 38£ 2-76
Mr. Brunei, Dec. 1838, 40-0 40 0*90
The decrease of friction in large wheels is admitted as
well as other conveniences, although it is stated these can
be arrived at with a less guage than 7 feet, and 6 inches is
given as the maximum increase on the old width requisite
for improving the engines. The weight per passenger ap¬
pears to be the same with the Great Western and the or¬
dinaryrailway carriages, although Mr. Wood states they have
1£ tons on each wheel, while the ordinary ones have only
1 j. That there is a greater stability and steadiness of mo¬
tion in the carriages, Mr. Wood denies.
We have now to examine the tables given in this report,
containing the incontrovertible experiments which are pre¬
sented as affording a foundation for the opinions delivered,
and it will be quite sufficient for every purpose of testing
their value, if we take those on the deflection of the rails
and supports on the Great Western and other railways.
These experiments, it appears, were made almost exclusive¬
ly on the short space of about two miles in the clay cuttings
near Paddington, undoubtedly the worst part of the road.
Mr. Wood states that stone blocks afford decidedly the Deflection
firmest and most unyielding base, and that between longi-of the rails,
tudinal bearings, the usual sleepers, and the Great Western
plan, not much difference of deflection exists. The weight
of the engines not being given, we must chiefly confine our
observations to the quantity of deflection produced by the
coaches, the weight of which, on one wheel, is as 6 to 5 on
the Great Western, compared with other railways.
Engines. Coaches.
Vertical. Lateral .Vertical. Lateral.
Great Western in a per- ) .i or i o .noa/to ino*7
feet state. J 13113 02453 1051' '024^
Do. with the piles cut. -0979 '01047 *06923 *00843
Do. with the transoms cut. *07743 *00513 *0768 *00353
The above are means of three deflections taken at a sin¬
gle transom, a double one, and mid-way between them.
Comparing now the effect of coaches on this and other rail¬
ways, we have as follows :—
Vertical
deflection.
London and Birmingham, 60 lb. parallel rail,
3*75 feet bearings on blocks  -0261
Do. do. 50 lb. fish belly, at
3 feet bearings on blocks   *03277
54
Railway?
railways.
Vertical
deflection.
Liverpool and Manchester 62 lb., parallel, 3 feet 00ro
on blocks ••••••    '0380
Manchester and Bolton, on longitudinal bear¬
ings *05703
Grand Junction 65 lb., parallels, on blocks, 4
feet bearings   
}J the chair under the rail *0149
„ the block under the chair  ‘07^14
„ 65 lb. parallels on sleepers *10293
„ the chair under the rail....  *0717
}) the sleeper under the chair  *0511
Engine.
Grand junction, lateral deflection 1
on blocks, rail J
do, chair
do, block
on sleepers rail
do, chair
do, sleeper
onlongitudinaltimbers..rai!s
do, chair
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
Do.
•01615
•0200
•0053
•0188
•0112
•0125
•02985
•0387
Coaches.
•01
•0135
•0007
•012
•077
•008
•0221
•0265
advance had been made by Mr. Brunei in so short a time, Rail™,
by which, with fully one-third less fuel the load drawn by the — "
North Star engine, was increased from 16 tons to 40, at an
increase in velocity also ; why the same could not be done
with all other engines upon narrower railways, and thus an
equal effect produced with a much less costly mode of con¬
struction. The simple answer to which is, that on the rail¬
ways with the original guage, the engines have been made
gradually more and more perfect up to their present state;
whereas on the Great Western, this has yet to be done.
Mr. Brunei, in the above improvement on the North Star,
has not made any new discovery in the organization of a lo¬
comotive ; he has has only brought its mode of operation
nearer to that which is in action on other lines of railway.
Other persons have said, that granting Mr. Brunei does
obtain the speed and power he has anticipated, his engines
will then do too much, that passengers will never be fouud
to assemble in sufficient numbers to fill such hea\y trains,
and that consequently all the extra cost of the new system
wall in the end be thrown away. This argument is no more
tenable than the others, and throughout the whole inquiry
there appears a lamentable want of nearly every requisite
for coming to a right conclusion; even the instruments used
From the hmve*^
the above means, we find that a60 lb. parallel rai at 40 ^ ^ Mr> Babwe states, that having tried three
ches bearing, deteote only whue “ 9;milar onfs of different lengths merely, he could make each
?6 H,chf l,f Y , , deflects ■03'277. of them tell different stories, and whichever he pleased give
■"t^roThJatuPjirckTftel^tSfherli the gro^, rosultf ^e"u^»nSS
more deflection than in the middleof the rail, and about three >—l^Xes^nlt—
cillations, his so grossly exceeded those which formed the
basis of the report, that they were beyond all magnitude;
and after travelling 120 miles in those trials, he came to the
conviction that every thing in the shape of an expei iment
connected with that instrument, must be thrown overboard.
No inquiry, in fact, could have ended more unsatisfactorily Unsatisfac
than have these experiments on the Great Western railway ;tory result
and their records, which should, above all things, together oftheexpe
with any formulae used, have accompanied the report, wer^itj)e Qrea(;
not published with it. This is the most unfortunate enor °f yyest;ern>
all; for as they were chiefly made by other persons, and not
by Mr.Wood, they require to be examined, first, as to their
correctness as experiments, and secondly, as. to how they
have been dressed up to produce to the proprietors. In the
first case, there might be some little difficulty, but in the
second, every proprietor could have judged for himself, and
he ought to have had the means put in his hands to .do so.
Strange to say, too, Mr. Wood has quarrelled with his own
report, and declares he made the North Star engine do just
the same as Mr. Brunei has done. Why then did he not pub
times as much as at a single chair with the weight of a
coach ; whereas, in the 60 lb. rail, the deflection is more at
the single chair than at the joint, but, in this case also, it is
least in the middle of the rail with a coach. In the 62 lb.
rail it is also greater at the single than the joint chair, and
less in the middle of the rail than at the single chair.
In the Manchester and Bolton experiments, the rail de¬
flects more than the timbers at the transoms and joints, but
in the middle, the timber deflects more than the rail. With
the 65 lb. rails, either on sleepers or blocks, the deflection
is considerably more, either with an engine or a coach, at
the chairs than mid-way between them; and whilst the rail
only deflects -0301, and the chair which supports it less than
half this, namely, 0149; the block which supports the chair
deflects five times as much as the chair itself, namely, ‘0714.
These are called incontrovertible experiments.
In addition to this, Mr. Babbage, no mean authority, who
has seen the original records of the experiments, which the
report made to the directors does not contain, states in his
speech at the meeting of Great Western proprietors, held on
the 9th January 1839, thatwithrespect to the increased power
 ! 1 i-1 U /~vP 4-lx rv Oil* klx o f i rx C f ii Q rl nf
tne y til January uiaiwiuiresutJCL iu ujcniGicttocw <*0   —^ x
required through the resistance of the air, that instead of lish this himself, instead of giving a very different expen-
. A ... . • •  _ -p j .. in Lie nu/n rpnnrt. he h ames tne
Resistance
of tlie air.
15 per cent, being necessary to gain an increase of speed
of 3 per cent., it turned out that from the use of the same
formula, and the same experiment whence Mr. Wood had
deduced the above results, that the increased power requir¬
ed was only as 2 to 1, instead of 5 to 1, as stated by Mr.
Wood.
It is astonishing to see what mistaken ideas many per¬
sons have entertained amongst the proprietors of this rail-
w'ay. One stated that although the resistance of the air might
have been known, yet, it was never taken into consideration
at such speed as had now been attained in railway travel¬
ling. What, then, becomes of the experiments of Robins
and Hutton, which upset the ancient parabolic theory of pro¬
jectiles, and established the present practical system of gun¬
nery; the deduction of these writers were carried up to ve¬
locities considerably greater than that in which air can rush
into a vacuum, that circumstance forming one great guide
in establishing their results.
Another person wished to know, when such a very great
ment, after placing which in his own report, he blames the
directors for sending it forth to the public ?
The whole of the proceedings in this discussion serve to
shew, as we have before stated, that it is high time some
government measure was brought forward to regulate, at
least, the general principles of railways ; many persons are
afraid of this interference with what is justly considered
private rights, but to these xve would say, that on several
of the leading lines in England, a far worse oligarchy now
exists than can be called into operation by any measure of
government, thoroughly sifted as it would be in parliament
by the numerous members of both houses who are interest¬
ed so many ways in the right management of these impor¬
tant concerns.
The result of the Great Western discussion is as follows : Summary,
The unanimous abandonment of the piles ; the substitution with ro¬
of a larger scantling of timber and a heavier rail; and the marks-
retention of the wide guage and continuous bearings. As
far as the railway public are concerned, they will be but
1
RAILWAYS.
55
Railways, little affected by this. The rails are much too light and want
depth, and their shape should be the subject of properly
conducted experiments. The guage being retained, all
the necessary information relative to its efficiency and eco¬
nomy, will, no doubt, in time be made known. The ques¬
tion of longitudinal or transverse bearings is of much less
import than is generally imagined. The part of the line
on piles between London and Maidenhead, twenty-three
miles, if it be retained and kept in good order, will soon set
at rest the question of expense in maintaining the way.
Thus, then, so far as the public are concerned, all is well;
but the effect of this decision on the interests of the pro¬
prietors has received no light whatever; there is nothing
even to shew that in adopting a heavier rail, there is the
slightest necessity also to adopt a greater scantling of tim¬
ber ; and it is extraordinary that a point so easily submit¬
ted to experiment and calculation, should have been en¬
tirely passed by in the final report to the proprietors.
We have hitherto looked principally to the construction
of a railway ; there is, however, an equally important point
to be considered, and that is, the working of it after it has
been constructed. On this will mainly hinge the degree
of profit which may be expected ; for, let all our previous
instructions be duly considered and properly followed out,
with such deviations only as may be rendered necessary
by local circumstances; or let a railway be constructed in
the best and most advantageous manner, yet it will soon
be discovered that, if it is not worked on a sound and effec¬
tive system, it will turn out a vastly different speculation
to what it would be under proper management.
For this purpose every thing should centre in one com¬
mittee of directors ; these may with advantage subdivide
themselves into smaller bodies, for particular purposes ; all
business transacted by these subdivisions being merely pre¬
paratory, and nothing being finally concluded till brought
before the general body. There should be no boards of
direction at each end of a line, but that terminus which is
best situated to effectually overlook the whole of the vari¬
ous business, should be made choice of for the seat of
government. There should be ample inspection into every
department, but it should be inspection only; all orders
should come from one committee, and through one gene¬
ral head. It may often happen, and always with advan¬
tage, that both ends of a railway may be opened before
the middle is finished; still every thing should centre at
the governing end of the line, at one point; and the mode
by which this government should be carried on, must now
be considered a little more at large.
The first question which arises is, by what system can a
joint stock company be so managed as to obtain the same
amount of alacrity, vigilance, and industry in its service, as
characterises the conduct of individuals when acting for
themselves, and to combine with these qualities an honest
and economical administration. The system of manage¬
ment by boards of directors has stood the test of consider¬
able experience, and, where the proper men are found for
directors, this system is admiraoly adapted to answer the
primary object of a board, viz. to deliberate and decide on
principles. More information and greater variety of view
is brought to bear upon a subject when it is discussed by
several men, than almost any individual intellect could fur¬
nish ; and, as joint-stock companies consist of persons in
almost all classes of society, a board composed, as it should
be, of individuals holding a large amount of stock, and giv¬
ing their services gratuitously, for that reason, as well as
from a sense of public duty, by embodying various inter¬
ests, claims and secures the confidence of all.
It is well known, however, that a body consisting of many
individuals is utterly unfitted for executive functions. It is
admitted as a principle, that executive administration is best
and most efficiently exercised by one and one only, and,
System of
natmge-
iient.
accordingly, every board, whether of government commis- Railways,
sioners, or of joint-stock companies, or of charitable insti-
tutions, has some one to whom is entrusted the executive
superintendence, and control of that, whatever it be, on
which the board exercises its legislative and judicial func¬
tions. Connected with this executive are other officers,
many or few, exercising a separate jurisdiction over their
several departments, and in all details independent, yet
held together, for the purposes of combination, by the exe¬
cutive officer.
In the management of railways, such an officer is more
especially required where the heads of departments are
necessarily numerous, in consequence of the several branch¬
es of business into which the working of a railway is di¬
vided ; where each department employs a considerable num¬
ber of men, two alone, those of the police and porters,
amounting almost to a regiment, and where all are to be
brought to act with the precision and regularity of a steam
engine. It would be impossible to produce unity of action
amidst such conflicting elements, without a close, active,
and unremitting personal superintendence, such as may be
accomplished by an individual, but can never be effected
by a board.
Several attempts at a different system of management
have been made by railway companies, but they have not
been found to answer. A favourite project has been much
talked of lately, viz. that a committee of three should be
chosen from the body of the directors, in which triumvir¬
ate should reside all administrative and executive functions,
and so much of the deliberative and judicial as relates to
the ordinary affairs of the company, and that each triumvir
should receive a salary sufficient to command his whole time
for the company’s service, the chairman receiving a higher
remuneration than his colleagues. The advocates of this
plan contend, that it would first secure unity of action in
the principles of management, with prompt execution in
the details, a ready redress of grievances, and remedy, or
rather prevention of abuses. Secondly, that it would give
the personal responsibility of a few to the proprietors, in
place of the collective responsibility of many ; and, thirdly,
that it would keep in check the undue power and influence
which, under a different system, the executive officers would
be likely to acquire.
This view appears more plausible than sound, more spe¬
cious than solid. In the first place, the triumvirate would
monopolize the whole power of the company, and the board
would go to sleep. The board of which the triumvirate form
a part, would meet too seldom and know too little, to be a
match for three men, who would act together every day
and know every thing, and who, above all, would enter into
debate with the larger body, and vote as directors upon
questions affecting their own conduct. It has always proved
a thoroughly vicious system to have an executive officer a
member (as in many boards he is) of that body, whose or¬
ders he is to execute, and to whom he ought to be respon¬
sible ; and this applies to the triumvirate.
In the second place, the responsibility of each triumvir
would merge in the collective responsibility of the whole
board, and men would be exercising a power for which,
practically, they could not be called to an account; for,
when the board had confirmed an act of the triumvirate,
what chance would the proprietors have to make them ac¬
countable ? The results of irresponsible authority, it is
well known, are jobbing and every sort of peculation.
In the third place, it is not likely that three men chosen
out of a body of directors, would be the men best fitted for
the situations contemplated. Not only is the number out
of which they would be chosen too few to present sufficient
of the peculiar ability required, but the selection of the in¬
dividuals would be rather determined by personal predilec¬
tions than by their fitness. It would be an appointment to
I
5S
II A I L W A Y S.
Railways, be canvassed for, and the men who would take the most
—pains to get it, would be just those least suitable for it.
It will be readily seen, also, that under such a triumvir¬
ate no really good officer could act. The perpetual med-
dlins with matters they know little about, the jealousy o
their authority, and the necessity to be busy in order to
o-ive a colour to the notion that they do work, which would
inevitably belong to such a body, would disgust an officer
who knew his duty and wished to do it, and they would
be left to perform the business with none but subordi¬
nates. So far, then, from attaining the advantage contend¬
ed for, a triumvirate committee of management constituted
on the above plan, would tend to greater evils than those
sought to be remedied by it. The old Navy board, abol¬
ished by Sir James Graham, is a case in point: this board
was an executive one, and yet subordinate to the admnalty,
and the natural consequence followed; they were continu¬
ally working against the orders they received from the su¬
perior board, in order to carry out their own plans, not
openly, but covertly ; there was, in fact, a constant under
current of opposition, from which the business of the
country notoriously suffered.
If indeed, the proprietors of any railway would agree to
invest the whole power of management in three commis¬
sioners, chosen from the country at large, as the fittest men
to be found, making them responsible to the proprietors
assembled in general meeting, and assimilating this trium¬
virate as nearly as possible to a government board, more
favourable results might be anticipated than from any other
plan ; but how should any company get three paid commis¬
sioners, who are not proprietors, to look sufficiently close¬
ly to the economy, out of which a good dividend should
arise
Svstem of
direction.
se .r , , ^ f. j.
The conclusion, then, is, that the present system of di¬
rection is, on the whole, the most suitable lor managing a
concern, whose nature is commercial, and the end ot wine i
is the realising of a profit to the proprietors, upon a money
investment. A very important principle, however, is too
much lost sight of in the composition ot boards of directors.
The practice is, for the same persons to be selected year
after year, till all sense of responsibility to the constituent
body is lost, and the board becomes an oligarchy, ot a
spirit akin to the old self-elected municipal corporations,
the members losing year by year their interest and sympa¬
thy in the views and feelings of their constituents, and yet
prone to consider them as identical with their own.
For this the appropriate remedy is, periodically a new
infusion into the direction from the body of the proprietors,
and for which parliament has in most cases provided, by
requiring a certain portion of directors to retire every year.
If the proprietors give common attention at their general
meetings, and are careful to select for directors the fittest
men, not allowing the re-election of retiring directors to
take place, as a matter of course, they will find their inter¬
ests as well secured under the system recommended, as
they are likely to be under any other, namely, one general
board and an efficient executive officer. We should always
recommend one thing, which is, that the half-yearly reports
should be printed and sent to the proprietors, at least a
fortnight before the general meeting.
Progress If we look back at the rapid progress which we have made
made in the the science of locomotion during the last halt-dozen
science of yearS} and at the degree of comfort and accommodation
locomotion. ^hic^ in conjunction with rapidity of transport, have been
afforded to the public, at in most cases so. very moderate a
cost, the strides by which we have attained our present
advanced position, are certainly sufficiently gigantic; but
if we look forward, it requires but little ot the gift of di¬
vination to perceive, that in a very few years more, a still
greater change will take place, more particularly in the
essential article of comfort. In conducting a mode of
transit so essentially new, and in which all our previous Railways,
machines and appliances had to be completely reorga¬
nized, and numerous inventions of almost every kind were
to be produced at a moment’s call, to meet the various
difficulties and wants which were continually arising out ot
such a novel mode of conducting the business of travelling
in what may be called the wholesale way, it has been sin¬
gularly fortunate, that in almost every instance, the various
railway companies have kept on the safe side, that is to say,
they have not done too much. They have erred on the best
side they could commit an error on ; they have been too
cautious. It seems as if it required a certain time merely
to travel at twenty miles an hour, and let the mind sober
down a little before much else could be attempted. I his
feeling may now be rapidly expected to give way, and we
shall find that as confidence is acquired, all the requisite ar¬
rangements will become consolidated in much more perfect
and improved forms. _ , ,.
There is nothing now which ought to be more attended fares,
to by railway companies, than keeping their fares down ; and
this has in most instances been very much neglected. When
parties possess such a complete monopoly as a railway, they
should be particularly careful not to shew it. The ex¬
penses in many instances are certainly very great, and the
companies have much to suffer in their progress through
Parliament, and the rough grinding they have generally re¬
ceived from the rapaciousness of landowners. Accidents,
too, must happen, estimates will be exceeded, and these
sources of expenditure must be met by a corresponding rate
of price ; but when the railways are made, the feeling seems
to be too general amongst some of these proprietors, that this
is the moment for making reprisals upon the public for all
losses, vexations, mishaps and mistakes.
In some cases railways have charged more for the car¬
riage of passengers than the stages or mails did, trusting to
beat them on the question of time only. In part the re¬
ceipts are great; a certain sum must be set aside for a good
dividend, and the rest is to be spent somehow or other.
The same thing is observable in the statistics of the road
trusts, many of them largely in debt, yet spending their mo¬
ney on fancied improvements, instead of getting out of debt,
and then lowering the tolls.
The effect of this on travelling is fully shewn in the re¬
port of the Irish Railway Commission. For instance, the
travellers from Brussels to Antwerp by railway in the year
1836 were 872,893, whereas those on the Liverpool and
Manchester Railway for the same year were only 522,991,
being the largest number for any year since the opening.
Now, the population of Brussels, Antwerp, and Mechlin was
209,200, whilst that of Liverpool, Manchester, and Warring¬
ton was 486,812, considerably more than double, or the ra¬
tio of"population was as 2,327 to 1, whilst that of the travel-^
ling was only as ’599 to 1. We must seek for the solution of
this problem in the respective fares of the two companies.
In the Liverpool and Manchester Railway, Mr. Pambour
states, that there are 13 first-class trains to 16 second-class ;
and as the last class hold most passengers, suppose we omit the
mails, and say '3X^+1° X±-=i|>g =4-6724shil-
lings, the average fare. We have no means of ascertaining
the numbers on the Brussels railway, but if we take the
dearest and cheapest, and compare them in the same ratio
, „ , 3-50 X 13 + 1-20x16
as we did the others, we shall have   
64-70
29
:2 francs 23 cents per passenger on the average,
or about 1-784 shillings, or 4s. 8d. in the one case, and
Is. 9£d. in the other, or, allowing for the value of money in
the two countries, about double the price ; and this double
RAILWAYS.
57
Railways, price is accompanied with only one-fourth of the travelling,
the ratio of population to that of travelling being very near¬
ly 4 to 1. A still stronger case is that of the Paisley ca¬
nal, where the fly-boat fare is Id. per mile. Here, with a
population of 262,725, the passengers in 1835 were 373,290,
whilst in the same year, with a population of 486,812, the
Liverpool and Manchester railway had only 473,849 pas¬
sengers. The railway company from Paris to St. Germain’s
has tried the experiment of low prices with complete suc¬
cess ; their greatest reduction of fares was at the station of
Nanterre, where they were lowered from 7^d. to 5d., and the
result was, that twelve days, ending the 4th December 1838,
at the low fares, compared with twelve days ending Novem¬
ber 22, at the high ones, shewed an increase of 839 pas¬
sengers ; and although the diminution in price was 34 per
cent., the increase in the amount received was 16| per cent.
We therefore strongly recommend that fares should be mo¬
derate, or it will form the best plea in the world for the es¬
tablishment of competing lines; and it should be remem¬
bered that railways will to a certain extent drive vans and
waggons off the road, which were the ordinary vehicles for
the travelling poor, and they ought to have a substitute, if
it were merely an open box without seats. Soldiers are ge¬
nerally conveyed at Id. each per mile, and their baggage at
3d. per ton per mile ; this is less than half what is charged
on some railways in second-class carriages.
General The general system of working a line, which we have here
?ystem here]aid down, is that which is adapted for a first-rate rail-
mid down. way. On secondary lines it will perhaps be necessary to
place several of the departments under one person’s su¬
perintendence, instead of having a head to each ; but
as this would be merely on the score of lessening expen- Railways,
diture, it should not be resorted to without there be
rigid necessity for it. On short lines this necessity will
exist. When this is the case, one person might take
the coaching department, goods’ department, and the po¬
lice, porters, and guards ; the disbursement clerk might be
dispensed with; one engineer might take the locomotive
department, the construction and repairing department, and
also the maintenance of the way, having good foremen in
each case. But it is so much better to have a responsible
head in every department, that we should always recom¬
mend that course to be adopted whenever it is practicable,
that is to say, whenever the income of the company will al¬
low it. It may, however, well deserve consideration, in
every railway establishment, whether, at each of the sta¬
tions of every kind, it would not save a considerable ex¬
pense to have the parties, or a part of them, sworn in as
police, so that they might on occasion act in either capa¬
city. Attention to the number of entrance and exit gates,
in planning out the stations, will also conduce to economy,
as each of these will in general require an attendant police-'
man. There are numerous other means by which, in the
middling and smaller class of railways, a moderate expendi¬
ture as well as a good arrangement, may be combined ; but
so much depends on the localities, together with the nature
and extent of the traffic, that nothing definitive can be
pointed out, except from a careful consideration of these ;
and the best step which the directors of all railways can
take previous to forming any system whatever, is to con¬
sult a properly qualified and experienced person, both as to
general principles and as to details.
EXPLANATION OF THE PLATES.
Plate CCCCXX. fig. ], is a plan of a sliding rail and eccentric
for a crossing or siding place. The eccentric being attached by rods
to the sliding rails (which move on a joint at the opposite end)
draws them to either line, as required.
Fig. 2 is a longitudinal, and fig. 3 a transverse section of the same.
Fig. 4 shews a plan and section of a fixed point.
Fig. 5 shews the general arrangement of the whole of the preced¬
ing figures, to form a complete crossing.
Fig. 6 is a plan, fig. 7 a longitudinal, and fig. 8 a transverse sec¬
tion of the mode of laying the blocks, sleepers, and rails in an excava¬
tion, together with the ballasting, and an approved method of drain¬
age. The blocks are shewn as laid diagonally in the manner they
have been on the London and Birmingham Railway. The drains
are of brick.
Plate CCCCXXI. fig. 1, is a mail carriage, as at present used,
with its imperial.
Fig. 2 a side, and fig. 3 an end view of a first-class carriage.
Plate CCCCXXII. fig. 1, shews a close second-class carriage, with
brakes which are worked by the handle at the top of the right hand end.
Fig. 2 is a plan of the buffer and draining apparatus for the first and
second-class carriages, and the mails.
Fig. 3 is a third-class carriage, and fig. 4 a plan of the drawing
apparatus. In these carriages there are no buffer springs, but mere¬
ly blocks at each end of the body. On some railways, the second-
class carriages shewn here are not used, but the third-class, with the
addition of a roof, is called the second-class. When this is the case,
the ends are generally closed, but the sides are left open.
Fig.'S shews a different form of buffing apparatus used on the
Dublin and Kingston Railway ; the buffer rod goes the whole length
of the carriage, having a similar head and spring at the other end.
Plate CCCCXXIII. figs. 1 and 2, are an end and side view of
an approved earth waggon; and figs. 3 and 4 shew another which
has been very generally adopted. The brakes are shewn in both.
Plate CCCCXXIV. fig. ], is a ground plan of the London and
Birmingham Railway engine-house at Birmingham, shewing also
the mode of laying on the water ; a, a, a are the main water pipes ;
b, b, b air vessels placed over the main pipes, to prevent the ram of
the water when the cleansing and forcing cocks are shut suddenly,
which, with a considerable head of water, would endanger the break¬
ing the pipes ; c, c, c cleansing and forcing cocks; these have strong
hoses attached to them, by means of which an engine standing over
the cleansing pits d, d, d, may be worked, and the boiler cleansed, and
also filled when the steam is up, the usual force of water on the jet
being 78 lbs. 10 oz. to the square inch; e, e, e lines of rails from
the central turnplate to each engine pit.
VOL. XIX.
Fig. 2 is a sectional view of the guard pipes through which the
water mains are taken, when they cross the lines of rails as seen in
fig. 1, in order to prevent damage to the road from leakage or acci¬
dent. They also admit new pipes being laid down without disturb¬
ing the rails ; a is the iron guard pipe ; b the water main ; r. man¬
hole for an entrance to the guard pipe ; under this, at the lower part
of the man-hole, is a drain to the nearest culvert.
Fig. 3 is a general plan of a siding on each side of the main lines,
and also of a crossing from one line to the other. See also Plate
CCCCXX. figs. 1 to 3.
Fig. 4 shews the rope as attached to the working wheels in the
fixed engine-house at Camden Town, on the London and Birming¬
ham Railway, by which the trains are drawn up from Euston Square.
To obviate the effects of the atmosphere on the rope, a tightening
wheel, travelling on a railway, as shewn in fig. 3, is used, from which
a heavy weight is attached by a chain, and hangs in a well; by this
means there is always an equal tension on the rope. The running
sheeves on inclined planes should be very well fitted, and nearly all
noise will be prevented by covering their working edges with netting.
Plate CCCCXX V. fig. 1, is a vertical section of a water crane ;
a the lever for opening the upper valve inside the tank ; b the tank ;
c a compartment to be filled and warmed by the exhaust steam from
the pumping engine, so as to warm the water before it is filled into
the locomotives; the escape steam from the safety valve also is
blown into the compartment c; d, d the ends of the boilers ; e the
supply pipe, fitted with a stuffing gland at the top atf, where it en¬
ters the tank to allow for expansion ; g the continuation of the sup¬
ply pipe, which goes to the crane on the opposite line of rails ; the
blank flange has a cock at h, by which the pipes can be emptied and
cleaned, also to prevent the water freezing.
Fig. 2 is an end view of the part A; i the crane turning in a gland
at k, and a collar at l; m the brace of the crane; n the gib of the
crane ; o hose of the supply valve for filling the engines ; p a leather
hose to conduct the water. When the fall of water is high, these
cranes must be very firmly fixed, or else instead of a supply valve on
the gib, they must be fitted with a sluice cock fixed in the horizon¬
tal portion of the pipe ; a, a the line of rails. When not in use, the
cranes are turned round flat against the wall t, to which they are
fixed.
Fig. 3, plan of an invalid carriage ; a, a the seats; b, b doors lead¬
ing into the passage d,- c, c apartments containing portable water-
closets ; c do. containing a urinal; d, d passage from each body to
the water-closets; e door to urinal; f and g doors to the water-
closets.
Fig. 4, plan of a smoking carriage, having seats (c), in the diree-
H
58
RAILWAYS.
Railways, tion of its length, and a place (a), fitted with shelves for the attend-
_!)— jAi.'lnr,t to keep cigar boxes, soda water, &c.
Fig. 5 is an elevation of a mile mark; the numbers are either
painted on glass, or cut out from sheet iron ; the box at the top con¬
tains a lamp, which will shew the miles by night.
Plate CCCCXXVL fig. 1, elevation and section of a water ap¬
paratus for washing the carriages, as constructed on the London and
Birmingham Railway ; d air vessels to prevent the ram when the
cocks are shut suddenly ; a, a saddle cocks fitted with hollow plugs,
one of which is shewn detached at g ; c, c hollow space to be filled
with charcoal, as a security against the water being frozen ; b the
connection with the feed pipe by means of a union joint; e the feed
pipe ; /,/holding down pins.
Fig. 2, elevation of the west end of the great Blisworth cutting
on the London and Birmingham Railway, shewing the method ol
undersetting the rock.
Fig. 3 is a section of the side walls at the same place ; the left
hand side shews a section of the wall in the recesses, and the right
hand side shews the same through a buttress, together with the in¬
vert and drains.
Fig. 4 is an elevation of fig. 3.
Fig. 5 shews the method of drawing bridges to answer both for
cuttings and embankments. The left hand side is for a cuttingand
a bridge over the railway ; the right hand side is for an embankment
and a bridge under the railway.
Fig. 6 is a plan of the fixed engine-house at Camden Town, on
the London and Birmingham Railway, where the trains are drawn
up from Euston Square. There are four lines of rails for a double
railway, between these and the stairs leading down to the engine-
room, on each side of which are the boiler rooms, with receptacles
for fuel, &c. The working wheels for the endless rope are in the
engine-room, and the well and tightening sheeve behind it. The mode
of working these is shewn on a larger scale in Plate CCCCXXIV-
figs. 4 and 5.
Plate CCCCXXVII. fig. 1, plan of a station; s, road to the
booking offices ; dy building, containing booking offices, waiting rooms,
and the offices requisite for the general railway business ; on the op¬
posite side of this building, on the road s, is the departure platform,
and line of rails which go to the left; e, the first class carriage house ;
f, the second-class carriage house; g, the stables for the goods’ sta¬
tion ; h, the goods’ waggon house ; c, the gullet for embarking horses
and private carriages; i, the engine house ; p, coke store, with tank
over it; m, store-house for the engine department; k, repairing house
and engine manufactory ; n, lathe room ; t, road next the arrival stage
to the town for the passengers inwards ; b, offices for goods and ge¬
neral store department; 9, <7, goods’ arrival and departure sheds, with
roads, t and s, to and from the town ; a, the point from which the
engine tows in the goods’ arrival trains with a rope ; r, workshops,
lodging houses, &c.
Fig. 4, another plan of a principal station in which turnplates are
required; the same letters refer to the same things.
Fig. 2, an elevation, and fig. 3 a plan of the fittings to a booking
office ; a, a, the counter ; b, the clerks for booking second-class pas¬
sengers ; c, the clerks for booking first-class passengers. The first-
class passengers enter by the right hand door c1, and having received
their tickets, pass through c" to the door c", which leads to the first-
class working room and the platform. The second class passengers
enter by the left hand door b', and in like manner pass through bu
and 6", which leads to the second-class waiting room and platform.
F late CCCCXXVIII. Turnplates in plan and section, with details.
Fig. 1, the plan ; fig. 2, the section ; fig. 3, elevation of the frame ;
fig. 4, catches ; these should have long handles to lift them by; fig. 5,
elevation of roller and turnplate on it; fig. 6, the roller; fig. 7, sec¬
tion of the roller; fig. 8, provision to lock the plate when required,
b' inserting a bolt through the plate and frame.
Plate CCCCXXIX. a, the steam whistle which is made use of
tc warn workmen on the road, and persons on the stations, when the
engine is approaching; b, an elevated dome, up which the steam pipe
rises to nearly the top, to prevent the motion of the engine throwing
water out of the boiler. This dome, when taken off, forms the man¬
hole ; c, working safety valve, the lever of which is attached to a
spring weighing-machine ; d, lock-up safety valve, which is screwed
down to the required pressure by a series of springs; e, chimney;
this generally has a wire guage at the top to prevent the escape of
sparks, and sometimes a damper to regulate the force of the blast-
pipe; f, smoke box, in which are the cylinders, the end of one of
which is seen atp, with the cock k, which is to let out condensed water
or priming from the cylinder. There is a large door in the front of the
engine, opening into the smoke-box, to allow of repairs being made to
the cylinders, tubes, &c. inside; i. i, i, three guage cocks, to ascer¬
tain the height of the water in the boiler ; k, water guage, shewing
in a glass tube the height of the water in the boiler. This guage
communicates by a cock at the top with the steam, and by one at
the bottom with the water. It also has a second cock at the bot¬
tom, for the purpose of emptying it when necessary ; /, steam regu- Railvvs;,
lator, by turning which, the steam is shut off, or let into the cylinders ;
m, railing round the place where the engine-man and fireman stand;
n fire box, containing the furnace, round which a thickness of about
three inches of water circulates from the boiler; the top is also full
of water to the height of that in the boiler ; 0, supply pipe connect¬
ed with the tender, from which water is pumped in at pleasure by
means of the pumps p, which are worked by arms fixed on the pis¬
ton rods, and running in guides ; q, the handle which turns the pet
cock; this is used by the engine-man to ascertain when his pumps
are in proper order, in which case it throws out water, but when they
are deranged it gives out steam ; there is one on each side of the
engine ; r, cock by which the boiler is emptied, and the engine blown
off. Plates also take off at the bottom of the boiler, and open into
the mud-holes, which are also used to clean the engine internally;
s, s, strengthening rods to the frame-work of the engine ; t, l, stays
from the framing to the boiler; u, draw-box to which the tender is
attached ; v, door to the furnace ; there is a similar one to the lower
part of the fire-box, which is formed into the ash pit, and is open to
the front for the purpose of increasing the draft; w, the frame-work
of the engine. Some makers place this with its breadth horizontal
instead of vertical, and Mr. Bury of Liverpool has his bearings in¬
side the wheels instead of outside ; x, x, the axle guards which play
up and down in grooves in the sides of the axle-boxes ; y, hook for at¬
taching carriages to the foremost end of the engine ; there is a simi¬
lar one on the other side ; z, the buffer.
The lower part of the boiler has a number of brass tubes running
through its whole length, through which the flame and hot air rush in
their passage to the chimney, up which the steam, after it has per¬
formed its office in the cylinders, is thrown through an iron pipe called
the blast pipe. This is one of the most essential of all the improve¬
ments of the locomotive. The boiler is cased with wood, to preserve
the heat as much as possible ; its tubes last about two years, and cost
about L. 1 each.
The steam pipe, by which the steam is conveyed to the cylinders,
is divided into two after it enters the smoke-box, and one goes to
each cylinder; these are all made of copper, and the entrance and
exit of the steam into the cylinder is regulated by slide valves worked
by eccentrics on the cranked axle, which move levers fixed to the
weigh bars. The pistons are formed of metal rings in several divisions,
so placed as to break joint. The piston rod is fixed with a joint to
the connecting rod ; and this last gives motion to the cranked axle,
having its end next the piston rod fixed to the cross heads, each end
of which work in guide blocks, thus causing a parallel motion in the
piston rod.
The cranks are placed at right angles to each other, to enable the
engine to get over her casters ; one piston thus works at the greatest
advantage, when the other is at the least. By the eccentrics on the
crank axle, and a series of levers, the slide valves are continually
worked backwards and forwards with the engine, and this motion can
be reversed instantly, so as to cause the engine to go in the opposite
direction when required; this is done by means of the long handle
near the fire box, which moves against an arc having three notches in
it; when the handle is placed in the upper or lower notch, the engine
goes either forward or backward, and when in the middle, the slide
valves no longer work. There are many modes by which this is ar¬
rived at by different makers, and there is generally two starting han¬
dles, by pulling which the slides can be worked by hand ; these are
constantly in motion while the engine is going.
Proper cups containing oil are placed over each of the working
parts, so as to ensure a steady and constant supply of oil to every
moving portion of the engine. These cups have a tube inside them,
which leads through to the part which is intended to be supplied with
oil, and a cotton wick is put through the tube, one end of which
hangs over the top into the oil cup, and thus acts as a syphon. The
axle boxes are filled with grease, and have a cover on the top to en¬
sure a proper lubrication of the axles.
Inside bearings are often used to strengthen the engine, and ensure
its correct action ; they also steady the cranked axle against the ho¬
rizontal force of the piston rods. The whistle is formed by a pipe
through which the steam is allowed to pass at pleasure, by turning a
cock; it then rushes against the thin edge of the upper domed part,
which is hollow like a bell, and gives out a clear sound when the
cock is properly turned, which may be heard at a very great distance.
The buffers consist of leather cushions stuffed with horse hair, and
their use is to break the shock arising from any concussion which the
engine may receive. Each of the wheels has a cover, called a splasher,
placed over them, to prevent their throwing the dirt from the rails into
the machinery. Sometimes two pair of wheels are coupled together ;
this gives more adhesion, and is generally done to goods’ engines only,
which also have usually their wheels of less diameter than those used
for passenger trains, velocity being not so much an object as power of
draught. Mr. Stephenson does not now make his engines with any
flanges on the middle pair of wheels. (b. h.)
R A I
R A I
59
RAIN, the descent of water from the atmosphere in the
form of drops of considerable size. By this circumstance
it is distinguished from dew and from fog. In the for¬
mer the drops are so small that they are quite invisible ;
in the latter, although their size be larger, they seem to
have very little more specific gravity than the atmosphere
itself, and may therefore be reckoned hollow spherules ra¬
ther than drops. This subject will be found fully discussed
in the articles on Meteorology, Physical Geography,
and Weather.
Preternatural Rains. We have numerous accounts, in
the historians of our own as well as other countries, of pre¬
ternatural rains; such as the raining of stones, of dust, of
blood, nay, even of living animals, as young frogs, and the
like. We cannot doubt the truth of what authors of veracity
and credit relate to us of this sort, nor can we suppose that
the falling of stones and dust never happened; the whole
mistake consists in supposing them to have fallen from the
clouds. But as to the blood and frogs, it is very certain
that they never fell at all, and the opinion to the contrary
has been produced by a mere deception of sight. Men are
extremely fond of the marvellous in their relations ; but the
judicious reader must examine strictly whatever is reported
of this kind, and not suffer himself to be deceived.
There are two natural methods by which quantities of
stones and of dust may fall in certain places, without their
having been generated in the clouds or descended as rain.
The one is by means of hurricanes; the wind which we fre¬
quently see tearing off the tiles of houses, and carrying them
to considerable distances, being equally capable of raising a
quantity of stones, and dropping them again at some distant
place. But the other, which is much the most powerful,
and probably the most usual way, is by the eruptions of
volcanoes and burning mountains tossing up, as they fre¬
quently do, a vast quantity of stones, ashes, and cinders, to
an immense height in the air; and these, being hurried
away by the hurricanes and impetuous winds which usually
accompany such eruptions, and being in themselves much
lighter than common stones, from being half calcined, may
thus be easily carried to vast distances, and there tailing in
places where the inhabitants know nothing of the occasion,
cannot but be supposed by the vulgar to fall on them from
the clouds. It is well known, that, in the great eruptions
of iEtna and Vesuvius, showers of ashes, dust, and small
cinders, have been seen to obscure the air, overspread the
surface of the sea for a great way, and cover the decks of
ships; and this at such a distance, that it might appear
scarcely conceivable they should have been carried so far :
and probably, if the accounts of all the showers of these
substances mentioned by authors were collected, they would
all be ascertained to have fallen within such distances of
volcanoes, whilst, if compared as to the time of their falling,
they would be found to correspond in that also with the erup¬
tions of those mountains. We have known instances of the
ashes from Vesuvius having been carried thirty, nay, forty
leagues; and peculiar accidents may have carried them still
farther. It is not to be supposed that these showers of
stones and dust fall continuously in the manner of showers
of rain, or that the fragments or pieces are as frequent as
drops of water. It is sufficient that a number of stones, or
a quantity of dust, fall at once on a place, where the inha¬
bitants can have no knowledge of the point whence they
came, and the vulgar will not doubt their dropping from the
clouds. Nay, in the canton of Berne, in Switzerland, the
inhabitants accounted it a miracle that it rained earth and
sulphur upon them at a time when a small volcano terrified
them; and even whilst the wind was so boisterous, and hur¬
ricanes so frequent, that they saw almost every moment the
dust, sand, and little stones torn up from the surface of the
earth in whirlwinds, and carried to a considerable height in
the air, they never considered that both the sulphur thrown
up by the volcano, and the dust, sand, and stones carried Preterna-
from their feet, must soon afterwards fall somewhere. It is tura*
very certain that in some of the terrible storms of hail, where Rains- ^
the hailstones have been several inches in circumference, v
there have been found, on breaking them, what people call¬
ed stones in their middle; but these observers need only to
wait the dissolving of one of these hailstones, to see the
stone in its centre also disunite, it being formed merely of the
particles of loose earthy matter, which the water, exhaled
by the sun’s heat, had taken up with it in extremely small
molecules, and this serving to give an opaque hue to the
inner part of the congelation, to which the freezing of the
water alone gave the apparent hardness of stone.
The raining of blood has ever been accounted a more ter¬
rible sight and a more fatal omen than the other preterna¬
tural rains already mentioned. It is very certain that na¬
ture forms blood nowhere but in the vessels of animals,
and therefore showers of it from the clouds are by no means
to be credited. Those who suppose that what people took
for blood has actually been seen falling through the air,
have had recourse for its origin to flying insects, and sup¬
pose it to be the eggs or dung of certain butterflies dis¬
charged as they were high up in the air. But this seems
to be a very wild conjecture, as we know of no butterfly the
excrements or eggs of which are of such a colour, or its
abode so high in the air, or its flocks so numerous, as to be
the occasion of such a phenomenon.
It is most probable that these bloody waters were never
seen falling; but that people, seeing the standing waters
blood-coloured, were assured, from their not knowing how
it should else happen, that it had rained blood into them.
A very memorable instance of this took place at the Hague
in the year 1670. Swammerdam, who relates it, tells us,
that one morning the whole town was in an uproar on find¬
ing, as they thought, their lakes and ditches full of blood;
for these having certainly been full of water the night be¬
fore, they agreed that it must have rained blood during the
night. But a certain physician went down to one of the
canals, and taking home a quantity of this blood-coloured
water, he examined it by the microscope, and found that
the water was water still, and had not at all changed its
colour; but that it was full of prodigious swarms of small
red animals, all alive, and very nimble in their motions, the
colour and prodigious number of which gave a reddish tinge
to the whole body of the water in which they lived. The cer¬
tainty that this was the case, did not however persuade the
Hollanders to part with the miracle. They prudently con¬
cluded, that the sudden appearance of such a number of
animals was as great a prodigy as the raining of blood would
have been ; and remain assured to this day, that this por¬
tent foretold the scene of war and destruction that Louis
XIV. afterwards brought into that country, which had pre¬
viously enjoyed forty years of uninterrupted peace.
The animals which thus colour the water of lakes and
ponds are the pulices arborescentes of Swammerdam, or the
water-fleas with branched horns. These creatures are of a
reddish-yellow or flame colour. They live about the sides
of ditches, under weeds, and amongst the mud; and are
therefore the less visible, except at a certain time, which is
in the beginning or end of June. It is at this time that
these little animals leave their recesses to float loose about
the water, and meet for the propagation of their species;
and by this means they become visible in the colour which
they give the water. The colour in question is visible, more
or less, in one part or other of almost all standing waters at
this season ; and it is always at the same season that the
bloody waters have alarmed the ignorant.
The raining oi'frogs is a thing not less wonderful in the
accounts of authors who love the marvellous than those of
blood or stones; and this is supposed to happen so frequently,
that there are multitudes who pretend to have been eye-
60 R A I
Preterna- witnesses of it. These rains of frogs always happen after
tural very dry seasons, and are much more frequent in the hotter
Rains. t])an jn t]ie cou countries. In Italy they are very frequent;
and it is not uncommon to see the streets of Rome swarm¬
ing with young frogs and toads in an instant after a shower
of rain. Nay, they have been seen to fall through the air
down upon the pavements. This seems to be a strong
circumstance in favour of their being rained down from the
clouds; but, when strictly examined, it comes to nothing.
For these frogs which are seen to fall are always found
dead, lamed, or bruised by the fall, and never hop about
like the rest; and they are never seen to fall, except close
under the walls of houses, from the roofs and gutters of
which they have accidentally slipped down. Some people
who love to add to things strange others yet stranger, af¬
firm that young frogs have fallen into their hats in the midst
of an open field; but this is equally idle and false.
Others, who cannot agree with the opinion of their falling
from the clouds, have tried to solve the difficulty of their
sudden appearance, by supposing them hatched out of the
egg, or spawn, by these rains. Nay, some have supposed
them to be made immediately out of the dust. But there
are unanswerable arguments against all these suppositions.
Equivocal generation, or the spontaneous production of ani¬
mals out of dust, is now wholly exploded. The fall from the
clouds would destroy and kill these tender and soft-bodied
animals. And they cannot be at this time hatched imme¬
diately out of eggs, because the young frog does not make
its appearance from the egg in form, but has its hinder legs
enveloped in a skin, and is what we call a tadpole ; and the
young frogs are at least a hundred times larger at the time
of their appearance than the egg from which they should
be hatched.
It is beyond a doubt that the frogs which make their ap¬
pearance at this time w'ere hatched and in being long be¬
fore. But the dry seasons had injured them, and kept them
sluggishly in holes or coverts; and all the rain does is en¬
livening them, giving them new spirits, and calling them
forth to seek new habitations, and enjoy the element they
were destined in a great measure to live in. Theophrastus,
the greatest of all the naturalists of antiquity, has affirmed
the same thing. We find that the error of supposing these
creatures to fall from the clouds was as old as the time of
that author; and also that the truth in regard to their ap¬
pearance was as early known; though, in the ages that fol¬
lowed, authors have taken care to conceal the truth, and to
hand down to us the error. We find this venerable sage,
in a fragment of his on the generation of animals which ap¬
pear on a sudden, ridiculing the opinion, and asserting that
they wrere hatched and living long before. The world,
however, owes to the accurate Signor Redi the great proof
of this truth, which Theophrastus has only affirmed. This
gentleman, dissecting some of these frogs, found in their
stomachs herbs and other half-digested food ; and, openly
showing this to his credulous countrymen, asked them
whether they thought that nature, which engendered, ac¬
cording to their opinion, these animals in the clouds, had
also been so provident as to provide grass there for their
food and nourishment ?
To the raining of frogs we ought to add the raining of
grasshoppers and locusts, which have sometimes appeared
in prodigious numbers, and devoured the fruits of the earth.
There has not been the least pretence for supposing that
these animals descended from the clouds, though they ap¬
peared on a sudden in prodigious numbers. The naturalist,
who knows the many accidents attending the eggs of these
and other like animals, cannot but know that some seasons
will prove particularly favourable to the hatching them ; and
the prodigious number of eggs that many insects lay could
not but every year bring us such abundance of the young,
were they not liable to many accidents, and had not provi-
R A I
dent nature taken care, as in many plants, to continue the Rainbow,
species by a very numerous stock of seeds, of which per-
haps not one in five hundred need take root in order to con¬
tinue an equal number of plants. It is thus also in regard
to insects; and hence it cannot but happen, that if a favour¬
able season encourage the hatching of all those eggs, a very
small number of which alone is necessary to continue the
species, we must in such seasons have a proportional abun¬
dance of them. More than half a century ago, there appear¬
ed in London such a prodigious swarm of the little beetle
called the lady-cow, that the very posts in the streets were
everywhere covered with them. But, thanks to the pro ■
gress of philosophy amongst us, we had nobody to assert
that it rained cow-ladies, but we contented ourselves with
saying that it had been a favourable season for their eggs.
The prodigious number of a sort of grub, which, about the
same period, did vast mischief to the corn and grass, by
eating off the roots, might also have been supposed to pro¬
ceed from its having rained grubs, by people fond of mak¬
ing everything a prodigy ; but our knowledge in natural
history assured us, that these were only the hexapod worms
of the common hedge-beetle called the cockchafer.
The raining offishes has also been a prodigy much talked
of in France, where the streets of a town at some distance
from Paris, after a terrible hurricane in the night, which
tore up trees, blew down houses, and did other damage,
wrere found in a manner covered with fishes of various sizes.
Nobody here made any doubt of these having fallen from
the clouds; nor did the absurdity of fish, of five or six
inches in length, being generated in the air, at all startle
the people, or shake their belief in the miracle, until they
found, upon inquiry, that a very well-stocked fish-pond,
which stood on an eminence in the neighbourhood, had been
blown dry by the hurricane, and only the great fish left at
the bottom of it, the smaller fry having been tossed into
their streets.
Upon the whole, all the supposed marvellous rains have
been owing to substances naturally produced on the earth
either never having been in the air at all, or only carried
thither by accident.
RAINBOW. See Meteorology and Optics,
j Lunar Rainbow. The moon sometimes exhibits the
phenomenon of an iris or rainbow by the refraction of her
rays in drops of rain during the night-time. But this phe¬
nomenon is very rare. In the Philosophical Transactions
for 1783, however, we have an account of three which w ere
seen in one year, and all in the same place; it is communi¬
cated in two letters by Mr Marmaduke Tunstall. The first
was seen on the 27th of February 1782, at Greta Bridge,
Yorkshire, between seven and eight at night, and appeared
in tolerably distinct colours, similar to a solar one, but more
faint, the orange colour seeming to predominate. It hap¬
pened at full moon, at which time alone they are said to be
always seen. Though Aristotle is stated to have observed
two, and some others have been seen by Snellius, Mr Tun¬
stall could only find twro described with any accuracy ; one
by Plot, in his Flistory of Oxfordshire, which was seen by
him in 1675, though without colours; and the other seen
by a Derbyshire gentleman at Glapwell, near Chesterfield,
described by Thoresby, and inserted in the Philosophical
Transactions, No. 331. This was about Christmas 1710, and
is said to have had all the colours of the iris Solaris. The
night was windy; and although there was then a drizzling
rain and a dark cloud, in which the rainbow wras reflected,
it proved afterwards a light frost.
Two others were afterwards seen by Mr Tunstall. One of
these was observed on the 30th of July, about eleven o’clock,
which lasted about a quarter of an hour, but without colours ;
and the other, which appeared on the 18th of October, was
perhaps the most extraordinary one of the kind that had ever
been seen. It became visible about nine o’clock, and con-
R A I
TUiseen. tinned, though with very different degrees of brilliancy, till
——v ' past two. At first, though a strongly-marked bow, it was
without colours ; but afterwards they were very conspicu¬
ous and vivid, in the same form as in the solar, though faint¬
er, the red, green, and purple being the most distinguish¬
able. About twelve it was the most splendid in appear¬
ance ; its arc was a considerably smaller segment of a cir¬
cle than a solar ; and its south-east limb first began to fail,
a considerable time before its final extinction. The wind
was very high, nearly due west, accompanied most part
of the time with a drizzling rain. It is a singular circum¬
stance, that three of these phenomena should have been
seen in so short a time and in one place ; as they have been
esteemed, ever since the time of Aristotle, who is said to
have been the first observer of them, and sawr only two in
fifty years, and since by Plot and Thoresby, almost the
only two English authors who have spoken of them, to be
exceedingly rare. They evidently appear to be occasioned
by a refraction in a cloud or turbid atmosphere, and in ge¬
neral are indications of stormy and rainy weather. Thores¬
by, indeed, says the one he observed was succeeded by se¬
veral days of fine serene weather. One particular, rather
singular, in the second, namely, that of July the 30th, was
its being six days after the full moon ; and the last, though
of so long a duration, was three days before the full moon.
That of the 27th of February was exactly at the full, which
used to be judged the only time when they could be seen,
though there is an account that Weidler observed one in
1719, during the first quarter of the moon, with faint co¬
lours, and in very calm weather.
In the Gentleman's Magazine for August 1788 an ac¬
count is given of a lunar rainbow by a correspondent, who
saw it. “ On Sunday evening the 17th of August,” says he,
“ after two days, on both of which, particularly the former,
there had been a great deal of rain, together with lightning
and thunder, just as the clocks wTere striking nine, twenty-
! three hours after full moon, looking through my window, I
was struck with the appearance of something in the sky,
which seemed like a rainbow. Having never seen a rain¬
bow by night, I thought it a very extraordinary pheno¬
menon, and hastened to a place where there were no build¬
ings to obstruct my view of the hemisphere. Here I found
that the phenomenon was no other than a lunar rainbow ;
the moon was truly ‘ walking in brightness,’ brilliant as she
covdd be ; not a cloud was to be seen near her ; and over
against her, toward the north-west, or perhaps rather more
to the north, was a rainbow, a vast arch, perfect in all its
parts, not interrupted or broken as rainbows frequently are,
but unremittedly visible from one horizon to the other. In
order to give some idea of its extent, it is necessary to say,
that as I stood toward the western extremity of the parish
of Stoke-Newington, it seemed to take its rise from the
w^est of Hampstead, and to end, perhaps, in the river Lea,
the eastern boundary of Tottenham ; its colour was white,
cloudy, or grayish, but a part of its western leg seemed to
exhibit tints of a faint sickly green. I continued viewing
it for some time, till it began to rain ; and at length the rain
increasing and the sky growing more hazy, I returned home
about a quarter or twenty minutes past nine, and in ten
minutes came out again ; but by that time all was over, the
moon was darkened by clouds, and the rainbow of course
vanished.”
RAISEEN, a district of Hindustan, in the province of
Maiwah, situated between the 23d and 24th degrees of north
latitude, belonging to the Mahrattas. It is bounded on the
south by the Vindhaya Mountains, and is intersected by
the river Betwah. The principal towns are Raiseen, Bil-
sah, and Choonpore. This district is principally laid out
in tobacco-fields, for which it is famed. The capital of the
above district is of the same name, 126 miles east from
Oojain. Long. 77. 4-7. E. Lat. 23. 15. N.
RA J gi
RAISEN-MARKET, a town of the county of Lincoln, llaisen-
in the hundred of Walshcroft, and in Lindsey division. It is Market
situated near the navigable river Anklom, and has a market, j^aja||iun_
which is held on Saturday. The population amounted in '(jrv
1801 to 774, in 1811 to 964, in 1821 to 1166, and in 1831 w-yIw
to 1428.
RAISINS, grapes prepared by suffering them to remain
on the vine until they are perfectly ripe, and then drying
them in the sun, or by the heat of an oven. The difference
between raisins dried in the sun and those dried in ovens
is very obvious. The former are sweet and pleasant, but
the latter have a latent acidity mixed with the sweetness,
which renders them much less agreeable.
The common w’ay of drying grapes for raisins, is to tie
two or three bunches of them together whilst yet on the
vine, and dip them into a hot lixivium of wood-ashes, mixed
with a little of the oil of olives. This disposes them to
shrink and wrinkle; after which they are left on the vine
three or four days, separated on sticks in an horizontal situa¬
tion, and then dried in the sun at leisure after being cut
from the tree. The finest and best raisins are those called
in some places Damascus and Jube raisins ; which are dis¬
tinguished from the others by their size and figure. They
are flat and wrinkled on the surface, soft and juicy within,
and nearly an inch long ; and, when fresh and growing on
the bunch, are of the size and shape of a large olive.
RAJAH, the title of the Indian princes, the remains of
those who ruled there before the Moguls.
RAJAH CHOHANS, a wild, rugged, and mountainous
country, very little cultivated, in the province of Gundwa-
na, and situated between the 23d and 24th degrees of north
latitude. The principal town is Sonehut, the usual resi¬
dence of the Corair rajah. This tract of country is inha¬
bited by the wildest tribes of India, and presents one con¬
tinued succession of deep gullies, ravines, chasms, and de¬
files. The inhabitants are very poor, being collected in
villages, which consist of not more than four or five huts
each. A little rice, Indian corn, and a few other smaller
grains, are the chief products. The country affords abun¬
dant cover for game of all sorts; and tigers, leopards, tiger-
cats, and large black bears, abound in its wmods and jungles.
RAJABARY, a considerable trading town of Bengal, in
the district of Dacca, situated on the western bank of the
river Megna. Long. 96. 21. E. Lat. 23. 25. N. Rajah,
signifying prince, is the prasnomen of numerous towns in
Hindustan.
RAJAHNAGUR, a town of Bengal, in the district of
Dacca, situated on the eastern bank of the Ganges. Long.
93. 14. E. Lat. 23. 22. N. There is another place of this
name in the Northern Circars, 12 miles north-east of Raja-
mundry.
RAJAMUNDROOG, a town and fortress of Hindustan,
in the province of Bejapore, and district of Concan. It was
taken by General Matthews in 1783, but afterwards ceded
to Tippoo. It commands the entrance into the estuary and
river Mirjee. Long. 73. 30. E. Lat. 14. 30. N.
RAJAMUNDRY, an extensive district of Hindustan,
in the province of the Northern Circars, bounded on the
north by Cicacole, and on the south by Ellore ; on the west
by the territories of the Nizam, and on the east by the Bay
of Bengal. This district is intersected by the Godavery,
and lies chiefly to the north of that river, though part of it
is also to the south. At the distance of about thirty-five
miles from the sea, this river divides itself into two great
branches, and forms the island of Nagur, comprehending,
within a triangular space, 500 square miles, but much greater
in value than in extent. The whole district includes an
area of 1700 square miles. The island of Nagur is inter¬
sected by lesser branches of the Godavery, which, supply¬
ing abundance of water, render it very productive, being
fertilized by the slimy mould carried down by this great
62 U A J
Rajamun- river of the Deccan. The country produces abundance of
dry sugar, which is cultivated to a great extent in the island of
T. .Nagur, and along the banks of the Elyseram River, from the
v _aje“ia_ , abundant flow of whose water during the whole year the
sugar-plantations are watered during the driest seasons ;
and also a variety of other productions are grown, such as
paddy, ginger, turmeric, yams, and chillies. Sugar is also
grown in considerable quantities in the delta of the Godavery,
where the cultivation might be carried to any amount,
and where, during the interval between the crops, legumi¬
nous plants are reared. The country, from the commence¬
ment of the hills along the banks of the Godavery, to Po-
loonsh: .1 on the frontiers of Commamet, is the seat of ex¬
tensive forests, where the teak-trees are produced in abun¬
dance, there being no other country on the east side of the
Bay of Bengal which furnishes this valuable timber. Some
attempts have been made to raise pepper, but this valuable
product is produced in greater abundance and perfection
on the Malabar coast. The principal towns are Rajamun-
dry, Ingeram, Coringa, Bundermalanca, Peddapoor, and
Pettipoor; but Coringa is the only port which carries on
any considerable export trade. Rajamundry was ceded to
the French in 1753 by Salabut Jung, the subahdar of the
Deccan, and acquired by the British under Lord Clive in
1765. Many additional dependencies, however, have since
been acquired by conquest or policy; and it now constitutes
one of the five collectorships into which the Northern Cir-
cars were subdivided in 1803.
Rajamundry, the capital of the above-mentioned dis¬
trict, and the residence ofthe British civil establishment, is
situated on the east bank of the Godavery, forty miles from
the sea. It formerly possessed a good brick fort, which is
now in ruins. Long. 81. 54. E. Lat. 16. 59. N.
RAJEGHUR, a town of Hindustan, in the territories
of the Mahrattas, and province of Malwah, situated on the
western bank of the Sopra River, sixty-seven miles north-east
from Oojain. Long. 76. 27. E. Lat. 23. 56. N. There is
another town of the same name in the province of Allaha¬
bad, situated on the river Cane, eighteen miles south-east
from Chatterpoor. Long. 80. 5. E. Lat. 24. 44. N. Ra-
jeghur is also the name of a range of hills in the province of
Bahar.
RAJEMAL, or Rajemahal, an extensive but unpro¬
ductive district of Bengal, situated about the twenty-fifth
degree of north latitude. It has on the north Purneah and
Dinagepoor, on the south the large zemindary of Raujeshy,
on the east Dinagepoor and Raujeshy, and on the west
Monghir and Purneah. It is situated on the western bank
of the Ganges, and comprises a great extent of waste and
mountainous territory, inhabited in many parts by the abo¬
rigines of the country, wyho speak a distinct language, and
differ entirely from the Hindus of Bengal in their manners,
as they eat without scruple all kinds of animals. They are
mostly low in stature, but strong and well proportioned.
There are many of them under five feet ten inches, and
more under five feet than above it. They have generally
flattened noses, and lips thicker than the inhabitants of
the plains. The country is for the most part barren and
sandy. The soil in the vicinity of Rajemahal is said to be
composed of a mixture of granite rock, which is not to be
found lower down the river. The plains produce wheat
and barley, and the villages abound with mango-trees of ex¬
cellent quality. Indian corn and other grains form part of
the crops, as well as rice, the mulberry tree, and the in¬
digo plant. The castor-oil plant is raised in great quantities
in the field; and in the jungles, which occupy large tracts
of the country, the grass grows to the height of eight or
ten feet, and is adorned at the top with a beautiful white
down, resembling swans’ feathers. These jungles afford
shelter to numerous tigers, bears, and other wild beasts.
It was in this district that the experiment was first tried of
R A J
granting lands to the native invalid officers and soldiers, on Rajemal.
condition of their residing upon them and cultivating them.' "N"^-
In this manner was formed in the wilds the village of Sicli-
gully; and this measure has been attended with the best
effects, so that the traveller now passes with as much safety
from human foes, in this district, as in any other part of the
country. The territory is separated from Bahar by a range
of hills, the Rajemahal Hills, compared by Bishop Heber to
the hills of Cheshire, and consisting of a coarse granite.
Through these hills are several passes, the chief of which is
Terriagully, up a narrow winding road, where there is a
ruined gateway and fort, which formerly commanded the
high road leading from Moorshedabad to Patna, and was
considered as the key of Bengal. The roads are generally
indifferent, owing to the force of the torrents during the
rains, which bar up the bridges, and carry devastation
throughout the country. The principal articles of traffic are
common Hindustanee bedsteads, wood, planks, charcoal,
cotton, honey, plantains, and sweet potatoes, which are ex¬
changed for salt, tobacco, rice, cloth, iron heads for arrows,
hatchets, crooks, and iron instruments. Their domestic
animals are hogs, goats, and fowls, besides cats and dogs.
The people of these mountains, observes Bishop Heber,
and of all the hilly country between Sicligully and Burd-
wan, are a distinct race from those of the plain, in features,
language, civilization, and religion. They have neither
castes nor Hindu deities, and are even said to have no idols.
They are still more naked than even the Hindu peasants, and
live chiefly by the chase, pursuing their game with bows
and arrows. Some few of them have fire-arms. Until with¬
in the last fifty years, a deadly feud existed between them
and the cultivators of the neighbouring lands, upon which
they were continually making forays; and being both thieves
and murderers, they were shot without mercy by the ze¬
mindars, in the same manner as tigers or other wild beasts.
But by the wise and benevolent management of an excellent
young man, judge and magistrate of Boglipoor, these rude
tribes were reclaimed from their barbarous habits by just
and merciful treatment, all violence on the part of the ze¬
mindars being forbidden, and promptly punished. He took
other methods of conciliating their favour, and engaged
several of them to enter his service; he established bazaars
at the villages nearest them, and encouraged them to bring
for sale game, millet, wax, hides, and honey, which are pro¬
duced abundantly in their hills ; he gave them wheat and
barley for seed ; and, finally, he raised amongst them a
corps of Sepoys, wffio were established at Sicligully, and
gave the command of them to a native chief, named Jow-
rah, who, Bishop Heber remarks, was the Rob Roy, or more
properly the Roderick Dim, of the Rajemahals, but who fully
justified the judgment and discrimination of Mr Cleveland’s
choice. “ This good and wise man,” adds Bishop Heber,
a pattern himself of the same qualities, “ died in 1784, at
the early age of twenty-nine. In honour of his memory, a
monument, in the form of a pagoda, was erected by the ze¬
mindars and others, at the expense of government.” The
principal towns are Rajemal and Maulda, and the chief river
the Ganges, but it is intersected by a variety of smaller
streams in all directions.
Rajemal (the royal residence), the capital of the above
district, is situated on the western bank of the Ganges, at
the foot of a range of hills. The modern town consists only
of one street, composed of stone, generally two stories in
height, with the ruins of a palace, which has been much
injured by the encroachments of the river. Its empty halls,
marble porticoes, and half-decayed vaults, still present images
of its former grandeur. An inconsiderable traffic continues
to be carried on with the inhabitants of the hills ; and there
are quarries which supply the neighbourhood with flags and
millstones. This place decayed from various causes, name¬
ly, an inundation of the Ganges, which swept away a con-
R A L
iRajoorah siderable part of it; a conflagration, which destroyed an¬
il . other portion of it; and, lastly, the transfer of the seat of
llaleigh. g0vernment to Dacca. There is a tradition that this city
^ ^ ^ was in very ancient times the seat of a Hindu government.
It is first mentioned by Mahommedan historians in 1576,
usder the name of Agamahel, or the house of fire. In the
reign of Akbar, about 1591, Rajah Mause Singh, on his re¬
turn from the conquest of the Afghans of Orissa, fixed up¬
on this city for the capital of Bengal, the name of which
he changed to Rajamahal. He erected a palace, and sur¬
rounded the town with a rampart of brick and other forti¬
fications. The city suffered considerable injury from the
troops of Aurungzebe, who took it after a short siege. It
was afterwards the residence of the military collector of the
district, which contributed to its support; but since the
union of the district with Boglipoor, and the transfer of the
public offices to that town, it has fallen into decay. It is
seventy miles north-north-west from Moorshedabad. Long.
87. 43. E. Lat. 25. 2. N.
RAJOORAH, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Aurungabad, forty miles south-west from Nandere. Long.
77. 15. E. Lat. 18. 38. N.
RAJPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Be-
japoor, and situated on the sea-coast of the Concan district.
This was formerly a much-frequented port, and was taken
from the king of Bejapoor by the Mahratta chief Sevajee
in 1670. It was also of considerable importance during the
wars between Aurungzebe and the Mahrattas, and formed
the principal station of the fleet. Long. 73. 3. E. Lat. 16.
48. N. It is also the name of a small village in the pro¬
vince of Gujerat, near its western boundary. The surround¬
ing country is covered with thick jungle, which is the re¬
sort of numerous thieves. It is likewise the name of a town
!in the province of Berar, situated on the river Wurda,
which here makes a considerable curve to the eastward. It
is ten miles south-east from Chandah. Long. 80. E. Lat.
19. 56. N.
RAKAN, a river on the north-eastern coast of Sumatra,
and the largest in the island, or rather it should be consi-
Idered as an inlet of the sea. It has its rise in the interior, in
the Rau country, and is navigable for sloops to a great dis¬
tance from the sea. Vessels are deterred from entering it
by the rapidity of the current, and by that peculiar swell
known in the Ganges under the name of the “ bore.”
RAKE is a well-known instrument with teeth, by which
the ground is divided. See Agriculture.
Rake of a Ship is all that part of her hull which hangs
over both ends of her keel. That which is before is called
the fore-rake or rake forward, and that part which is at the
setting on of the stern-post is called the rake-aft or after-
Eward.
RAKONITZ, a city of the Austrian kingdom of Bohe¬
mia, the capital of a circle of the same name, which extends
over 896 square miles, comprehending eleven cities, eighteen
towns, and 517 villages, with 144,600 inhabitants, mostly
of the Sclavonian race. The city is situated on two streams,
the Gelden and the Rakonitz, and has four churches, 295
houses, and 2350 inhabitants, making cotton and woollen
cloths, and some hosiery and hardware. Lat. 56. 36. N.
RALEIGH, Sir Walter, fourth son of Mr Walter Ra¬
leigh of Fardel, in the parish of Cornwood, in Devonshire,
was born in 1552, at Hayes, in the parish of Budley, a farm
belonging to his father. About the year 1568 he was sent
to Oriel College in Oxford, where he continued but a short
time ; for he became one of the hundred volunteers, com¬
manded by Henry Champernon, who, with other English
troops, were sent by Queen Elizabeth to assist the queen
of Navarre in defending the Protestants. He has described
some of the great battles in which he was engaged, in his
History of the World. In 1577 or 1578 he proceeded to
the Low Countries with the troops sent by the queen to
R A L 63
assist the Dutch against the Spaniards, and probably shared Raleigh,
the glory of the decisive victory obtained over Don John
of Austria in 1578. On his return to England, a new en¬
terprise engaged his attention. His half-brother, Sir Hum¬
phrey Gilbert, having obtained a patent to plant and inha¬
bit some parts of North America, Raleigh embarked in this
adventure; but meeting with a Spanish fleet, after a smart
engagement they returned, without success, in 1579.
The following year the king of Spain, in conjunction with
the pope, having projected a total conquest of the English
dominions, sent troops to Ireland to assist the Desmonds in
the Munster rebellion. Raleigh obtained a captain’s com¬
mission under Lord Grey of Wilton, then deputy of Ireland,
and embarked for that kingdom, where he greatly distin¬
guished himself both for bravery and for skill. He returned
to England, and attracted the notice of Queen Elizabeth,
owing, as we are told in Naunton’s Fragmenta Regalia,
to the following accidental piece of gallantry. The queen,
as she was one day taking a walk, being stopped by a splashy
place in the road, Raleigh immediately took off his new
plush mantle, and spread it on the ground. Her majesty
trod gently over the soft foot-cloth. Surprised and pleased
with the adventure, and much struck by the noble appear¬
ance of the young soldier, she admitted him to her court, and
employed him first as an attendant on the French ambas¬
sador Simier upon his return home, and afterwards to escort
the Duke of Anjou to Antwerp. During this excursion he
became personally known to the Prince of Orange; from
whom, at his return, he brought especial acknowledgments
to the queen, who now frequently conversed with him.
But the inactive life of a courtier did not suit the enter¬
prising spirit of Raleigh. He took advantage of his favour
with the queen to obtain, in 1584, a patent empowering him
to possess such countries as he should discover on the con¬
tinent of North America. Accordingly he fitted out, at
his own expense, two ships, which sailed in the month of
April, and returned to England about the middle of Sep¬
tember, reporting that they had discovered and taken pos¬
session of a fine country, to which the queen gave the name
of Virginia. About this time he was elected knight of the
shire for the county of Devon, and soon afterwards received
the honour of knighthood ; and, to enable him to carry on his
designs abroad, the queen granted him a patent for licens¬
ing the venders of wine throughout the kingdom. In 1585
he sent a new expedition to Virginia, commanded by his
relation Sir Richard Greenville, who left a colony at Roanah
of 107 persons, under the government of Mr Lane ; and by
the establishment of this colony he was enabled to import
tobacco into England. In the same year Sir Walter Raleigh
obtained a grant of twelve thousand acres of the forfeited
lands in the county of Cork in Ireland. About the same
time he was made seneschal of the duchy of Cornwall, and
warden of the stanneries.
In the year 1587 he sent another colony to Virginia ; but
his various undertakings and offices obliged him to assign his
patent to a company, and the plan of colonizing was by them
speedily relinquished, so that the unfortunate colonists were
left to their fate. About this time we find our knight dis¬
tinguished by the titles of “ Captain of the Queen’s Guards, ’
and “ Lieutenant-General of Cornwall.” From this period
to the year 1594, he was continually engaged in projecting
new expeditions, defending the kingdom from the insults
of the Spaniards, and transacting parliamentary business
with equal ability and resolution. Sir Walter fell under the
queen’s displeasure on account of an alleged intrigue with
the daughter of Sir Nicholas Throgmorton, one of the maids
of honour ; however, he married the lady, and lived with
her in great conjugal harmony. During his disgrace at
court he projected the conquest of Guiana in South Ame¬
rica, and in 1595 sailed for that country, in the vain hope
of discovering the golden region of El Dorado, supposed
R A M
t6 be situated in the depths of Guiana. He returned to Gog-
land the same year, and soon afterwards published an account
of his expedition. In the following year he was one of the
admirals in the successful expedition against Cadiz, under
the command of Howard and the Earl ot Essex : and in
1597 he sailed with the same commanders against the
Azores. Soon after these expeditions we find him assidu¬
ously engaged in parliamentary business. His speeches
evince a knowledge of political economy far superior to any
man of his time. In 1600 he was sent on a joint embassy
with Lord Cobham to Flanders, and on his return made
governor of Jersey.
Queen Elizabeth died in the beginning of the year 1603 ;
and with her Raleigh’s glory and felicity sunk, never to rise
again. Upon the accession of James, Sir Walter lost his
interest at court, was stripped of his preferments, and ac¬
cused of a plot against the king. He was arraigned at Win¬
chester, and, on his trial, insulted with the most shocking
brutality by the famous Coke, attorney-general, who influ¬
enced the jury to convict him without any legal proof of his
guilt. After a month’s imprisonment, however, in daily
expectation of his execution, he was reprieved and sent to
the Tower; and his estates were given to Car, earl of So¬
merset, the king’s favourite. During this confinement he
wrote many of his most valuable pieces, particularly his
History of the World. In March 1615, after sixteen years
imprisonment, he obtained his liberty, and immediately be¬
gan to prepare for another voyage to Guiana, which proved
equally abortive and ruinous. In the year 1618, he returned
from this fatal voyage to England, where he was soon after¬
wards seized, imprisoned, and beheaded. He was sacrificed
by the pusillanimous monarch to appease the Spaniards, who,
whilst Raleigh lived, thought every part of their dominions
in danger. He was executed in Old Palace \ ard, and buried
in St Margaret’s adjoining, in the sixty-sixth year of his age.
His behaviour on the scaffold was .manly, unaffected, cheer¬
ful, and easy. Being asked by the executioner which way
he would lay his head, he answered, “ So the heart be right,
it is no matter which way the head lies.” He was a man
of admirable parts, extensive knowledge, undaunted resolu¬
tion, and perhaps the best prose writer of his age. His
great work, the History of the World, is a truly remarkable
performance, both for matter and for style. It has often
been reprinted in folio. An edition of his whole works was
published at Oxford in 1829, in eight volumes octavo.
RALPH, James, an ingenious historical and political
writer, of whose birth and country nothing has been ascer¬
tained. He was first known as a schoolmaster in Philadel¬
phia, in North America. He came to England about the
beginning of the reign of George I. and wrote some things
in the dramatic way, which were not received with great
applause ; but though he did not succeed as a poet, he was
a very ingenious prose-writer. He wrote a History of Eng¬
land, commencing with the Stuarts, which is much esteem¬
ed ; and so also were his political essays and pamphlets,
some of which were looked upon as masterpieces. His last
publication, the Case of Authors by Profession, is an excel¬
lent and entertaining performance. He died in 1762.
RAMA, or Ramla, a considerable town of Palestine, si¬
tuated in one of the most fertile and extensive districts of
the Holy Land ; though at the time when Dr Clarke visited
the country it was almost deserted, in consequence of the ra¬
vages of the plague. It seems doubtful, however, whether
this was the ancient city described in Scripture. Some as¬
cribe its origin to the Moslems; yet this can scarcely have
been the case, as it is distinctly mentioned by St Jerome.
Rama was a splendid city, well fortified, exceedingly popu¬
lous, adorned with stately buildings, and abounding in all
the luxuries of the East, during the time of the Crusaders.
It was one of the first cities that fell into the hands of the
Crusaders. In its neighbourhood many ancient ruins are
R A M
still to be seen. It is twenty-five miles west-north-west Itamagir
from Jerusalem. c T ^ Raineses
RAMAGIR Y, a town and fortress of the south ot India,
and province of Mysore. The fort is situated upon a ioc
and is of considerable strength, although it surrendered to
the British in 1791 without any resistance. The country
in the vicinity is very wild, being overrun with woods, deep
jungle, and dreadfully infested with tigers. There is but lit¬
tle cultivation, the peasants being chiefly employed in the
breeding of cattle. In this hilly tract there is a very mi
race of men, who subsist on game, wild roots, herbs and
fruits, and a little grain, which they purchase from the far¬
mers in exchange for drugs, honey, and wax. It is buy
miles north-east from Seringapatam. Long. //. o3. L. -Lat.
12.44. N.
RAMBERT, St, a town of France, in the department
of the Loire, and arrondissement of Montbrison. It is situ¬
ated on the river Loire, near to its source, but where it is
navigable. It has a hospital, and contains 430 houses, with
2600 inhabitants. It has a very extensive trade in wine .
and in the vicinity there are several extensive non foiges.
There is another town of the same name in the department
of the Aix, and arrondissement of Belley. It is situated in a
valley between two mountains, portions of the Jura lange,
on the river Albarine, and contains 390 houses, with 2430
inhabitants, who carry on considerable trade in hempen
RAMBERVILLERS, a large market-town of France,
in the department of the Vosges, and the arrondissement
of Epinal. It stands on a mountain, at the foot of which
runs the river Mortagne. It has a considerable number ot
iron forges in the vicinity, and much woollen and linen
cloth is manufactured; and there are mills for making^pa-
per. It contains a population of 5230 persons. Long. i. 5.
18. E. Lat. 48. 20. 43. N.
RAMB QUILLET, an arrondissement of the department
of the Seine and Oise, in France, extending over 2/5 square
miles. It is divided into five cantons, and these into eighty-
four communes, containing 67,500 inhabitants. The capital,
of the same name, is situated betweeq two w oods, has a royal
palace and park, and contains 2800 inhabitants. There is
here a large farm celebrated for breeding sheep witli the
finest wool.
RAMAZZINI, Bernaudin, an Italian physician, born
at Carpi, near Modena, in 1633. He w as professor of physic
in the university of Modena during eighteen years ; in D00
he accepted an invitation from Padua, where he was made
rector of the college ; and in 1714 he died. His works weie
collected and published in London in 1716; and of these,
his treatise De Morbis Artificum, or on the maladies pecu¬
liar to artificers, will always be esteemed curious and useful.
RAMDROOG, a hill-fortress of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Bejapoor, situated on the north side of the Mal-
purba river. It was taken from the Mahrattas, in 1 > 85,
by Tippoo Sultan, but was restored to them after the war
of 1793.
RAMERGH, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Hyderabad, belonging to the Nizam. Long. 79. 32. E.
Lat. 18. 31. N.
RAMESES, in Ancient Geography, a town built by the
Israelites during their bondage in Egypt, and whence the
Exodus took place. It must have been towards and not
far from the Arabian Gulf, seeing that in their third station
the Israelites arrived on its shore.
Rameses, king of Lower Egypt when Jacob went thither
with his family, in the 1706th year before the Christian era.
Ancient authors mention several other kings of Egypt of the
same name; and it is believed that one of these princes
erected, in the temple of the Sun at Thebes, the magnifi¬
cent obelisk which the Emperor Constantine caused to be
removed to Alexandria in the year 334. After the death
r
R A M
R A M
65
Ramgerry of this prince, his son Constantins had the obelisk trans¬
it ported from Alexandria to Rome in 352, where it was erect-
Raramis- e(j jn ^ cjrcus maximus. Its height exceeded 130 feet,
iseram Isle. when tjie Qotj,s sacked the city of Rome in 409, they
”'~v ~ overthrew the obelisk, which continued buried in the sand
till the time of Sixtus V. in 1587, when it was found broken
in three pieces ; but these being joined together, it was set
up in the square of St John Lateran.
RAMGERRY, a town and fortress of the south of India,
in the province of Malabar, situated on the Paniany river,
and taken by the British in 1782.
RAMGHAUT, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Delhi, pleasantly situated on the western bank of the Ganges,
and carrying on a considerable traffic. Long. 78. 22. E.
Lat. 28, 12- N.
RAMGONGA, a river of Hindustan, which rises in the
mountains of Thibet, and falls into the Ganges ten miles
north of the ancient city of Canonge. In some places it is
fordable ; but from quagmires and quicksands the fords are
dangerous.
RAMGUNGE, a town of Hindustan, in the nabob of
Oude’s territories, twenty- five miles south-west from Luck¬
now'. Long. 80. 35. E. Lat. 26. 37. N.
RAMGUR, an extensive district and town of Hindustan,
in the province of Bahar. The district is situated about
the 24th degree of north latitude, and is one of the most
unproductive in India. Its boundaries on the north are the
district of Bahar proper; on the south, Nagpoor and Pachete;
on the east, Monghir and Pachete ; and on the west, Pa-
lamow. Other limits, however, are assigned to the modern
district, which comprehends a much greater space, and may
be considered as belonging to the ancient province of Gund-
wana. A great part of the territory is mountainous, the soil
is of rock, and a considerable portion of it is overrun with
impenetrable woods. The chief produce is a coarse rice.
All the hills abound with iron, which is fused by the natives
* in large quantities, and sold. The chief rivers are the Dum-
moodah and the Burrahkur ; and the principal towns are
Ramgur, Chittra, and Muckundgunge. A great part of the
population consists of Hindus, though it was conquered by the
Mahommedans in the middle of the sixteenth century. The
capital, of the same name, is situated on the northern bank
of the Dummoodah river, and formerly possessed a strong
fortress. It is 910 miles north-west from Calcutta. Long.
84. 35. E. Lat. 20. 38. N.
RAMGURRY, one of the innumerable hill-forts with
which the face of the country in India is in many parts
studded. It is situated in the province of Mysore, on a
very steep rock, and is well fortified by art. It is twenty
miles south-west of Chitteldroog.
RAMILLIES, a small village of Brabant, in the Nether¬
lands, twelve miles north of Namur, and twenty-two south¬
east of Brussels. Long. 4.48. E. Lat. 50.51. N. It is famous
for the battle fought by the allies commanded by the Duke
of Marlborough and M. d’Auverquerque, against that of the
twro crowns, commanded by the Duke of Bavaria and Mar¬
shal Villeroi, on the 22d of May 1706.
RAMKEWRA, a towm of Hindustan, belonging to the
peshwa of the Mahrattas, in the province of Bejapore, twen¬
ty-seven miles north east from Poonah. Long. 74. 20. E.
Lat. 18.41. N.
RAMLEAH, the name of a ridge of mountains in Ara¬
bia, crossing the division of Nedsjed, extending 250 miles
from south-west to north-east, and terminating within eighty
miles of Kalaat el Moilah.
RAMMISSER, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Khandeish, belonging to the Mahrattas, and situated at the
confluence of the rivers Ghirah and Tuptee. Long. 75. 21.
E. Lat. 21. 4. N.
RAMMISSERAM Isle, an island situated in the straits
between the island of Ceylon and the continent; it is eleven
VOL. xix.
miles in length, by six in breadth, and separated from the Ramnad
latter by a narrow strait. It is low, sandy, and uncultivated, li
and is of little value, except as a seat of Hindu superstition..
It possesses a celebrated pagoda, the entrance to which is
through a lofty gateway, about a hundred feet in height,
covered with carved work to the summit. It contains a town
called Panban ; but its chief value is derived from a cele¬
brated temple, which is about six hundred feet square, and
is one of the finest pieces of architecture in India. The
entrance into this temple is by a door forty-six feet in height,
placed perpendicularly, with others crossing, and in mas¬
siveness of workmanship resembling the Egyptian style of
architecture. None is permitted to enter into the inner
temples except the attendants of Brahmins, who live in the
town, and have their share of the offerings. The expenses
of the rajah of Tanjore at this place usually amounted to
60,000 pagodas. No water is used except what is brought
all the way from the Ganges, and is poured over the deity
every morning, and then sold to the devout, by which a
considerable revenue accrues to the temple. The capital
is about nine miles distant from the great temple.
RAMNAD, a town and capital of a district of the same
name, in the south of India, and province of Marawar. This
pollam or zemindary was granted to the ancestors of the
present family, on condition of their granting protection to
the pilgrims on their road to Rammisseram, and for which
protection they were also to pay a tax. The ruler is a
lady, styled the rannee, who has a clear revenue of 90,000
pagodas a year, of which she pays one half to the Company,
reserving 45,000 for herself. Here is a fort built many
years ago by the rannee’s ancestors, but never completed.
The palace adjoins it, and is a gloomy building, with lofty
walls, and no window on the outside. Near it is the tomb
of the rannee’s deceased husband, and a Protestant church
of very neat architecture. Betel-nut from Ceylon, and
red silk cloths from Bengal, constitute the chief imports;
and the exports are piece-goods, cotton, and conch-shells.
RAMNAGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Allahabad, and district of Benares, which stands on the east¬
ern bank of the Ganges, opposite the city of Benares, and is
esteemed one of the neatest towns of its size in India; the
houses are of stone, and the streets of a good breadth. It
contains also the palace of the rajah, and a very handsome
small temple, covered with figures in alto-relievo, having in
front an extensive reservoir, and surrounded by gardens.
It was the favourite residence of Cheyt Sing. Long. 83.
1. E. Lat. 25. 30. N.
RAMNODE, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta ter¬
ritories, and province of Malwah, forty miles south-east from
Narwar. Long. 78. 5. E. Lat. 25. 6. N.
R AMPANT, in Heraldry, a term applied to a lion, leo¬
pard, or other beast that stands on its hind-legs, and rears
up his fore-feet in the posture of climbing, thus showing
only half his face. It is different from salient, in which the
beast seems springing forward as if making a sally.
RAMPART, in Fortification, is an elevation of the earth
thrown out of a ditch round a place, and capable of resisting
the cannon of an enemy. It is formed into bastions, curtains,
and other defences.
RAMPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta pro¬
vince of Malwah, thirteen miles east from Bopal. Long. 77.
42. E. Lat. 23. 15. N.
RAMPOOR, a town and district of Hindustan, province
of Delhi, in the district of Bareily, situated on the banks
of the Gorilla river. This town and district was, by the
peace of Lahdong, in 1774, secured to Fyzoola Khan, a
Rohilla chief. His eldest son succeeded at his death. He
was afterwards assassinated by his second son, who seized
the throne; but the latter was soon afterwards expelled by
a British force under Sir Ralph Abercromby, and his trea¬
sures seized, amounting in value to L.640,000, and delivered
L
G0>
Ti A M
llniiisav.
IJnmpoora up to the nabob of Oude, who presented the British army
with eleven lacs of rupees for their services. The country
was in a highly cultivated and flourishing condition under
the just administration of its native ruler Fyzoola Khan ;
but it quickly decayed, and was reduced to a deplorable
Condition under the extortions of the British, to whom it
was ceded in 1801.
RAMPOORA, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Gujerat, and district of Chalawara. This place had former¬
ly a respectable fort, which was destroyed in 1805. In the
neighbourhood are many pallias or stones, erected to the
memory of persons who have fallen in defence ot the vil¬
lage. These monuments are also erected in honour of fe¬
males who have sacrificed themselves to the memory of their
deceased husbands.
RAMSAY, Allan, a Scottish poet, was born at Lead-
hills in Lanarkshire, in October 1686. His father was em¬
ployed in the management of Lord Hopetoun’s mines at that
place; but died whilst the poet was yet in his infancy, in
consequence of which, and the marriage of his mother soon
after his father’s death, it seems probable that, during the
earlier part of his life, he continued in rather a destitute si¬
tuation. He remained at Leadhills till he reached his fif¬
teenth year, and was employed in washing, preparing the
lead ore for smelting, and other operations about the works
in which the children of miners and young persons are usu¬
ally employed.
In 1701, when in his fifteenth year, he was bound ap¬
prentice to a wigmaker in Edinburgh ; and it appears fiom
the record of his children’s birth in the parish registei that
he continued in the same humble profession until the year
1716. One of the earliest of Ramsay’s productions now
known, an address to the members of the Easy Club, ap¬
peared in 1712, when he was twenty-six years of age; and
three years afterwards he was humorously appointed their
poet laureat. Many of his poems written about this time
were published in the form of separate pamphlets. When
he had followed the occupation of wigmaker for a consider¬
able time, he at last abandoned it for that of bookseller,
as being more congenial to the literary turn of his mind.
His detached pamphlets were afterwards published by him
in the year 1721, in one volume 4to, which was encouraged
by a very liberal subscription. The first volume of his well-
known collection, the Tea-table Miscellany, was published
in 1724, after which a second volume soon made its appear¬
ance, a third came forth in 1727, and a fourth after another
interval of time. He soon afterwards published what is
called the Evergreen, being a collection of Scotch poems
written by ingenious poets prior to the year 1600. In 1725
appeared his Gentle Shepherd, part ot which, called Patie
and Roger, was printed in 1721, and Jenny and Meggy in
1723, the great success of which induced him to form them
afterwards into a regular drama.
In the year 1728, he published a second volume of his
poems, which was afterwards reprinted in 8vo. These per¬
formances so rapidly enlarged the circle ot his fame and
reputation, that in 1731 an edition of his poetical works was
published by the booksellers of London, and two years after¬
wards they appeared at Dublin. From his shop opposite to
Niddry Street, he removed to one at the east end of the
Luckenbooths. In this shop he continued to sell and lend
out books until he was far advanced in years; and we have
reason to believe that he was the first person who establish¬
ed a circulating library in Scotland. His collection of Fa¬
bles appeared in 1730, after which period he may be said to
have almost discontinued the occupation of author.
Such, however, was his enterprising spirit, that he built,
at his own expense, the first theatre lor dramatical perform¬
ances ever known in Edinburgh, which took place in what is
called Carrubber’s Close, in the year 1736 ; but he did not
long enjoy his character of manager, for the magistrates of
R A M
Edinburgh required him to shut it up, as an act of parlia- Ramsay.
ment prohibited all such amusements without a special li¬
cense and his majesty’s letters patent. It is generally un¬
derstood that he relinquished the trade of bookseller about
the year 1755, being then sixty-nine years of age, and lived
the remainder of his days in a small house erected by him¬
self on the north side of the Castle-hill. A scorbutic com¬
plaint, attended with excruciating pain, deprived him of his
teeth, and, after corroding one of his jaw-bones, put a period
to his existence on the 7th of June D58, in the seventy-
first year of his age. _
Ramsay possessed a very considerable snare of poetical
genius. Of this his Gentle Shepherd, which will continue
to be admired as long as the language in which it is written
shall be understood, and especially by the natives of North
Britain, to whom only the pecul iarities of dialect by which
it is distinguished can be familiar, affords the best proof.
Some of his songs may contain far-fetched allusions and
childish conceits; but many of them are equal, if not su¬
perior, in their pastoral simplicity, to productions of a simi¬
lar nature in any other language. Some of the imitations
of the ancients by this poet are extremely happy ; and seve¬
ral of his tales have all the excellencies that belong to that
species of composition. But of a great proportion of his
other productions it may be pronounced with truth that they
are mere prosaic compositions, filled with the most common¬
place observations, and destitute even of the ornament of
smooth versification and correct rhymes. A complete edi¬
tion of his works, with a Life, written by the late Mr George
Chalmers, wras published in two volumes 8vo.
Ramsay, Andrew Michael, generally known by the name
of the Chevalier Ramsay, a polite Scotch writer, was de¬
scended of a good family, and born at Ayr in 1686. His
parts and learning recommended him as tutor to the son ot
the Earl of Wemyss ; after which, conceiving a disgust for
the religion in w hich he had been educated, he in the same
humour reviewed other Christian churches, and, finding none
to his liking, rested for a time in Deism. Wnilst he was in
this uncertain state of mind, he wrent to Leyden, where, fall¬
ing into the company of one Poiret, a mystical divine, he re¬
ceived the infection of mysticism, which prompted him to
consult Fenelon, the celebrated archbishop of Cambray, who
had imbibed principles of the same nature, and who in 1709
gained him over to the Catholic religion, ihe subsequent
course of his life received its direction from his friendship
and connection with this illustrious prelate ; and being ap¬
pointed governor to the Duke de Chateau-Thierry and the
Prince de Turenne, he was made a knight of the order of
St Lazarus. Ramsay was sent for to Rome by the Chevalier
de St George, to undertake the education of his children ;
but on his arrival there in 1724, he found so many intrigues
and dissensions, that he obtained the chevalier’s leave to re¬
turn to Paris. He died in 1743, in the office of intendant
to the Duke of Bouillon, prince de lurenne. Ihe prin¬
cipal w ork of his composition is the Travels of Cyrus, which
has been several times printed in English.
Ramsay, James, was born on the 25th of July 1733, at
Frasersburgh, a small town in the county of Aberdeen.
His parents were of most respectable character, but in cir¬
cumstances by no means affluent. From his earliest years
he discovered a serious disposition, and a strong thirst for
knowledge ; and after passing through the usual course of
a Scotch grammar-school education, he inclined to pursue
the studies necessary to qualify him for the profession of
clergyman. Several circumstances, however, conspired to
divert him for a time from his favourite pursuit.
He was educated in the episcopal persuasion ; and hav¬
ing been unhappy enough to lose his father whilst yet very
young, he found, upon his advancing towards the state of
manhood, that the joint fortunes of himself and his mother
could not bear the expense of a regular education in either
1
R A M
Eamsay. of the universities of Oxford or of Cambridge. Yielding,
—'~v~—therefore, to necessity, he resolved to study surgery and
pharmacy ; and was with this view bound apprentice to Dr
Findlay, a physician in Frasersburgh. But though obliged to
relinquish for a time his favourite studies, he did not think
ignorance excusable in a surgeon any more than in a cler¬
gyman ; nor did he conceive that he would ever become emi¬
nent in the profession in which circumstances had placed him,
merely by skill in setting a bone or compounding a medicine.
He determined, therefore, to make himself acquainted with
at least the outlines of the liberal arts and sciences ; and
with this view he repaired in 1750 to King’s College, Aber¬
deen, where he obtained one of the bursaries or exhibitions
which are there annually bestowed upon such candidates as
display the most accurate knowledge of the Latin language.
The small sum of five pounds, however, which none of these
bursaries exceeds, was still inadequate to the expense of
residence in college ; but our young student was soon des¬
tined to obtain a more valuable exhibition, also by his own
merit.
During the long vacation he returned to his master Dr
Findlay, and was by him intrusted with a very desperate
case in surgery, of which his management may be said to
have laid the foundation of his future fortunes. His skill
and excellent character recommended him so effectually to
Sir Alexander Ramsay of Balmain, that he presented him
with a bursary of fifteen pounds a year, which commenced
at the next session or term in the same college.
Sir Alexander, whom he visited during some of the va¬
cations, was so well pleased with his conversation, that he
promised him another bursary, in his gift, of L.25 a year,
to commence immediately on the expiration of that which
he enjoyed. This promise he performed in the beginning
of the year 1755; and, at the solicitation of Dr Findlay,
even paid the money in advance, to enable the exhibitioner
to travel for the purpose of improving himself in his pro¬
fession.
Thus provided, Mr Ramsay went to London, and studied
surgery and pharmacy under the auspices of Dr Macaulay,
in whose family he lived for two years, esteemed alike by
him and by his lady. Afterwards, having passed the usual
examination at Surgeons’ Hall, he served in his medical ca¬
pacity for several years in the royal navy.
Having met with an accident, by which his thigh-bone
was fractured, he once more turned his thoughts towards
the church ; and on coming home with Sir Charles Mid¬
dleton he was admitted into orders ; after which he imme¬
diately returned to St Christopher’s, where he was presented
by the governor to two rectories, valued at L.700 a year.
As soon as he took possession of his livings, in 1763, he
married Miss Rebecca Akers, the daughter of a planter of
the best family connections in the island, and began to re¬
gulate his household on the pious plan inculcated in his
Essay on the Treatment and Conversion of the African
Slaves in the British Sugar Colonies. He summoned all
his own slaves daily to the prayers of the family, when he
took an opportunity of pointing out to them their duty in
the plainest terms, reproving those who had done amiss,
and commending such as had shown anything like virtue.
Although his serious studies were now theological, he con¬
sidered himself as answerable to God, his country, and his
own family, for a proper use of every branch of knowledge
which he possessed. He therefore took the charge of se¬
veral plantations around him in the capacity of a medical
practitioner, and attended them with unremitting diligence
and with great success. Thus he lived till the year 1777,
when, relinquishing the practice of physic entirely, he paid
a visit to the place of his nativity, which he had not seen
since 1755. His mother, whose latter days he had made
comfortable by a handsome annuity, had been dead for some
years ; but he rewarded all who had been attentive to her,
R A M f57
or in early life serviceable to himself; and he continued the Itamsbmy
pension to his sister, who had a numerous family, for which II
her husband was unable to provide. Ramsey.
After remaining three weeks in Scotland, and nearly a ^
year in England, during which time he was admitted into
the confidence of Lord George Germaine, then secretary of
state for the American department, Mr Ramsay was appoint¬
ed chaplain to Admiral Barrington, at that time going out
to take a command in the West Indies. Under this gallant
officer, and afterwards under Lord Rodney, he was present
at several engagements, where he displayed a fortitude and
zeal for the honour of his country which would not have
disgraced the oldest admiral. To the navy, indeed, he
seems to have been strongly attached ; and, at an early pe¬
riod of his life, he wrote an Essay on the Duty and Qua¬
lifications of a Sea-officer, with such a knowledge of the
service as would have done honour to the pen of the most
experienced commander. Although caressed by the ad¬
mirals under whom he served, Mr Ramsay once more quit¬
ted the naval service, and retired to his pastoral charge in
the island of St Christopher’s. There, however, though the
former animosities against him had entirely subsided, and
though his friendship was now solicited by every person of
consequence in the island, he remained but a little time.
Sick of the life of a planter and of the prospect of slavery
around him, he resigned his livings, and bidding adieu to
the island, returned to England with his wife and family
in the end of the year 1781. Immediately on his arrival,
he was, through the interest of his steady friend Sir Charles
Middleton, presented to the livings of Teston and Nettle-
stead, in the county of Kent. Here he was soon determin¬
ed, by the advice of those whom he most respected, to
publish an Essay, which had been written many years be¬
fore, on the Treatment and Conversion of African Slaves
in the British Sugar Colonies. This publication involved
him in controversies which embittered his life. The agita¬
tion given to his mind, and the fatigues he underwent in
his endeavours to rescue from misery the most helpless por¬
tion of the human race, contributed to shorten a life which
had been in no common degree useful. He had for some
time been afflicted with a pain in his stomach, for which he
was prevailed upon, though with great reluctance, to try
the effects of air and exercise, by attempting a journey of a
hundred miles. But in London, being seized with a vio¬
lent vomiting of blood, he was unable to proceed and un¬
fit to be removed hence; and, in the house of Sir Charles
Middleton, he ended his days, on the 20th of July 1789.
His works, besides those to which we have already alluded,
consist of a volume of Sea-Sermons, and a Treatise on
Signals.
RAMSBURY, a town of the county of Wilts, in the
hundred of its own name, and 70 miles from London, is
situated on the river Kennet. It once had a market, which,
however, has declined. The population amounted in 1801
to 1963, in 1811 to 2095, in 1821 to 2335, and in 1831 to
2290.
R AMSEY, a market-town of the county of Huntingdon,
and hundred of Hurstingtone, sixty-eight miles from Lon¬
don. Near to it is the lake or mere of the same name, which
abounds with fish, chiefly eels and perch. There are the
remains of an abbey, once distinguished for its extent and
wealth, which is said to have been founded in the reign of
the Saxon king Edgar, the son of Athelstane. There is a
market, which is held on Saturday. The population amount¬
ed in 1801 to 1894, in 1811 to 2390, in 1821 to 2814, and
in 1831 to 3006.
Ramsey, a town in the parish of St Maugholds, in the
Isle of Man. It is situated on the north-east coast of the
island, about sixteen miles from Douglas. Though the
harbour is small, there is good anchorage in a spacious bay
near it, where there is a lighthouse, and the whole is de-
iii
68
ram
It contains about 500 houses and 2000
Ramsey fended by a fort.
Rais, a small island on the shore of the county of
—v— PeXkTm South Wales. It is nearly three quarters of
a mile in length and half a mile in breadth, and forms the
north point of St Bride’s Bay. It was formerly much fi t
quented by persons passing to Ireland, be1"” ^ L*Bride’s
water distance between the two islands ; as from S
70 Carnaroot Point, on the south-east angle of Ireland, is
only sixteen leagues
ly sixteen leagues. . .
RAMSGATE, a large town and port, onginaHy a hamlet,
in the parish of St Lawrence, in the Isle of Thanet, in
Kent, seventy-three miles from London, and seven
from Canterbury. It is situated in a P^^ant vafley on h
shore, with extensive views of the sea from the North and
South Foreland, and of the shipping in the Downs. It has
owed its rise to the construction of a most costly F^ y
which a harbour has been created, which serves as a refug
for shins in stormy weather. It is capable of containing
Sotli of vessels' The pies extends 800 feet m o the
sea, and its top, which is twenty-six feet broad, tomshesa
fine promenade. A new inner harbour is in proxies ,
and will speedily be opened. Ramsgate, like Margate, has
become a favourite place of resort for sea-bathing; and
though it has long been so, the number of visitors has vast¬
ly increased since the introduction of steam-vessels, by
which passengers may in a few hours be conveyed to and
from the metropolis. The accommodations for bathers are
good, and there are abundance of hotels and lodging-
houses to be procured at a moderate rate. There are a fine
assembly-room, numerous libraries, and a handsome chapel,
with meeting-houses for the various dissenting sects. It
has some trade to the Baltic; and many of the lower classes
are occupied as fishermen, pilots, and watermen. It is in
the liberty of the cinque port of Sandwich. The popula¬
tion amounted in 1801 to 3110, in 1811 to 4222, in 1821
to 6031, and in 1831 to 7985.
RAMTRUT, a deity worshipped by the Ranazms ot
Hindustan, where he has a celebrated temple at Onor. He
is represented as more resembling a monkey than a man.
RAMUS, Peter, was one of the most celebrated professors
of the sixteenth century. He was born in Picardy in 1515.
A thirst for learning prompted him, when very young, to re¬
pair to Paris, and he was admitted as a servant in the col¬
lege of Navarre. Spending the day in waiting on his mas¬
ters, and the greater part of the night in study, he made
such surprising progress, that, when he took his degree as
master of arts, he offered to maintain a doctrine quite oppo¬
site to that of Aristotle. This raised him many enemies;
and the first two books he published, Institutiones Dialec¬
tics and Aristotelicce Animadversiones, occasioned great
disturbances in the university of Paris. The opposition
against him was not a little heightened by his deserting the
Catholic religion, and professing that of the Pteformed. Be¬
ing thereby forced to retire from Paris, he visited the uni¬
versities of Germany, and received great honours wherever
he went. He returned to France in 1571, and lost his life
miserably during the massacre of St Bartholomew’s day.
He was a great orator, a man of general learning, and en¬
dowed with fine moral qualities. He published many books,
which Teissier enumerates. Ramus’s merit in his opposi¬
tion to Aristotle, and his firmness in undermining his autho¬
rity, is unquestionably very great. But it has been doubted,
and with much reason, whether he was equally successful
in his attempts to form a new logical institute, d’he fol¬
lowing general outline of his plan is given in Dr Enfield’s
History of Philosophy. “ Considering dialectics as the art
of deducing conclusions from premises, he endeavours to
improve this art, by uniting it with that of rhetoric. Of the
several branches of rhetoric, he considers invention and dis¬
position as belonging equally to logic. Making Cicero his
tEor mav serve to prove any assertion. Ut tnese ne enu
merates various kinds. Judgments he divides into axioms,
or self-evident propositions, dianoea or deductions by
means of a series of arguments. Both these he divides into
various classes ; and illustrates the whole by examples from
the ancient orators and poets.
« In the logic of Ramus, many things are borrowed from
Aristotle, and only appear under new names; and ™y
nthers ire derived from other Grecian sources, particularly
ftom the Mogues of Plato, and the logic of the Stoics.
The author has the merit of turning the art of reasoning
from the futile speculations of the schools to forensic an
common use; but his plan is defective in conhning the
whole dialectic art to the single object of disputation, and
in omitting many things, which respect the general culture
of the understanding and the investigation of tiuth. Not
withstanding the defects of his system, we cannot, how¬
ever subscribe to the severe censure which has been pass¬
ed upon Ramus by Lord Bacon and others; for much is,
we think, due to him for having with so much firmness and
perseverance asserted the natural freedom of the human
understanding. The logic of Ramus obtained great autho¬
rity in the schools of Germany, Great Britain, Holland,
and France; and long and violent contests arose between his
followers and those of the Stagyrite, till his fame vanished
before that of Descartes.
RAN, in the old English writers, means open or public
robbery, so manifest as not to be denied. Ran dicitur aper-
ta rapina quee neyuri non potest. (Lamb. 125, Leg. La-
nut. cap. 58.) Hence it is now commonly said of one who
takes the goods of another injuriously and violently, that
he has snatched or taken all that he could rap and ran.
RANAI, or Oranai, one of the Sandwich Islands, in the
North Pacific Ocean, about nine miles from Mowee. I he
population is estimated at 20,000. The island produces
few plantains or bread-fruit trees; but abounds m yams,
sweet potatoes, and other esculent roots and vegetables.
Long. 185. 23. E. Lat. 20. 51. N. . , .
RANDAZZO, a city of the district Demone, in the in¬
tendency of Messina, in Sicily. It stands on the side o
Mount iEtna, looking over a rich and extensive plain, near
a curious lake abounding in spunges, the collecting ot
which forms a part of the employment of the inhabitants.
It is 120 miles from Palermo, and moderately healthy. Ihe
population amounts to 4700.
RANDERS, a city of Denmark, the capital of a baili¬
wick of the same name, in the province Aarhuus. It is si¬
tuated at the mouth of the river Guden, and was once larger,
and fortified. It now contains 515 houses and 4570 inha¬
bitants, who make some cloths, and have breweries and dis¬
tilleries. Long. 9. 58. 22. E. Lat. 56. 27. 48. N.
RANDIER, a town of Hindustan, in the province ot
Gujerat, and district of Broach, which is said to have been in
ancient times a large city. It is situated opposite to Surat,
on the north side of the Tuptee river. Long. 73. 3. E. Lat.
21. 16. N.
RANDOLPH. Thomas, an English poet in the seven¬
teenth century, was born in Northamptonshire in 1605. He
was educated at Westminster and Cambridge, and very
early distinguished by his excellent genius; for about the
age of nine or ten years he wrote the History of the Incar¬
nation of our Saviour in verse. His subsequent writings
established his character, and gained him the esteem and
friendship of some of the greatest men of that age, particu¬
larly of Ben Jonson, who adopted him as one of his sons in
the muses. He died in the year 1634, and was honourably
andom
Shot
II
sm goon.
RAN
interred. His principal works are, 1. The Muses’ Looking-
glass, a comedy; 2. Amyntas, or the Impossible Dowry, a
pastoral, acted before the king and queen ; 3. Aristippus, or
the Jovial Philosopher; 4. The Conceited Pedlar ; 5. Hie
Jealous Lovers, a Comedy; 6. Hey for Honesty, down with
Knavery, a Comedy ; and several other poems.
RANDOM Shot, in Gunnery, is a shot made when the
muzzle of a gun is raised above the horizontal line, and is
not designed to shoot directly or point black. The utmost
random of any piece is about ten times as far as the bullet
will go point blank. The bullet will go farthest when the
piece is mounted at an angle of about forty-five degrees
above the level range.
RANGALORE, a town and fortress of Hindustan, in
the province of the Northern Circars, and district of Cica-
cole. Long. 83. 20. E. Lat. 18. 20. N.
RANGAMUTTY, a town and district of Hindustan, in
the north-western extremity of Bengal, situated about the
twenty-sixth degree of north latitude, and formerly includ¬
ed in the extensive kingdom of Kamroop. After its sub ¬
jugation by the Mahommedans, about the middle of the
seventeenth century, it was annexed to the collectors!) ip of
Rungpore. It has for its boundaries Bootan on the north,
the Garrow Hills on the south, Assam on the east, and
Cooch Bahar and Rungpoor on the west. It is a ufild un¬
cultivated country, stretching on both sides of the Brahma¬
putra, easterly, to the confines of Assam. Many parts of
the country, the area of which is 2620 square miles, might
be rendered extremely productive, although at present they
yield little more than a few elephants, which are caught
annually in the neighbouring forests. The chief river is
the Brahmaputra, which nearly intersects the country; and
the principal towns are Rangamutty and Goalporah. 1 he
former is situated near the hills, between two tributary
streams of the Brahmaputra. It has declined from its an¬
cient prosperity. Long. 90. E. Lat. 26. 9. N.
RANGE, in Gunnery, the path of a bullet, or the line
it describes from the mouth of the piece to the point where
it lodges. If the piece lie in a line parallel to the horizon,
it is called the right or level range ; if it be mounted to
45°, it is said to have the utmost range ; and all others be¬
tween 0° and 45° are called the intermediate ranges.
RANGER, a sworn officer of a forest, appointed by the
king’s letters patent, and whose proper business it is to walk
through his charge, to drive back the deer out of the pur¬
lieus, and to present all trespasses within his jurisdiction at
the next forest court.
RANGOON, a city and principal sea-port of the Bur-
man empire, in the province of Pegu. It is situated on
the Rangoon river, one of the mouths of the great Irrawad¬
dy, about twenty-four miles from its mouth. The river is
broad, deep, and navigable. At its entrance it is nearly a
mile in width, and is distinguished by a clump of trees called
the Elephant, which stands on the western point. It gra¬
dually narrows to about a quarter of a mile opposite Ran¬
goon. There is a depth of from six to eight fathoms water
in the river, and no shoals ; and there are four fathoms wa¬
ter on the bar at half flood. About three miles below the
town is the mouth of the Syriam or Pegu river, where it
joins the Rangoon. The country above is level, and agree¬
ably variegated with clumps of trees; although it appears
to be much depopulated, from the frequent wars between
the Burmese and Peguers. The town, with the exception
of the public offices, and one or two houses, is built of wood,
extends along the bank of the river about a mile, and is
about half or three quarters of a mile in breadth. It is built
in the form of a square, surrounded by a stockade fifteen
feet high, and on the north side it is farther strengthened by
an indifferent fosse, across which a wooden bridge is thrown.
The fort or stockade is an irregular square, the north and
south faces of which were found to measure 1145 yards, the
RAN 6!)
east 598, and the west 187. On the north face there are Rangoon.^
two gates and a sally-port, on the south three gates and
three sally-ports, on the east two gates, and on the west
one gate and one sally-port. The stockade is fifteen feet
high, and is composed of heavy beams of teak timber. The
city and its suburbs are divided into eight wards, superin¬
tended by an officer, whose business it is to maintain, watch,
and ward within his division. The palisaded fort or stock¬
ade is a town composed of three wide and clean streets run¬
ning east and west, and three smaller ones crossing them,
and fronting the gates of the south face. The most popu¬
lous part of the town is the suburb called Tackally, imme¬
diately on the west face of the stockade. Wooden stages
are erected within the stockade for musketeers to stand on
in case of attack. A battery of twelve pieces of cannon,
raised on the banks, commands the river; but it has fallen
into disrepair. The towm has by no means an imposing
appearance. The wooden buildings along the banks of the
river resemble barns, though the great temple of Shoe Da-
goon, in the midst of its intermediate spires, forms a splen¬
did object. This temple is a well-known place of pilgri¬
mage ; it is frequented by many strangers during the ver¬
nal festival in March, when, as it is usual in the East to con¬
nect commerce and religion, a great fair is held near it. It
is the only temple frequented as a common place of wor¬
ship by the inhabitants of Rangoon and its vicinity. The
principal part of the city is situated within the stockade ; the
streets are wide and at right angles ; and one or two houses
only are built of brick and chunam, the chief of which is
the custom-house. The dwellings of the common people
are constructed of posts driven into the ground, at the dis¬
tance of two or three feet, from which there is a bamboo
grating forming the floor. The roof is covered with the
leaves of the palmyra, or long grass twisted round and
sewed to slips of bamboo. The houses of the priests are
large buildings of teak, with substantial tiled roofs; the
floors are commonly eight or twelve feet from the ground,
and many of them are carved. In these are contained the
marble or gilded wooden images of Gaudma, seated on an
oak, in which their sacred books are contained. The suburb
of Tackally, inhabited by the lower classes, is more populous
than the town itself. Almost all the houses here, as in other
parts, are composed of the cheapest and frailest materials, and
are peculiarly liable to destruction by fire. In March 1826,
Mr Crawford, who w’as sent on an embassy to Ava, saw the
whole suburb burned to the ground in a few hours, from
the accident of a pot boiling over. It was reconstructed
in less than a month, and the houses were far more nume¬
rous than before the accident. The great pagoda or golden
temple is situated two and a half miles in the rear of Ran¬
goon ; the road to it is through one of the northern gates,
by a causeway across the fosse. The road then ascends be¬
tween two rows of smaller pagodas, until the eminence is
reached upon which the temple is situated, occupying the
highest of three platforms. The building is octagonal at
the base and spiral at the top, and is estimated at 330 feet
in height. It is highly gilt on the top, and is an umbrella of
open iron work, surmounted by a vane, and a small globe
of glass. Bells are hung round the lower part. There are
no apertures in the building, which is solid throughout.
It has small niches all around, that formerly contained
images of marble and wood. But these were mostly removed
by the English when they occupied the town during the
Burmese war. The smaller pagodas were also mostly pil¬
laged by the soldiery. On the southern side of the pagoda
is a beautiful pavilion, gilt and painted, containing an image
of Gaudma, of gigantic dimensions. The river Rangoon
is extremely commodious for ship-building, which is carried
on to a great extent. The spring-tides rise to the perpen¬
dicular height of twenty feet. The banks are soft, and so
flat that there is need of little labour for the formation of
70
RAN
RAN
Ranks and docks, and vessels of any burden may be built. It is esti-
I' lies mated that vessels can be built at Rangoon for one third
lianny-
poor.
less than at Bombay. This capital of the Burmese empire
is the resort of traders from all nations ; and it is also an
'asylum for less respectable characters, such as insolvent
debtors from different settlements of India, foreigners of
desperate fortunes, who are received in the most friendly
manner by the Burmans, and generally support themselves
by some petty traffic. Malabars, Moguls, Persians, Parsees,
Armenians, Portuguese, French, and English, men of all
countries and of all complexions, are here seen mingled
together on the exchange ; and all meet with the most per¬
fect toleration for their religion, provided they do not med¬
dle with the worship of the Burmese divinity, Guadma,
or with the ceremonies of any other sect. A considerable
portion of the inhabitants are Chinese, who are merchants,
shopkeepers, artisans, and constitute the most industrious
portion of the community. A share of the trade is also en¬
grossed by the Parsees, Armenians, and a small portion of
the Mahommedans, who are also selected by government
to fill offices of trust that relate to the trade and the trans¬
actions of foreigners.
The imports from the British settlements consist chiefly
of coarse piece-goods, glass, hardware, and broad cloth.
The returns are chiefly made in timber, with which Ma¬
dras is mostly supplied from Rangoon. The trade is car¬
ried on in boats, about ten or twelve of which are annually
fitted out, and about thirty more from various towns on
the Irrawaddy river. These proceed by the way of the
Bassein river, through the channels which divide the great
Negrais from the continent, along the coast of Arracan, to
Luckipore, Dacca, Calcutta, Bogwandola, and even to Pat¬
na and Benares. They carry each a crew of from twenty
to twenty-five men; and on an average 4000 rupees in
bullion, the remainder of the cargo consisting of sheathing
boards, sticks of copper from China, sticklac, cutch, ivory,
and wax.
The inhabitants are stout and athletic, the men being
about five feet eight inches in height, with straight muscular Rant
limbs; the women rather diminutive, but well formed in every II
respect, except the nose, which is flat. Both sexes are of a
copper colour; they are lively and inquisitive ; almost all ^ ^ _
of them read and write, and have no prejudices that ob¬
struct the progress of improvement. The women are not
immured at home like those of Hindustan, but superintend
the domestic economy, and weave the clothes worn by the
men. Their own dress is scanty, and scarcely affords them
a decent covering. They are not strict in their morals ;
and the men are in the practice of selling their wives and
their daughters. The population is estimated at 30,000 ;
but Crawford, on a census which he directed to be made
whilst in the country, states it at 181,000. Long. 96. 9. E.
Lat. 16. 47. N.
RANK, the order or place assigned to a person, suitably
to his quality or merit.
Rank is a straight line formed by the soldiers of a bat¬
talion or squadron, drawn up side by side. This order was
established for the marches, and for regulating the different
bodies of troops and officers which compose an army.
Hank and Precedence, in the army and navy, are estimated
as follows:
Engineers’ Rank. Chief, as colonel; director, as lieu¬
tenant-colonel ; sub-director, as major ; engineer in ordi¬
nary, as captain; engineer extraordinary, as captain-lieu-
tenant; sub-engineer, as lieutenant; practitioner engineer,
as ensign.
Navy Rank. Admiral, or commander-in-chief of his
majesty’s fleet, has the rank of a field-marshal; admirals,
with their flags on the main-topmast-head, rank with ge¬
nerals of horse and foot; vice-admirals, with lieutenant-
generals ; rear-admirals, as major generals ; commodores
with broad pendants, as brigadier-generals ; captains of post¬
ships, after three years from the date of their first commis¬
sion, as colonels ; other captains, as commanding post-ships,
as lieutenant-colonels; captains not taking post, as majors;
lieutenants, as captains.
Rank between the Army, Navy, and Governors.
Army.
Navy.
Governors.
General-in-chief.
Admiral-in-chief.
Commander-in-chief of the forces in America.
Generals of horse.
Admiral with a flag at the
main-topmast.
Captain-generals of provinces.
Lieutenant-generals.
Vice-admirals.
Lieutenant-generals of provinces.
Major-generals.
Rear-admirals.
Lieutenant-governors and presidents.
Colonels.
Post-captains of three years.
Lieutenant-governors not commanding.
Lieutenant-colonels.
Post-captains.
Governors of charter colonies.
Majors.
Captains.
Deputy-governors.
Captains.
Lieutenants.
Established by the king, 1760.
Ranks and Files are the horizontal and vertical lines of
soldiers when drawn up for service.
RANNY BEDNORE, a port and town of Hindustan,
in the Balaghaut ceded territories. It is sixty miles north¬
east from Chitteldroog. Long. 75. 42. E. Lat. 14. 33. N.
RANNYPOOR, a town of Hindustan, province of Mal-
wah, in the Mahratta territories. It is forty-four miles
north-west from Chatterpoor. Long. 79. 16. E. Lat. 25.
13. N.
RANS DES VACHES, or Haas des Vaches, a cele¬
brated melody of the cow-herds in Switzerland. There
seem to be several melodies of that name, employed to as¬
semble the cows in the evening, and to lead them home
from their Alpine pastures. The great violinist Viotti wrote
down one of these, which he heard amongst the valleys of
Switzerland; and used to perform it with such effect in
London as to draw tears from his auditors. It has been
frequently related, on unquestionable authority, that Swiss
RAP RAP 71
ansom soldiers on foreign service, when they happened to hear the
!l ram des vaches performed, were so overpowered by its ef-
feet as to be rendered incapable of attending to their duty.
We know a British officer in the army who witnessed a re¬
markable instance of this effect in the military band attach¬
ed to an English regiment. In Rogers’ Pleasures of Me¬
mory there is an elegant allusion made to the nostalgia or
homesickness produced by the runs des vaches upon Swiss
soldiers in foreign lands.
RANSOM, a sum of money paid for the redemption of
a slave, or the liberty of a prisoner of war. In our law¬
books, ransom also means a sum paid for the pardon of
some great offence, and to obtain the offender’s liberty.
RANTAMPORE, a fortress of Hindustan, and the capi¬
tal of a district of the same name, in the province of Ajmeer,
and in the middle of the Arrabarne Hills. It is said to
have been built in the thirteenth century, and is esteemed
one of the largest and strongest fortresses in India ; but as
it has never been visited by any Europeans, its strength is
not accurately known. The travelling distance is 120 miles
south-west from Agra, and 260 miles from Oojain. Long.
76. 25. E. Lat. 26. 2. N.
RAPE, in Law, the carnal knowledge of a woman for¬
cibly and against her will. This, by the Jewish law, was
punished with death, in case the damsel was betrothed to
another man ; and in case she was not betrothed, then a
heavy fine of fifty shekels was to be paid to the damsel’s
father, and she was to be the wife of the ravisher all the
days of his life, without that power of divorce which was
in general permitted by the Mosaic law.
The Roman law punishes with death and confiscation of
goods the crime of ravishment, under which it includes
both the oftence of forcible abduction, or taking away a
woman from her friends, and also the present one of for¬
cibly dishonouring her ; either of which, without the other,
is in that law sufficient to constitute a capital crime. The
stealing away a woman from her parents or guardians, and
debauching her, is equally penal by the emperor’s edict,
whether she consent or be forced ; and this in order to take
away every opportunity of offending in this way from wo¬
men, whom the Roman law supposes never to go astray
without the seduction and arts of the other sex ; and there¬
fore, by restraining and making so highly penal the solici¬
tations of the men, they meant to secure effectually the
honour of the women. But our English law does not en¬
tertain quite such sublime ideas of the honour of either
sex, as to lay the blame of a mutual fault upon one of the
transgressors only; and therefore it is a necessary ingre¬
dient in the crime of rape, that it must be against the
woman’s will.
Rape was punished by the Saxon laws, particularly those
of Athelstane, with death ; which was also agreeable to the
old Gothic or Scandinavian constitution. But this was af¬
terwards thought too hard; and in its stead another severe
but not capital punishment was inflicted by William the
Conqueror, namely, castration and loss of eyes, which conti¬
nued till after Bracton wrote, in the reign of Henry III. But
in order to prevent malicious accusations, it was then the
law (and, it seems, still continues to be so in appeals of
rape), that the woman should, immediately afterwards, go
to the next town, and there make discovery to some credi¬
ble persons, of the injury she had suffered, and afterwards
should acquaint the high constable of the hundred, the co¬
roners, and the sheriff, with the outrage. This seems to
correspond in some degree with the laws of Scotland and
Aragon, which require that complaint must be made within
twenty-four hours ; though afterwards, by statute Westm.
1, c. 13, the time of limitation in England was extended to
forty days. At present there is no time of limitation fixed;
for, as it is usually now punished by indictment at the suit
of the king, the maxim of law takes place, that nullum tem-
pus occurrit regi ; but the jury will rarely give credit to a Raphael,
stale complaint. During the former period also it was held v-—“y——
for law, that the woman, by consent of the judge and her
parents, might redeem the offender from the execution of
his sentence, by accepting him for her husband; if he also
was willing to agree to the exchange, but not otherwise.
In the 3d Edward I. by the statute Westm. 1, c. 13, the
punishment of rape was much mitigated ; the offence itself,
of ravishing a damsel within age, that is, twelve years old,
either with or without her consent, or of any other woman
against her will, being reduced to trespass, if not prose¬
cuted by appeal within forty days, and subjecting the offen¬
der only to two years’ imprisonment, and a fine at the king’s
will. But this lenity being productive of the worst conse¬
quences, it was, in ten years afterwards, 13 Edward L, found
necessary to make the offence of forcible I'ape felony by
statute Westm. 2, c. 34. And by statute 18 Elizabeth, c.
7, it is made felony without benefit of clergy ; as is also the
abominable wickedness of carnally knowing or abusing any
woman-child under the age of ten years, in which case the
consent or non-consent is immaterial, as by reason of her
tender years she is incapable of judgment and discretion.
Sir Matthew Hale is indeed of opinion that such profligate
actions committed on an infant under the age of twelve
years, the age of female discretion by the common law,
either with or without consent, amount to rape and felony,
as well since as before the statute of Queen Elizabeth. But
that law has in general been held only to extend to infants
under ten; though it should seem that damsels between
ten and twelve are still under the protection of the statute
Westm. 1, the law with respect to their seduction not hav¬
ing been altered by either of the subsequent statutes.
A male infant, under the age of fourteen years, is pre¬
sumed by law to be incapable of committing a rape, and
therefore, it seems, cannot be found guilty of it. For though
in other felonies malitia supplet cetatem ; yet, as to this par¬
ticular species of felony, the law supposes an imbecility of
body as well as mind.
The civil law seems to suppose a prostitute or common
harlot incapable of any injuries of this kind ; not allowing
any punishment for violating the chastity of her who has
indeed no chastity at all, or at least has no regard to it.
But the law of England does not judge so hardly of offend¬
ers, as to cut off all opportunity of retreat even from com¬
mon strumpets, and to treat them as incapable of amend¬
ment. It therefore holds it to be felony to force even a con¬
cubine or harlot, because the woman may have forsaken that
unlawful course of life ; for, as Bracton well observes, licet
ineretrix fuerit antea, certe tunc temporis non fuit, cum recla-
mando nequitice ejus consentire 'noluit.
RAPHAEL, or Raffaelle, d’Urbino, the greatest,
most sublime, and most excellent painter that has appear¬
ed since the revival of the fine arts, was the son of an in¬
different painter named Sanzio, and was born at Urbino on
Good Friday 1482. The popes Julius II. and Leo X., who
employed him, loaded him with wealth and honour ; and it
is said that Cardinal de St Bibiana had such a value for him
that he offered him his niece in marriage. His genius is
admired in all his pictures; his contours are free, his de¬
signs correct, his figures elegant, his expressions lively, his
attitudes natural, his heads graceful; in fine, everything
is grand, beautiful, just, natural, and adorned with grace.
These various perfections he derived not only from his ex¬
cellent abilities, but from his study of antiquity and anatomy,
and from the friendship which he contracted with Ariosto,
who contributed not a little to the improvement of his taste.
His pictures are to be found principally in Italy and in Paris.
That of the Transfiguration, preserved at Rome in the church
of St Peter Monterio, passes for his masterpiece. Raphael
had a handsome person, was well proportioned, and had great
sweetness of temper; he was polite, affable, and modest.
72
Raphaim
RAP
R A S
llapin de
Thoyras.
?i:=s:s=sssf
best architect too, on which a?c” 1 p ^e°. ^‘ut he&was too
much5addicted^ to ^whlch occasioned his death at
the early age of thirty-seven. See Painting.
ValR A.PH AnTdOSIS, a particular kind of punishment in¬
flicted at Athens upon adulterers. f d sword,
RAPIER, formerly signified a long o1d--faSh onc ,
such as those worn by the common s0!d/f f ’ bU^atk.sword.
a small sword, as contradistinguished to a back sworu
RAPIN, Rene, a Jesuit and eminent French wn er, w£ s
born at Tours in 1621. He taught polite literature in the
society of the Jesuits with great applause, and was jm y
SSed one of the best Latin poe,S and gteates w.ts of
his time. He died at Paris m the year 1687. His princi
nal works were, 1. A great number of Latin poems, which
have rendered him famous throughout all Europe, am0"S®
which are his Hdorum libri c/mtuor ; 2. RrfecMns on Ho-
nuence, Poetry, History, and Philosophy ; 3. Comparisons
between Virgil and Homer, Demosthenes and Cicero, I lato
and Wstote Thucydides and Titus Livius; 4. T he Ht^ory
of Jansenism ; and, 5. Several works on religious subjects.
The best edition of his Latin poems is that of Pans in i -3,
in three vols. 12mo. ,, .
Rapin de Thoyras, Paul de, a celebrated historian, was
the son of James de Rapin, lord of Thoyras, and was born
at Castres in 1661. He was at first educated under a tutor
in his father’s house, and afterwards sent to Puylaurens, and
thence to Samur. In 1679 he returned to his father, with
a design to apply himself to the study of the law, and was
admitted an advocate ; but some time afterwards, reflecting
that his being a Protestant would prevent his advancement
at the bar, he resolved to quit the profession of the law, and
to apply himself to that of the sword. His father, however,
would not consent to the change. The revocation of the
edict of Nantes in 1685, and the death of his father, which
happened two months afterwards, made him resolve to come
to England ; but as he had no hopes of any settlement there,
his stay was but short. He therefore went to Holland, and
enlisted himself in the company of French volunteers at
Utrecht, commanded by M. Rapin, his cousin-german, r e
attended the Prince of Orange into England in 1688 ; and
the following year Lord Kingston made him an ensign in
his regiment, with which he proceeded to Ireland, where he
gained the esteem of his officers at the siege of Carrickfergus,
and soon received a lieutenant’s commission. He was pre¬
sent at the battle of the Boyne, and was shot through the
shoulder at the siege of Limerick. He was soon afterwards
made captain of the company in which he had been ensign ;
but, in 1693, he resigned his company to one of his brothers,
in order to become tutor to the Earl of Portland’s son. In
1699, he married Marianne Testard ; but this marriage nei¬
ther abated his care of his pupil, nor prevented his accom¬
panying him in his travels. Having finished this employ¬
ment, he returned to his family, which he had settled at the
Hague ; and there he continued some years. But as he
found his family increase, he resolved to retire to some cheap
country ; and accordingly removed, in 1707,to Wesel,where
he wrote his History of England, and some other works.
Though he was of a strong constitution, yet seventeen years’
application, for so long was he engaged in composing his
great work, entirely ruined his health. He died in 1725.
Rask.
S 1 7hnt of the Ha-rie. It has been translated into Eng-
lisb11 an^ improved with note,, by Mr Tindal In two vok.
£ This performance, although the work of a foreigne ,
is deservedly esteemed as the fullest and most impartial col¬
ection of English political transactions extant.
R APPERSCHWEIL, a small city of Switzerland, in
the canton of St Gall. It is fortified, and has a citadel, but
the defences are at present in bad repair. It is situated near
the head of the lake of Zurich, over an arm of which there
is perhaps the longest bridge in the world, being 4800 feet
in length, and only twelve feet in breadth. It is built of
wood and has no rail or balustrade on either side, so that
the first entrance upon it is rather terrific to travellers in a
carriage. The town is old and ill built, but without the
walls the suburbs are delightful, and the soil in its imme¬
diate vicinity is very fruitful. Some machinery for spinning
cotton has of late been erected. The population is about
1550 persons, but rapidly increasing.
RAPPOLSTEIN, a town ol France, in the department
of the Upper Rhine, which, before the revolution, had the
title of a barony. Long. 7. 28. E. Lat. 48. 15. N.
RAREE, a town of Hindustan, on the sea-coast ot the
province of Bejapoor, seventeen miles north by west from
Goa. Long. 73. 30. E. Lat. 15. 50. N.
RAREFACTION, in Physics, the act by which a body
is rendered rare ; that is, brought to occupy more room, or
appear under a larger bulk, without accession of any new
matter. This is very frequently the effect of heat, as has
long been universally known. In many cases, however,
philosophers have attributed it to the action of a repulsive
principle. But, from the numerous discoveries concerning
the nature and properties of the electric fluid and fire, there
is the greatest reason to believe that this repulsive principle
is no other than elementary fire. TT , . , IT+
RAS AY, one of the Western Islands or Hebrides, is about
thirteen miles in length and two in breadth. It has plenty
of limestone and freestone, feeds great numbers of black
cattle, but has neither deers, hares, nor rabbits. I he only
appearance of a harbour in Rasay is at Clachan Bay, where
the proprietor of the island resides. Rasay piesen s a o
shore, which rises to the height of mountains ; and here the
natives have with incredible labour formed many little corn¬
fields and potato-grounds. These heights decrease at the
southern extremity, where there are some farms ant a gooc
looking country. . ^
RAS EL KHYMA, a town of Arabia, on the Persian Unit,
situated on a sandy peninsula, the isthmus of which is tc-
fended by a battery, while the sea-line is also fortified by
batteries of one gun each at regular intervals, it has a
suburb of bamboo huts, roofed with date-tree leaves.
RASK, Erasmus, an eminent scholar and philologist, was
born at Brendekild, in the island of Fyen, in the year
He studied at the university of Copenhagen, and early dis¬
tinguished himself by his singular talent for the acquisition
of languages. In the year 1808, he was appointed assistant
keeper of the University Library, and some years afteiwar s
made professor of Literary History. In 1811, he pub is icc,
in the Danish language, his Introduction to the Grammar o
the Icelandic and other Ancient Northern Languages, t e
materials of which were entirely derived from the immense
mass of manuscript and printed works which had been ac¬
cumulated by his predecessors in the same field of researc .
This grammar appears to have given a fresh impulse to the
study of the ancient northern languages, even in Germany.
The reputation which Rask acquired by it recommended him
to the Arna-Magnacan Institution, by which he was employ¬
ed as editor of the Icelandic Lexicon of Biorne Haldorsen,
R A S
R A S
73
Rask. which had long remained in manuscript. To this work, which
  'appeared in 1814, Bishop Muller contributed a preface, in
which he pronounces a just eulogium on the talents and the
spirit of research displayed by the youthful editor. About
the same time, Rask, who had never been in Iceland, paid
a visit to that country, where he remained from 1813 to
1815, during which time he made himself completely mas¬
ter of the language, and familiarized himself with the litera¬
ture, manners, and customs of the natives. To the interest
with which they inspired him, may probably be attributed
the establishment at Copenhagen, early in 1816, of the Ice¬
landic Literary Society, which was mainly instituted by his
exertions, and of which he had the honour to be the first
president.
Whilst thus employed, however, he was about to enter up¬
on a more ample field of enterprise. In October 1816, he
left Denmark on a literary expedition, which had been fitted
out for the double purpose of prosecuting inquiries into the
languages of the East, and collecting manuscripts for the
University Library at Copenhagen. The king of Denmark
having liberally provided him with the requisite means, he
proceeded first to Sweden, where he remained two years, in
the course of which he made an excursion into Finland, for
the purpose of studying the language of that country. Here
he published, in Swedish, his Anglo-Saxon Grammar, in
1817 ; and during the same year there appeared at Copen¬
hagen, in Danish, an Essay on the Origin of the Ancient
Scandinavian or Icelandic Tongue, in which he traced the
affinity of that remarkable idiom to the other European lan¬
guages, particularly to the Latin and the Greek. In 1818,
he published a second edition, very much improved, of his
Icelandic Grammar, translated by himself into Swedish; and
in the course of the same year he also brought out the first
complete editions of Snorro’s Edda, and Sasmund’s Edda, in
the original text, along with Swedish translations of both Ed-
das, the originals and the versions occupying each two vo¬
lumes. From Stockholm he proceeded, in 1819, to St Pe¬
tersburg, where he wrote in German an interesting paper on
the Languages and Literature of Norway, Iceland, Sweden,
and Finland, which was published in the sixth number of
the Vienna Jahrbucher. From Russia, which he traversed,
he proceeded through Tartary into Persia, and resided for
some time at Tauris, Teheran, Persepolis, and Shiraz. It
may be mentioned here, as an instance of his remarkable
facility in acquiring languages, that, in about six weeks, he
made himself sufficiently master of the Persian to be able to
converse freely in that language with the natives. In 1820,
he embarked at Abuschekr, in the Persian Gulf, for Bom¬
bay, which he reached in safety; and during his residence
there he wrote, in English, a Dissertation on the Authenticity
of the Zend Language, which he addressed to the governor,
the Hon. Mountstuart Elphinstone, and which was after¬
wards published in the third volume of the Transactions of
the Literary Society of Bombay. The same production,
with corrections and additions, was afterwards deemed wor¬
thy of insertion in the Transactions of the Royal Asiatic So¬
ciety. From Bombay he proceeded through India to Cey¬
lon, where he arrived in 1822, and soon afterwards wrote,
in English, a Dissertation respecting the best Method of ex¬
pressing the Sounds of the Indian Languages in European
Characters, which was printed in the Transactions of the
Literary and Agricultural Society of Colombo. Professor
Rask, having at length completed his researches on the scale
prescribed, set out for Europe, and reached Copenhagen in
the beginning of May 1823, after an absence of nearly seven
years. He brought home with him a considerable collec¬
tion of rare and curious oriental manuscripts, Persian, Zend,
Pali, Cingalese, and others, which now enrich the univer¬
sity and royal libraries of the Danish capital.
Notwithstanding all his labours and exertions, this inde¬
fatigable scholar scarcely allowed himself an interval of re-
VOL. XIX.
pose. Between the period of his return from the East and
that of his death, which occurred far too soon for the inte- ^
rests of philology, Professor Rask published in his native lan¬
guage a Spanish Grammar in 1824, an Italian Grammar and
a Frisic Grammar in 1825, a Treatise respecting the An¬
cient Egyptian Chronology in 1827, the Ancient Jewish
Chronology previous to Moses in 1828, and an Essay on Da¬
nish Orthography in the same year. He likewise edited an
edition of Schneider’s Danish Grammar for the use of Eng¬
lishmen in 1829, and superintended the English translation
of his Anglo-Saxon Grammar in 1830. This last work sup¬
plies what had long been a desideratum in English literature.
Before its appearance, persons whose taste might dispose
them to investigate our early vernacular remains, had no
guides to direct them, and each had to form for himself a
Grammar and a Dictionary of the Saxon. Hickes’ was full
of blunders, and in these Elstob, Lye, Manning, and others
had religiously followed him, superadding their own contin¬
gents respectively. By the publication of Rask’s Saxon
Grammar, however, we were to a certain degree freed from
this lamentable state of things, and facilities were afforded for
the acquisition of the language, which previously had no exist¬
ence. The attentive student will at once perceive the im¬
portant light which he has thrown upon its principles, by what
he has advanced regarding accentuation, in all which the
soundness of his views is fully supported by the manuscripts.
He has divided nouns into simple and complex, and adjec¬
tives into definite and indefinite ; a division which is new
to us in this country, and, by its simplicity of arrangement,
forms a striking contrast to the endless subdivisions, excep¬
tions, and annotations of Flickes. But it is in the investi¬
gation of the verbs that Rask appears to the greatest advan¬
tage. His classification of them is simple and obvious; nor
can there be a better proof of his accuracy than the perfect
order and regularity which it enables us to detect in nume¬
rous formations previously considered as irregular. His ob¬
servations on prefixes and postfixes are written with less care,
and he has also treated the important branch of syntax in
too slight and perfunctory a manner ; omissions which ex¬
cite some surprise, in a scholar possessing such an entire
mastery over the Anglo-Saxon.
We must return to the author himself, however, one of
whose last literary efforts we have thus incidentally noticed.
In private life the character of Professor Rask was such as
to command admiration and respect. His manners, though
somewhat retiring, were mild and gentle, and his morals un¬
impeachable. His mode of living was simple in the extreme,
and his temperance that of an anchoret. The habits of study
and application which he had acquired in his youth were
never laid aside. In company he was diffident, and always
expressed himself with modesty; but when the subject in¬
volved any thing relative to his own history or pursuits, he
evinced a reluctance to converse, which seemed to grow
upon him with years, and almost amounted to a morbid sen¬
sibility. His facility in the acquisition of languages was
extraordinary; he appeared to gain a knowledge of them
by a sort of intuition, and his mind seemed to recollect ra¬
ther than to learn. In 1822, he was master of no less than
twenty-five languages and dialects. His knowledge of Eng¬
lish was extensive and correct. He spoke and wrote it with
such fluency and precision, that Englishmen to whom he was
introduced were accustomed to ask him how long he had
been in England, considering that such an acquaintance
could only be gained by a residence in the country where it
was spoken. Rask, in his personal appearance, was thin and
spare, but well made; his habits of temperance, regularity,
and exercise, had contributed to give him all the appear¬
ance of a healthy man, and he seemed destined to attain a
ripe old age. Fie was capable of enduring much fatigue,
and even the privation of necessary rest; changes of climate
seemed to produce no impression upon his constitution ;
Rask.
74
HAS
RAT
KasMt; the searching sun of India, anti the bitmg froste of Iceland,
'were eauallv braved and disregarded. But, with all this
annarent superiority to ordinary infirmities, he fell a victim
to consumption, brought on, it is believed, by habds °f
intense application, and abstinence from proper nutriment,
to which we have already alluded ; and he died at that pe¬
riod of life (forty-eight) when the faculties of the llu™
mind have little more than attained their maturity, leaving
behind him a name that will not soon be forgotten.
The acquirements of Professor Bask were multifarious
and extraordinary, and such as justly entitled him to our
respect and admiration. There never perhaps existed any
scholar whose study of language had been directed to a w der
circle, and assuredly none who had made the structure of
guage so much an object of attention. He was the great com-
parative anatomist of philology; not building up theories ou
of scattered fragments, collected as it were by accident, but
drawing his conclusions from the most profound and elabo¬
rate research, and, by comparison, comprehension, and ex¬
haustion, initiating us into those curious inquiries which
have for the most part been perfunctorily handled by the
majority of critics. Not that Hash’s writings have enabled
theJ world to form an accurate estimate of his extraordinary
learning. To have written the best Icelandic, and the beet
Anglo-Saxon Grammar ; to have tracked, through Hebrew
or hieroglyphical records, the chronology of the Egyptian
kings ; to have edited Eddas or Sagas, and carried oil prizes
for essays on this or the other limited inquiry; all these con¬
stituted little compared to what this extraordinary man was
capable of effecting, had it pleased God to prolong his life.
He was one of the few men qualified to write on philology,
with a sufficient knowledge of the subject in all its bearings ;
who had seen with his own eyes, and heard with his ow n ears,
the tribes and the tongues w'hich overspread the surface ot
the globe; who, if he had not girdled the whole earth, had
at least explored those tracts in which so many nations were
cradled ; and who, travelling throughout the East in quest
of philological knowledge, carried with him a mind so well
trained, and exercised, and cultivated, that nothing could
be wasted upon it. Of this we have ample evidence furnish¬
ed to us at every stage in his protracted expedition. His
progress was like that of Fame in Virgil, continually gaining
fresh accessions of knowledge, and increasing in intellectual
stature, but, unlike the impersonation of the poet, never
raising aloft his head so as to plunge it into the region of
the clouds. His primary object was the collection of suf¬
ficient materials to serve as the basis of a most enlarged in¬
duction ; his next was to employ analysis or resolution in
decomposing, separating, and classifying these materials, so
as to render them disposable for the purposes of general in¬
vestigation ; and his last, by synthetical reasoning, to lay a
solid foundation for the science of philology, and to deduce
those general hws of connection, resemblance, or filiation,
which may be discovered in every branch of the great fa
milv of languages. He lived to accomplish the first, and
he had even entered upon his analytical labours, when ex¬
hausted nature sunk under the toil, and the grave swallowed
up the fruits of all his researches. Rask was no theorist;
and, if his life had happily been prolonged, he would have
finally settled the question, which has long been agitated, viz.
whether induction be really applicable as an instrument of
investigation and discovery in the science of philology, (a.)
RASTADT, a city of the grand duchy of Baden, in Ger¬
many, the capital of a bailiwick of its own name. It is si¬
tuated on the river Murg, just before that stream joins the
Rhine. There is a fine palace of the prince, now used as
a college or gymnasium, a, nunnery, an hospital, 568 houses,
and 4400 inhabitants. Peace was made here in 1715; and
in 1797 and 1798 a congress was held to negotiate a peace
between the German empire and France, but it came to no
pacific termination. It has some few small manufactures
of cloth, steel wares, hosiery, and linen goods. Long. 8.3.5.
"P' T f 4*8 50 5
t? a cw A T T John a printer and miscellaneous writer, ^
w “born fnLLondon, probPably about the end of the fifteenth
century, and educated at Oxford. Return,ng from the um-
versitv, he settled in the metropolis, and commenced printer,
' then esteemed,” says Wood, “ a profession fit for any
scholar or ingenious man.” He married the sister of Sir
Thomas More, with whom, we are to d, he was very inti-
mate and whose writings he strenuously defended, from
the title-page of one of his books, he appears to have lived
in Cheapside, at the sign of the Mermaid He died in the
vear 1536 ; and left two sons, William and John ; the first
of whom became a judge in Queen Mary’s reign, and the
other a justice of peace. This John Rastall, the subject o
the present article, was a zealous Papist; but Bale says
that he changed his religion before his death. He wrote,
1. Natura naturata. This Pits calls a copious and inge¬
nious comedy, describing Europe, Asia, and Africa; with
cuts. What sort of a comedy this was, it is not easy to con¬
ceive. Probably it is a cosmographical description, written
in dialogue, and therefore styled a comedy. 2. The 1 as-
tvme of the People; the cronycles of diverse realmys, and
most especially of the realm of England, breyely compiled
and emprinted in Cheapesyde, at the sign of the mearmaid,
next Pollysgate, cum privilegio, folio. 3. hcclesm Jotian-
nis Rastall, 1542, was one of the prohibited books in the
reign of Henry VIII. 4. Legum Anglicanarum vocabula
explicata, French and Latin, London, 1567, 8vo ; and some
other works. . Tt vi? .
RASTRICK, a township of the parish of Halifax, in the
west riding of Yorkshire and wapentake of Morley, 192
miles from London. It has risen into importance during
the last thirty years, from the great extension of its woollen
trade. The population amounted in 1801 to 20j3, in 1811
to 2442, in 1821 to 2796, and in 1831 to 3021.
RAT. See Mammalia.
Rat Island, the small detached part of the island of Lun¬
dy, off the north coast of Devon.
RATAFIA, a fine spirituous liquor, prepared from the
kernels and other parts of several kinds of fruits, particu¬
larly cherries and apricots. Ratafia of cherries is prepai ed
bv bruising the cherries, and putting them into a vessel
wherein brandy has long been kept; then adding to them
the kernels of cherries, with strawberries, sugar, cinnamon,
white pepper, nutmeg, cloves, and to twenty pounds of
cherries ten quarts of brandy. The vessel is left open ten
or twelve days, and then stopped close for two months be-
fore it be tapped. Ratafia of apricots is prepared in tw o
ways, namely, either by boiling the apricots in white wine,
adding to the liquor an equal quantity of brandy, with su¬
gar, cinnamon, mace, and the kernels of apricots, infusing
the whole for eight or ten days, then straining the liquor,
and putting it up for use ; or by infusing the apricots, cut
Rastall
Rates.
in pieces, in brandy, for a day or two, passing it through a
straining bag, and then putting in the usual ingredients.
HATCH, or Rash, in clock-work, a sort of wheel hav¬
ing twelve fangs, which serve to lift up the detents e\ery
hour, and make the clock strike.
RATCHETS, in a watch, are the small teeth at the bot¬
tom of the fusee or barrel, which stops it in winding up.
RATES, in the navy, mean the orders or classes into
which the ships of war are divided, according to their force
and magnitude.
Ships of the first rate mount a hundred guns, having
forty-two pounders on the lower deck, twenty-four pound¬
ers on the middle deck, twelve-pounders on the upper deck,
and six-pounders on the quarter-deck and forecastle. Ihey
are manned with 850 men, including officers, seamen, ma¬
rines, and servants.
Ships of the second rate carry ninety guns upon three
R A T
iflates. decks, of which those on the lower battery are thirty-two-
pounders ; those on tlie middle eighteen-pounders ; on the
upper deck twelve-pounders ; and those on the quarter-deck
six-pounders, which usually amount to four or six. Their
complement of men is 750, in which there are six lieu¬
tenants, four master’s mates, twenty-four midshipmen, and
four surgeon’s mates, fourteen quarter-masters and their
mates, eight boatswain’s mates and yeomen, six gunner’s
mates and yeomen, with twenty-two quarter-gunners, two
carpenter’s mates with ten assistants, and one steward and
steward’s mate.
Ships of the third rate carry from sixty-four to eighty
cannon, which are thirty-two, eighteen, and nine-pounders.
The eighty-gun ships, however, begin to grow out of re¬
pute, and to give way to those of seventy-four, seventy, &c.
w hich have only two whole batteries ; whereas the former
have three, with twenty-eight guns planted on each, the
cannon of their upper deck being the same as those on the
quarter-deck and forecastle of the latter, which are nine-
pounders. The complement in a seventy-four is 650, and
in a sixty-four 500 men ; these have in peace four lieuten¬
ants, but in war five, and, when an admiral is aboard, six.
. They have also three master’s mates, sixteen midshipmen,
three surgeon’s mates, ten quarter-masters and their mates,
six boatswain’s mates and yeomen, four gunner’s mates and
. yeomen, with eighteen quarter-gunners, one carpenter’s mate
with eight assistants, and one steward and steward’s mate
under the purser.
Ships of the fourth rate mount from sixty to fifty guns,
upon two decks and the quarter-deck. The lower tier is
composed of twenty-four pounders, the upper tier of twelve-
pounders, and the cannon on the quarter deck and forecastle
are six-pounders. The complement of a fifty-gun ship is
350 men, in which there are three lieutenants, two master’s
mates, ten midshipmen, twro surgeon’s mates, eight quarter¬
masters and their mates, four boatswain’s mates and yeo¬
men, one gunner’s mate and one yeoman, with twelve quar¬
ter-gunners, one carpenter’s mate and six assistants, a stew¬
ard and steward’s mate.
All vessels of war under the fourth rate are usually com¬
prehended under the general name of frigates, and never
appear in the line of battle. They are divided into the fifth
and sixth rates ; the former mounting from forty to thirty-
two guns, and the latter from twenty-eight to twenty. The
largest of the fifth rate have two decks of cannon, the lower
battery being of eighteen-pounders, and that of the upper
deck of nine-pounders ; but those of thirty-six and thirty-
two guns have one complete deck of guns, mounting twelve-
pounders, besides the quarter-deck and forecastle, which
carry six-pounders. The complement of a ship of forty-
four guns is 280 men, and that of a frigate of thirty-six
guns 240 men. The first has three and the second two
lieutenants ; and both have two master’s mates, six midship¬
men, two surgeon’s mates, six quarter-masters and their mates,
two boatswain’s mates and one yeoman, one gunner’s mate
and one yeoman, with ten or eleven quarter-gunners, and
one purser’s steward.
Frigates of the sixth rate carry nine-pounders, those of
twenty guns having three-pounders on their quarter-deck,
with 200 men for their complement; and those of twenty-
four 160 men. The former has two lieutenants, the latter
one; and both have two master’s mates, four midshipmen,
one surgeon’s mate, four quarter-masters and their mates,
one boatswain’s mate and one yeoman, one gunner’s mate
and one yeoman, with six or seven quarter-gunners, and
one purser’s steward.
The sloops of war carry from eight to eighteen cannon,
the largest of which have six-pounders ; and the smallest,
that is, those of eight or ten guns, four-pounders. Their
officers are generally the same as in the sixth rates, with
little variation; and their complements of men vary from 60
R A T
75
Itatisbon.
to 120, in proportion to their force or magnitude. Bomb- Itateen
vessels are on the same establishment as sloops; but fire¬
ships and hospital-ships are on that of fifth rates.
RATEEN, or Ratten, in commerce, a thick woollen
stuff, quilled, and woven in a loom with four treddles, like
serges and other stuffs that have the whale or quilling.
There are some rateens dressed and prepared like cloths ;
others left simply in the hair, and others where the hair or
knap is frized. Ilateens are chiefly manufactured in France,
Holland, and Italy, and are mostly used in linings. The
frize is a sort of coarse rateen, and the drugget is a rateen
half linen half woollen.
RATHENAU, a city of Prussia, in the province of Pots¬
dam, and circle of West Havell. It stands on the river
Plavell, is surrounded with walls, and has a good market¬
place, in which there is a statue of the elector Frederick
William, placed to commemorate a victory gained by him
near this place over the Swedes in the year 1675. It con¬
tains 620 houses, and about 4500 inhabitants.
RATIO, in Arithmetic and Geometry, is that relation of
homogeneous things which determines the quantity of one
from the quantity of another, without the intervention of a
third.
The numbers, lines, or quantities, A and B, being pro¬
posed, their relation one to another may be considered un¬
der one or other of these tw o heads: 1. How much A ex¬
ceeds B, or B exceeds A ; which is found by taking A from
B, or B from A, and is called arithmetical reason or ratio.
2. How many times, or parts of a time, A contains B, or
B contains A ; which is called geometrical reason or ratio,
or, as Euclid defines it, the mutual habitude, or respect, of
two magnitudes of the same kind, according to quantity,
that is, how often the one contains or is contained in the
other; and this is found by dividing A by B, or B by A.
But observe, that that quantity which is referred to another
quantity is called the antecedent of the ratio ; and that to
which the other is referred is called the consequent of the
ratio. In the ratio of A to B, A is the antecedent, and B
the consequent. Therefore any quantity as antecedent, di¬
vided by any quantity as a consequent, gives the ratio of
that antecedent to the consequent.
A
Thus the ratio of A to B is but the ratio of B to A is
B . 12 .
— ; and, in numbers, the ratio of 12 to 4 is — = 3, or tri-
A 4
4 1
pie ; but the ratio of 4 to 12 is — = or subtriple.
And here observe, that the quantities thus compared must
be of the same kind ; that is, such as by multiplication may
be made the one to exceed the other, or as these quantities are
said to have a ratio between them, which, being multiplied,
maybe made to exceed one another. Thus a line, how-
short soever, may be multiplied, that is, produced so as to
exceed any given right line ; and consequently these may
be compared together, and the ratio expressed. But as a
line can never, by any multiplication whatever, be made to
have breadth, that is, to be equal to a superficies, however
small, so these can never be compared together, and con¬
sequently have no ratio or respect to one another, accord¬
ing to quantity; that is, how often the one contains or is
contained in the other.
RATION, in an army, a portion of ammunition, bread,
drink, and forage, distributed to each soldier for his daily
subsistence. The horse have rations of hay and oats when
they cannot go out to forage.
RATIONALE, a solution or account of the principles
of some opinion, action, hypothesis, or phenomenon.
RATIOS of musical intervals. See articles Music and
Temperament.
RATISBON, or, as called by the Germans, Regens-
76
RAT
R A
Ratlines burg, a city of the modern kingdom of Bavaria, the capital
II of the circle of that name. Ihis city m ancient times,
Rattolaw. though un(jer the protection of the elector of Bavaria, was
   consfdered as an imperial city, and the diets of the Geramn
empire were frequently held within it. It was then the see
of an archbishop, and remarkable for its zealous adherence
to the Catholic church. It was the scene of one of the most
bloody conflicts during the Thirty Years’ War, when the army
of the imperial general Wallenstein was intrenched before
it, and the Swedish monarch Gustavus Adolphus made re¬
peated but ultimately unsuccessful attempts to storm the
works, and lost so many men that he was compelled to re¬
treat. It suffered much during the war between the I rench
and Austrians in 1809.
Ratisbon was a place of much greater relative importance
in former times than it is at present, having then the exclu¬
sive right to all the trade by the river Danube, both up¬
wards as far as Ulm, and downwards as far as Vienna.
The city stands on the river Danube, at the spot where
the river Regen, from which its German name is derived,
falls into that great stream. The bridge oyer the Danube
connects the several parts of the city. It is still in an im¬
perfect degree fortified, but is totally indefensible against
any armed force. The buildings are of antique models,
particularly the ancient council-house, in which the repre¬
sentatives of all the states of Germany were accustomed to
assemble. The cathedral is a large Gothic building ; as are
the church of St Emeran and the Lutheran church of the
Holy Trinity, the latter of which was the college of the Je¬
suits till the abolition of the order.
The population, which in 1811 amounted to 18,84d per¬
sons, has much increased, and was found in 1837 to be
26,550. Of these, about one third are Lutherans ; and two
thirds, comprehending almost the whole of the labouring
classes, are Roman Catholics. The former party have a
gymnasium, and the latter a lyceum. 1 here is a learned
society, who have a botanical garden and a respectable li¬
brary,'with a museum of mathematical and philosophical in¬
struments, and a picture-gallery. There are manufactures
of morocco leather, many tanneries, soap-makers, wax and
tallow chandlers, with large breweries and distilleries. On
the banks of the Danube are some establishments for build¬
ing barques and boats for navigating that river. The tran¬
sit trade between eastern and western Germany gives em¬
ployment to several respectable mercantile houses. A pro¬
ject, now considerably advanced, gives hope to the inhabi¬
tants of this city of a much greater portion of transit com¬
merce. The Royal Bavarian Canal is hastening to its com¬
pletion, and will open a communication by water between
the Rhine and the Danube, the whole length being within
the dominions of Bavaria. It commences at the river
Mayn, which empties itself into the Rhine, and will termi¬
nate in the Danube, near this city. It is hoped that the
timber of Bavaria w ill thus find a market in Hungary, and
the surplus corn of that kingdom a constant vent on the
banks of the Rhine, especially in Holland.
RATLINES, or, as the sailors call them, ratlins, those
lines which make the ladder-steps to go up the shrouds and
pattocks, hence called the ratlins of the shrouds.
RATTIBOR, a city, the capital of a circle of the same
name, in the Prussian government of Oppeln, in Silesia.
It stands on the left bank of the Oder, is surrounded with
walls, and contains six Catholic and one Lutheran church,
three hospitals, 4300 houses, and 4100 inhabitants. It
has considerable trade in linen and woollen goods, in ho¬
siery, and in timber, and has several distilleries and brew¬
eries.
RATTOLAW, a seaport of Hindustan, in the province
of Gujerat, and gulf of Cambay, is situated on a navigable
river. It was ceded to the East India Company by the
Guicovvar, the Mahratta chief, in 1803. It is forty-four
Long. 72. 15. Raujeshy
miles south-west from the city of Cambay.
E. Lat. 22. 3. N. . , . • it Ravailliac.
RAUJESHY, a district in Bengal, situated principal y,  
between the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth degrees of north
latitude. It is bounded on the north by Dinagepoor and
Mymunsingh; on the south by Birbhoom and Kishenagur;
on the east by Dacca, Jelalpoor, and Mymunsingh; and on
the west by Monghir and Birbhoom. It is the most un¬
wieldy zemindary in Bengal, comprehending an area of
12,909 square miles, and is intersected m its whole lengt
bv the Ganges and its lesser branches, with many navigable
rivers and fertilizing streams. In answer to the inquiries
of the Marquis Wellesley in the year 1801, the population
wras returned at 1.500,000. , . , . ,,
RAUKOKE, one of the Kurile Islands, which is small
and lofty, with a rocky shore.
RAUN, a town of some strength, situated upon the river
Miza, and remarkable for a bloody skirmish between the
Prussians and Austrians, in August 1744. Ihe king of
Prussia, intending to get possession of Beraun, sent thither
six battalions, with eight cannon, and 800 hussars; but
General Festititz being there with a great party of his corps,
and M. Luchesi with 1000 horse, they not only repulsed the
Prussians, but attacked them in their turn, and, after a warm
dispute, obliged them to retire w ith considerable loss.
RAVA, a town of Asiatic Turkey, situated on the Eu¬
phrates, about half-wav between Kerkesieh and Anna. It
contains about 200 houses in the midst of extensive rums;
but many of these houses are uninhabited. On the opposite
side of the river are the ruins of a castle, on the summit of
a rock. _ .
RAVAILLIAC, or Ravaillac, Francois, the assassin
of Henry IV. of France, was a native of Angouleme, and,
at the time of his execution, about thirty-two years of age.
Ravaillac was the son of parents who lived upon alms. His
father was one of those inferior retainers of the law to whom
the vulgar give the name of pettifoggers, and his son had
been bred up in the same line. The latter had set up a
claim to an estate, but the cause went against him ; and
this disappointment affected his mind deeply. He jdter-
wards taught a school, and, as he himself said, received cha¬
ritable gifts, though but of very small value, from the pa¬
rents of those whom he taught. \ et his distress was so
great that he had much ado to live. W hen he was seized
for the murder of the king, he was very loosely guards ;
and all were permitted to speak with him who pleased. He
was removed next day from the house of Espernon to the
Conciergerie, the proper prison of the parliament of 1 ans.
When he was first interrogated, he answered with great
boldness, that he had done it, and would do it if it were to
be done again. W hen he w as told that the king, though
dangerously wounded, was living, and might recover, he
said that he had struck him home, and that he was sure he
was dead. In his subsequent examinations he owned that
he had long had an intention to kill the king, because he
suffered two religions in his kingdom; and that he endea¬
voured to obtain an audience of him, in order to admonish
him. He also said that he understood the king’s great ar¬
mament to be against the pope ; and that, in his opinion, to
make war against the pope was to make war against God.
We have no distinct account of the last three examinations ;
but he is said to have persisted in the most solemn asseve¬
rations that he had no accomplices, and that nobody had
persuaded him to the fact. He appeared surprised at no¬
thing so much as at the universal abhorrence of the people,
which, it seems, he did not expect. They were forced to
guard him strictly from his fellow-prisoners, who would
otherwise have murdered him. The butchers of Paris de¬
sired to have him put into their hands, affirming that they
would flay him alive, and that he should still live twelve
days. When he was put to the torture, he broke out into
PI
R A V
RAY
77
kavel'm horrid execrations, and always insisted that he did the fact
il from his own motive, and that he could accuse nobody. On
ttav*2^the day of his execution, after he had made the amende be-
fore the church of Notre Dame, he was carried to the Greve;
and, being placed upon a scaffold, was tied to a wooden engine
in the shape of a St Andrew’s cross. The knife with which
he did the murder being fastened in his right hand, it was
first burned in a slow fire ; then the fleshy parts of his body
were torn with red-hot pincers, and melted lead, oil, pitch,
and rosin poured into the wounds. The people refused to
pray for him ; and when, according to the sentence that had
been pronounced upon him, he came to be dragged to pieces
by four horses, one of those that were brought appearing to
be but weak, a spectator offered his own, with which the cri¬
minal was much moved. He was very earnest for absolu¬
tion, which his confessor refused, unless he would reveal his
accomplices. “ Give it me,” said he, “ upon condition that
I have told the truth which the priest eventually did. His
body was so robust that it resisted the force of the horses;
and the executioner was at length obliged to cut him into
quarters, which the people dragged through the streets.
Such was the miserable fate of this fanatical assassin, who
deprived France of one of her best and greatest kings. He
was believed by the populace to have been set on by the
Jesuits, although, whilst suffering the most horrible tor¬
ments, he declared that he had no accomplices, and had
done the deed from motives of his own.
RAVELIN, in Fortification > was anciently a flat bastion
placed in the middle of a curtain ; but it is now a detached
work, composed only of two faces, which form a salient angle
without any flanks, and are raised before the counterscarp
of the place. See Fortification.
RAVENNA, a delegation of the States of the Church, in
Italy, in the northern part of the ancient Romagna. It is
935 square miles in extent, and contains four cities, eight
market-towns, many villages, and 123,760 inhabitants. It is
a level district on the sea-coast, with numerous saline lakes,
but towards the west there are some gentle undulations.
It is moderately fertile, and is drained by the rivers La-
mone, Lanterno, and their tributary streams. The capital
is the city of the same name, which is of high antiquity. It
was formerly on the sea-shore, but, by the recession of the
water, is now three miles from it. It is in a marshy situa¬
tion, surrounded by walls of no great strength. It is the
see of a bishop, has a cathedral, twenty-one parish churches,
twelve monasteries, five nunneries, a public library, an hos¬
pital, and some schools. It contains in the city 16,000 in¬
habitants, but, including the suburbs and some adjacent vil¬
lages, the population amounts to 23,930. It was formerly
the capital of the kingdom of the Ostrogoths, and, in later
times, of an exarchate. There are now to be seen the re¬
mains of some old Gothic castles. Long. 12. 5.31. E. Lat.
44. 25. 5. N.
RAVENSBURG, a city of the kingdom of Wirtemberg,
in the circle of the Danube, and the capital of a bailiwick
of the same name. It stands on the river Schussen, and is
surrounded with walls, defended by several ancient towers.
It contains 870 houses, with 3760 inhabitants, one half
Catholics and the other Protestants. It has several saw¬
mills, and manufactories of cottons, hosiery, iron and wood
ware; and it grows good wine. Long. 9.32. E. Lat. 47. 46.
55. N.
RAVEY, the ancient Hydraotes, a celebrated river of
Hindustan, and the third river of the Punjab. It rises in
the eastern mountains of Cashmere, near a famous place of
Hindu worship, not far from the sources of the Sutulege,
the Chunaub, and the Beyah rivers. It afterwards runs in
a south-westerly direction until it passes the city of La¬
hore, sixty miles above which it is 120 yards broad, and
extremely rapid, yet navigable during the rains for boats
oi a considerable size. It flows in the same direction after
passing the city of Lahore, and it is joined about twenty-
eight miles above the city of Moultan by the Jhylum and
the Chunaub rivers, forming a stream in some places several
miles in breatith, and scarcely inferior to the Indus itself.
Immediately after their junction it is one mile, one furlong,
and eighty-five yards, but lower down the stream is con¬
tracted in its breadth to less than 350 yards. Seventy miles
below Moultan the Ravey joins the Indus after a course,
including its windings, of 500 miles. The water is light and
wholesome.
Ravil.
pamly
II
Ray.
RAVILPANDY, a large and populous town of Hindus¬
tan, in the district of the Punjab, situated about half way
between the Indus and the Hydaspes rivers. The houses
are flat-roofed, and the surrounding country is open and
well cultivated. This place was visited by Mr Elphinstone
in 1809. It belonged to Jewun Sing, a Sikh chief.
RA VREE, a town of Hindustan, in the Western Ghauts,
and province of Bejapoor. It was the first stronghold seized
by Sevajee, the great founder of the Mahratta power. It is
forty-five miles south-south-west from Poonah. Long. 73.
32. E. Lat. 18. 2. N.
RAWAAD, a small town of Hindustan, in the province
of Lahore, in the Sikh territories, 120 miles north-west from
the city of Lahore. Long. 72. 12. E. Lat. 33. 5. N.
RAWAK Isle, a small island in the Eastern Seas, off
the north coast of Waygiou, with which it forms a harbour.
The channel is here a mile broad, with a depth of from ten
to fifteen fathoms, and a mud bottom. Sago, in cakes, is
sold here in large quantities. Fish and turtle may also be
had. Long. 131. 15. E. Lat. 0. 3. N.
RAWANKRAD, a celebrated lake in the mountains of
Thibet, on the north of the great Himalayah range. It is
the source of the river Sutulege, and is connected with the
lake Mansarowar. The lake is long and narrow, and is di¬
vided by an island. It derives its supplies from several small
rivers that flow from the mountains, and also from the melt¬
ing of the snows. The situation is about the thirty-first de¬
gree of north latitude, and near it may be seen Mount Cailas,
a well-known scene of Hindu fable, covered with perpetual
snow.
RAWCLIFFE, a town of the west riding of Yorkshire,
in the parish of Snaith, and wapentake of Osgoldcross, 176
miles from London. It has some trade by the river Aire,
which is navigable beyond it. The population amounted
in 1801 to 920, in 1811 to 1143, in 1821 to 1496, and in
1831 to 1450.
RAWICZ, or Rawitsch, a city of the Prussian province
of Posen, in the circle of Kobben. It is surrounded with
walls, is well built and paved, and, including the suburbs,
contains 1100 houses, with 8640 inhabitants, who are occu¬
pied in making linen, woollen, and cotton goods, mostly by
machinery, and in tanning and currying leather. Of the
inhabitants, 1500 are Jews.
RAY, John, a celebrated naturalist, and the son of Mr
Roger Ray, a blacksmith, was born at Black Notly, in Es¬
sex, in 1628. He received the rudiments of learning at
the grammar-school of Braintree ; and in 1644 was ad¬
mitted into Catharine Hall, Cambridge, whence he after¬
wards removed to Trinity College in that university. He
took the degree of master of arts, and became at length a
senior fellow of the college ; but his intense application to
his studies having injured his health, he was obliged at his
leisure hours to exercise himself by riding or walking in
the fields, which led him to the study of plants. He noted
from Johnson, Parkinson, and the Phytologia Britannica,
the places where curious plants grew; and in 1658 he rode
from Cambridge to the city of Chester, whence he pro¬
ceeded to North Wales, visiting many places, and amongst
others the famous hill of Snowdon, and returning by Shrews¬
bury and Gloucester. In 1660 he published his Catalogus
Plantarum circa Cantabrigiam nascentium, and the same
II A Y
RAY
a taste for literature and science ; and by them he was af-
terwlrds expelled, no doubt on account of his impiety. ^
? n this event he justified his expulsion by associat-
^ with Voltaire D’Alembert, and Diderot, who employ-
land and Scotland; and the next year ne mauc * —— furnish’the articles on theology for theJSncyclo-
tour from Chester, and through Wales, to Cornwall, De- ed hm ^ ^ 0 relish, and probably as little quahfi-
vonshire, Dorsetshire, Hampshire, Wl[ts^re’ ° , Jatio ’ for such work, he devolved it on the Abbe \ von,
Uo travelled w ith Mr Willoughby cation,^^^ ^ have been an inofFensive and up-
vear he was ordained deacon and priest. In 1661 he ac¬
companied Mr Francis Willoughby and others, m seaic
of olants and other natural curiosities, to the north of Lng
and Scotland; and the next year he tna^e a we8tern
uorseisnue, i,,,
rounties He afterwards travelled with Mr W illoug y
and other gentlemen through Holland, Germany, Italy,
France, and other foreign parts, made several tours in E g
land and was admitted fellow of the Royal Society. In
1672 his friend Mr Willoughby died, in the
year of his age, at Middleton Hall, h^ ^at at Yorkshire,
to the infinite and unspeakable loss and g"et « jfj
himself, his friends, and all good men. As there ex^
the closest and most sincere friendship between M
loughby and Mr Ray from the time of their being e "
students, Mr Willoughby not only confided in Mr Ray in his
’but also at his death ; for he made htjn one of he
executors of his will, and charged him with the education
of his sons, Francis and Thomas, leaving lu^ at the sa
time an annuity of L.60 per annum. The eldest of these
young gentlemen not being four years of age, Mr Ray, as
a faithful trustee, undertook their instruction, and for their
use compiled his Nomenclator Classicus, which was publish¬
ed the same year. Francis, the eldest, dying before he be¬
came of age, the younger became Lord Middleton, ^ot
many months aftJ the death of Mr Willoughby, Mr Ray
lost another of his best friends, Bishop Wilkins, whom he
visited in London on the 18th of November 1672, and
found almost expiring from a total suppression of mine. A
it is natural for the mind, when hurt in one part, to seek
relief in another, so Mr Ray, having lost some of his best
friends, and being in a manner left destitute, conceived
thoughts of marriage ; and, accordingly, in June 16 M, lie
^Thefirst work of Raynal, which is justly regarded as an
eminent performance, is his Political and Philosophical His¬
tory of the European Settlements in the East and West In¬
dies The style of this work is rambling but animated ; it
contains many just reflections both of a political and philoso¬
phical nature, intermixed, however, with much \ ague an
declamatory speculation. It has been translated into every
European Language. This performance, we believe, was fol¬
lowed by a small tract in the year 1780, entitled the Re¬
volution of America, in which he pleaded the cause of the
colonists with much zeal, censured the conduct of the Bri¬
tish o-overnment, and discovered some acquaintance with
the principles of the different factions ; circumstances which
induced a belief that he had been furnished with materials
by those who knew the merits of the dispute much better
than any foreigner could reasonably be supposed to uo.
The French government instituted a prosecution against
him on account of his history of the East and West Indies;
but with so little severity was it conducted, that sufficient
time was allowed him to retire to the dominions of his
Prussian majesty, by whom he was protected, ?notwith¬
standing he had treated the character of that sovereign
with very little ceremony. Even the most despotic princes
showed him much kindness, although he always animad¬
verted without reserve on their conduct; and he even lived
taouguLs ui  in dip irood Braces of the Empress of Russia. At one period
espoused a gentlewoman »/the Brftish House of Commons showed him a very singular
daughter of Mr Oakley of Launton, m Oxfordshire,
wards the end of this year came forth his Observations
made in foreign countries, to which was added, Ins Latalogus
Stirpium in exteris Regionibus observatarum ; and about
the same time appeared his Collection of unusual 01 loca
English words, which he had made in his travels throng 1
the° counties of England. After having published many
books upon subjects foreign to his profession, he at length
resolved to appear in the character of divine, as well as in
mark of respect. The speaker having been informed that
Raynal was a spectator in the gallery, public business was
instantly suspended, and the stranger was conductet 0 a
more honourable situation. But when a friend of Dr John¬
son’s asked him respecting the same personage, “ Will you
give me leave, doctor, to introduce to you the Abbe Ray¬
nal?” he turned on his heel, and said, “ No, sir.
A love of liberty was the principal trait in Raynal s cha-
- - -   accurate definition
S ofnlS^Mllpher0; and with this viei he published racter, of which he P^^SEthe abuseof
his excellent dLonstLion ofthe being and attribute^ Stta, he nobly
attempted to retrieve his errors. In the month of Maj
1791, he addressed to the Constituent Assembly an elo¬
quent, argumentative, and impressive letter, in wine it
proved that it was not the business of the assembly to abo¬
lish every ancient institution; that the genius of the r 1 enc 1
God, entitled The Wisdom of God manifested in the Works
of the Creation, 1697, 8vo. The rudiments of this work
were read in some college lectures ; and another collection
of the same kind he enlarged and published under the title
of Three Physico-theological Discourses concerning the
Chaos, Deluge, and Dissolution of the W orld, 1692, in 8vo.
Ray died in 1705. He was modest, affable, and communi¬
cative, and distinguished by his probity, charity, sobriety,
and piety. He wrote a great number of works, the princi¬
pal of which, besides those already mentioned, are, 1. Ca-
talogus Plantarum Anglia ; 2. Dictionariolum Trilingue
secundum locos communes ; 3. Historia Plantarum, Species
hactenus editas, aliasque insuper multas noviter inventas et
deseviptas complectens, three vols.; 4. Methodus Plantarum
nova, cum Tabidis, 8vo, and several other works on plants ;
5. Synopsis Methodica Animalium Quadrupedum et Ser-
pentini generis, 8vo; 6. Synopsis Methodica Avium et Pis-
cium; 7. Historia Insectorum, opus posthumum ; 8. Me¬
thodus Insectarum ; 9. Philosophical Letters.
RAYNAL, William Thomas, better known as the
Abbe Raynal, was born about the year 1712, and having
received his education amongst the celebrated order of the
Jesuits, became one of their number. Their value and
excellence chiefly consisted in assigning to each member
his proper employment. Amongst them Raynal acquired
people is such, that they never can be happy or prosperous
except under a well-regulated monarchical government, anc
that, if they wished not the nation to fall under the worst
kind of despotism, they would increase the pow er of t ic
king. ,
Besides the works already mentioned, he was the author
of a History of the Parliament of England; a History 0
the Stadtholderate ; the History of the Divorce of Catha¬
rine of Aragon by Henry VIII.; and a History of the
Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, in four volumes. He
was deprived of all his property during the Revolution, and
died in poverty in the month of March 1796, in the eighty-
fourth year of his age.
Ray, in Optics, a beam of light emitted from a radiant
or luminous body. See Optics.
RAYLEIGH, a town of the county of Essex, in the
hundred of Rochford, thirty-five miles from London. It
stands on a creek of the Thames called Hadley Bay, in con¬
sequence of which it has a good trade in corn. The popu-
11 E A
REA
79
typoor lation amounted in 1801 to 897, in 1811 to 1131, in 1821
I! to 1203, and in 1831 to 1339.
acting. RAYPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the Sikh terri-
tories, and province of Lahore, on the banks of the Beyah and
Hydaspes. It is celebrated as the birthplace of Nanac, the
founder of the Sikhs.
RAYSINGPOOR, a small village of Hindustan, in the
Gujerat peninsula, near the Gulf of Cutch. It is situated
on the banks of the Phooljee river, and in its vicinity are
gardens in which cardamums are raised.
RAYUN, a town of Persia, in the province of Kerman,
situated at the foot of lofty mountains, and surrounded by
numerous gardens.
RE, an island on the coast of France, in the department
of La Vendee, and the arrondissement of Rochelle. It stands
about seven miles from the mainland, has a very irregular
shape, is eleven miles in length, and in the widest part three
miles in breadth. The chief town is St Martins, which has
3000 inhabitants, and is defended by a strong citadel. The
soil is fertile, yielding abundance of grapes, which are mostly
used to make brandy; and on the shore much salt is made.
There are two other towns, called La Flotte and Ars, ol
more than 3000 inhabitants each ; and the whole population
of the island amounts to 18,540. It was attacked by the
English in the reign of Charles I., after the Duke of Buck¬
ingham’s unsuccessful attempt to relieve Rochelle in 1627,
but was able to resist. Long. 1. 33. 25. E. Lat. 46. 14.
47. N.
Re, in Grammar, an inseparable particle prefixed to the
beginning of words, to double or otherwise modify their
meaning ; as in re-action, re-move, re-export, and the like.
RE-ACTION, in Physiology, is the resistance made by
all bodies to the action or impulse of others which endea¬
vour to change their state, whether of motion or rest.
READING, the art of delivering written language with
propriety, force, and elegance.
“ We must not judge so unfavourably of eloquence or
good reading,” says Fenelon, “ as to reckon it only a frivo¬
lous art, that a declaimer uses to impose upon the weak
imagination of the multitude, and to serve his own ends.
It is a very serious art, designed to instruct people ; to sup¬
press their passions and reform their manners; to support
the laws, direct public councils, and to make men good and
happy.”
Reason and experience equally demonstrate, that delivery
in reading ought to be less animated than in interested speak¬
ing. In every exercise of the faculty of speech, and those
expressions of countenance and gesture with which it is
generally attended, we may be considered as being always
in one of the two following situations : First, delivering
our bosom sentiments on circumstances which relate to our¬
selves or others; or, secondly, repeating something that was
spoken on a certain occasion for the amusement or informa¬
tion of an auditor. Now, if we observe the deliveries natu¬
ral to these two situations, we shall find, that the first may
be accompanied with every degree of expression which can
manifest itself in us, from the lowest of sympathy to the
most violent and energetic of the superior passions; whilst
the latter, from the speaker’s chief business being to repeat
what he heard with accuracy, discovers only a faint imita¬
tion of those signs of the emotions which we suppose agi¬
tated him from whom the words were first bori’owed. The
use and necessity of this difference of manner is evident;
and if we are attentive to these natural signs of expression,
we shall find them conforming with the greatest nicety to
the slightest and most minute movements of the breast.
This repetition of another’s words might be supposed to
pass through the mouth of a second or third person ; and in
these cases, since they were not ear and eye witnesses of
him who first spoke them, their manner of delivery would
want the advantage necessarily arising from an immediate
idea of the original one; hence, for the reason stated, this Reading,
would be of still less lively representation than that of the first v"“~ v ^
repeater. But as, from a daily observation of every variety
of speech and its associated signs of emotion, mankind soon
become pretty well acquainted with them, and this in diffe¬
rent degrees, according to their discernment, sensibility,
&c. experience shows us that these latter repeaters, as we
call them, might conceive and employ a manner of delivery
which, though less characteristic perhaps, would on the
whole be noways inferior to the first, as to the common
natural expression proper for their situation. It appears,
therefore, that repeaters of every degree may be esteemed
upon a level as to animation, and that our twofold distinction
above specified contains accurately enough the whole variety
of ordinary delivery. We say ordinary, because there is an¬
other very peculiar kind of delivery sometimes used in the
person of a repeater, and of which it will in this place be ne¬
cessary to take some notice. What we mean here is mimicry;
an accomplishment which, when perfectly and properly dis¬
played, never fails of yielding a high degree of pleasure.
But since this pleasure chiefly results from the principle of
imitation respecting manner, and not from the purport of
the matter communicated ; and since, comparatively speak¬
ing, it is only attainable by few persons, and practised only
on particular occasions ; upon these accounts it must be re¬
fused a place amongst the modes of useful delivery taught
us by nature, and must be esteemed a qualification purely
anomalous.
These distinctions with regard to a speaker’s situation of
mind being premised, let us see to which of them an author
and his reader may most properly be referred, and how they
are circumstanced with regard to one another.
The matter of all books is, either what the author says
in his own person, or an acknowledged recital of the words
of others; and hence an author may be esteemed both an
original speaker and a repeater, according as what he writes
is of the first or second kind. Now a reader must be sup¬
posed either actually to personate the author, or one whose
office is barely to communicate what he has said to an au¬
ditor. But in the first of these suppositions he would, in
the delivery of what was the author’s own, evidently com¬
mence mimic; which being, as above observed, a charac¬
ter not generally acknowledged in this department, ought
to be rejected as on the whole improper. The other sup¬
position therefore must be accounted right; and then, as
to the whole matter of the book, the reader is found to
be exactly in the situation of a repeater, save that he takes
what he delivers from the page before him instead of his
memory. It follows, then, in proof of our initial proposition,
that if we are directed by nature and propriety, the man¬
ner of our delivery in reading ought to be inferior in warmth
and energy to what •we should use, were the language the
spontaneous effusion of our own hearts in the circumstances
of those out of whose mouths it is supposed to proceed.
Evident as the purport of this reasoning is, it has not so
much as been glanced at by the writers on the subject we
are now entered upon, or any of its kindred ones; which
has occasioned a manifest want of accuracy in several of
their rules and observations. Amongst the rest, this precept
has long been reverberated from author to author as a per¬
fect standard for propriety in reading : “ Deliver yourselves
in the same manner you would do, were the matter your
own original sentiments uttered directly from the heart.”
As all kinds of delivery must have many things in common,
the rule will in many articles be undoubtedly right; but,
from what has been said above, it must as certainly be faulty
in respect to several others; as it is evident nature never
confounds by like signs two things so very different as a copy
and an original, an emanation darted immediately from the
sun, and its weaker appearance in the lunar reflection.
Reading, a borough and market town of Berkshire,
80
Re-aggra¬
vation
II
Rear.
REA
REA
in the hundred of its own name, thirty-eight miles from
London, on the high road to Bath and Bristol. It is situat¬
ed on the right bank of the Thames, where it is joined by
, the Kennet, in a fine situation rising gradually from the
' river, and is one of the most cheerful and well-built towns
of its size in England. It has three parish churches, and
various chapels for dissenters. The county sessions are held
at it, and there is a house of correction. The chief trade
is what is carried on by the rivers, which unite here, and
into which several canals lead. There are some manu¬
factures of silk ribbons, of sail-cloth, and blanketing; and
some barge-building. It has a corporation, consisting of a
mayor, twelve aldermen, and twelve burgesses, and returns
two members to the House of Commons. 1 here are mar¬
kets on Wednesday and on Saturday, which are well sup¬
plied ; and the place is well situated for the flour trade. I he
population amounted in 1801 to 9742, in 1811 to 10,788, in
1821 to 12,867, and in 1831 to 15,595.
RE-AGGRAVATION, in the Roman ecclesiastical law,
the last monitory, published after three admonitions, and
before the final excommunication. Previous to fulminating
the last excommunication, they publish an aggravation and
a re-aggravation. Fevret observes, that in France the mi¬
nister is not allowed to come to re-aggravation, without the
permission of the bishop or official, as well as that of the
lay judge. .
REALISTS, a sect of scholastic philosophers formed in
opposition to the Nominalists. Under the realists are in¬
cluded the Scotists, Thomists, and all excepting the fol¬
lowers of Ocham. Their distinguishing tenet is, that uni-
versals are realities, and have an actual existence out of idea
or i magination, or, as they express it in the schools, a ■parte
rei; whereas the nominalists contend that they exist only
in the mind, and are merely ideas, or manners of conceiving
things. Odo, or Oudard, a native of Orleans, afterwards
abbot of St Martin de Tournay, was the chief of the sect of
the Realists. He wrote three books of dialectics, in which,
on the principles of Boethius and the ancients, he main¬
tained that the object of that art was things, not words, and
hence the sect took its rise and name.
REALITY, in the schools, a diminutive of res, thing,
was first used by the Scotists, to denote a thing which may
exist of itself; or which has a full and absolute being of
itself, and is not considered as a part of any other.
REALM, a country which gives its head or governor
the denomination of a king.
RE-ANIMATION means the reviving or restoring to
life those who are apparently dead. Sudden death is dread¬
ed by every human being, and it is one of those evils against
which the Church of England prays in her litany. Acci¬
dents, however, cannot always be prevented; but, after
they have happened, it is often possible to prevent their ef¬
fects. By the establishment of what has with great pro¬
priety been called the Humane Society, this has been abun¬
dantly proved; for, in the course of twelve years imme¬
diately after its institution, it was the means of saving the
lives of 850 persons, who otherwise would in all human
probability have been lost to the community. Since that
period it has saved many more ; and various persons, even
in the most distant parts of the kingdom, have done the
same by following the directions prescribed. To preserve
one human being from premature death, we must consider
as of the utmost consequence, both as citizens and Chris¬
tians ; and how much more the preservation of thousands ?
It appears from the writings of Mead, Winslow, Bruhier,
Fothergill, Haller, Lecat, Tissot, Van Engelen, Gummer,
and others, that they had prepared the way for institutions
similar to the Humane Society ; for in their works they have
elucidated the principles on which such institutions pro¬
ceed, and furnished directions for the practice they favour.
REAR, a term frequently used in composition to denote
It Hear of18
army
something behind or backwards in respect of another,
is used in opposition to van. _ ,,
Rear of an Army signifies, in general, the hindmost part Reai[lmur
of an army, battalion, regiment, or squadron ; and also the    \
ground behind either.
Rear-Guard is that body of an army which marches
after the main body. The march of an army is always
composed of an advanced guard, a main body, and a rear¬
guard ; the first and last commanded by a general.
® IE* /* 7   4-1-t 1> * /-I w»/-vn 4- -%*r» r~\ Ir-ci
Rear Half-files are the three hindmost ranks
battalion when it is drawn up six deep.
REAR-Line of an army encamped, is always twelve hun¬
dred feet at least from the centre line, both of which run
parallel to the front line, as also to the reserve.
Rear-Rank is the last rank of a battalion when drawn
up, and generally sixteen or eighteen feet from the centre
line when drawn up in order.
REASON, a faculty or power of the mind. See the ar¬
ticle Metaphysics.
REASONING, Ratiocination, the exercise of that
faculty of the mind which is called reason ; or it is an act
or operation of the mind, deducing some unknown propo¬
sition from other previous ones that are evident and known.
See the article Logic.
REAUMUR, Rene Antoine Ferchault, Sieur de,
a person distinguished for his laborious researches in natu¬
ral science, was born at Rochelle in 1683, being descended
of a family belonging to the law\ After having finished
his early studies in the place of his birth, he began a course
of philosophy at Poitiers, and one of civil law at Bourges;
but he soon relinquished the latter to apply himself to ma¬
thematics, physics, and natural history. Having come to
Paris, he was received into the Academy of Sciences in
1708. From that hour he was wholly employed in natu¬
ral history, to which his inclination particularly led him ;
and his inquiries were not confined to any one part of the
subject. His memoirs, his observations, his discoveries on
the formation of shells, spiders, muscles, the marine flea,
the berry which affords the purple colour, and on the cause
of the numbness of the torpedo, excited the curiosity of the
public, and early procured our author the character of an
able, curious, and entertaining naturalist. Filled with zeal
for the welfare and advantage of society, and for the progress
and perfection of arts, he endeavoured in all his researches
to promote the public good. The public were indebted to
him for the discovery of the turquois mines in Languedoc.
He also found out a substance, now used to give false stones
a colour, which is obtained from a certain fish called in the
French able or ablete on account of its whiteness, and
which is the bleak or blay of our writers. His experi¬
ments on the art of turning iron into steel obtained him a
pension of twelve thousand livres ; and this reward was to
be continued to the Academy to support the expense which
might accrue in this art.
He continued his inquiries on the art of making tin and
porcelain, and endeavoured to render our thermometers
more useful than those of former times. He composed a
curious history of rivers where gold-dust is found in France ;
and he gave so simple and so easy a detail of the art of ga¬
thering this dust, that persons have been employed for that
purpose. He also made curious and important observations
on the nature of flints; on the banks of fossil shells, whence
is obtained in Touraine an excellent manure for land; and
likewise on birds and their preservation, on their method
of building nests, on insects, and a great number of other
subjects, not less curious than useful.
Fie at first imagined that a certain varnish would keep
eggs fresh; but the waste of time and money showed him
the inconvenience of such a process. He afterwards adopt¬
ed the method practised from time immemorial in Greece
and the islands of the Archipelago, which is to steep or im>-
R E B
iRebate. merse eggs in oil or melted fat; by which means, not be-
' ing exposed to the air or to frost, they are well preserved, and
contract no bad taste or smell. Another experiment, still
more important, made by our author, was to introduce into
France the art of hatching fowls and birds, as practised in
Egypt, without covering the eggs. Active, sedulous, and
attentive, he was early in his study, often at six in the
morning. Exact in his experiments and observations, he
let no circumstance escape him. His writings must be of
great use to future philosophers. In society he was dis¬
tinguished through life for his modest and agreeable be¬
haviour. His probity, benevolence, goodness of heart, and
other amiable qualities, as well natural as acquired, endear¬
ed him to his countrymen. He died in the seventy-sixth
year of his age, on the 18th of October 1757, and left this
world filled with sentiments of piety. His death was the
consequence of a fall, which happened , at the castle of Bar-
nardiere on the Maine, where he went to pass his vocation.
He bequeathed to the Academy of Sciences his manuscripts
and all his natural productions. His works are, 1. A very
great number of memoirs, and observations on different parts
of natural history, printed in the collections of the Academy
of Sciences; and, 2. A large work printed separately in six
vols. 4to, entitled a Natural History of Insects. This im¬
portant work contains a description of vast numbers of ca¬
terpillars, moths, gall-insects, flies with two and four wings,
lady-birds, and those ephemeron flies which live only in that
form a few hours; and, lastly, of those singular and wonder¬
ful insects which are called polypes, which being cut into
several pieces, each piece lives, grows, and becomes an in¬
sect, and affords to our eyes a great number of prodigies.
The works of M. de Reaumur are exact, curious, interesting,
and exceedingly ingenious. They are written with much can¬
dour, clearness, and elegance; but it must be acknowledged
that his manner is somewhat too diffuse. We must not de¬
ceive the reader. He often raises our expectations, and does
not give us all the satisfaction which we promise ourselves
from his writings. His method of raising poultry, in par¬
ticular, rather disappoints us. He spared neither care,
time, nor expense, to render it practicable. He flattered
himself and his countrymen with the greatest hopes; but,
notwithstanding his assiduous industry and vast charges, it
proved abortive. M. 1’Advocat recommended him to ob¬
tain from Egypt better information bn the subject, and if
possible to procure a person versed in the art to instruct
him in it; but his death prevented the completion of the
scheme. It any native of Egypt had arrived, showed M.
de Reaumur a better method than his own, and practised
it with success, as in his country, the community would
have been benefited; on the other hand, he would have
seen, if it had failed, that the climate of France was not
proper for such experiments. M. Maillet, consul at Cairo,
to whom the regent had written to obtain the art, offered
to send over a native of Egypt, if the government would
pay the expense of his voyage, and allow him a pension of
1500 livres. M. Maillet judged rightly when he preferred
this method of proceeding. M. de Reaumur was not ig¬
norant of the design, but he flattered himself that his efforts
would be successful without further aid, and thought he
should acquire some honour. He certainly had great ta¬
lents, industry, sagacity, and every other requisite which is
necessary in such attempts ; but it is morally impossible
that a single man, in a different climate, can attain such
knowledge in an art as those who live in a more favourable
country, and have had the experience of many ages to pro¬
fit by. Yet, however unsuccessful M. de Reaumur may
have been, posterity is indebted to him for his repeated trials.
He has removed some difficulties in the road, and those who
travel it may discover what he only saw at a distance.
REBATE, or Rebatement, in Commerce, a term much
used at Amsterdam for an abatement in the price of seve-
VOL. XIX.
R E C 81
ral commodities, when the buyer, instead of taking time, Rebate-
advances ready money. nieilt
Rebatement, in Heraldry, a diminution or abatement .
of the bearings in a coat of ™s. Archipe!°
REBELLION, Rebellio, amongst the Romans, waswhere iago.
those who had been formerly overcome in battle, and yield-
ed to their subjection, made a second resistance. But with
us it is generally used for the taking up of arms traitorous¬
ly against the king, whether by natural subjects or others
when once subdued; and the word rebel is sometimes ap¬
plied to him who wilfully breaks a law, as also to a villein
disobeying his lord.
There is a difference between enemies and rebels. Ene¬
mies are those who are out of the king’s allegiance; and
therefore subjects of the king, either in open war or rebel¬
lion, are not the king’s enemies, but traitors. Thus David
prince of Wales, who levied war against Edward L, be¬
cause he was within the allegiance of the king, had sen¬
tence pronounced against him as a traitor and a rebel. Pri¬
vate persons may arm themselves to suppress rebels.
REBUS, an enigmatical representation of some name or
thing, by using figures or pictures instead of words or parts
of words. Camden mentions an instance of this kind of
wit in a gallant who expressed his love to a woman named
Rose Hill, by painting in the border of his gown a rose, a
hill, an eye, a loaf, and a well; which, in the style of the
rebus, reads, “ Rose Hill I love well" This kind of wit
was long practised by the great, who took the pains to find
devices for their names. It was, however, happily ridiculed
by Ben Jonson in the humorous description of AbelDrug-
ger’s device in the Alchemist, by the Spectator in the de¬
vice of Jack of Newberry, at which time the rebus, being
raised to sign-posts, was grown out of fashion at court.
Rebus is also used by the chemical writers, sometimes to
signify sour milk, and sometimes for what they call the ul¬
timate matter of which all bodies are composed.
Rebus, in Heraldry, is a coat of arms which bears an allu¬
sion to the name of the person ; as three castles for Castle-
ton, three cups for Butler, three conies for Conisby; a kind
of bearings which are of great antiquity.
RECANATT, a city of Italy, in the delegation of Ma-
cerata, in the papal dominions. It is situated on a moun¬
tain overlooking the Adriatic Sea. It is the seat of a bi¬
shop in union with the city of Loretto, and has a cathedral,
eight parish churches, eight monasteries, and four nunne¬
ries. It is well built, and has a haven at the mouth of the
Potenza, with a population of 5990 persons. Long. 13. 27.
48. E. Lat. 43. 25. 40. N.
RECENSIO was an account taken by the censors, every
lustrum, of all the Roman people. It was a general survey,
at which the equites, as well as the rest of the people, were
required to appear. New names were now put upon the
censor’s list, and old ones cancelled. The vecensio, in short,
was a more solemn and accurate sort of probatio, and an¬
swered the purpose of a review, by showing who were fit
for military service.
RECHABITES, a kind of religious order amongst the
ancient Jews, instituted by Jonadab the son of Rechab,
comprehending only his own family and posterity. Their
founder prescribed them three things: first, not to drink
any wine; secondly, not to build any houses, but to dwell
in tents; and, thirdly, not to sow any corn or plant vines.
RECHEAT, in hunting, a lesson which the huntsman
plays on the horn, when the hounds have lost their game,
to call them back from pursuing a counter scent.
RECHERCHE AKCHiPELAGO,agroup of islands stretch¬
ing about 126 miles along the south coast of New Holland,
between the thirty-third and thirty-fourth degrees of south
latitude. Several of them are naked rocks; and from the
coast of New Holland the access is extremely difficult, owing
to the rocks and shoals that are interspersed.
L
R E C
RECIPROCAL, in general, is something that is mu¬
tual, or which is returned equally on both sides, or atiects
both parties alike. . .. , ,
Reciprocal, in Mathematics, is applied to quantities
which, multiplied together, make unity. Thus - and x, y
and are reciprocal quantities. Likewise - is said to be
y 1
reciprocal of x, which is again the reciprocal of-.
Reciprocal Figures, in Geometry, those which have the
antecedents and consequents of the same ratio in both figures.
Reciprocal Proportion is when, in four numbers, the
fourth is less than the second by as much as the third is
greater than the first, and vice versa. Great use is made
of this reciprocal proportion by Sir Isaac Newton and others,
in demonstrating the laws of motion.
Reciprocal Terms, amongst logicians, are those which
have the same signification, and consequently are conver¬
tible, or may be used for each-other. _
RECITATIVO, or Recitative, in Music, a kind ot
singing, that differs but little from ordinary pronunciation ;
such as that in which the several parts of the liturgy are
rehearsed in cathedrals; or that in which the actors com¬
monly deliver themselves on the theatre at the opera, when
they are to express some action or passion, relate some event,
or reveal some design.
RECKLINGHAUSEN, a city of the Prussian province
fo Westphalia, in the government of Munster, and the ca¬
pital of a circle of the same name, which extends over 265
square miles, and contains 38,300 inhabitants. The city
contains two churches, a convent, 420 houses, and 2500
inhabitants, but has very little trade. Long. 7. 4. 57. E.
Lat. 51. 37. 25. N. .
RECKONING, or a Ships Reckoning, in Navigation,
is the account by which at any time it may be known where
the ship is, and on what course or courses she is to steer,
in order to gain her port; and that account, when taken from
the log-board, is called the dead reckoning.
RECLAIMING, or Reclaming, in our ancient customs,
a lord’s pursuing, prosecuting, and recalling his vassal, who
had gone to live in another place without his permission.
Reclaiming is also used for the demanding of a person or
thing, to be delivered up to the prince or state to which it
properly belongs, when, by any irregular means, it has pass¬
ed into the possession of another.
Reclaiming, in Falconry, is taming a haw k, and making
her gentle and familiar.
A partridge is said to reclaim when she calls her young
ones together, upon their scattering too much from her.
RECOGNIZANCE, in Law, is an obligation of record,
which a man enters into before some court of record or
magistrate, duly authorized, with condition to do some par¬
ticular act, as to appear at the assizes, to keep the peace,
to pay a debt, or the like.
RECOIL, or Rebound, the starting backwards of a fire¬
arm after an explosion. Mersenne tells us, that a cannon
twelve feet in length, weighing 6400lbs. gives a ball of 241bs.
an uniform velocity of 640 feet per second. Putting, there¬
fore, W = 6400, to — 14, V = 640, and v ■=. the velocity
with which the cannon recoils; because the momentums
of the cannon and ball are equal, we shall have W v rr %o
— 2’4; that is, it would
R E C
and examine the state of things, in order to make a report Recorde
RECORDE, Robert, a physician and mathematician, tio‘‘Cu
was descended of a respectable family in Wales, and lived., ^
in the time of Henry VIII. Edward VI. and Mary of Eng¬
land The time of his birth is not exactly known, but it
must have been about the beginning of the sixteenth cen-
turv • for he was entered of the university of Oxford about
1525, and was elected fellow of All-Souls College in 1531.
As he made physic his profession, he went to Cambridge,
where he was honoured with the degree of doctor m that fa¬
culty in 1545, and was very much esteemed by all who. were
acquainted with him, for his extensive knowledge of many
of the arts and sciences. He afterwards returned to Ox¬
ford where he publicly taught arithmetic and mathematics,
as he had done prior to his going to Cambridge, and that
with great applause. It appears that he afterwards went to
London, and acted as physician to Edward VI. and to Queen
Mary, to whom some of his books are dedicated; yet he died
in the King’s-Bench prison, Southwark, where he was con¬
fined for debt in the year 1558, at a very immature age.
He published several works upon mathematical subjects,
chiefly in the form of dialogue between master and scholar.
Of these the following is a list, viz. 1. The Pathway to Know¬
ledge, containing the first principles of geometry, as they
may moste aptly be applied unto practice, bothefor the use
of Instrumentes Geometricall and Astronomicall, and also
for proiection of Plattes, much necessary for all sortes of men,
Londen, 1551, 4to; 2. The Ground of Arts, teaching the
perfect worke and practice of Arithmeticke, both in whole
numbers and fractions, after a more easie and exact forme
then in former time hath been set furth, 1552, 8vo ; 3.
The Castle of Knowledge, containing the Explication of the
Sphere both Celestiall and Materiall, and divers other things
incident thereto, with sundry pleasaunt proofes and cer-
taine newe demonstrations not written before in any vul-
oare woorkes, London, 1556, folio; 4. The Whetstone of
Witte, which is the second part of Arithmetike, containing
the extraction of rootes, the Cossike practice, with the
rules of equation, and the woorkes of surde numbers, Lon¬
don, 1557, 4to.
Wood says that he was the author of several pieces on
physic, anatomy, politics, and divinity; but it is uncertain
whether these were ever published. Sherburne states that
he also published Cosmographice Isagoge; that he wrote
a book, JJe Arte faciendi Horologium, and another l)e usu
Globorum, et d,e statu Temporum.
RECORDER, a person whom the mayor and other ma¬
gistrates of a city or corporation associate to themselves for
their better direction in matters of justice and proceedings
in law; on which account this person is generally a counsel¬
lor, or other person well skilled in the law.
RECOVERY, in English law, a species of assurance by
matter of record, concerning the original of which it must
be remarked, that common recoveries were invented by the
ecclesiastics to elude the statutes of mortmain; and after¬
wards they were encouraged by the finesse of the courts of
law in 12 Edward IV., in order to put an end to all fetter¬
ed inheritances, and bar not only estates-tail, but also all
remainders and reversions expectant thereon.
RECREATION Island, a fertile island in the Southern
Pacific Ocean, discovered by Roggewein in the year 1722.
It is about twelve leagues in circuit. The inhabitants are
w V 24 x 64
V ; and so v _ w — 6400
recoil at the rate of 2-^ feet per second, if free to move.
RECOLLECTION, a mode of thinking, by which ideas
sought after by the mind are found and brought to view.
See the article Metaphysics.
RECONNOITRE, in military affairs, implies to view
warlike and robust. Long. 148. W. Lat. 18. S.
RECTANGLE, in Geometry, is the same with a right-
angled parallelogram.
RECTIFICATION, in Chemistry, is nothing but the
repetition several times of a distillation or sublimation, in
order to render the substance purer, finer, and freer from
aqueous and earthy parts.
Rectification, in Geometry, is the method of finding a
RED
Rectili- right line equal to a curve. The rectification of curves is
near a branch belonging to the higher geometry, in which the
use of the inverse method of fluxions is of singular utility.
RECTILINEAR, in Geo»?efr7/, right-lined. Thus figures
, the perimeter of which consists of right lines, are said to be
rectilinear.
RECTOR, a term applied to several persons whose
offices are very different. The rector of a parish is a clergy¬
man who has the charge and cure of a parish, and possesses
all the tithes, &c. The same name is also given to the
chief elective officer in several foreign universities, particu¬
larly in that of Paris, and also in those of Scotland; and it
is likewise applied to the head master of large schools in
Scotland, as in the High School of Edinburgh. Rector is
further used in several convents to indicate the superior
officer who governs the house; and the Jesuits give this
name to the superiors of such of their houses as are either
seminaries or colleges.
RECTORY is a parish-church, parsonage, or spiritual
living, with all its rights, tithes, and glebes.
Rectory, however, is sometimes used for the rector’s
mansion or parsonage-house.
RECUPERATORES, amongst the Romans, were com¬
missioners appointed to take cognizance of private matters
in dispute, between the subjects of the state and foreigners,
and to take cave that the former had justice done them.
It came at last to be used for commissioners, to whom the
praetor referred the determination of any affair between one
subject and another.
RECUSANTS, such persons as acknowledge the pope
to be the supreme head of the church, and refuse to acknow¬
ledge the king’s supremacy. They are hence called Popish
Recusants.
RED, one of the colours called simple or primary, being
one of the shades into which the light naturally divides it¬
self when refracted through a prism.
Red-/?oo£ of the Exchequer, an ancient record or manu¬
script volume, in the keeping of the king’s remembrancer,
and containing divers treatises relating to the times before
the Conquest.
RED POINT, a cape on the east coast of New Holland,
with four projecting hillocks upon it, and which has the ap¬
pearance of a double saddle. Long. 150. 56. E. Lat. 34.
33. S.
RED RIVER is one of the principal confluents of the
Mississippi, in North America. Its source is situated at the
base of a range of the Rocky Mountains, called the Caous
Mountains, near Santa Fe, in Mexico. A great number
of streams descend this chain, and, flowing separately for
some three or four hundred miles, at length unite and form
the Red River. The country through which its upper
branches flow is but little known. After the river enters
Louisiana, its south bank forms for a great distance the
boundary between the United States and Texas. Much of
its course lies through noble prairies of a rich red soil co¬
vered with grass intermingled with vines, which bear, it is
said, excellent grapes. About a hundred miles above Nat¬
chitoches the alluvion enlarges to a breadth of twenty or
thirty miles, forming a sort of swampy bed through which
the river flows in a number of channels. Great quantities
of timber, brought down from the upper parts of the river,
have for ages been accumulating in these channels, and to
such an extent, that in some parts the stream may be cross¬
ed on horseback. Hence the name of Raft, which this
swampy expansion bears throughout its whole extent. The
river finds its way sometimes below these accumulations of
timber, sometimes between them. Nearly seventy miles of
the river are thus obstructed ; and it is of incalculable in¬
jury to its navigation, for here small boats only can pass.
For nearly a thousand miles above the Raft the soil is ex¬
tremely rich, and the climate very salubrious; but, until
It E I) 83
this obstacle be removed, it will form an almost insurmourit-Iled River
able barrier to its proper settlement. Below the Raft the !!
river separates into a number of channels, and expands at ^eu ^ea‘
intervals into a multitude of sheets of water. Its breadth ” y'"-''
enlarges as it approaches the Mississippi; but immediately
below the Raft the channel becomes narrower than above
it. From both sides it receives a vast number of tributaries.
The whole length of this noble stream is estimated at 2500
miles, following its meanderings ; and it enters the Missis¬
sippi in about 31° 15' north latitude. It was supposed at
one time to discharge itself into the Gulf of Mexico without
joining the Mississippi. Much of the soil through which
the Red River passes in its upper course is of a reddish co¬
lour, which is imparted to the waters, and hence the name of
the stream. So impregnated is it with this ochreous earth,
that at low water at Natchitoches it cannot be used for cu¬
linary purposes. The valley of Red River is three or four
miles in breadth as far as the Kiamesia, which, following its
windings, is about a thousand miles from its mouth. But
it wddens to from six to eighteen miles as it approaches the
Mississippi, and is of an average breadth of twelve miles for
a great distance above the confluence of the rivers. This
alluvial tract is considered as equal to any in all the vast
valley of the Mississippi. The staple production is cotton,
of a quality superior to any raised in the United States
except Sea Island. Its indigo and tobacco are the best
raised in Louisiana; and sugar has been introduced, and
found to thrive well.
Red River is also the name of a number of other Ame¬
rican streams. The most important is that which flows into
Lake Winnipeg, in the northern part of North America.
It is formed of two branches, the principal of which rises in
Red Lake, and flows west by north for a hundred and fifty
miles, when it is joined by the other branch. It then
changes its direction to east of north, and flows for a hun¬
dred and eighty miles below its junction, when it falls into
Lake Winnipeg.
RED SEA. This great inlet of the Indian Ocean, which
divides Arabia from the opposite coast of Africa, extends
in a north-west direction about 1400 miles from the Straits
of Babelmandel, where it is not above thirty miles across to
Suez, and only sixty miles distant from the Mediterranean,
so that the maritime communication by this route between
India and Europe is only divided by this narrow isthmus,
which also forms the connecting link between the conti¬
nents of Asia and Africa. This sea lies between the
twelfth and thirtieth degrees of north latitude, and is no¬
where broader than 200 miles, and scarcely ever of that
width. The navigation of the Red Sea is difficult and
dangerous, owing to the reefs and coral rocks both above
and under the water ; and also, for nine months of the year,
in consequence of the violent winds which blow regularly
from the north, and impede the passage from the Straits to
Suez. There are few harbours to which vessels in distress
can repair for shelter. On the eastern coast there is not a
single harbour from Suez to Yambo, the port of Medina,
nor thence to Jidda. Compodah is the next harbour, about
150 miles south of Jidda. But, in entering Yemen, there
are the harbours of Mocha, Loheia, and Flodeida. The na¬
vigation to Suez, at the head of the gulf, is extremely diffi¬
cult through the upper part of the Red Sea, the channel
through which vessels have to pass being narrow, with rocks
sunk beneath the surface. The only other ports on the west¬
ern shore are Cosseir, the port and road of which are formed
by reefs, which defend it from the north-east winds, and by
a headland, which secures it against those blowing from the
south-south-east, and which has only a depth of water of two
fathoms and a half. Here the goods destined for Egypt are
landed, conveyed by land to Keneh on the Nile, thence
down the river to Alexandria. Suakim, about 500 miles
south-east of Cosseir, is extremely difficult of entrance, not
84
lied Sea.
RED
RED
on1y „„ account of it, „ar_ at the ntouth, which re- “htT^S,” „T
1 quires an extremely favourable wind, but trom the roc s w^uld remain of building the wall on the left ^™
and shoals which lie off it in every direction- By this po t]ie north. Besides, water standing in that po- ^
hosts of pilgrims and slaves come from the interior of A ri , ’ for a d must have lost the nature of a fluid. Whence
for the purpose of crossing to Jidda and Mecca. Massi hat cohesion 0f particles that hindered that wall to
is about 250 miles south-east of Suakim, and is the PorrJ at the sides ? This is as great a miracle as that of
Abyssinia, by which its whole commerce is carried on. The ^ Etesian winds had done this once, they must
and Africa^and the great have repeated it many a time before and since from the same
and Africa, ana e gre r Diodorus Siculus says, the Troglodytes, the in-
Red Sea penetrating on the one side so deep into the land
between the continents of Asia and Africa, and the great
inlet of the Mediterranean on the other between 'i"j;*j.^K"ofthat very spot, have “a tradition from
and Africa, appear to be admirably adapted for faohtatmg ^r “ Very a"d rem°teSt ageS’that
the commerce and maritime ntercoume of-the world and L did happen there; a°„d that,
though the intervention of the Isthmus of Sue - fter leaving the bottom some time dry, the sea again came
from their utility, yet, in ancient times, the gre and covered it with great fury. The words of this
Europe and India was carried on through this c lanne • > author are of the most remarkable kind. We cannot think
the Red Sea also the fleets of Solomon maintained an audun rn^ot the most £ ^ of revelation. He knew
course with the celebrated countries of Ophir and Tarsi n()r says a word about Pharaoh and his host;
the situation of which is variously conjee u , t records the miracle of the division of the sea in words
shores o^ffinduftir SlVe^TtheAncient world with nearly as strong as those of Moses, from the mouths of un-
India w^as carried on entirely by this routeit h^REDlTuR'Ca towTof’the county of Hertford, in the
became the great emporium ofeas ern pi ocu , ^ ^ hundred of Cashio, twenty-six miles from London, and on
was distributed bv means of the Mediterranean all over Eu¬
rope. This trade flourished greatly under the reign of the
Ptolemies, who succeeded in establishing a regular com¬
munication both with Africa and with Hindustan. It was
long a source of great commercial wealth, and was vigorously
prosecuted during the whole period that the Roman em¬
pire subsisted. But it was long suspended by the overthrow'
of the Roman power, and during the irruptions of the bar¬
barian hordes, who carried their devastations oyer the great¬
er part of the civilized world. With literature and refine¬
ment commerce revived; and the Venetians established
factories at Alexandria, by which they carried on the trade
to India through the channel of the Red Sea. Since this
period the discovery of the passage to India by the Cape
of Good Hope has entirely superseded the route by the
Red Sea, and changed the course of the trade to India.
But in modern times the introduction of steam-navigation
will probably revive the long-abandoned route to India by
the Red Sea. The baffling winds which, for nine months
in the year, impeded the passage up this sea, will now be
overcome by the superior power of steam, nor will the
calms which sometimes prevail oppose any further obstacle
to its navigation; whilst the route, being so much shorter than
by the long circuit round the Cape of Good Hope, may be
accomplished in a much shorter time, and is on every ac¬
count to be preferred.
The passage of the Israelites through the Red Sea has
furnished matter for much curious research and ingenious
speculation. Bruce, in his Travels, states, that at the
place where he supposes the passage to have been made
the sea is not quite four leagues in breadth, so that it
might easily have been crossed in one night without any
miracle. There are about fourteen fathoms water in the
channel, and nine at the sides, with good anchorage every¬
where ; the farthest side is a low sandy coast, and a very
easy landing place. “ The draught of the bottom of the
gulf,” says he, “ given by Dr Pococke, is very erroneous
in every part of it. It was proposed to Mr Niebuhr, when
in Egypt, to inquire, upon the spot, whether there were not
some ridges of rocks where the water was shallow, so that
an army at particular times might pass over; secondly,
whether the Etesian winds, which blow' strongly all sum¬
mer from the north-west, could not blow so violently against
the sea as to keep it back on a heap, so that the Israelites
might have passed without a miracle. And a copy of
these queries was left for me to join my inquiries likewise.
But I must confess, however learned the gentlemen wrere
who proposed these doubts, I did not think they merited
any attention to solve them. If the Etesian winds, blow-
the great northern road. It consists of a single street, about
a mile in length. The population amounted in 1801 to
1153, in 1811 to 1333, in 1821 to 1784, and in 1831 to
2047.
REDDYGOODUM, a town of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of the Circars, and district of Condapilly. Long. 80.
41. E. Lat. 16. 53. N.
REDEMPTION, in Law, a faculty or right of re-enter¬
ing upon lands which have been sold and assigned, upon
reimbursing the purchase-money with legal costs.
Redemption, in Theology, denotes the recovery of man¬
kind from sin and death, by the obedience and sacrifice of
Christ, who on this account is called the Redeemer of the
World.
REDON, an arrondissement of the department of Isle
Vilaine, in France, which is 533 square miles in extent,
and is divided into seven cantons, and these into forty-six
communes, containing 73,500 inhabitants. rl he capital is
the city of the same name, situated on the river Vilaine.
It is well built, and has a fine exchange, 710 houses, and
4120 inhabitants, with a considerable trade in serges and
other woollen goods. Long 2. 11. W. Lat, 47. 49. 9. N.
REDOUBT, in Fortification, a small square fort, with¬
out any defence but in front; it is used in trenches, lines
of circumvallation, contravallation, and approach, and also
for the lodging of corps-de-garde, and for defending pas¬
sages.
REDRUTH, a market-town and parish of the county ot
Cornwall, in the hundred of Penwith, 263 miles from Lon¬
don, and four from Truro. It is situated in the midst of one
of the districts most rich in mineral ores, the working ot
which forms the chief occupation of the inhabitants. It has
markets on Tuesday and Friday. The population amounted
in 1801 to 4924, in 1811 to 5903, in 1821 to 6607, and in
1831 to 8191.
REDUCTION, in the schools, signifies a manner of
bringing a term or proposition which was before opposite
to some other, to be equivalent to it.
Reduction, in Arithmetic, that rule by which numbers
of different denominations are brought into one denomi¬
nation.
Reduction of Equations, in Algebra, is the clearing
them from all superfluous quantities, bringing them to their
lowest terms, and separating the know n from the unknown,
till at length only the unknown quantity is found upon one
side, and the known ones on the other. The reduction of an
equation is the last part of the resolution of the problem.
REDUNDANT, in Music. What the French call
REE
teduplica-“ une accord superflue,” which we have translated a redun-
tion daut chord, has by others been rendered a chord extreme-
II ly sharp, as in the translation of Rameau’s Principles of
Reeve. compOSitjon, Their nature will be best understood by a
few examples, and an account of the number of tones, se¬
mitones, or lesser intervals, contained in each.
The second redundant is composed of a major tone and
a minor semitone, as from fa to sol sharp. Its proportion
is as 64 to 75. The third redundant consists of two tones
and a semitone, as fa la sharp. Its proportion is as 96 to
125. The fourth redundant is the same with the tritone.
From these examples compared with the same intervals
in their natural state, the reader may form a general idea
of what is meant by redundant.
REDUPLICATION of sounds in musical harmony.
See the article Music, under section Harmony.
REE, Reis, or Res, a small Portuguese coin. See Mo¬
ney - Table.
REEF, a term in navigation. When there is a heavy
gale of wind, the seamen commonly roll up part of the sail
below, that by this means it may become the narrower,
and not draw so much wind; and this contracting or tak¬
ing up the sail they call a reef, or reefing the sail. So also,
when a top-mast is sprung, as they call it, that is, when it
is cracked, or almost broken in the cap, they cut off the
lower piece that was nearly broken off, and setting the other
part, now much shorter, in the step again, they call it a
reefed top-mast.
REEF Island, a small island in the Eastern Seas, about
fifty miles from the west coast of Sumatra, and called also
Disastrous Island, from the number of shipwrecks which
have taken place near it. Long. 101. 3. E. Lat. 4. S. It
is also the name of a small island near the northern coast of
the island of Celebes. Long. 122. 48. E. Lat. 0. 8. N.
REEL, in the manufactories, a machine employed for the
purpose of reeling. There are various kinds of reels; some
very simple, others very complex.
REELING, in the manufactories, the winding of silk,
cotton, or the like, into a skain, or upon a button, to pre¬
vent its entangling. It is also used for the charging or
discharging of bobbins or quills, to be employed in the ma¬
nufacture of different stuffs, as thread, silk, cotton, and the
like. Reeling is performed in different ways, and on dif¬
ferent engines.
REEPHAM, a market-town of the county of Norfolk,
hi the hundred of Eynesford, 113 miles from London, and
thirteen from Norwich. It was once much larger than at
present, and had three churches. It stands on the river
Eyne, and has a market, which is held on Saturday. The
population amounted in 1801 to 284, in 1811 to 299, in
1821 to 345, and in 1831 to 452.
REES, a town of the Prussian government of Cleves, the
capital of a circle of the same name, which extends over
166 square miles, comprehending seven cities and towns,
thirty-seven villages, and 32,950 inhabitants. The town is
situated on the river Rhine, and contains two churches,
470 houses, and 2800 inhabitants. Long. 6. 17. 14. E.
Lat. 51. 45. 55. N.
REEVE, Clara, the ingenious authoress of The Old
English Baron, was the daughter of the Reverend William
Reeve, rector of Freston, and of Kerton, in Suffolk, and
perpetual curate of St Nicholas. Her mother’s maiden
name was Smithies, daughter of Mr Smithies, goldsmith and
jeweller to George I. The father of Miss Reeve was “ an
old Whig,” and from him she learned all that she knew ;
he was her oracle, and used to make her read the parlia¬
mentary debates whilst he smoked his pipe after supper.
Under the same paternal tuition, she also read Rapin’s
History of England, Cato’s Letters, the Greek and Roman
histories, and Plutarch’s Lives, at an age when few people
of either sex can read their own names. Mr Reeve, him-
R E E 85
self one of a family of eight children, had the same number Reeve,
of offspring ; and hence it is probable that Clara’s strong
natural turn for study, rather than any degree of exclusive
care which his partiality could bestow, enabled her to ac¬
quire such a stock of early information.
After the death of Mr Reeve, his widow resided in Col¬
chester with three of his daughters; and it was here that
Clara first became an authoress, by translating from the ori¬
ginal Latin Barclay’s fine old romance of Argenis, which
was published in 1762, under the title of The Phoenix. It
was not, however, until 1767, five years afterwards, that
she produced her first and most distinguished work, which
was published by Mr Dilly of the Poultry, under the title
of The Champion of Virtue. The sum given for the copy¬
right was only ten pounds; but in the following year the
work came to a second edition, and was then first called
The Old English Baron, for what reason we do not pre¬
tend to conjecture. This production is inscribed to Mrs
Brigden, the daughter of Richardson, who is stated to have
lent some assistance in the revision and correction of the work.
The success of The Old English Baron encouraged Miss
Reeve to devote more of her leisure hours to literary com¬
position, and accordingly she published in succession, The
Two Mentors, The Progress of Romance, The Exile, The
School for Widows, Plans of Education, and Memoirs of
Sir Roger de Clarendon, a natural son of the Black Prince,
with Anecdotes of many other eminent persons of the
fourteenth century. To these works there remains to be
added another, the interest of which turned upon superna¬
tural appearances. In a preface to a subsequent edition of
The Old English Baron, Miss Reeve informs the public that,
in compliance with the suggestion of a friend, she had com¬
posed Castle Connor, an Irish story, in which apparitions
were introduced. But the manuscript being intrusted to
some careless or unfaithful person, fell aside, and was never
recovered. The various novels produced by this lady are
all marked by excellent good sense, pure morality, and a
considerable command of those qualities requisite to con¬
stitute a good romance. They were, generally speaking,
favourably received at the time; but none of them took the
same strong possession of the public mind as The Old Eng¬
lish Baron, upon which the fame of the author may be
considered as. now exclusively rested, and by which alone
she will be known to posterity.
Miss Reeve led a retired life, affording no materials for
biography, until the beginning of December 1803, when
she died at Ipswich, her native city, at the advanced age of
seventy-eight years, and was buried in the churchyard of
St Stephens, according to her particular direction. Such
are the only particulars that have been collected concern¬
ing this accomplished and excellent woman ; and, in their
simplicity, the reader may remark that of her life and her
character. The following critical observations, confined en¬
tirely to her most celebrated work, which first established
her fame, and upon which alone it will in all probability
rest, are extracted from the biographical notice of Miss
Reeve by Sir Walter Scott, to which we have also been in¬
debted for the foregoing particulars of her life.
“ The authoress has herself informed us that The Old
English Baron is the ‘ literary offspring of The Castle of
Otranto;’ and she has obliged us by pointing out the dif¬
ferent and more limited view which she had adopted, of the
supernatural machinery employed by Horace Walpole. She
condemns the latter for the extravagance of several of his
conceptions; for the gigantic size of his sword and helmet;
and for the violent fictions of a walking picture, and a ske¬
leton in a hermit’s cowl. A ghost, she contends, to be ad¬
mitted as an ingredient in romance, must behave himself
like ghosts of sober demeanour, and subject himself to the
common rules still preserved in grange and hall, as circum¬
scribing beings of his description.
86 REE
Keeve. “ We must, however, notwithstanding her authoiity, en-
—V—' ter our protest against fettering the realm of shadows by
the opinions entertained of it m the world or realities, i
we are to try ghosts by the ordinary rules ot humanity, we
bar them of their privileges entirely. For instance, why
admit the existence of an aerial phantom, and deny it the
terrible attribute of magnifying its stature ? why admit an
enchanted helmet, and not a gigantic one ? why allow as
an impressive incident the fall of a suit of armour, thrown
down, we must suppose, by no mortal hand, and at the same
time deny the same supernatural influence the power ot
producing the illusion (for it is only represented as such)
upon Manfred, which gives seeming motion and hie to the
portrait of his ancestor? It may be said, and it seems to e
Miss Reeve’s argument, that there is a verge of probability,
which even the most violent figment must not transgi ess ,
but we reply by the cross question, that if we are once to
subject our preternatural agents to the limits of human
reason, where are we to stop? We might, under such a
rule, demand of ghosts an account of the very circuitous
manner in which they are pleased to open their communi¬
cations with the living world. We might, for example,
move a quo warranto against the spectre of the murdered
Lord Lovel, for lurking about the eastern apartment, when
it might have been reasonably expected, that if he did not
at once impeach his murderers to the next magistrate, he
might at least have put Fitzowen into the secret, and thus
obtained the succession of his son more easily than by the
dubious and circuitous route of a single combat. If there
should be an appeal against this imputation, founded on the
universal practice of ghosts, in such circumstances, who al¬
ways act with singular obliquity in disclosing the guilt of
which they complain, the matter becomes a question of
precedent; in which view of the case, w e may vindicate
Horace Walpole for the gigantic exaggeration of his phan¬
tom, by the similar expansion of the terrific vision ot Fa-
doun, in Blind Harry’s Life of Wallace; and we could,
were we so disposed, have paralleled his moving picture, by
the example of one with which we ourselves had some ac¬
quaintance, which was said both to move and to utter
groans, to the great alarm of a family of the highest re¬
spectability.
“ Where, then, may the i*eader ask, is the line to be
drawn ? or what are the limits to be placed to the reader’s
credulity, when those of common sense and ordinary na¬
ture are once extended ? The question admits only one an¬
swer, namely, that the author himself, being in fact the ma¬
gician, shall evoke no spirits whom he is not capable of en¬
dowing with manners and language corresponding to their
supernatural character. Thus Shakspeare, drawing such
characters as Caliban and Ariel, gave them reality, not by
appealing to actual opinions, which his audience might en¬
tertain respecting the possibility or impossibility of their
existence, but by investing them with such attributes as all
readers and spectators recognised as those which must have
corresponded to such extraordinary beings, had their ex¬
istence been possible. If he had pleased to put into lan¬
guage the ‘ squeaking and gibbering’ of those disembodied
phantoms which haunted the streets of Rome, no doubt his
wonderful imagination could have filled up the sketch
which, marked by these two emphatic and singularly felici¬
tous expressions, he has left as characteristic of the lan¬
guage of the dead.
“ In this point of view, our authoress has, with equal
judgment and accuracy, confined her flight within those
limits on which her pinions could support her; and though
we are disposed to contest her general principle, w7e are
willing to admit it as a wise and prudent one, so far as ap¬
plied to regulate her own composition. In no part of The
Old English Baron, or of any other of her works, does Miss
Reeve show the possession of a rich or powerful imagina-
R E E
tion. Her dialogue is sensible, easy, and agreeable, but Reeve,
neither marked by high flights of fancy nor strong bursts of
passion. Her apparition is an ordinary fiction, of which
popular superstition used to furnish a thousand instances,
when nights were long, and a family, assembled round a
Christmas log, had little better to do than to listen to such
tales. Miss "Reeve has been very felicitously cautious in
showung us no more of Lord Level’s ghost than she needs
must; he is a silent apparition, palpable to the sight only,
and never brought forward-into such broad daylight as
might have dissolved our reverence. And so far, we repeat,
the authoress has used her own power to the utmost advan¬
tage, and gained her point by not attempting a step be¬
yond it. But we cannot allow that the rule which, m her
own case, has been well and wisely adopted, ought to cir¬
cumscribe a bolder and more imaginative writer.
“ In what may be called the costume, or keeping, of the
chivalrous period in which the scene of both is laid, the
language and style of Horace Walpole, together with his
intimate acquaintance with the manners of the middle ages,
form an incalculable difference betwixt 1 he Castle of Oti an-
to and The Old English Baron. Clara Reeve, probably,
was better acquainted with Plutarch and Rapin than with
Froissart or Olivier de la Marche. This is no imputation
on the taste of that ingenious lady. In her days, Macbeth
was performed in a general’s full uniform, and Lord Hast¬
ings was dressed like a modern high chamberlain going to
court. Or, if she looked to romances for her authority,
those of the French school were found introducing, under
the reign of Cyrus or of Faramond, or in the early republic
at Rome, the sentiments and manners of the court of Louis
XIV. In the present day more attention to costume is
demanded, and authors, as well as players, are obliged to
make attempts, however fantastic or grotesque, to imitate
the manners on the one hand, and the dress on the other,
of the times in which the scene is laid. Formerly, nothing
of this kind was either required or expected ; and it is not
improbable that the manner in which Walpole circumscribes
his dialogue (in most instances) within the still and stern
precincts prescribed by a strict attention to the manners and.
language of the times, is the first instance of such restric¬
tions. In The Old English Baron, on the contrary, all par¬
ties speak and act much in the fashion of the seventeenth
century ; employ the same phrases of courtesy; and adopt
the same tone of conversation. Baron Fitzowen, and the
principal characters, talk after the fashion of country squires
of that period, and the lower personages like gaffers and
gammers of the same era. And ‘ were but the combat in
the lists left out,’ or converted into a modern duel, the
whole train of incidents might, for any peculiarity to be
traced in the dialect or narration, have taken place in the
time of Charles II., or in either of the two succeeding reigns.
As it is, the story reads as if it had been transcribed into
the language, and remodelled according to the ideas, of this
latter period. Yet we are uncertain whether, upon the
whole, this does not rather add to than diminish the inte¬
rest of the work ; at least it gives an interest of a different
kind, which, if it cannot compete with that which arises out
of a highly exalted and poetical imagination, and a strict
attention to the character and manners of the middle ages,
has yet this advantage, that it reaches its point more surely
than had a higher, more difficult, and more ambitious line
of composition been attempted.
“ He that would please the modern world, yet present
the exact impression of a tale of the middle ages, will re¬
peatedly find that he wall be obliged, in despite of his ut¬
most exertions, to sacrifice the last to the first object, and
eternally expose himself to the just censure of the rigid an¬
tiquary, because he must, to interest the readers of the
present time, invest his characters with language and sen¬
timents unknow n to the period assigned to his story; and
R E F
Reeving, thus his utmost efforts only attain a sort of composition
 v'-*-'between the true and the fictitious, just as the dress of
Lear, as performed on the stage, is neither that of a mo¬
dern sovereign, nor the cerulean painting and bear-hide
with which the Britons, at the time when that monarch is
supposed to have lived, tattooed their persons, and sheltered
themselves from cold. All this inconsistency is avoided by
adopting the style of our grandfathers and great-grandfathers,
sufficiently antiquated to accord with the antiquated charac¬
ter of the narrative, yet copious enough to express all that
is necessary to its interest, and to supply that deficiency of
colouring which the more ancient times do not afford.
“ It is no doubt true that The Old English Baron, written
in the latter and less ambitious taste, is sometimes tame
and tedious, not to say mean and tiresome. The total ab¬
sence of peculiar character (for every person introduced is
rather described as one of a genus than as an original, dis¬
criminated, and individual person) may have its effect in
producing the tedium which loads the story in some places.
This is a general defect in the novels of the period, and it
was scarce to be expected that the amiable and accom¬
plished authoress, in her secluded situation, and with ac¬
quaintance of events and characters derived from books
alone, should have rivalled those authors who gathered their
knowledge of the human heart from having, like Fielding
and Smollett, become acquainted, by sad experience, with
each turn of ‘ many-coloured life.’ Nor was it to be thought
that she should have emulated in this particular her proto¬
type Walpole, who, as a statesman, a poet, and a man of
the world, ‘ who knew the world like a man,’ has given
much individual character to his sketch of Manfred. What
we here speak of is not the deficiency in the style and cos¬
tume, but a certain creeping and low line of narrative and
sentiment; which may be best illustrated by the grave and
minute accounting into which Sir Philip Harclay and the
Baron Fitzowen enter, after an event so unpleasant as the
judgment of heaven upon a murderer, brought about by a
judicial combat, and that combat occasioned by the awful
and supernatural occurrences in the eastern chamber, where
we find the arrears of the estate gravely set off against the
education of the heir, and his early maintenance in the ba¬
ron’s family. \eleven these prolix, minute, and unneces¬
sary details are precisely such as would occur in a similar
story told by a grandsire or grandame to a circle assembled
round a winter’s fire; and while they take from the dignity
of the composition, and would therefore have been rejected
by a writer of more exalted imagination, do certainly add
in some degree to its reality, and bear in that respect a re¬
semblance to the art with which De Foe impresses on his
readers the truth of his fictions, by the insertion of many
minute and immaterial or unnatural circumstances, which
we are led to suppose could only be recorded because they
are true. Perhaps, to be circumstantial and abundant in
minute detail, and, in one word, though an unauthorized
one, to be somewhat prosy, is a secret mode of securing a
certain necessary degree of credulity from the hearers of a
ghost-story. It gives a sort of quaint antiquity to the
whole, as belonging to the times of ‘ superstitious elde
and those whom we have observed to excel in oral narra¬
tives of such a nature, usually study to secure the attention
of their audience by employing this art. At least, whether
owing to this mode of telling her tale, or to the interest of
the story itself, and its appeal to the secret reserve of su¬
perstitious feeling which maintains its influence in most
bosoms, I he Old English Baron has always produced as
strong an effect as any story of the kind, although liable to
the objections which we have freely stated, without mean-
mg to impeach the talents of the amiable authoress.” (a.)
REEVING, in nautical language, the putting a rope
t irough a block. Hence to pull a rope out of a block, is
called unreeving.
REF
87
REFECTION, amongst ecclesiastics, a spare meal or Refection
repast, just sufficient for the support of life. Hence the hall
in convents, and other communities, where the monks, nuns,
and others, take their refections or meals in common,
called the refectory.
RE I* LECTION, the return or progressive motion of a
moving body, occasioned by some obstacle which prevent¬
ed it from pursuing its former direction.
Circular Instrument of Reflection, an instrument for
measuring angles to a very great degree of accuracy. It
was invented by the celebrated astronomer Mayer of Got¬
tingen, principally with a view to do away the errors of the
divisions of the limb ; and has since been much improved
by the Chevalier de Borda, and by Magellan. This instru¬
ment is particularly applicable to the measuring of the dis¬
tances of the heavenly bodies, and was used by the French
in their part of the operation undertaken for determining the
difference of the meridians of Paris and Greenwich.
Reflection of Light. See Optics.
Reflection is also used figuratively, to signify an opera¬
tion of the mind, by which it turns its view as it were inwards
upon itself, and makes itself and its own operations the ob¬
ject of its disquisition ; and by contemplating the manner,
order, and laws, which it observes in perceiving ideas, com¬
paring them together, reasoning, and judging, it frames new
ideas of the relations discovered therein. See Metaphy¬
sics.
REFLEX, in Painting, means those places in a picture
which are supposed to be illuminated by light reflected from
some other body in the same piece.
REFLUX, the backward course of water, has the same
meaning as the ebbing of the sea, and is opposed to the
flood, flux, or flowing of the sea.
REFORM means a change from worse to better, a re¬
establishment or revival of former neglected discipline, or
a correction of abuses.
REh ORMATION is, in general, the act of reforming or
correcting an error or abuse in religion, discipline, or the
like. By way of eminence, the word is used for that great
alteration and reformation in the corrupted system of Chris¬
tianity, commenced by Luther in the year 1517.
Before the period of the Reformation, the pope had de-The dispo-
clared himself the sovereign of the w hole world. All the sal of the
parts of it which were inhabited by those who were not Chris- worU as-
tians, he accounted the same as if they were uninhabited ; sume<l fo’’
and if those who called themselves Christians resolved ontlie poi)e'
occupying any of those countries, he gave them full liberty
to make war upon the inhabitants without any provocation.
The countries, if conquered, were to be parcelled out accord¬
ing to the pope’s pleasure; and dreadful was the situation of
that prince who refused to obey the will of the sovereign
pontiff. In consequence of this extraordinary authority which
the pope had assumed, he at last granted to the king of Por¬
tugal all the countries to the eastward of Cape Nun in Africa,
and to the king ot Spain all the countries to the westward
of that pointer headland. In this, according to the opinions
of some, was completed in his person the character of An¬
tichrist sitting in the temple of God, and showing himself
as God (2 I hess. ii. 4). He had long before, say they, as¬
sumed in spiritual matters the supremacy belonging to the
Deity himself; and now he assumed the same supremacy in
temporal affairs, giving the extreme regions of the earth to
whomsoever he pleased. The Reformation, therefore, they
consider as the immediate effect of divine power taking
vengeance on this and all other deviations from the system
of truth ; whilst others regard it merely as an effect of natu¬
ral causes, w hich might have been foreseen and prevented,
without abridging the papal power in any considerable de¬
gree.
Be this as it may, how ever, the partition above mention¬
ed was the last piece of insolence which the pope ever had.
88
reformation.
Iteforma-
tion begun
by Luther.
Zuinglius
in Switzer
land.
Ilef’onna-
tion oppos¬
ed in Ger¬
many.
or in all probability ever will have, it in his power to exer-
else, in the way of parcelling out the g obe atwnpt ta ad-
herents. Everything was quiet, every heretic had been t
terminated, and the whole Christian world supinely acqui¬
esced in the enormous absurdities which were inculcated
upon them; when, in 1517, a spirit of inquiry arose, and
the empire of superstition began to decline. Ihe person
who made the first attack on the extravagant superstitions
then prevalent was Martin Luther. By some it is pretend¬
ed that the only motive which Luther had in beginning ie
Reformation was his enmity to the Dominicans, who ha
excluded his order, the Augustinians, from all share m the
gainful traffic of indulgences. But this does not seem at all
probable, for such a motive would not naturally lead m
to deny the virtue of indulgences, whilst his conduct could
not but exclude him for ever from any chance ot a share m
the traffic, which otherwise he might perhaps have obtain¬
ed. Besides, this traffic was so contrary to the common
principles of reason and honesty, that we cannot wonder at
finding one man in the world who had sense enoug to t is-
cern it, and virtue enough to oppose such a disgraceful prac¬
tice. In all probability, however, the insignificance ot the
first reformer was the reason why he was not persecuted and
exterminated at the very outset, as others had been before
him. Another reason probably might be, that he did not
at once attack the whole errors of Popery, but brought about
his reformation gradually, probably as it occurred to him-
The Reformation commenced in the city of Wittenberg
in Saxony, but was not long confined either to that city
or to the province in which it is situated. In 1520 the r ran-
ciscan friars, who had the care of promulgating indulgences
in Switzerland, were opposed by Zuinglius, a man not infe¬
rior in understanding and knowledge to Luther himself. He
proceeded with the greatest vigour to overturn the whole
fabric of Popery; but his opinions were declared to be er¬
roneous by the universities of Cologne and Louvain. Not¬
withstanding this, the magistrates of Zurich approved of his
proceedings ; and the whole of that canton, togethei with
those of Berne, Basil, and Schauffhausen, embraced his opi¬
nions.
In Germany, Luther continued to make great advances,
■ without being in the least intimidated by the ecclesiastical
censures which were thundered against him from all quar¬
ters. Continually protected by the German princes, either
from religious or political motives, his adversaries could not
accomplish his destruction as they had done that of others.
Those princes who were upon bad terms with the court of
Rome took advantage of the success of the new doctrines,
and in their own dominions easily overturned a church which
had lost all respect and veneration amongst the inferior
ranks. The court of Rome had disobliged some of the smaller
princes in the north of Germany, whom the pope probably
thought too insignificant to be worth managing ; and they,
in revenge, universally established the Reformation in their
own dominions. Melancthon, Carlostadt, and other men
of eminence, also greatly forwarded the work of Luther;
and in all probability the papal hierarchy would have soon
come to an end, in the northern parts of Europe at least,
had not the Emperor Charles V. given a severe check to the
progress of the Reformation in Germany. In order to fol¬
low out the schemes dictated by his ambition, he thought
it necessary to ingratiate himself with the pope ; and the
most effectual method of doing this seemed to be by the
destruction of Luther. The pope’s legates insisted that
Luther ought to be condemned by the Diet of Worms, as
a most notorious, avowed, and incorrigible heretic. This
however appeared unjust to the members of the diet, and
he w’as summoned to appear personally, which he accord¬
ingly did without hesitation. There is not the least doubt
that his appearance there would have been his last in this
world, if the astonishing respect that was paid him, and the kefbma.
crowds who came daily to see him, had not deterred his, ^  
judges from employing summary means against the author
•of such a heresy. He was therefore permitted to depart
with a safe-conduct for a certain time; after which he re¬
mained in the state of a proscribed or mtercommuned cri¬
minal, to whom it was unlawful to perform any of the ordi¬
nary offices of humanity. ■' . • ixr r, „
Daring the confinement of Luther in a castle near War- Form of
bur?, th? Reformation advanced rapidly, almoat every cUywo^kp
in Saxony embracing the Lutheran opinions. At this time^uta.
an alteration in the established forms of worship was firsttenbe
adventured upon at Wittenberg, by abolishing the celebra-
tion of private masses, and giving the cup as well as the
bread to the laity in the Lord’s Supper. In a short time,
however, the new- opinions were condemned by the uni¬
versity of Paris, and a refutation of them was attempted by
Henrv VIII. of England. But Luther was not to be thus
intimidated. He published his animadversions on both with
as much acrimony as if he had been refuting the meanest
adversary ; and a controversy managed by such illustrious
antagonists attracted general attention, the Reformers dail)
gaining new converts both in France and England.
But whilst the efforts of Luther were thus every where Disputes
crowned with success, the divisions began to prevail w^k‘\n0<ns1'!’
have since so much agitated the reformed churches. Ihe
first dispute occurred between Luther and Zuinglius con¬
cerning the manner in which the body and blood of Christ
were present in the Eucharist. Luther and his followers,
although they had rejected the notion of transubstantiation,
were nevertheless of opinion that the body and blood ot
Christ w ere really present in the Lord’s Supper, in a way
which they could not pretend to explain. Carlostadt, who
was Luther’s colleague, first suggested another view of the
subject, which was afterwards confirmed and illustrated by
Zuinglius, namely, that the body and blood of Christ were
not really present in the Eucharist; and that the bread and
wine w ere no more than external symbols to excite the re¬
membrance of Christ’s sufferings in the minds of those w ho
received it. Both parties maintained their tenets with the
utmost obstinacy, and, by their divisions, first gave theii
adversaries an argument against them, which to this day the
Catholics urge with great force ; alleging that the Protes¬
tants are so divided that it is impossible to know who is
right or who is wrong; and arguing from these divisions,
that the whole doctrine is false. ,
To these intestine divisions were added the horrors of a Civil war
civil wrar, occasioned by oppression on the one hand, and by'11
enthusiasm on the other. In 1525, a great number of se-ma
ditious fanatics arose on a sudden in different parts of Ger¬
many ; and having taken arms, they united their forces, and
made war against the empire, laying waste the country with
fire and sword, and committing everywhere the most bar¬
barous cruelties. The greater part of this furious mob w as
composed of peasants and vassals, who groaned under heavy
burdens, and declared that they were no longer able to bear
the despotic government of their phiefs ; and hence this se¬
dition received the name of the Rustic War, or the Mar ot
the Peasants. At first this rabble declared, that they had no
other motives than the redress of their grievances ; but no
sooner had the enthusiast Munster, the Anabaptist, placed
himself at their head, than the face of things was entirely
changed, and the civil commotions in Saxony and Thurin¬
gia rapidly increased. (See the article Anabaptists.)
In the mean time Frederick, surnamed the Wise, elector Ileforn«
of Saxony, and Luther’s great patron, departed this life,
was succeeded by his brother John. Frederick, though he
had protected and encouraged Luther, yet was at no pains
to introduce the reformed religion into his dominions. But
with his successor it proved otherwise; for he, being con¬
vinced that Luther’s doctrine must soon be totally destroyed
REFORMATION. 89
leforma- and suppressed unless it received a speedy and effectual sup-
don. p0rt, ordered Luther and Melancthon to draw up a body of
}aws relating to the form of ecclesiastical government, the
method of public worship, and other necessary matters, which
were to be proclaimed by heralds throughout his dominions.
This example was followed by all the princes and states of
Germany who had renounced the papal supremacy ; and a
similar form of worship, discipline, and government, was thus
introduced into all the churches which had dissented from
that of Rome. This open renunciation of the ancient ec¬
clesiastical jurisdiction changed the face of affairs; and the
patrons of Popery intimated, in a manner not at all ambi¬
guous, that they intended to make war upon the Lutheran
party. On the other hand, the Lutherans, apprised of these
hostile intentions, began to deliberate on a proper plan of
defence against the attack with w'hich they were threatened,
esolu- The Diet of the Empire assembled in the year 1526, at
ons of the Spires, where the emperor’s ambassadors were desired to use
Met of their utmost endeavours to suppress all disputes about re-
pires. Hgion, and to insist upon the rigorous execution of the sen¬
tence which had been pronounced against Luther and his fol¬
lowers at Worms. The greater part of the German princes,
! however, opposed this motion with the utmost resolution;
declaring that they coidd neither execute the sentence, nor
come to any determination with regard to the doctrines by
which it had been occasioned, before the whole matter had
been submitted to the decision of a council lawfully assem¬
bled ; and further alleging, that the decision of controversies
of this nature belonged pi'operly to a general council, and
to it alone. This opinion, after long and warm debates, was
adopted by a majority, and at length consented to by the
whole assembly. It was unanimously agreed to present a
solemn address to the emperor, entreating him to assemble,
without delay, a general council; whilst in the mean time
it was also agreed, that the princes of the empire should,
I in their respective dominions, be at liberty to manage ec¬
clesiastical affairs in the manner they should think most pro¬
per, yet so as to be able to give to God and the emperor a
proper account of their administration whenever it should
be required of them.
These resolutions proved exceedingly favourable to the
cause of reformation. Neither had the emperor, for some
time, any leisure to give disturbance to the reformed. The
war, which about this time ensued between him and the
pope, gave the greatest advantage to the friends of the re¬
formed, and considerably augmented their number. Seve¬
ral princes, whom the fear of persecution and punishment
had hitherto prevented from lending their assistance, public¬
ly renounced the Catholic religion, and introduced amongst
their subjects the same forms of religious worship, and the
same system of doctrine, which had been received in Saxony.
Others, though placed in such circumstances as discouraged
them from acting in an open manner against the interests
of the Roman pontiff, were, however, far from discovering
the smallest opposition to those who withdrew the people
from his despotic yoke; nor did they molest the private as¬
semblies of those who had separated themselves from the
communion of Rome. And, in general, all the Germans
who, before these resolutions of the Diet of Spires, had re¬
jected the papal discipline and doctrine, were now, in con¬
sequence of the liberty they enjoyed, wholly employed in
bringing their schemes and plans to a certain degree of
consistence, and in adding vigour and firmness to the cause
j: in which they were engaged.
1 theem- ^ this tranqui,Iity and liberty werp not of long duration.
j|or. 1° t^ie year 1529, a new diet was assembled at the same
place by the emperor, after he had quieted the troubles in
various parts of his dominions, and concluded a peace with
the pope. The power which had been granted to princes, of
managing ecclesiastical affairs until the meeting of a general
council, was now revoked by a majority of votes; and every
VOL. XIX.
change declared unlawful that should be introduced into Iteforma-
the doctrine, discipline, or worship of the established reli- ^on-
gion, before the determination of the approaching council ^ ^ v
was known. This decree was considered as iniquitous and
intolerable by the Elector of Saxony, the Landgrave of
Hesse, and other members of the diet, who were persuaded
of the necessity of a reformation. The promise of speedi¬
ly assembling a general council they looked upon as an ar¬
tifice of the Church of Rome, conceiving that a free and
lawful council would be the last thing to which the pope
would consent.
When, therefore, they found that all their arguments and Origin of
remonstrances made no impression upon Ferdinand, the the name
emperor’s brother, who presided in the diet, Charles him- latest-
self being then at Barcelona, they entered a solemn protestant3'
against this decree on the 19th of April, and appealed to
the emperor and a future council. Hence arose the deno¬
mination of Protestants, which from this period has been
given to those who separated from the communion of the
Church of Rome. The princes of the empire who entered
this protest, were John elector of Saxony, George elector
of Brandenburg, Ernest and Francis dukes of Lunenburg,
the Landgrave of Hesse, and the Prince of Anhalt; and
they were seconded by thirteen imperial towns, viz. Stras-
burg, Ulm, Nuremberg, Constance, Windsheim, Memmin-
gen, Nordlingen, Lindau, Kempton, Heilbron, Wissem-
burg, and St Gall.
The dissenting princes, who were besides the protectors
and heads of the reformed churches, had no sooner entered
their protest, than they sent proper persons to the empe¬
ror, who was then upon his passage from Spain to Italy, to
acquaint him with their proceedings in this matter. The
ministers employed in this commission executed it with the
greatest intrepidity and presence of mind; but the empe¬
ror, exasperated at the audacity of those who presumed to
differ from him, caused the ambassadors to be arrested.
The news of this violent step made the Protestant princes
conclude that their personal safety, and the success of their
cause, depended entirely upon their own courage and their
union. They therefore determined to enter into a solemn
confederacy; and for this purpose they held several meet¬
ings at Rot, Nuremberg, Smalcald, and other places; but
so different were their opinions and views, that for a time
they could determine upon nothing.
One great obstacle to the intended confederacy was the Confer-
dispute which had arisen between Luther and Zuinglius, enee be-
concerning the real presence of Christ in the Lord’s Sup-i)''6011 ljU"
per. To terminate this dispute, if possible, Philip, land- ^,e.1 a!ui
grave of Hesse, in the year 1529 invited to a conference yUin^ ‘us’
at Marpurg, Luther and Zuinglius, together with several
other of the more eminent doctors who adhered to the re¬
spective parties of these contending chiefs. But this mea¬
sure was not attended with the salutary effects which were
expected from it. The divines disputed for four days in
presence of the landgrave. Luther attacked CEcolStmpa-
dius, and Zuinglius was attacked by Melancthon. Zuin-
glius was accused of heresy, not only on account of his ex¬
planation of the nature and design of the Lord’s Supper,
but also in consequence of the false notions which he was
supposed to have adopted concerning the divinity of Christ,
the efficacy of the Divine Word, original sin, and some other
parts of the Christian doctrine. This illustrious reformer,
however, cleared himself from the greater part of these
charges with the most triumphant evidence, and in such
a manner as appeared satisfactory even to Luther himself.
But their dissension concerning the manner of Christ’s pre¬
sence in the Eucharist still remained; nor could either of
the contending parties be persuaded to abandon, or even
to modify, their opinions upon that matter. The only ad¬
vantage, therefore, which resulted from the meeting was,
that the jarring doctors formed a kind of truce, by agreeing
M
REFORMATION.
Reforma- to a mutual toleration of their sentiments, and leaving to
tion- the disposal of Providence the cure of their divisions.
In the mean time, news were received that the emperor
fessionof designed to come into Germany, with a view to terminate
Augsburg. religious differences at the approaching Diet of Augs-
” ' burg. Having foreseen some of the consequences of those
disputes, and, besides, taken the opinion of men of wisdom,
sagacity, and experience, he became at certain times more
cool in his proceedings, and more impartial in his opinions
respecting the contending parties and the merits of the
cause. He, therefore, in an interview with the pope at
Bologna, insisted, in the most serious and urgent manner,
on the necessity of a general council. His remonstrances
and expostulations, however, could not move the pontiff,
who maintained with zeal the papal prerogatives; reproach¬
ed the emperor with an ill-judged clemency ; and alleged
that it was the duty of that prince to support the church,
and to execute speedy vengeance upon that obstinate he¬
retical faction who had dared to call in question the autho¬
rity of Rome. To this discourse the emperor paid no regard,
looking upon it as a most iniquitous thing, and a measure
directly opposite to the laws of the empire, to condemn un¬
heard so many men who had always approved themselves
good citizens, and in other respects deserved well of their
country.
Hitherto indeed it was not easy for the emperor to form
a clear idea of the matters in debate, since no regular sys¬
tem had as yet been composed, by which it might be
known with certainty what were the true causes of Lu¬
ther’s opposition to the pope. The Elector of Saxony,
therefore, ordered Luther, and other eminent divines, to
commit to writing the chief articles of their religious sys¬
tem, and the principal points in which they differed from
the Church of Rome. Luther, in compliance with this or¬
der, delivered to the elector at Torgau seventeen articles
which had been agreed upon in a conference at Sulzbach
in 1529, and hence these received the name of the Articles
of Torgau. But though these were deemed by Luther a
sufficient declaration of the sentiments of the reformers,
yet it was judged proper to enlarge them, in order to give
perspicuity to their arguments, and strength to their cause.
In this work Melancthon was employed ; but in it he showed
a proper deference to the counsels of Luther, expressing
his sentiments and doctrine with the greatest elegance and
perspicuity, and thus came forth the famous Confession of
Augsburg.
This Con- On the 15th of June 1530, Charles arrived at Augsburg,
fession pre-and the diet was opened five days afterwards. The Pre¬
sented to testants received a formal permission to present an account
the empe- 0p their tenets to the diet on the 25th of the same month ;
and in consequence of this, at the time appointed, Christian
Bayer, chancellor of Saxony, read aloud, in the German lan¬
guage, before the emperor and the princes assembled, the
Confession of Augsburg above mentioned. It contained
twenty-eight chapters, of which twenty-one were employ¬
ed in representing the religious opinions of the Protestants,
and the other seven in pointing out the errors and super¬
stitions of the Church of Rome. The princes heard it with
the deepest attention. It confirmed some in the principles
which they had embraced; it surprised others, who had not
given much consideration to the subject; and many, who
before this time had little or no idea of the religious senti¬
ments of Luther, were now not only convinced of their in¬
nocence, but delighted with their purity and simplicity. The
copies of this Confession, after being read, were delivered
to the emperor, being signed by John elector of Saxony,
George marquis of Brandenburg, Ernest duke of Lunen¬
burg, Philip landgrave of Hesse, Wolfgang prince of Anhalt,
and by the imperial cities of Nuremberg and Reutlingen.
The creatures of the Church of Rome who were present
at this diet employed John Faber, afterwards bishop of
Vienna, together with Eckius, and another doctor, to draw Reform
up a refutation of the Protestant Confession ; and this hav- ^ don,
ing been publicly read, the emperor required the Protes-j^T^’
tant members to acquiesce in it, and put an end to theofthisC|
religious disputes by an unlimited submission to the opi- fession.
nions and doctrines contained in this answer. But this
demand was far from being complied with. The Protest¬
ants, on the contrary, declared that they were by no means
satisfied with the reply of their adversaries, and earnestly
desired a copy of it, that they might more fully demon¬
strate its extreme insufficiency and weakness. But this
reasonable request was refused by the emperor, who inter¬
posed his supreme authority to prevent any further pro¬
ceedings in this matter, and solemnly prohibited the publi¬
cation of any new writings or declarations which might
contribute to protract these religious debates. This, how¬
ever, did not reduce the Protestants to silence. The di¬
vines of that communion who had been present at the diet
endeavoured to recollect the arguments and objections em¬
ployed by Faber, and had again recourse to the pen of
Melancthon, who refuted them in an ample and satisfactory
manner, in a piece which was presented to the emperor on
the 22d of September, but which Charles refused to receive.
This answer was afterwards enlarged by Melancthon, when
he had obtained a copy of Faber’s reply ; and was publish¬
ed in the year 1531, with the other pieces that related to
the doctrine and discipline of the Lutheran church, under
the title of Defence of the Confession of Augsburg.
Matters now began to draw towards a crisis. There were Severe
only three ways of bringing to a conclusion these religious decree
differences : First, to grant the Protestants a toleration and
privilege of serving God as they thought proper ; seconcl_ ants.
ly, to compel them to return to the Church of Rome by the
violent methods of persecution ; or, thirdly, that a reconcili¬
ation should be made, upon fair, and candid, and equitable
terms, by engaging each of the parties to temper their zeal
with moderation, to abate reciprocally the rigour of their
pretensions, and to remit, something of their respective
claims. The third expedient was most generally approved
of, being peculiarly agreeable to all who had at heart the
welfare of the empire; nor did even the pope seem to look
upon it with aversion or contempt. Various conferences
therefore were held between persons eminent for piety and
learning upon both sides ; and nothing was omitted which
might have the least tendency to calm the animosities and
heal the divisions wdiich reigned between the contending
parties. But the differences were too great to admit of a
reconciliation; and therefore the votaries of Rome had re¬
course to the powerful arguments of imperial edicts, and the
force of the secular arm. On the 19th of November, a se¬
vere decree was issued by order of the emperor, in which
everything w’as manifestly adapted to deject the friends of
religious liberty, excepting only a faint and dubious pro¬
mise of engaging the pope to assemble a general council
about six months after the separation of the diet. In this
decree the dignity and excellence of the Catholic religion
were extolled beyond measure; a new degree of severity
and force was added to that which had been published at
Worms against Luther and his adherents; the changes
which had been introduced into the doctrine and discipline
of the Protestant churches were severely censured; and a
solemn order was addressed to the princes, cities, and states,
who had thrown off the papal yoke, to return to their alle¬
giance to Rome, on pain of incurring the indignation and
vengeance of the emperor, as the patron and protector of
the church.
Of this formidable decree the Elector of Saxony and the Thelea
confederated princes were no sooner informed than they“^nia
assembled in order to deliberate on the measures proper to
be taken in such an emergency. In the years 1530 and 1531
they met, first at Smalcald, and afterwards at Francfort,
REFORMATION.
notation
i Henry
III. of
ngl&Aid.
I Ice of
Icem-
where they formed a solemn alliance and confederacy, with
the intention of defending vigorously their religion and li¬
berties against the dangers and encroachments with which
they were threatened by the edict of Augsburg, without
attempting, however, any thing offensive against the vota¬
ries of Rome ; they invited the kings of England, France,
and Denmark, to join this confederacy, leaving no means
unemployed that might strengthen and cement so impor¬
tant an alliance.
This confederacy was at first opposed by Luther, from
an apprehension of the calamities and troubles which it
might produce ; but at last, perceiving the necessity of con¬
cert, he consented, though he uncharitably, as well as impru¬
dently, refused to comprehend in it the followers of Zuing-
lius amongst the Swiss, as well as the German states and
cities which had adopted the sentiments and confession
of Bucer. In the invitation addressed to Henry VIII. of
England, whom the confederate princes were willing to de¬
clare the head and protector of their league, the following
things, amongst others, were expressly stipulated: That
the king should encourage, promote, and maintain, the true
doctrine of Christ as it was contained in the Confession of
Augsburg, and defend the same at the next general coun¬
cil ; that he should not agree to any council summoned by
the bishop of Rome, but protest against it, and neither sub¬
mit to its decrees, nor suffer them to be respected in his
dominions ; that he should never allow the Roman pontiff
to have any pre-eminence or jurisdiction in his dominions,
and should advance 100,000 crowns for the use of the con¬
federacy, engaging to double the sum if necessary: all
which articles the confederate princes were equally obliged
to observe upon their part. To these demands the king
replied, that he would maintain and promote the true doc¬
trine of Christ; but, at the same time, as the true ground
of that doctrine lay only in the Holy Scriptures, he would
not accept at any one’s hand what should be his own faith,
or that of his kingdom; and therefore desired that they
would send over two learned men to confer with him, in
order to promote a religious union between him and the
confederates. He, however, declared himself of their opi¬
nion with regard to the meeting of a free general council,
and promised to join with them in all such councils for the
defence of the true doctrine; but he thought the regula¬
tion of the ceremonial part of religion, being comparatively
a matter of indifference, should be left to the choice of each
sovereign for his own dominions. Subsequently the king
gave them a second and more satisfactory answer ; but af¬
ter the execution of Anne Boleyn, this negotiation came to
nothing. On the one hand, the king grew cold when he
perceived that the confederates were no longer of use to
him in supporting the validity of his marriage ; and, on the
other, the German princes became sensible that they could
never succeed with Henry, unless they allowed him an ab¬
solute dictatorship in matters of religion.
Whilst everything thus tended to an open war between
the opposite parties, the Elector Palatine and the Elector
of Mentz offered their mediation, and endeavoured to bring
about a reconciliation. The emperor himself, for various
reasons, was at this time inclined to peace. For, on the one
hand, he stood in need of succours against the Turks, which
the Protestant princes refused to grant as long as the edicts
of Worms and Augsburg remained in force ; and, on the
other, the election of his brother Ferdinand to the dignity
ot king of the Romans, which had been carried by a majo¬
rity of votes at the Diet of Cologne in 1531, was by the
same princes contested, as being contrary to the fundamen¬
tal laws of the empire. In consequence of all this, after
many negotiations and projects of reconciliation, a treaty of
peace was concluded at Nuremberg in 1532, between the
emperor and the Protestant princes, on the following con¬
ditions, viz. That the latter should furnish a subsidy for
91
carrying on the war against the Turks, and acknowledge Reform a-
Ferdinand as lawful king of the Romans ; and that the em- ti00-
peror upon his part should abrogate and annul the edicts of
Worms and Augsburg, and allow the Lutherans the free
and undisturbed exercise of their religious doctrine and dis¬
cipline, until a rule of faith should be fixed either in the free
general council which was to be assembled in the space of
six months, or in a diet of the empire.
Soon after the conclusion of the peace of Nuremberg, died A general
John elector of Saxony, who was succeeded by his son Johncoun^l
Frederick, a prince of invincible fortitude and magnanimi-P1-0?08^'
ty, but whose reign was little better than one continued
series of disappointments and calamities. The religious truce,
however, gave new vigour to the Reformation. Those who
had hitherto been only secret enemies of the Roman pon¬
tiff, now publicly threw off his yoke ; and various cities and
provinces of Germany enlisted themselves under the reli¬
gious banners of Luther. On the other hand, as the empe¬
ror had now no other hope of terminating the religious dis¬
putes except by the meeting of a general council, he re¬
peated his request to the pontiff that such a council should
be assembled. But Pope Clement VII., whom the his¬
tory of past councils filled with the greatest uneasiness, en¬
deavoured to retard what he could not with decency refuse.
At last, in the year 1533, he made a proposal by his legate
to assemble a council at Mantua, Piacenza, or Bologna ;
but the Protestants refused their consent to the nomination
of an Italian council, and insisted that a controversy which
had its rise in the heart of Germany should be determined
within the limits of the empire. The pope, by his usual artifi¬
ces, eluded compliance with this demand, and, in 1534, he was
cut off by death, before any determination could be come to.
His successor Paul III. seemed to show less reluctance to the
assembling of a general council, and in 1535 expressed his
inclination to convoke one at Mantua ; and, the year follow¬
ing, he actually sent circular letters for that purpose through¬
out all the states and kingdoms under his jurisdiction. This
council was summoned by a bull issued on the 2d of June
1536, to meet at Mantua in the following year. But several
obstacles prevented its meeting ; one of the most material
of which was, that Frederick duke of Mantua had no incli¬
nation to receive at once so many guests, some of them
very turbulent, into the place of his residence. On the other
hand, the Protestants were firmly persuaded that, as the
council was to be assembled in Italy, and by the authority
of the pope alone, the latter must have an undue influence
in that assembly; and, consequently, that all things would be
carried by the votaries of Rome. For this reason they as¬
sembled in the year 1537 at Smalcald, where they solemnly
protested against this partial and corrupt council, and, at
the same time, had a new summary of their doctrine drawn
up by Luther, in order to present it to the assembled bishops
if it should be required of them. This summary, which re¬
ceived the title of the Articles of Smalcald, is commonly
conjoined with the creeds and confessions of the Lutheran
church.
After the meeting of the general council in Mantua had Fruitless
thus been prevented, many schemes of accommodation were attempts at
proposed both by the emperor and by the Protestants; but, aceonuno-
by the artifices of the Church of Rome, all of them came to ^ation‘
nothing. In 1541, the emperor appointed a conference to be
held at Worms on the subject of religion, between persons
of piety and learning chosen from the contending parties.
This conference, however, was, for certain reasons, removed
to the diet which was to be held at Ratisbon that year, and
in which the principal subject of deliberation was a memo¬
rial presented by a person unknown, containing a project of
peace. But the conference produced no other effect than
a mutual agreement of the contending parties to refer their
matters to a general council, or, if the meeting of such a
council should be prevented, to the next German Diet.
92
reformation.
Reforma¬
tion.
Council of
Trent.
Plan of re¬
formation
proposed
by the
pope.
This resolution was rendered ineffectual by a vanety
incidents, which widened the breach, and put off to a future
day the deliberations which were designed to heal if- i he
none ordered his legate to declare to the Diet of Spires,
assembled in 1542, that he would, according to the promise
be bad already made, assemble a general council, and t
Trent should be the place of its meeting, f the diet had
no objection to that city. Ferdinand, and the pnnces who
adhered to the cause of the pope, gave tl'n'rconscntto
proposal; but it was vehemently objected to by the 1
testants, both because the council was summoned by tl e
authority of the pope only, and also because the place was
within the jurisdiction of ins holiness ; whereas they desired
a free council, which should not be W^But tWstr“es!
nor awed b, the proxhmty of the pontiff. But h,s p
subject of accommodating differences in religion s but from Keform.
the manner in which the debates were earned on, it ap-
neared plainly that these differences could only be decided
in the field of battle. The council ot Irent, in the mean
time, promulgatedtheirdecrees; whilst theretormed princes,
h, the Diet of Ratisbon, protested against their authority,
and were on that account proscribed by the emperor, who
raised an army to reduce them to obedience. , , m f ,
The Elector of Saxony and the Landgrave of Hcssse ledEl^or o
their forces into Bavaria against the empeior, and cannon' defeated
aded his camp near Ingolstadt. It was supposed that this and take
would bring on an engagement, which would probably have priscner
been advantageous to the cause of the reformed; but this
was prevented, chiefly by the perfidy of Maurice duke of
Saxony, who invaded the dominions of his uncle. Divisions
were also fomented amongst the confederate princes, by
War be¬
tween the
emperor
and the
Protes¬
tants.
tation"produced no effect: Paul H! persisted in hi« pur- of the'emperorVand France failed in pay-
pose, and issued his circular letters for t le ^ subsi(jy which had been promised by its monarch ;
the council, with the approbation of the emperor In j ^ diyscouraged the heads of the Protestant party,
tice to this pontiff, however, it must be acknowle g ^ ^ soon dispersed, and the Elector of Saxony
that he showed that he was not averse to e e y obliged to'direct his march homewards. But he was
tion. He appointed four cardinals, and ^ee other p^ Jdl he emperor> who made several forced marches,
sons eminent for their learning, to rav^ . j p a view to overpower the enemy before he could hav e
the reformation of the church m general, and of that ^ torecover his vigour. The two armies met near Mul-
Kome in particular. The reformation propo ed m this time ^recove^ ^ ^ Aprii
plan was indeed extremely superficml and partial ,y action, the elector was entirely defeated and
contained some particulars which could sc* y laiaed takgn prisoner. Maurice, who had so basely betrayed him,
expected from those who composed i . J nnmosed was now declared Elector of Saxony; and by his entrea-
of the pride and ignorance of the bishops, a"d.P ^ . phili ]andgrave of Hesse, the other chief of the
that none should receive orders but learned and pious , pro’tegtan P’ wag persuaded to throw himself on the mercy
and that care should therefore be taken o iav P P 0p t]le emperor, and to implore forgiveness. To this he
ters for the instruction of youth. I hey conde consented belying on the promise of Charles for obtaining
lations from one benehce to another, with g < J ^ and b- restored to liberty ; but, notwithstand-
vation, non-residence and P^* ing these expectations, he was unjustly detained prisoner,
some convents should be abolished , thut tne i oe y s scandalous violation of the most solemn convention,
press should be restrained and limited; that ic q . y emperor retracted his promise, and de-
of Erasmus should be suppressed; that no eccWstic by the ambiguity of two Ger-
should enjoy a benefice out of his own conn D > words. History indeed can scarcely furnish a parallel
cardinal should have a bishopric ; that the qu ‘ perfidious mean-spirited, and despotic behaviour of
Anthony and several other saints should be abolished ; and, ? the ^ ^ After [iaving received in
which was the best ot all their proposals, tia ie t e .•> p submission of the prince on his knees,
andpersonalestatesof ecclesiastics should be given to the P"ol^e ^i^^^^^virtue ^ a solemn treaty, he
poor. They who frequeS St caused him to be arrlted anew without any reason, nay,
number of Pa" d dedlred that it was a great scandal without any pretence, and kept him a close prisoner for se-
Peter’s church ; and declared, tnar it was a g j rwhen Maurice remonstrated against this new
dressed the greatest grievances of which the I rotestants tie^ ^ the protestants now seemed to be despe- The cou!
00 AllXs time the emperor had been labouring to persuade rate. In the Diet of Augsburg, which was soon afterwards ci sujt
the Protestants to consent to the meeting ot the council at called, the emperor required the Protestan^to leave tne^ Af
Trent- but when he found them fixed in their opposition decision of these religious disputes to the wis mulary
to tlm measure he began to listen to the sanguinary mea- council which was to meet at Trent. Ihe greater part o drawn u
gures of the pope, and resolved to terminate the disputes by the members consented to this proposal, being convince
force of arms.1 Upon this the Elector of Saxony and the by the powerful argument of an imperial army, whichi
Lando-rave of Hesse, who were the chief supporters of the at hand to dispel the darkness from the eyes of sue -
Protestant cause, took proper measures to prevent their be- might otherwise have been blind to the force of Charles
inXsurpXed and overwhelmed by a superior force ; but, reasoning. However, this general submission did not pro-
hefore the horrors of war commenced, Luther died in peace duce the effect which was expected from it. A plague whic
at Avselben the place of his nativity, in the year 1546. broke out, or was said to have done so, in the city, caused
The emperor and the pope had mutually resolved on the the greater part of the bishops to retire to Bologna, by
destruction of all who should dare to oppose the council of which means the council was in effect dissolved; nor could
Trent. The meeting of this council was to serve as a all the entreaties and remonstrances of the emperor prevail
signal "for taking up arms; and accordingly its deliberations upon the pope to re-assemble it without delay. During this
were scarcely commenced in 1546, when the Protestants interval, therefore, the emperor judged it necessary to jail
perceived undoubted signs of the approaching storm, and of upon some method of accommodating the religious differ-
a formidable union between the emperor and pope, which ences, and maintaining peace until the council so long ex-
threatened to overwhelm them at once. This year indeed pected should finally be decided on. With this view he or-
there had been a new conference at Ratisbon upon the old dered Julius Pelugius, bishop of Naumberg, Michael Sido-
REFORMATION.
93
Xleforma- nius, a creature of the pope, and John Agricola, a native of
tion. Avselben, to draw up a formulary which might serve as a
—rule of faith and worship, till the council should be assem¬
bled. But as this was only a temporary expedient, and had
not the force of a permanent or perpetual institution, it
thence obtained the name of the Interim.
Theformu- This project of Charles was formed partly with a design
[ary reject- to vent his resentment against the pope, and partly to an-
ed. Me- swer other political purposes. It contained all the essential
lancthon s 0f the Church of Rome, though considerably sof-
sc ieine‘ tened by the artful terms which were employed, and which
were quite different from those employed before and after
this period by the council of Trent. There was even an
affected ambiguity in many of the expressions, which made
them susceptible of different senses, and applicable to the
sentiments of both communions. The consequence of all
this was, that the imperial formulary was reprobated by
both parties. However, it was promulgated with great so¬
lemnity by the emperor at Augsburg. The Elector of
Mentz, without even asking the opinion of the princes pre¬
sent, gave a sanction to this formulary, as if he had been
commissioned to represent the whole diet. Many remained
silent through fear, and that silence was interpreted as a
J tacit consent. Some who had the courage to oppose it,
were reduced by force of arms; and the most deplorable
scenes of bloodshed and violence were enacted throughout
the whole empire. Maurice, elector of Saxony, who had
hitherto kept neutral, now assembled the whole of his no¬
bility and clergy, in order to deliberate on this critical af¬
fair. At the head of the latter was Melancthon, whose
word was respected as a law amongst the Protestants. But
this man had not the courage of Luther, and was therefore
on all occasions ready to make concessions, and to propose
schemes of accommodation. In the present case he gave
it as his opinion, that the whole of the book called Interim
could not by any means be adopted by the Protestants ;
but at the same time he declared, that he saw no reason
why this book might not be approved, adopted, and receiv¬
ed, as an authoritative rule in things that did not relate to
the essential parts of religion, and which he accounted in¬
different. But this scheme, instead of cementing the dif¬
ferences, rendered them worse than ever ; and produced a
division amongst the Protestants themselves, which might
have overthrown the Reformation entirely, if the emperor
and the pope had seized the opportunity,
il'ofTUn" t^ie ^ear P°Pe Pau^ HI. died, and was suc-
e-asseiri ceetk^ ^ Julius III. who, at the repeated solicitations of
sled. the emperor, consented to re-assemble the council of Trent.
A diet was again held at Augsburg under the cannon of
the imperial army, and Charles laid the matter before the
princes of the empire. Most of those present gave their
consent to it, and amongst the rest Maurice elector of Saxo¬
ny, who consented on the following conditions, namely,
that the points of doctrine which had already been decided
there should be re-examined ; that this examination should
be made in presence of the Protestant divines; that the
Saxon Protestants should have the liberty of voting as well
as of deliberating in the council; and that the pope should
not pretend to preside in that assembly, either in person or
by his legatees. This declaration of Maurice was read in
the diet, and his deputies insisted upon its being entered
into the registers, which the Archbishop of Mentz obstinate¬
ly refused. This diet was concluded in the year 1551 ;
and, at its breaking up, the emperor desired the assembled
princes and states to prepare all things for the approaching
council, and promised to use his utmost endeavours to pro¬
cure moderation and harmony, impartiality and charity, in
the transactions of that assembly.
On the breaking up of the diet, the Protestants took
such steps as they thought most proper for their own safety.
I he Saxons employed Melancthon, and the Wurtembergers
Brengius, to draw up confessions of faith to be laid before Reforma-
the new council. The Saxon divines, however, proceeded t'0IU
no farther than Nuremberg, having received secret orders enT^e^
from Maurice to stop there ; for the elector, perceiving thatror
Charles had formed designs against the liberties of the Ger- e(j5 an(}
man princes, resolved to take the most effectual measures forced to
for at once crushing his ambition. He therefore entered conclude a
with the utmost secrecy and expedition into an alliance Pea(:e-
with the king of France and several of the German princes,
for the security of the rights and liberties of the empire;
after which, having assembled a powerful army in 1552, he
marched against the emperor, who lay with a handful of
troops at Inspruck, expecting no attack from any quarter.
By this sudden and unforeseen accident Charles was so
much dispirited, that he was willing to make peace almost
on any terms. The consequence was, that he concluded a
treaty at Passau, which by the Protestants is considered as
the basis of their religious liberty. By the first three ar¬
ticles of this treaty, it was agreed that Maurice and the con¬
federates should lay down their arms, and lend their troops
to Ferdinand to assist him against the Turks, and that the
Landgrave of Hesse should be set at liberty. By the fourth
it was agreed that the rule of faith called the Interim should
be considered as null and void ; that the contending par¬
ties should enjoy the free and undisturbed exercise of their
religion, until a diet should be assembled to determine
amicably the present disputes, which diet was to meet in
the space of six months; and that this religious liberty
should continue always, in case it should be found impos¬
sible to come to an uniformity in doctrine and worship. It
was also determined, that all those who had suffered banish¬
ment, or any other calamity, on account of their having
been concerned in the league or war of Smalcald, should
be reinstated in their privileges, possessions, and employ¬
ments ; that the imperial chamber at Spires should be open
to the Protestants as w’ell as to the Catholics ; and that there
should alw ays be a certain number of Lutherans in that high
court. To this peace Albert, marquis of Brandenburg, re¬
fused to subscribe, and continued the war against the Ro¬
man Catholics, committing such ravages in the empire that
a confederacy was at last formed against him. At the head
of this conspiracy was Maurice, elector of Saxony, who died
of a wound received in a battle fought in 1553.
The assembling of the diet promised by Charles was de- Treaty of
layed by various incidents; however, it met at Augsburg Augsburg,
in 1555, where it w as opened by Ferdinand in name of the
emperor, and terminated those deplorable calamities which
had so long desolated the empire. After various debates, the
following acts were passed, on the 25th of September, viz.
That the Protestants who followed the Confession of Augs¬
burg should be for the future considered as entirely free
from the jurisdiction of the Roman pontiff, and from the
authority and superintendence of the bishops; that they
were left at perfect liberty to enact laws for themselves re¬
lating to their religious sentiments, discipline, and worship ;
that all the inhabitants of the German empire should be al¬
lowed to judge for themselves in religious matters, and to
join that church whose doctrine and worship they thought
the purest and most consonant to the spirit of true Chris¬
tianity ; and that all those who should injure or persecute
any person under religious pretences, and on account of
their opinions, should be declared and proceeded against
as public enemies of the empire, invaders of its liberty, and
disturbers of its peace.
Thus was the Reformation established in many parts of Account of
the German empire, where it continues to this day; nor
have the efforts of the Catholic powers at any time been sweiien.
able to suppress it, or even to prevent it from gaining ground.
It was not, however, in Germany alone that a reformation
of religion took place. About the same time almost all the
kingdoms of Europe began to open their eyes to the truth.
94
REFORMATION.
tion.
lleforma- The reformed religion was propagated in Sweclen. soon after
Luther’s rupture with the Church of Rome, by one of h s °f ^ ^ was followed by a plan of re- v-
disciples, named Olaus Petri. I he zealous e or s o i:Jious doctrine, worship, and discipline, laid down by Bu-
missionary were seconded by Gvi^lis Jkin„ gfnhaeius, whom the king had sent for from Wittenberg
Swedes had raised to the throne instead of Chi s S ? the nurnose; and in 1539 an assembly of the states at
of Denmark, who by his horrid barbarity lost t le • P g tjieir go]emn sanction to all these transactions.
This prince, however, was as prudent as he was zea , t Fr'incc also the Reformation began very early to make Itefornu.
and, as the minds of the Swedes were m a fluctuating state ^n/D^sf °’Xr^ queen of Navarre, and sister of tion in |
he wisely avoided all kind of vehemence and precipitetion ^prog ^ rJval of Charles V. was a greatrran^-
in spreading the new doctrine. According y, friend to the new doctrine ; and it appears that, as early as
iect of his attention was the instruction of his people in the friend to new , IT in Js of
sacred doctrines of tire Holy Scriptures ; -cl ^ rtns pur- ftte year lo2 , there were, t-everrd o,^ ^
pose he invited into his dominions several learned Germans, h ranee g V cLtrine and tyranny of the
and spread *oad throughout the kingdom the W amongst whom were many of the first
translation of the Bible which had been rauk and dignity, and even some of the episcopal order.
atTp^rbe^n this reformer and Peter Gallius, a seal- But as their number increased daily, and troubles and com-
at upsai, peiweei ^ r . , . , . , i ^ ti,p rvyotiona were excited in several places on account of the
XmploTs wasto brin^forth ht algumlts, that it might religious differences, the authority of the king, intervened
be s™en on which side lay the truth. In this dispute Olaus and many persons eminent for their virtue and pie y were
obtained a signal victory? which contributed much to con- put to death in the most barbarous manner. Indeed, Fran-
firm Gustavus in his persuasion of the truth of Luther’s doc- cis, who had either no religion at all, or, at best, no fixed
trfee and to promote its progress in Sweden. The follow- and consistent system of religious principles, conducted him-
ine year another event gave the finishing stroke to its pro- self towards the Protestants in such a manner as best an-
pagation and success. This was the assembly of the states swered Ins private views. Sometimes he resolved to invite
at Wcsteraas, where Gustavus recommended the doctrine Melancthon into France, probably with a view to please his
of the reformers with such zeal, that, after warm debates fo- sister the queen of Navarre whom he loved tenderly, and
mented by the clergy, it was unanimously resolved that the who had strongly imbibed the 1 rotestant pi map es.
reformation introduced by Luther should be adopted in Swe- other times he exercised the greatest cruelty towards the
den. This resolution was principally owing to the firmness
and magnanimity of Gustavus, who declared publicly, that
he would lay down the sceptre and retire from the king¬
dom, rather than rule a people enslaved by the orders and
authority of the pope, and more controlled by the tyranny
of their bishops than by the law's of their monarch. From
this time the papal empire in Sweden was entirely over¬
thrown, and Gustavus declared head of the church.
In Denmark, the Reformation was introduced as early as
the year 1521, in consequence of the ardent desire disco¬
vered by Christiern II. of having his subjects instructed in
the doctrines of Luther. This monarch, notwithstanding
his .cruelty, for which his name has been rendered odious,
was nevertheless desirous of delivering his dominions from
the tyranny of the Church of Rome. For this purpose, in
the year 1520, he sent for Martin Reinard, one of the dis¬
ciples of Carlostadt, and appointed him professor of divinity
Reforma¬
tion in
Denmark.
at Hafnia; and after the death of this man, which hap¬
pened in 1521, he invited Carlostadt himself to fill that
important place. Carlostadt accepted of this office, in¬
deed, but in a short time returned to Germany ; upon
which Christiern used his utmost endeavours, but in vain,
to engage Luther to visit his dominions. However, the
progress of Christiern in reforming the religion of his sub-
UlllCl LlllJCO v-i.   
reformed; and once made the following absurd declara
tion, that if he thought the blood in his arm was tainted
by the Lutheran heresy, he would have it cut off; and that
he would not spare even his own children, if they enter¬
tained sentiments contrary to those of the Catholic church.
About this time Calvin began to attract the attention of the
public, but more especially that of the queen of Navarre.
His zeal exposed him to danger; and as Francis was daily
committing to the flames the friends of the reformation,
he was placed more than once in the most perilous situa¬
tion, from which he was only delivered by the interpo¬
sition of the queen of Navarre. He therefore retired from
France to Basil in Switzerland, where he published his
Christian Institutions, and afterwards became so famous in
the history of Protestantism.
Those amongst the French who first renounced the juris¬
diction of the Church of Rome are commonly called Lu¬
therans by the writers of those early times. Hence it has
been supposed that they had all imbibed the peculiar sen¬
timents of Luther. But this appears not to have been
the case: for the vicinity of the cities of Geneva, Lau¬
sanne, and some others, which had adopted the doctrine of
Calvin, produced a remarkable effect upon the French Pro¬
testant churches; insomuch that, about the middle of this
pi ogress or vvijrisiiein in reioiming trie religion oi ms suu- tesicinL dim cues 9 iiibuinudi duum. tuc
jects, or rather of advancing his own power above that of century, they all entered into communion with the church
the church, was checked, in the year 1523, by a conspi- of Geneva. The French Protestants were, by way of con-
racy, in consequence of which he was deposed and banished ; tempt, called Huguenots by their adversaries. 1 heir fate
his uncle Frederick, duke of Holstein and Sleswick, being was very severe, being persecuted with unparalleled fury ;
appointed his successor. and though several princes of the blood, and many of the
Frederick conducted the Reformation with much greater first nobility, had embraced their sentiments, yet in no part
prudence than his predecessor. He permitted the Protes- of the world did the reformers suffer so much. At last all
tant doctors to preach publicly the sentiments of Luther, commotions were quelled by the fortitude and magnanimity
but did not venture to change the established government of Henry IV., who in the year 1598 granted all his subjects
and discipline of the church. However, he contributed full liberty of conscience by the famous edict of Nantes,
greatly to the progress of the Reformation, by his successful and seemed to have thoroughly established the Reformation
attempts in favour of religious liberty, in an assembly of the throughout his dominions. During the minority of Louis
states held at Odensee in 1527. Here he procured the XIV. however, this edict was revoked by Cardinal Maza-
publication of a famous edict, by which every subject of rin, since which time the Protestants have often been
Denmark was declared free to adhere either to the tenets cruelly persecuted ; nor was the profession of the reformed
of the Church of Rome or to the doctrine of Luther. The religion in France at any time so safe as in most of the
papal tyranny was totally destroyed by his successor Chris- other countries of Europe.
tiern III. He began by suppressing the despotic authority of In the other parts of Europe the opposition to the Church
s
REFORMATION.
Reforma¬
tion.
Reforma-
I ition in the
Nether¬
lands.
Reforma-
f ‘.ion in
Italy.
ftefonna-
ion in
Spain.
of Rome was but faint and ambiguous before the Diet of
Augsburg. Prior to that period, however, it appears, from
undoubted testimony, that the doctrine of Luther had made
a considerable, though probably secret, progress throughout
Spain, Hungary, Bohemia, Britain, Poland, and the Nether¬
lands ; and had in all these countries gained many friends,
of whom several repaired to Wittenberg, in order to enlarge
their knowledge by means of Luther’s conversation. Some
of these countries threw off entirely the yoke of Rome, and
in others a prodigious number of families embraced the prin¬
ciples of the reformed religion. It is certain, indeed, and
some Roman Catholics themselves acknowledge it without
hesitation, that the papal doctrines and authority would
at once have fallen into ruin in all parts of the world, had
not the force of the secular arm been employed to support
the tottering edifice. In the Netherlands particularly, the
most grievous persecutions took place, so that by the Em¬
peror Charles V. upwards of a hundred thousand were de¬
stroyed, whilst still greater cruelties were exercised upon
the people by his son Philip II. The revolt of the United
Provinces, however, and motives of real policy, at last put
a stop to these furious proceedings ; and although, in many
provinces of the Netherlands, the establishment of the Ca¬
tholic religion was still continued, the Protestants have been
long free from the danger of persecution on account of their
principles.
The Reformation made considerable progress in Spain and
Italy soon after the rupture between Luther and the Ro¬
man pontiff. In all the provinces of Italy, but more espe¬
cially in the territories of Venice, Tuscany, and Naples, the
superstition of Rome lost ground, and great numbers of people
of all ranks expressed an aversion to the papal yoke. In the
year 1546, this occasioned violent and dangerous commo¬
tions in the kingdom of Naples; which, however, were at
last quelled by the united forces of Charles V., and his vice¬
roy Don Pedro di Toledo. In several pUces the pope put
a stop to the progress of the Reformation, by letting loose
the inquisitors, who spread dreadful marks of their barba¬
rity throughout the greater part of Italy. These formidable
ministers of persecution put so many to death, and perpe¬
trated such horrid acts of cruelty and oppression, that most
of the reformed consulted their safety by a voluntary exile,
whilst others returned to the religion of Rome, at least in
external appearance. But the inquisition, which frightened
into the profession of Popery several Protestants in other
parts of Italy, could never make its way into the kingdom
of Naples ; nor could either the authority or the entreaties
of the pope engage the Neapolitans to admit even visiting-
inquisitors.
In Spain, several persons embraced the Protestant reli¬
gion, not only from the controversies of Luther, but even
from those divines whom Charles V. had brought with him
into Germany in order to refute the doctrines of the Re¬
former. For these doctors had imbibed the pretended he¬
resy instead of refuting it, and propagated it more or less on
their return home. But the inquisition, which could obtain
no footing in Naples, reigned triumphant in Spain, and by
the most dreadful methods frightened the people back into
Popery, and suppressed the desire of exchanging their su¬
perstition for a more rational plan of religion, "it was in¬
deed presumed that Charles himself died a Protestant; and
it seems to be certain, that when the approach of death had
dissipated those schemes of ambition and grandeur which
had so long blinded him, his sentiments became much more
rational and agreeable to Christianity than they had ever been
before. All the ecclesiastics who had attended him, as soon
as he expired, were sent to the inquisition, and committed
to the flames, or put to death by some other method equally
terrible. Such was the fate of Augustin Casal, the empe-
ror’s preacher; of Constantins Pontius, his confessor; of
Lgidius, whom he had named to the bishopric of Tortosa;
95
of Bartolomeo de Caranza, a Dominican, who had been lioforma-
confessor to Philip and Mary; besides twenty others of less tion.
note. v-’-"'
In England, the principles of the Reformation began to Reforma-
be adopted as soon as an account of Luther’s doctrines t’;on
could be conveyed thither. In that kingdom there were still England,
remains of the sect called Lollards, whose doctrine resem¬
bled that of Luther; and amongst whom, consequently, the
sentiments of the Reformer gained great credit. Henry
VIII., king of England, was at that time a violent partisan
of the Church of Rome, and had a particular veneration for
the writings of St Thomas Aquinas.. Being informed that
Luther spoke of his favourite author with contempt, he con¬
ceived a violent prejudice against the Reformer, and even
wrote against him, as we have already mentioned. Luther
did not hesitate about writing against his majesty, overcame
him in argument, and treated him with very little cere¬
mony. The first step towards public reformation, however,
was not taken until the year 1529. Great complaints had
been made in England, from a very early period, respecting
the usurpations of the clergy ; and the prevalence of the
Lutheran opinions rendered these complaints more loud and
general than before. The House of Commons, finding the
occasion favourable, passed several bills restraining the im¬
positions of the clergy ; but what threatened the ecclesias¬
tical order with the greatest danger, were the severe re¬
proaches thrown out in the house, almost without opposition,
against the dissolute lives, ambition, and avarice of the
priests, and their continual encroachments on the privileges
of the laity. I he bills for regulating the clergy met with
opposition in the House of Lords; and Bishop Fisher im¬
puted them to want of faith in the Commons, and to a form¬
ed design, proceeding from heretical and Lutheran princi¬
ples, of robbing the church of her patrimony, and overturn¬
ing the national religion. The Commons, however, com¬
plained to the king, by their Speaker Sir Thomas Audley,
of these reflections thrown out against them; and the bishop
was obliged to retract his w-ords.
Though Henry had not the least idea of rejecting any,
even of the most absurd observances of the Catholic Church,
yet as the oppressions of the clergy were very ill suited to
the violence of his own temper, he was pleased with eVery
opportunity of lessening their power. In the parliament of
1531, he showed his design of humbling the clergy in the
most effectual manner. An obsolete statute was revived,
from which it was pretended, that to submit to the legatine
power which had been exercised by Cardinal Wolsey was
criminal. By this stroke the whole body of clergy was
at once declared guilty. They were too well acquaint¬
ed with Henry’s disposition, however, to reply, that their
ruin would have been the certain consequence of their not
submitting to Wolsey’s commission, which had been given
by royal authority. Instead of making any defence of this
kind, they chose to throw themselves on the mercy of their
sovereign; which, however, it cost them L.118,840 to pro¬
cure. A confession was likewise extorted from them, that
the king was protector and supreme head of the Church of
England; though some of them had the dexterity to get a
clause inserted, which invalidated the whole submission,
namely, “ in as far as is permitted by the law of Christ.”
The king having thus begun to reduce the power of the
clergy, kept no bounds with them afterwards. He did not
indeed attempt any reformation in religious matters ; nay,
he persecuted most violently such as did in the least degree
attempt anything of the kind. Indeed the most essential ar¬
ticle of his creed seems to have been his own supremacy ; for
whoever denied this, whether Protestant or Papist, was sure
to suffer the most severe penalties.
He died in the year 1547, and was succeeded by his only
son, Edward VI. This amiable prince gave new spirit and vi¬
gour to the Protestant cause, and was its brightest ornament,
9fi
REFORMATION.
Reforma- as well as Its most effectual support. He encouraged learn-
tion. ed and pious men of foreign countries to settle in England,
'—v— and addressed a particular invitation to Martin Bucer and
Paul Fa'nus, whose moderation added a lustre to their other
virtues;In hopes that, by the ministry and labours of these
eminent men, in concert with those of the friends of the
Reformation in England, he might purge his. dominions
from the fictions of Popery, and establish in their room the
pure doctrines of Christianity. For this purpose, he issued
the wisest orders for the restoration of true religion; but Ins
reign was too short to accomplish fully such a glorious pur¬
pose. In the year 1553, he was taken from his loving and
afflicted subjects, whose sorrow was great, and suited to
their loss. His sister Mary, the daughter of Catharine of
Aragon, from whom Henry had been divorced, blindly bi¬
goted to the Church of Rome, and a princess whose natu¬
ral character, like the spirit of her religion, was despotic
and cruel, succeeded him on the throne, and imposed anew
the arbitrary laws and the tyrannical yoke of Rome upon t ic
people of England. Nor were the methods which she em¬
ployed in the cause of superstition better than the cause it¬
self j or tempered by any sen timents of equity or compas¬
sion. Barbarous tortures, and death in the most shocking
forms, awaited those who opposed her will, or made the
least stand against the restoration of Popery. ^ And amongst
rnanv other victims, the learned and pious Cranmer, arch¬
bishop of Canterbury, who had been one of the most eth-
cient instruments of the Reformation in England, fell a
sacrifice to her fury. But this odious scene of persecution
was happily concluded in the year 1558, by the death o.
the queen, who left no issue; and, as soon as her successoi
Elizabeth ascended the throne, all things assumed a new as¬
pect. The glorious period of this reign was alike eminent for
religious knowledge and for daring genius, for civil prospe¬
rity and for martial glory. Elizabeth, whose sentiments, ant.
councils, and projects, breathed a spirit superior to the na¬
tural softness and delicacy of her sex, exerted this vigorous
and masculine spirit in the defence of oppressed conscience
and expiring liberty ; broke anew the despotic yoke of
papal authority and superstition ; and, delivering her people
from the bondage of Rome, established that form of leli-
gious doctrine and ecclesiastical government which still
subsists in England. This religious establishment differed
in some r'espects from the plan which had been formed by
those whom Edward VI. had employed for promoting the
cause of the Reformation, and approached nearer to the
rites and discipline of former times; though it is widely
different, and, in the most important points, entirely oppo¬
site to the principles of the Roman Catholic hierarchy.
Reforma- The cause of the Reformation underwent in Ireland the
tion in same vicissitudes and revolutions which had attended it in
Ireland. England. When Henry VIII. after the abolition of the
papal authority, was declared supreme head of the Church
of England upon earth, George Brown, a native of England,
and a monk of the Augustinian order, whom that monarch
had created, in the year 1535, Archbishop of Dublin, began
to act with the utmost vigour in consequence of this change
in the hierarchy. He purged the churches within his dio¬
cese from superstition in all its various forms; pulled down
images; destroyed relics ; abolished absurd and idolatrous
rites; and, by the influence as well as authority he had ob¬
tained in Ireland, caused the king’s supremacy to be acknow¬
ledged in that nation. Henry soon afterwards showed that
this supremacy was by no means a vain title ; for he banish¬
ed the monks out of that kingdom, confiscated their revenues,
and destroyed their convents. In the reign of Edward VI.
still further progress was made in the removal of popish
superstitions, by the zealous labours of Bishop Brown, and
the auspicious encouragement he granted to all who exerted
themselves in the cause of the Reformation. The death
of this young prince, however, and the accession of Queen
Mary, had nearly changed the face of affairs in Ireland as Iteffru
much as in England; but her designs were d.sappointed by v
a very curious adventure, of which the fo lowing account
has been copied from the papers of Richard earl of Cork.
« Queen Mary having dealt severely with the Protestants Cunou?,
in England, about the latter end of her reign signed a com-
mission for to take the same course with them m Ireland ;
and to execute the same with greater force, she nominates
Dr Cole one of the commissioners. The doctor coming,
with the commission, to Chester on his journey, the mayor
of that city, hearing that her majesty was sending a messen¬
ger into Ireland, and he being a churchman, waited on the
doctor, who in discourse with the mayor taketh out of a
cloke-bag a leather box, saying unto him, Here is a com¬
mission that shall lash the heretics of Ireland, calling the
Protestants by that title. The good woman of the house
beim>- well affected to the Protestant religion, and also hav¬
ing a brother named John Edmonds of the same persua¬
sion, then a citizen in Dublin, was much troubled at the
doctor’s words; but watching her convenient time, while the
mayor took his leave, and the doctor complimented him
down the stairs, she opens the box, takes the commission
out, and places in lieu thereof a sheet of paper w ith a pack
of cards wrapt up therein, the knave of clubs being faced
uppermost. The doctor coming up to his chamber, sus¬
pecting nothing of what had been done, put up the box as
formerly. The next day going to the water-side, wind and
weather serving him, he sails towards Ireland, and landed
on the 7th of October 1558 at Dublin. Then coming to
the castle, the Lord Fitzwalters being lord-deputy, sent for
him to come before him and the privy-council; who, com¬
ing in, after he had made a speech relating upon what ac-
count he came over, he presents the box unto the lord-de-
puty ; w ho causing it to be opened, that the secretary might
read the commission, there was nothing save a pack of cards
with the knave of clubs uppermost; which not only startled
the lord-deputy and council, but the doctor, who assured
them he had a commission, but knew not how it was gone.
Then the lord-deputy made answer: Let us have anothei
commission, and we will shuffle the cards in the meanw hile.
The doctor being troubled in his mind, went away, and re¬
turned into England, and coming to the court obtained
another commission : but staying for a wind on the water ¬
side, news came to him that the queen was dead ; and thus
God preserved the Protestants of Ireland. Queen Eliza¬
beth was so delighted with this story, which was related to
her by Lord Fitzwalter on his return to England, that she
sent for Elizabeth Edmonds, whose husband’s name was
Mattershad, and gave her a pension of forty pounds a year
during her life.
In Scotland, the seeds of the Reformation were very early Refor
sown, by several noblemen wdio had resided in Germany tion n
during the religious disputes there. But for many years itfct0 a
was suppressed by the power of the pope, seconded by
severe laws and not a tew executions. 1 he most eminent
opponent of the papal jurisdiction was John Knox, a disciple
of Calvin, and a man of great zeal and invincible fortitude.
On all occasions he raised the drooping spirits of the refor¬
mers, and encouraged them to go on with their work, not¬
withstanding the opposition and treachery of the queen-re¬
gent; until at last, in 1561, by the assistance of an English
army sent by Elizabeth, Popery was in a manner totally ex¬
tirpated from every part of the kingdom. From this period
the form of doctrine, worship, and discipline established by
Calvin at Geneva, has had the ascendency in Scotland.
For further information on the subject of the Reforma¬
tion in general, we refer our readers to the works of Burnet
and Brandt; to Beausobre’s Histoire de In Reformation dans
l'Empire, et les Etats de la Confession d’Augsbourg, depuis
1517-1530, Berlin, 1785, in four vols. 8vo ; and Mosheirn’s
Ecclesiastical History. See also Sleidan De Statu Religi-
REG
Refraction onis et Reipublicce, Carolo V. Ccesare, Commentarii; and
H Father Paul’s History of the Council of Trent. The Life
Regan. 0f Luther by D’Aubigne may likewise be perused with ad-
^ vantage.
REFRACTION, in general, is the deviation of a moving
body from its direct course, occasioned by the different
density of the media in which it moves; or it is a change
of direction occasioned by a body’s falling obliquely out of
one medium into another. The word is chiefly made use
of with regard to the rays of light. See Optics.
Refraction of Altitude* the arc or portion of a vertical
circle, by which the altitude of a star is increased by the
refraction of light.
Refraction of Ascension and Descension, an arc of the
equator, by which the ascension and descension of a star,
whether right or oblique, is increased or diminished by the
refraction.
Refraction of Declination is an arc of a circle of de¬
clination, by which the declination of a star is increased or
diminished by refraction.
Refraction of Latitude* an arc of a circle of latitude, by
which the latitude of a star is increased or diminished by
the refraction.
Refraction of Longitude, an arc of the ecliptic, by which
the longitude of a star is increased or diminished by means
of the refraction.
Refraction, Terrestrial, is that which makes terrestrial
objects appear to be raised higher than they are in reality,
in observing their altitudes.
REFRANGIBILITY of Light, the disposition of rays
to be refracted. The term is chiefly applied to the dispo¬
sition of rays to produce different colours, according to their
different degrees of refrangibility. See Optics.
REFRIGERAT1VE, in Medicine, a remedy which re¬
freshes the inward parts by cooling them; as clysters, ptisans,
and the like.
REFRIGERATORY, in Chemistry, a vessel filled with
cold water, through which the worm or spiral tube passes
in distillations ; the use of which is to condense the vapours
as they pass through the worm or pipe.
REFUGEES, a term at first applied to the French Pro¬
testants, who, by the revocation of the edict of Nantes, were
constrained to fly from persecution, and take refuge in fo¬
reign countries. Since that time, however, it has been
extended to all such as leave their country in time of dis¬
tress.
REGALBUTO, a town of the island of Sicily, in the
intendency of Messina, and district of Demone. It stands
on a hill near the river of the same name, in a salubrious
situation, 100 miles from Palermo, and contains 6800 in¬
habitants.
REGALIA, in Law, the rights and prerogatives of a
king. Regalia is also used for the apparatus of a corona¬
tion.
REGALMUTO, a city of the intendency of Girgente,
and district of Mazzara, in the island of Sicily. It stands
upon a level plain, in a healthy and fertile situation, sixty-
eight miles from Palermo, and contains 7^00 industrious
inhabitants, who obtain from a mountain near them salt,
quicksilver, saltpetre, sulphur, gypsum, and some excellent
stone for building.
r BEGAN, a neat little town of Persia, in the province of
Kerman, situated in the district of Nurmansheer, on the
eastern frontier. The town is surrounded by a mud-wall;
the fort is quadrangular, and the walls are high and in good
i epair, being flanked with bastions. The cattle of the inha¬
bitants are driven every night within the walls for protection.
A guard is constantly kept at the only gate which the town
has, to prevent the entrance of strangers, and also the pre¬
datory incursions of the surrounding tribes. It is eighty-
pine miles east from Bumm.
VOL. xix.
REG 97
REGARDANT, in Heraldry* signifies looking behind; Regardant
and it is used for a lion or other beast, with his face turned II
towards his tail. Regifu-
REGARDER, an ancient officer of the king’s forest, who . >
was sworn to make the regard of the forest every year ; that
is, to take a view of its limits, to inquire into all offences and
defaults committed by the foresters within the forest, and
to observe whether all the officers executed their respective
duties.
REGATTA, a species of amusement peculiar to the re¬
public of Venice. This spectacle had the power of excit¬
ing admiration, enthusiasm, and a sense of glory. The
grand regatta was only exhibited on particular occasions,
as the visits of foreign princes and kings at Venice.
REGEL, or Rigel, a fixed star of the first magnitude,
in Orion’s left foot.
REGEN, one of the circles into which the kingdom of
Bavaria is divided, and deriving its name from the chief
river which flows through it. On the north it is bounded
by the circle of the Upper Maine, on the north-east by Bo¬
hemia, on the south-east by the Lower Danube, on the
south by the Issar, and on the south-west by the Lower Da¬
nube. It extends over 4282 square miles, and comprehends
fifty-six cities and market-towns, and 8160 villages and
hamlets. I he population amounts to 364,470 persons. In
the part which borders on Bohemia the country is moun¬
tainous, but to the south of the Danube it is generally
either level or undulating. Some of the rivers run to the
Maine, but the greater part of the streams find their way
to the sea through the Danube. The soil to the north of
the Danube is poor, but to the south of that stream is mo¬
derately productive of the common kinds of grain, and some¬
what more of flax and hemp. The circle is divided into
nineteen bailiwicks, several of which are under the autho¬
rity of mediatized princes. ,
REGENERATION, in Theology, the act of being born
again by a spiritual birth, or the change of heart and life
experienced by a person who forsakes a course of vice, and
sincerely embraces a life of virtue and piety.
REGEN I, one who governs a kingdom during the mi¬
nority or absence of the king.
Regent also signifies a professor of arts and sciences in
a college, having pupils under his care; but it is generally
restricted to the lower classes, as to rhetoric, logic, &c.
those of philosophy being called professors. In the Eng¬
lish universities it is applied to masters of arts under five
years standing, and to doctors under two, as non-regent is
to those above that standing.
REGGIO, a province of the duchy of Modena, in Italy,
710 square miles in extent, and containing 161,600 inhabi¬
tants. I he chief place is the city of the same name, on the
navigable canal lassoni, by which it is connected with the
Po. It is surrounded with indefensible walls, and has a cita¬
del not tenable against attacks. It is the seat of a bishop*
and has a magnificent cathedral, twenty-two parish and
twenty-six monastic churches, a Jesuits’ college and episco¬
pal seminary, and a fine theatre. It contains 1500 houses,
and 18,600 inhabitants, who make many kinds of silk goods
and some linens, and have an extensive trade in the raw
produce of the district.
REGICIDE, King-killer, a word chiefly used with us
in speaking of the persons concerned in the trial, condenir
nation, and execution of Charles I.
REG If UGIUM was a feast celebrated at Rome on the
24th of February, in commemoration of the expulsion of
1 arquin the Proud, and the abolition of the regal power. It
was also performed on the 26th of May, when the king of the
sacrifices, or Rex Sacrorum, offered bean-flour and bacon
in the place where the assemblies were held. The sacri¬
fice being ended, the people hastened away with all speed,
to denote the precipitate flight of Tarquin.
N
REG
REGIMEN, the regulation of diet with a view to pre¬
serve or restore health. See Dietetics.
Regimen, in Grammar, that part of syntax, or construc¬
tion, which regulates the dependency of words, and the al¬
teration which one occasions in another.
REGIMENT is a body of men, either horse, toot, or ar¬
tillery, commanded by a colonel, a lieutenant-colonel, and a
major. Each regiment of foot is divided into companies,
but the number of companies differs. In Britain our regi¬
ments have generally ten companies, one of which always
consists of grenadiers. Regiments of horse commonly con¬
sist of six troops, but there are some which contain nine.
Dragoon regiments have generally in time of war eigit
troops, but in time of peace six only. Each regiment has a
chaplain, quarter-master, adjutant, and surgeon, (bee tne
article Army.) . , . ,
REGION, in Geography, a large extent of land, mtia-
bited by many people of the same nation, and inclosed
within certain limits or bounds.
Region, in Physiology, is taken for a division of our at¬
mosphere, which is divided into the upper, middle, and
lower regions.
The upper region commences from the tops ol the moun¬
tains, and reaches to the utmost limits of the atmosp icie.
In this region reign perpetual and equable calmness, clear¬
ness, and serenity. The middle region is that in which the
clouds reside, and where meteors are formed, extending
from the extremity of the lowest to the tops of the highest
mountains. The lowest region is that in which we breathe,
which is bounded by the reflection of the sun’s rays, or by
the height to which they rebound from the earth, bee
Atmosphere.
Ethereal Region, in Cosmography, is the whole extent
of the universe, in which is included all the heavenly bo¬
dies, and even the orb of the fixed stars.
Elementary Region, according to the Aristotelians, is a
sphere terminated by the concavity of the moon’s orb, com¬
prehending the atmosphere of the earth.
Region, in Anatomy, a division of the human body, other¬
wise called cavity, of which anatomists reckon three, \ iz.
the upper region, or that of the head ; the middle region,
or that of the thorax or breast; and the lower, being that
of the abdomen or belly.
REGIS, Peter Sylvain, a French philosopher, and a
wreat propagator of the doctrines of Descartes, was born in
Agenois in the year 1632. He studied languages and phi¬
losophy under the Jesuits at Cahors ; and as his views were
then directed to the church, he was afterwards occupied in
the study of divinity at the university of that town. His
progress in learning was so uncommon, that at the end of
four years he was offered a doctor’s degree without the usual
charges; but he did not think it became him to accept
of it till he had also studied in the Sorbonne at Paris. He
went thither, but was soon disgusted with theology ; and as
the philosophy of Descartes began at that time to make a
noise, in consequence of the lectures of Rohault, he con¬
ceived a taste for, and gave himself up entirely to, the study
of it. He frequented these lectures; and becoming an adept,
went to Toulouse in 1665, and read lectures himself. Hav¬
ing fine parts, a clear and fluent manner, and a happy way
of making himself understood, he attracted all sorts of people;
the magistrates, the learned, the ecclesiastics, and the very
women, who now all affected to abjure the ancient philoso¬
phy. In 1680 he returned to Paris, where the concourse
which flocked to him was such that the sticklers for the pe¬
ripatetic philosophy began to be alarmed. They applied to
the Archbishop of Paris, who thought it expedient, in the
name of die king, to put a stop to the lectures, which ac¬
cordingly were discontinued for several months. The whole
life of Regis was spent in propagating the new philosophy.
In 1690 he published a formal system thereof, containing
REG
logic, metaphysics, physics, and morals, in three volumes Ito, Regitt
written in French. It was reprinted the year after, at Am- “t
sterdam, with the addition of a discourse upon ancient and
modern philosophy. He wrote afterwards several pieces,
in defence of his system, in which he had disputes with
M. Huet, Duhamel, Malebranche, and others. His works,
though abounding with ingenuity and learning, have been
disregarded, in consequence of the great discoveries and
advancement in philosophical knowledge which have since
been made. He had been chosen member of the Academy
of Sciences in 1699, and he died in 1707.
Besides his System of Philosophy, he wrote the following
works* The Use of Reason and of Faith; an Answer to
Huet’s Censures of the Cartesian Philosophy ; an Answer
to Duhamel’s Critical Reflections; some pieces against
Malebranche, to show that the apparent magnitude of an
object depends solely on the magnitude of its image traced
upon the retina ; and a small piece upon the question, Whe¬
ther Pleasure constitutes our present Happiness ?
REGISTER, a public book, in which are entered and
recorded memoirs, acts, and minutes, to be had recourse to
occasionally for knowing and proving matters of fact.
REGISTRAR, an officer in the English universities, who
has the keeping of all the public records.
REGISTRATION, General, of Births, Baptisms, Mar¬
riages, Deaths, and Burials, in England and Wales. The
first known public authority under which registers record¬
ing births or baptisms, marriages, deaths or burials, were
systematically kept in England, was an injunction issued in
September 1538 (30 Hen. VIII.), by Thomas Lord Crom¬
well, lord privy seal and vicegerent to the king, which en¬
joined, that in every parish a register-book should be kept
in a coffer with two locks, by the parson, vicar, or curate,
and churchwardens; and that every Sunday, in the presence
of one of the churchwardens, the parson, &c. should enter in
a register-book a written record of the dates and names ot
the weddings, christenings, and burials, of the preceding
week; by neglect of which duty he incurred a fine of three
shillings and fourpence, to be employed in the repair of the
church. .
In 1547, an injunction was issued by Edward VI. similar
to that of 1538, excepting only that the penalty was di¬
rected “ to be employed to the poore-box” of the parish.
Inquiry was directed, at the instance of Cardinal Pole,
under Philip and Mary, in the years 1555 and 1557, whether
the clergy had complied with these directions; and in the
first year of Queen Elizabeth, 1559, a further injunction was
issued, which differed from that of Edward \ I. in 154/ only
in directing that the penalty should be divided between the
poor-box and the repair of the church. These injunctions
were not very strictly observed, as appears by the preamble
of a bill to “ authorize every archbishop and bishop to erect
one office of registership of all the church-books, to be kept
in every diocese,” which, in March 1563, was read a first
time in the House of Commons, but did not pass.
The great importance of registration was in 1590 repre¬
sented to the Lord-treasurer Burghley, who, impressed with
the force of the representation, communicated a plan to the
Archbishop of Canterbury. Nothing, however, appears to
have been done in consequence until October 1597, when a
constitution was made by the archbishop, bishops, and clergy
of the province of Canterbury, and approved by the queen;
which notices the very great utility of parish-registers, and
gives minute directions for keeping them, and for the trans¬
mission of a transcript yearly to the diocesan registrar. It
appears, too, that persons were appointed for the purpose
of ascertaining if the several orders had been complied
with; and that every minister, at institution, was required to
declare that he would “ keep the register-book according
to the queen’s majesty’s injunctions.”
In 1603, the first year of the reign of James I. another
REGISTRATION.
i; Regiatra- injunction was issued similar to that of 1597, with the im-
tion. portant addition of a clause, appointing that the ancient re-
gisters, so far as they could be procured, but especially since
^ the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth, should be copied
into a parchment-book, to be provided by every parish;
after which, nothing more appears to have emanated, either
from the ecclesiastical or civil authorities, on this subject,
till the time of the Long Parliament, when the following
entry in the Journal of the House of Commons gives evi¬
dence of attention to the importance of registration.
“ Anno 1644, Dec. 6. Ordered, that it be referred to
the committee for bringing in the ordinance for the es¬
tablishing the directory, to bring in a clause in that ordi¬
nance, for registering the time of baptizing of children, and
their parents’ names, and for registering of burials.” In
the same year an ordinance was made, directing, that in
every parish or chapelry in England and Wales, the mi¬
nister and other church-officers should keep a register of
birth and baptism, of marriage, and of burial; and that all
persons reasonably desiring it might search therein and ob¬
tain copies.
In August 1653, in pursuance of the recommendations of
a law-reform committee appointed in the preceding year,
and including many eminent persons, an act was passed,
which directed that in every parish a register-book shall be
provided for registering all marriages, births, and burials
in the parish ; and that the custody of such book, and the
duty of registration, shall be given to a person, to be called
the parish registrar, appointed by the parishioners charge¬
able to the poor, and approved by a justice of the peace.
It was also enacted, that extra-parochial places, or small pa¬
rishes, might be united, for the purposes of registration, to
other parishes, by the justices at their sessions ; and that all
existing register-books should be kept by the registering
officers appointed under that act.
This act wras not confirmed at the Restoration, and the
business of registration reverted to the clergy of the esta¬
blished church. During the reigns of Charles II. and James
II. nothing was done with respect to registers, except that,
by a clause in the act of 30 Car. II. c. 3, entitled “ an
act for burying in woollen,” it was enacted that all clergy¬
men “ do, within their respective parishes, precincts, and
places, take an exact account, and keep a register, of all and
every person or persons buried in his or their respective
parishes or precincts, or in such common burial-places as
their respective parishioners are usually buried.”
In the reign of William III. registration was rendered a
source of revenue. The act of 6 and 7 William III. c. 6,
granted duties on births, marriages, and burials, and com¬
pelled the clergy, under a penalty of L.100, to keep an ex¬
act register of all persons born, christened, married, or
buried in their respective parishes, to which register the col¬
lector of the tax, and all persons concerned, might have free
access without fee. It thus imposed on the clergyman the
onerous duty of acting gratuitously as a civil functionary,
and collecting information of all births within his parish,
without distinction of sect, and irrespective of’ baptism, a
duty the difficulty of which was rendered greater by the
attempts of the parents to conceal the birth, in order to
elude the payment of the tax. With a view to obviate this
objection, an act was passed in the following year (7 and 8
William III. c. 35), which provided that parents should,
within five days after birth, give notice of the day of the
birth to the clergyman, under a penalty of forty shillings,
and that the clergyman should, under a like penalty, regis-
tei such birth, for which the parents were to pay sixpence ;
and by the 4th of Anne, c. 12, the clergy were relieved
from the ruinous penalties incurred under the act of 6 and
” William III. c. 6, in all cases where the duties had been
really paid.
Jhe 26th Geo. II. c. 33, an act “ to prevent clandestine
99
marriages,” directed the church-wardens of every parish to Registra-
provide books of vellum, or good and durable paper, for the t'011-
registration of marriages. By the 23d of Geo. III. c. 67, as-’~v~—^
stamp-duty of threepence was imposed upon every register¬
ed entry of burial, marriage, birth, or christening, to be de¬
manded by the clergyman from the undertaker, or from the
parties married, or from the parents of the child whose
birth or christening had been registered. By 25 Geo. III.
c. 75, the provisions of that act were extended to dissenting
ministers. These measures excited much objection, and
were repealed in 1794.
The next legislative measure affecting registers was the
52d Geo. III. c. 146, entitled “ an act for the better re¬
gulating and preserving parish and other registers of births,
baptisms, marriages, and burials, in England.” After re¬
citing that “ the amending the manner and form of keeping
and of preserving registers of baptisms, marriages, and
burials of his majesty’s subjects in the several parishes and
places in England, will greatly facilitate the proof of pedi¬
grees of persons claiming to be entitled to real or personal
estates, and be otherwise of great public benefit and advan¬
tage,” it enacts, that, after the 31st of December 1812, regis¬
ters of baptisms, marriages, and burials, according to the rites
of the established church, shall be made and kept by the
officiating minister of every parish and chapelry, in books
to be provided by the king’s printer, at the expense of
the respective parishes, according to the forms contained
in schedules annexed to that act. These schedules contain
the following particulars : In case of baptism,—when bap¬
tized ; child’s Christian name ; parents’ Christian names and
surnames ; abode ; quality, trade, or profession ; by whom
the ceremony was performed. In case of marriage,—the
name and parish of the man ; the same of the woman ; when
married; whether by banns or license ; whether by consent
of parents or guardians; when ; by whom; signature of
officiating minister of the parties married, and of two wit¬
nesses. In case oiburial,—the name; abode; when buried;
age; by whom the ceremony was performed.
The registers of baptism, marriage, and burial were to be
kept in separate books, and signed within seven days after
each ceremony had been performed. Annual copies were
to be made, verified, and signed by the officiating minister,
and attested by the church-wardens, and transmitted by
them yearly to the registrar of the diocese; which registrar
must report thereon to his bishop ; must deposit such copies
in a safe receptacle, arranged for reference; and cause
alphabetical lists of persons and places to be made, kept,
and opened for search.
It is to be observed that this act, which referred in its title
to registers of births, made no provision for recording the
date of birth. Neither did it provide a record of the date
of death. It only provided records of the performance of
the religious ceremonies of baptism, marriage, and burial,
according to the rites of the Established Church. It there¬
fore afforded an insufficient register, even for members of
the Established Church, whilst for those who dissented from
the Established Church, and therefore did not avail them¬
selves of its ordinances for baptism or burial, it provided no
register at all.
The inadequacy of this system, even if fully carried into
effect, and the insufficient manner in which it was complied
with, called loudly for investigation and remedy, and be¬
came the subject of inquiry before a select committee of
the House of Commons, appointed in March 1833, who,
having, as they state, received evidence on registration
“ from clergymen of the established church, and from parish-
clerks ; from gentlemen of the legal profession; from authors
devoted to antiquarian research ; from persons of different
religious denominations, including Catholics, Dissenters,
Jews, and Quakers; from gentlemen eminently scientific,
and attached to statistical inquiries; from medical autho-
100
REGISTRATION.
Hegistra- rities, who have long desired ampler and more accurate
tion. information on the extent and causes of mortality ; from an
' v   eminent foreigner, distinguished for extensive and accurate
statistical intelligence; and others, whose wide-spread in¬
quiries in foreign countries, and peculiar facilities of infor¬
mation, entitled them to respectunanimously agreed to a
report, which expressed the following opinions as the con¬
clusions at which they had arrived.
“ 1. That the subject is urgently important.
“ 2. That it involves matters of great public and national
interest, as well as individual satisfaction, and rights and
claims to property; and deserves the attention of the hum¬
blest artisan as well as of the most philosophical and states¬
man-like inquirer. . ,
“ 3. That the existing law is imperfect and unjust, and
requires not merely partial amendment, but real funda¬
mental reform.
“ 4. That the present plan, even if improved and per¬
fected, as applicable to the members of the established
church, being founded on religious rights, is exclusive an
intolerant, as it would not include a very considerable por¬
tion of the reflecting, intelligent, and influential population
of the country, who are Protestant and Catholic dissenters
from that church, and 1100 congregations who disapprove
infant baptism, and must practically punish them (including,
too, the community who may purchase or derive propeity
from them) for claiming the rights of conscience, and be¬
lieving what their judgments direct.
“ 5. That even to many pious and worthy clergymen of
the established church the system is productive of pain and
regret, as it often induces a compliance, from mere secular
motives, with sacraments which they highly estimate and
devoutly revere. But,
“ 6. That even as to the members of the church it is
detrimental and absurd, since the registers are mere regis¬
ters of baptisms and not of births, of burials and not of
deaths; since they supply no adequate proof of pedigrees,
or means of proving or tracing ancestral descent; since they
are often falsified, stolen, burnt, inaccurately inscribed, and
carelessly preserved ; since the securities intended to be
given by the last general register act (52 Geo. III.), by
directing the yearly and universal transcription of the re¬
gisters, their deposit with the diocesan records, and the pre¬
paration of indexes to facilitate searches, have all expe¬
rienced only the most limited fulfilment, as, while one
fourth of the parishes make no returns, the returns that
have been sent are never indorsed, and are subject to fire
and decay, and the directions of the act have not and
cannot be enforced; and since the value of property is
diminished by the difficulties incident to its transfer, and
the insecurity by which it is so often held and acquired.
And,
“ 7. That great trouble, vast expense, utter uncertainty,
capricious charges, and local and general evils exist, while
no means are supplied to obtain the information other coun¬
tries possess, and justly value, as to the state of disease, the
operation of moral and physical causes on the health of the
people, the progress of population, and other matters on
which accurate knowledge can scarcely be too highly ap¬
preciated or too intensely pursued.”
The committee further recommended, that, as a remedy
for the defects before mentioned, “ a national civil registra¬
tion of births, marriages, and deaths, should be establish¬
ed,” including “all ranks of society, and religionists of every
class.”
In pursuance of these recommendations, measures for ef¬
fecting a better registration were laid before parliament; and
in August 1836 the act for registering births, deaths, and
marriages in England, and the act for marriages in England,
became law. Their operation was suspended for a limited
time by the act of 7 Will. IV.^ chap. 1, and they were amend-
ed by the act of 1 Viet. chap. 22, and thus amended they Bepstn
came into operation on the 1st of July ly37;
These acts leave untouched the act of 1812 so far as^ ^
it relates to the registration of baptisms and burials, buttrat-on((
repeal what relates to the registration of marriages, and BirthS)
provide a new registration of marriages, of births, and of Deaths.*
d t! s Marriag
The circumstances recorded in the register-book under
the new law are, in case of birth, the time and place ; the
name, if any; sex ; name and surname of father; name
and maiden surname of mother; rank or profession °f fa*
ther; signature, description, and residence of the infor¬
mant ; and the baptismal name, if added after registration
of birth. In case of death, the time and place ; name and
surname ; sex ; age ; rank or profession ; cause of death ;
signature, description, and residence of the informant.
Every entry must be signed by the informant and by the
registrar, who discharges this duty without any immediate
expense to the parties requiring registration, but is remu¬
nerated by a moderate fee on each entry paid quarterly
out of the poor’s rates. The informant, in a case of birth,
must be one of the parents, or the occupier of the house or
tenement in which the child was born ; or, if it be a found¬
ling, the overseer of the poor. In a case of death, it must
be some person present at the death, or in attendance du¬
ring the last illness ; or, in default of such person, the oc¬
cupier ; or, in default of the occupier, an inmate of the
house in which the death occurred; or, if there be an in¬
quest, the coroner. Persons so qualified must inform under
pain of indictment, and sign the register on being requested
so to do ; and without such signature no birth or death can
be duly registered, and the entry cannot be given in evi¬
dence. .
The new form for registration of marriages, applicable
alike to all religious denominations, records the place and time
of marriage; names and surnames of the parties ; whether
they are of full age or minors ; their condition (that is, whe-
ther bachelor or spinstir, widower or widow) ; their rank
or profession; residence at the time of marriage ; father s
name and surname ; rank or profession of father ; by what
rites and ceremonies, after what preliminary forms (that is,
whether license, banns, or certificate), and by whom so¬
lemnized ; and must also contain the signatures of the par¬
ties and of two witnesses.
One of the most important circumstances not previously
recorded, for which provision is made in the new register,
is the “ cause of death,” to which a column is assigned in
the registers of death, and where it is exhibited in jux¬
taposition with the period, locality, sex, age, and occupa¬
tion, thus affording valuable data of the highest import¬
ance to medical science. In order to attain the utmost ac¬
curacy in the returns of the causes of death, a printed cir¬
cular has been sent by the registrar-general to all medical
practitioners in England and Wales, wherein it is recom¬
mended, under the hand of the President of the Royal Col¬
lege of Physicians, the President of the Royal College of
Surgeons, and the Master of the Society of Apothecaries,
“ that every practising member of any branch of the medi¬
cal profession who may have been present at the death, or
in attendance during the last illness, of any person, shall, im¬
mediately after such death, place in the hands of such other
persons as w'ere in attendance, of the occupier of the house
in which the death occurred, and of some inmate who may
probably be required to give information, written statements
of (he cause of death, which such persons may show' to the
registrar, and give as their information on that subject. ’
The recent registration act is peculiarly distinguished Gene
from other previous measures on that subject, by the provi-Kfgi ,
sion of a central office in London, called the General Re- 1ICC
gister Office, for the deposit of certified copies of all regis¬
ters, and general superintendence over everything relat-
'
REGISTRATION.
[ttegistra- ing to registration. It is presided over by an officer named
tion. the Registrar-General, appointed under the great seal, un-
'■*—**—* jer whom in the office is an assistant registrar, a chief clerk,
three first clerks, and forty-three others, who are appointed
by the Lords of the Treasury, or by the Registrar-General
with their approval. Instructions emanate from this office
to all the local officers charged with the various duties of re¬
gistration under this act, namely, superintendent registrars,
with their deputies ; registrars of births and deaths, with
their deputies; and registrars of marriages ; all of whom act
within their respective districts under the directions of the
Registrar-General, in whom is vested the power of dismissal.
Registrar- The duties of the Registrar-General are to make regula-
General. tjonS5 subject to the approval of the Secretary of State, for
the management of the General Register Office, and for
the duties of all registrars and superintendent registrars;
to appoint superintendent registrars for temporary districts;
to examine and sanction the formation of registrars’ dis¬
tricts, submitted by the various boards of poor- law guardians
for his approval; to examine and sanction, if approved,
the plans for local register offices, to be provided by the
poor-law guardians, and submitted by them for his ap¬
proval ; to furnish the various books, forms, &c. requisite
for registration, to the various parties requiring them; to re¬
gister certified places of worship for solemnization of mar¬
riage ; to decide, in cases of doubt, upon all caveats referred
to him by the superintendent registrars, and to adjudicate
on an appeal from the superintendent registrar’s decision on
a caveat; to hear and settle all matters of doubt, dispute,
and complaint, respecting the business of registration, and
the duties and conduct of the various officers employed
therein; to annex extraparochial places to registrars’ dis¬
tricts ; to unite two or more superintendent registrars’ dis¬
tricts, or to divide one superintendent registrar’s district
into two, with the approval of the Secretary of State ; to ap¬
point registrars or superintendent registrars if the guardians
neglect to do so; and to send once in every year a report and
abstract of all registered births, deaths, and marriages, for
the preceding year, to the Secretary of State, to be laid be¬
fore parliament.
mperin- The superintendent registrar is a local officer created by
^nd.e"t the registration and marriage acts, acting solely within his
k srars-which is either identical with a poor-law union, or
consists, as in a few instances, of two or more unions form¬
ed into one district by the authority of the Registrar-Gene¬
ral, or is a temporary district consisting of several temporary
registrars’ districts united by the Registrar-General where
there is no poor-law board of guardians. In the latter case,
the superintendent registrar is appointed by the Registrar-
General. In the former, he is either the clerk of the guardians,
who, as such, is entitled ex officio to take the office, or he is
some person whom, the clerk not accepting, the guardians
may have appointed, subject in either case to such qualifica¬
tions as the Registrar-General may by any general rule re¬
quire.
I he principal duty of the superintendent registrar is to
receive quarterly, from the registrars of births and deaths,
and registrars of marriages, within his district, the certified
copies of births, deaths, and marriages registered by them
for the preceding quarter, and, having verified them by com¬
parison with the original entries in" the r-egister-books, to
certify their correctness, and transmit them to the Registrar-
General ; to receive also and transmit, but not also to veri¬
fy, certified copies of marriages registered by all clergymen
of the Established Church within his district, or by any re¬
gistering officer of the Quakers, or secretary of a Jewish
synagogue, if there be any within or assigned to his dis¬
trict. He has also the care of the register office of his dis¬
trict, where are deposited all register-books within the dis¬
trict when filled; and he is to make indexes of these, and
permit searches, and give copies of entries in the register-
101
books on payment of certain fixed fees. He may appoint re- Registra-
gistrars of marriage within his district; and, previous notice tion-
having been already given, he may grant certificates for
marriage, and, within his district, licenses for marriage, pro¬
vided such license be not for marriage to be solemnized ac¬
cording to the forms of the Established Church.
The registrar of births and deaths is a local officer acting Registrars
within his district, which has either been formed, with theof Births
approval of the Registrar-General, by a board of guardians andDeaths
established under the poor-law amendment act, or is a
temporary district formed by the Poor-law Commissioners
where there is no such board established. In the former
case, the registrar is appointed by the board of guardians,
in the latter by the Poor-law Commissioners, subject, in both
cases, to such qualifications as the Registrar-General may by
any general rule declare to be necessary.
His duties, which are the same in both cases, are to re¬
gister, in the books provided for that purpose, every birth
and death occurring within his district; and four times in
every year to make, on forms furnished for that purpose,
copies of all such entries of births and of deaths for the
quarter immediatelypreceding; to certify that such copies are
correct, and to deliver them to the superintendent registrar
of his district, who, on comparing them with the register-book,
which the registrar must also produce, will certify their cor¬
rectness, and transmit them to the Registrar-General. He
also delivers an account of the number of entries so copied,
which the superintendent registrar verifies, and sanctions if
correct, and which the registrar then presents, and obtains
payment of the fees due thereupon from the guardians or
overseers of the poor.
The registrar of marriages is a local officer appointed by
the superintendent registrar, with the approval of the guar¬
dians, or, if there be no board of guardians, of the Poor-
law Commissioners, and acts solely within his district, which
is the same as that of the superintendent registrar by whom
he was appointed.
His duty is to be present at marriages not according to
the forms of the Church of England, solemnized either in
registered places of worship within his district, or in the su¬
perintendent registrar’s office; to register the same in a book
provided for that purpose ; and to deliver quarterly to the
superintendent registrar certified copies of such registered
entries, in like manner as is done by the registrar of births
and deaths.
Marriages according to the forms of the Established Church
are registered, as before, by the officiating clergyman, who
delivers certified copies quarterly to the superintendent re¬
gistrar of his district, to be transmitted to the Registrar-Ge¬
neral. The marriages are also registered at the time in
duplicate ; and one of the books, w'hen filled, is to be de¬
posited immediately in the superintendent registrar’s office.
Marriages according to the ceremonies of the Quakers
and of the Jews are registered respectively in duplicate by
the registering officer of the Quakers and the secretary of
the synagogue, and certified copies are given quarterly to
the superintendent registrar for transmission.
The number of persons by whom the registration of births,
deaths, and marriages under the existing law is conducted
(exclusive of the central establishment of the General Re¬
gister Office) is as follows :—
There are 618 superintendent registrars, each of whom
may appoint a deputy, w ith the approval of the Registrar-
General, to act for him in case of his illness or absence.
Of these, 562 have accepted the office as clerks of boards
of guardians, or have been appointed by the guardians; and
fifty-six are temporary, and have been appointed by the
Registrar-General.
There are 2193 registrars of births and deaths, each of
whom may appoint a deputy, wfith the approval of the guar¬
dians or of the Poor-law Commissioners. Of these, 1926
x\CN4/ .
^ .. ‘fv
102
REGISTRATION.
Registra¬
tion.
Deposit,
arrange¬
ment, ex¬
amination,
and index¬
ing of cer¬
tified co¬
pies.
are appointed by the guardians established under the poor-
law amendment act, and 267 are registrars of temporary
districts, appointed by the Poor-law Commissioners.
The number of registrars of marriages who had been ap¬
pointed and held such office on the 31st of December 1838
was 817, of whom 419 are also registrars of births and
deaths. The foregoing, being in number 3209, act under
the directions of the Registrar-General, and are removeable
by him. . . c
The number of other persons by whom registration ot
marriage is effected is as followsI*;, 11,694 officiating
ministers of the Established Church, to whom register-books
have been furnished; 2d, ninety registering officers ot
Quakers; 3d, thirty-six secretaries of synagogues. A 1
these are in communication with the Registrar-General wit i
respect to the duties of registration.
One of the most important features of the new measures
is the provision that certified copies shall be deposited quar¬
terly in the General Register Office in London, there to be
arranged and indexed for facility of reference; a provision
by means of which henceforth a copy ot an entry ot any
registered birth, death, or marriage, in any part of England
or Wales, may be obtained by application at a single office,
at the trifling cost of 3s. 6d., which includes the fee foi
search.
The certified copies thus transmitted from the clergy, re¬
gistrars, registering officers, and secretaries (amounting to¬
gether to more than 15,000 persons), are all made on sepa¬
rate leaves of durable paper, of an uniform size and peculiar
texture, having a distinguishing water-mark for the preven¬
tion of forgery, and furnished by the Registrar-General to
every one of the foregoing persons, on whom the duty of
registration devolves. They are sent by the superintendent
registrars by the general post, each class of return (i. e.
birth, death, and marriage) being sent separate, and in a
cover denoting by a mark the nature of the contents,^ and
bearing the name of the district to which it belongs. 1 hus,
on their reception at the General Register Office, the con¬
fusion which would otherwise ensue is avoided, by its being
rendered possible to classify the certified copies to a consi¬
derable extent even before they are taken out ot their covers.
They are then arranged and examined seriatim, and all
defects are noted; and letters on the subject of such defects
as are of any importance are addressed to the persons from
whom the defective copies come, and who are required to
furnish either other copies, or such explanations as may re¬
move doubt. The copies are then paged, and inserted in
books for reference.
Means of immediate reference to any one of the entries
of births, deaths, and marriages deposited in the General Re¬
gister Office, which will amount yearly to almost 1,000,000,
are provided in the alphabetical indexes which are made
there. This vast work, far exceeding in magnitude any-
thing of a similar kind ever before attempted in this coun¬
try, is performed in the following manner. The few par¬
ticulars requisite for the index are copied from each en¬
try seriatim, on forms prepared for that purpose, containing
space for as many entries as there are in one page of a cer¬
tified copy. These, after having been checked, are cut into
separate slips, each containing the reference to one entry;
and the slips are then sorted and arranged alphabetically
on files, from whence they are then taken off one by one
by the indexing clerks, and the contents of each copied into
the index. In this manner nearly a million of names will
be indexed alphabetically in the course of each year, the
processes of transcribing, sorting, and indexing being per¬
formed by between thirty and forty persons. There is a
separate index for each class of entries (births, deaths, and
marriages), and for each quarter, or twelve separate in¬
dexes for the year. Any person, on payment of one shilling,
may search these indexes, and, on finding the ngme sought,
may obtain, for two shillings and sixpence, a copy of the Reg,
entry of birth, death, or marriage referred to; which copy, v  ,
being stamped with the official seal, will be received as
evidence of the birth, death, or marriage to which the same
relates, without any further or other proof of such entry.
Thus not only are means afforded of obtaining for legal
purposes, by application at one central office, certified co¬
pies of registers from every part of England and Wales,
but the copies so obtained have the additional advantage o
being sufficient evidence, without an affidavit, ot their being
correct, which is often required for the confirmation of ex¬
tracts given from church registers. _
It is stated in the preface to the Population Abstract for Parocr
1831, as the result of an inquiry respecting parochial regis-
ters in England, “ that eight hundred and twelve English
parish registers commence in the year 1538, about forty
of which contain entries (copied probably from family bibles
and tomb-stones), anterior to the date of Cromwell’s injunc¬
tion ; 1822 parish registers commence from a. d. 1538 to
1558, when Queen Elizabeth required a protestation from
the clergy ; 2448 parish registers commence from a.d. 1558
to 1603, when the canons authorized by King James di¬
rected a copy of all extant parish registers to be made and
preserved; and nearly one half of them (5082) have been
preserved accordingly, and are now extant. Parish regis¬
ters to the number of 969 commence between that time to
the year 1650 ; 2757 from a. d. 1650 to 1700 ; 1476 parish
registers from a. d. 1700 to the year 1750; the lest (six oi
seven hundred) since that time.”
In addition to the registers heretofore and now kept un- Non-p
der the sanction of ordinances and acts of parliament, there19^^
is a vast number of non-parochial registers and records of °
marriages, births and baptisms, deaths, or buiials, which
have been kept in some instances from a very remote pe¬
riod by various dissenting congregations, and in many cases
with great care and correctness, but in no form produced
by authority, and under no legal sanction ; and which were
therefore not admitted in evidence as registers in courts ot
justice. .
In September 1836, a commission was issued, which has
been renewed in the present reign, directing certain com¬
missioners to inquire into the state, custody, and authenti¬
city of such registers or records; “ and to inquire whether
any or what measures could be beneficially adopted for
collecting and arranging all or any ot such registers or re¬
cords, and for depositing the same, or copies thereof, in the
office of the registrar-general of births, deaths, and mar¬
riages, or for otherwise preserving the same; and also to
consider and advise the proper measures to be adopted toi
giving full force and effect in evidence, in all courts of jus¬
tice, to all such registers as might be found accurate and
faithful, and for facilitating the production and reception ot
the same.” The commissioners have reported the result ot
their labours, from which report it appears, that about 7000
non-parochial registers have been transmitted to them for
inspection from 3630 religious congregations, namely,
Foreign Protestant churches 37
Presbyterians, Independents, and Baptists...2264
Wesleyan Methodists 618
Moravians 16
Lady Huntingdon’s Connection 44
Calvinistic Methodists 4)36
Swedenborgians    21
Total 3430
“ Each of these registers,” says the Report, “ was au¬
thenticated by a certificate under the signature of the mi¬
nister, or of some officer of the church or denomination,
from whom it was received; and this certificate w as gene¬
rally accompanied by answers to the questions which had
been circulated by the commissioners.” After being “classed
T
REGISTRATION.
s; egistra- in lists according to the several counties in England and
r tion. Wales, and entered in a book, with a careful annotation of
any particulars applicable to their state or custody,” they
were “submitted to the inspection of the board, by whom the
question as to their admissibility was discussed and record¬
ed ; and in every instance the chairman, or the commis¬
sioner representing the chairman, authenticated such in¬
spection and examination, by affixing his initials to the first
and last entry in e&ch register; or if some parts of the re¬
gister appeared to be copies, or not to bear marks of au¬
thenticity, he affixed his initials to such parts only as were
deemed original or authentic.” With respect to all such
registers as have thus been examined and deemed authen-
fcsj tic, wholly or in part, the commissioners recommend, “ that
they be kept together in some secure place of deposit, un¬
der the care of the Registrar-General, or of some other officer
to be appointed for that purpose, that, under certain con¬
ditions, they be receivable in evidence in all courts of jus¬
tice:” that the authorized custos of these registers shall
permit searches, and grant certified extracts, on payment of
moderate fees ; and that on payment of a reasonable fee he
shall produce any original register deposited with him, on
subpoena or order of a competent tribunal: “ that all cri¬
minal proceedings shall be by production of the original:
that in all other cases, copies or extracts, certified by the
officer having custody of the original, shall, after notice, be
receivable as evidence of the birth, baptism, marriage, death,
or burial to which it relates, subject to the following regu¬
lations : that in courts of law, or at quarter-sessions, any
j.|, party intending to use any certified extract from any regis-
ar ter before mentioned, in evidence, on the trial of any cause,
ers, or hearing of any appeal, shall give notice in writing to the
opposite party, his attorney or agent, of his intention to use
such certified extract as evidence at such trial or hearing,
and at the same time shall deliver to him a copy of the ex¬
tract, and of the certificate thereof, in order that there may
be a full opportunity to ascertain whether the authenticity,
genuineness, or correctness of the entry may be liable to
objection ; and in proof of such notice and delivery, or on
admission of the receipt of such notice and copy, such cer¬
tified extract shall be received in evidence at the trial or
hearing, provided the judge or court shall be of opinion
that such service had been made a reasonable time before
such trial: that in case any party, instead of making proof
by certified extract, intends to produce any original regis¬
ter in evidence, he shall nevertheless, within a reasonable
time, give to the opposite party notice of his intention, to¬
gether with a copy of a certified extract of the entry which
he intends to offer in evidence.” The recommendations re¬
specting the admission of registers, or certified extracts, in
courts of equity, and in ecclesiastical courts, are similar in
character, containing only such variations as the different
practice of those courts requires,
gistra. The registration of births, and deaths, and marriages in
ance. .ance is conducted under the provisions of the Code Ci¬
vil of Napoleon. The maire of each commune., of which
there are about 37,300 in France, is the registering officer
charged with the duty of registering, in books provided for
the purpose, all births, deaths, and marriages, occurring
within his commune. Births and deaths are registered in
duplicate, the former upon information, in the presence of
two witnesses, and are signed in duplicate by the informant,
the two witnesses, and the registering officer; in the case
of deaths, one of the witnesses may be also the informant.
Marriages are registered in the presence of four witnesses,
and signed by the parties, the witnesses, and the registering
officer. The register of births records the year, day, hour,
and place of birth; the sex and name of the child ; the
names, surnames, professions, and residences of parents,
witnesses, and informant; the date of registration, and the
name and quality of the registering officer; and must be
signed by him, by the witnesses, and by the informant. liegistra-
When the child is illegitimate, the name of the father can- ffon*
not be given except by the authority of the father himself.■v'-'-''
Ihe register of deaths records the year, day, hour, and
place of death ; the name, surname, age, profession, and
residence of the deceased person; the names, surnames,
ages, professions, and residences of the parents of the de¬
ceased, and of the witnesses; and the name and surname
of the husband or wife, if the deceased was married; also
the date of registration, and the name and quality of the
registering officer.
The register of marriages records the names, surnames,
ages, professions, places of birth, and residences of the par¬
ties ; the names, surnames, professions, and residences of
their respective parents, and of the four witnesses, with the
relation in which they stand to the parties; the consent of
the parents ; whether the marriage has been opposed ; time
and place of solemnization and registration; and the name
and quality of the registering officer.
Registration of births is secured by a provision, which re¬
quires, under pain of fine and imprisonment, from the father
of the child, or, in default of the father, from some person
present and assisting at the birth, a declaration thereof,
within three days afterwards, to the registering officer, to
whom the child must also be shown.
The registration of deaths is secured by a provision render-
ing it penal for a burial to take place without the registering-
officer having first seen the body and registered the death.
1 he registers are closed at the end of every year, with
formalities which preclude interpolation. Alphabetical in¬
dexes are annually formed in duplicate for each. One of the
duplicate registers, with its index, remains in the commune to
which it belongs; the other is transmitted to the tribunal of
the district, where it is examined and placed under the su¬
perintendence of the procureur du roi, or the local officer of
the crown. Abstracts are made by the registering officer of
each commune, a copy of which is transmitted to the sub¬
prefect, who from thence frames an abstract for his arron-
dissement, a copy of which he sends to the prefect; he also
from the abstracts of the arrondissement makes an abstract
for his department; and copies of such abstracts are sent
by the prefects of departments to be deposited in a central
office at Paris.
Ihe system of registration observed in France was intro¬
duced into Belgium, Geneva, and the Rhenish provinces of
Prussia when under the dominion of France, and is still
retained in those countries.
In Austria, registers of births, deaths, and marriages areliegistra.
kept by each minister of the church for his parish, and tion in
also by the Jewish rabbin for those of their own persuasion.Austria*
The register of births records the year, month, and day
of birth; the number of the house in which the birth oc¬
curred ; the name of the child and its sex, and whether it
be born in wedlock or illegitimate; the names and surnames
of the parents; their religion; and the names, and surnames,
and condition of the sponsors. In the case of illegitimate
children, the name of the father cannot be entered unless
he acknowledges the paternity.
The register of deaths records the year, month, and day
of death ; the number of the house in which it occurred ;
the name, religion, sex, and stated age of the deceased;
and, when the information of a physician or surgeon can
be supplied, the name of the fatal disease. For this pur¬
pose medical men are required to inform the minister, in
writing, of the cause of death of such patients as they have
attended.
The register of marriages records the year, month, and
day of the marriage ; the place of solemnization ; the names
and surnames of the parties ; their religion, age, and whe¬
ther single or widowed ; and the names, and surnames, and
condition of the witnesses.
104 REG
Kegnard Bishops, on every visitation of their dioceses, are obliged
II to call for the production of the registers oi births, deaths,
Itegrator. anj marriages. The provincial authorities are also required
' * to ascertain whether these registers are kept in all places as
Pr Annual abstracts must be made by the ministers and
the rabbin, of which copies must be sent to the district o
the conscriptions, and to the office of the chele.
In Prussia, except the Rhenish provinces, registration
is committed to the clergyman of the parish amongst Uins-
tians, and to the elders amongst Jews. The clergyman is
bound to enter the births, marriages, and deaths, of persons
who are not of the established church, but who are sim¬
ply tolerated,” on the declaration of the parties or their mi¬
nisters, and to include these declarations in his annual re¬
turns. Duplicates of the registers are to be made, and at
the end of each year deposited, when examined and venhed,
in the local civil court, being “ the tribunal of the place.
(Report by the Select Committee on Parochial R*9™-
tration, 1833; HiHarg of Parish Registers i« e«gk,nd, by
Itegist ra¬
tion in
Prussia.
J. S. Burn, 1829 ; Population Abstract for 1831 ; Report
of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the State,
'Custody, and Authenticity of Registers or Records of Births
or Baptisms, Deaths or Burials, and Marriages, in England
and Wales, other than Parochial Registers, 1838 ^Manuel
des Ojficiers de VEtal Civil pour la tenue des Registres,
par A. E. le Mott, Paris, 1827.) (y. f)
REGNARD, John Francis, one of the best French co¬
mic writers after Moliere, was born at Paris in the year 1(>47.
He had scarcely finished his studies, when an ardent pas¬
sion for travelling led him to traverse the greater part of
Europe. Having settled in his own country, he was maae
a treasurer of France, and lieutenant of the waters and fo¬
rests. He wrote a great many comedies ; and, though na¬
turally of a lively genius, died of chagrin in the fifty-second
year of his age. His works, consisting of comedies and
travels, were printed at Rouen, in 1732, in five vols. 12mo.
REGNIER, Mathurin, the first French poet who suc¬
ceeded in satire, was born at Chartres in the year 1573.
He was brought up to the church, a vocation for which his
debaucheries rendered him very unsuitable ; and these, by
his own confession, were so excessive that at thirty he la¬
boured under all the infirmities of age. \ et he obtained a
canonry in the church of Chartres, with other benefices, and
died in 1613. There is a neat Elzevir edition of his works,
Leyden, 1652, in 12mo ; but the most elegant is that with
notes by Brossette, London, 1729, in 4to.
Regnier des Marets, Seraphin, a French poet, born at
Paris in the year 1632. He distinguished himself early by his
poetical talents, and in 1684 was made perpetual secretary
to the French Academy on the death of Mezeray. It was
he who drew up all the papers in the name of the academy
against Furetiere. The king gave him the priory of Grarn-
mont, and he had also an abbey. Regnier died in 1713,
and his works, in French, Italian, Spanish, and Latin poems,
are contained in two vols.; besides a French grammar, and
an Italian translation of Anacreon’s Odes, with some other
translations.
REGRATOR signifies a person who buys and sells any
wares or victuals in the same market or fair ; and regrators
are particularly described to be those who buy, or get into
their hands, in fairs or markets, any grain, fish, butter, cheese,
sheep, lambs, calves, swine, pigs, geese, capons, hens, chick¬
ens, pigeons, conies, or other dead victuals whatsoever,
brought to a fair or market to be sold there, and do sell the
same again in the same fair, market, or place, or in some
Other within four miles thereof.
Regrating is thus a kind of huchstry, by which victuals
are made dearer; for every seller must gain something, and
this consequently w ill enhance the price. In ancient times,
both the engrosser and regrator were comprehended under
REG
the word forestaller. Regrators are punishable by loss and Regu,
forfeiture of goods, and imprisonment, according to the rst, J
second, or third offence. But the modern science of Poll-
tical Economy has taught us to view the practices of regrat¬
ing and forestalling with far other eyes than those of our
^REGULAR denotes anything that is agreeable to rule.
Thus we say, a regular building, a regular verb, and the
hl regular figure, in geometry, is one the sides, and con¬
sequently the angles, of which are equal; and a regular
figure with three or four sides is commonly termed an equi¬
lateral triangle or square, as all others with more sides are
called regular polygons. . , . , ,
Regular Body, called also Platonic Body, is a body or
solid comprehended by like, equal, and regular plane figures,
and the solid angles of which are all equal. The plane figures
by which the solid is contained are the faces of the solid ;
and the sides of the plane figures are the edges or linear
sides of the solid. , . , . .
There are only five regular solids, viz. the tetrahedron,
or regular triangular pyramid, having four triangular faces ;
the hexahedron, or cube, having six square faces; the octa¬
hedron, having eight triangular faces ; the dodecahedron,
having twelve pentagonal faces; and the icosahedron, hav¬
ing twenty triangular faces. Besides these five, there can
be no other regular bodies in nature.
Regular, in a monastery, is a person who has taken the
vows, and is so called because he is bound to observe the
rules of the order he has embraced. .
REGULUS, M. Attilius, served as consul during the
first Punic war. He reduced Brundusium, and in his second
consulship he took sixty-four and sunk thirty galleys of the
Carthaginian fleet, on the coasts of Sicily. Afterwards he
landed in Africa; and so rapid was his success, that m a
short time he made himself master of about two hundred
places of consequence on the coast. I he Carthaginians
sued for peace, but the conqueror refused to grant it; but
soon afterwards he was defeated by Xanthippus, when thirty
thousand of his men were left on the field of battle, and fif¬
teen thousand taken prisoners. Regulus was amongst the
number of the captives, and he was carried in triumph to
Carthage. Fie was sent by the enemy to Rome to propose
an accommodation and an exchange of prisoners ; and if lus
commission proved unsuccessful, he was bound by the most
solemn oaths to return to Carthage without delay. W hen
he arrived at Rome, Regulus dissuaded his countrymen from
accepting the terms which the enemy proposed ; and when
his opinion had had due influence on the senate, Regulus
returned to Carthage agreeably to his engagements. I he
Carthaginians were told that their offers of peace had been
rejected at Rome by means of Regulus ; and for this reason
they prepared to punish him with the greatest seventy.
His eye-brows were cut, and he was exposed for some
days to the excessive heat of the meridian sun, and after¬
wards confined in a barrel, the sides of which were every¬
where filled with large iron pikes, till he died in the greatest
agonies. His sufferings were heard of at Rome ; and the
senate permitted his.widow to inflict whatever punishment
she pleased on some of the most illustrious captives of Car¬
thage which w ere in their hands. She confined them also
in presses filled with sharp iron points ; and was so exqui¬
site in her cruelty, that the senate interfered, and stopped
the barbarity of her punishment. Regulus died about 251
years before Christ.
Regulus, in Astronomy, a star of the first magnitude, m
the constellation Leo. It is also called, from its situation,
Cor Leonis, or the Lions Heart; by the Arabs, Alhabor ;
and by the Chaldseans, Kalbeleced, or Karbeleceid, from an
opinion of its influencing the affairs of the heavens.
Regulus, in Chemistry, the metallic matter which falls
R E I
R E I
105
Rehearsal to the bottom of the crucible, in the melting of ores or im-
II pure metallic substances. It is the finest or purest part of
Rel<!‘ y the metal ; and, according to the alchemists, is denominated
^ rcgulus, or little king, as being the first-born of the royal
metallic blood.
REHEARSAL, in Music and the Drama, an essay or
experiment of some composition, generally made in private,
previous to its representation or performance in public, in
order to render the actors and performers more perfect in
their respective parts.
REHER, a town and district of Hindustan, in the province
of Delhi. The town has much declined in consequence of
the seat of government having been removed to Nijibabad.
It is eighty miles north-north-west from Bareily. Long.
104. 35. E. Lat. 57. N. The district is situated between
the twenty-eighth and twenty-ninth degrees of north lati¬
tude. It formerly constituted the northern limit of Kut-
taher or Rohilcund, and was ceded to the British by the
nabob of Oude in the year 1801. Both town and district
are now included in the collectorship of Bareily.
REICHENBACH, one of the three provincial govern¬
ments of Prussia, into which the province of Silesia is di¬
vided. It is composed of the southern part of the ancient
lower Silesia, with the addition of the principality of Mun-
sterberg and the county of Glatz. It is bounded on the
north-east by Breslau, on the north-west by Leignitz, on
the south-east by Oppeln and the Austrian province of Mo¬
ravia, and on the south-west by Bohemia. In extent it
is 2640 square miles, comprehending thirty-six cities and
towns, and 905 villages, besides many hamlets. The po¬
pulation, according to the census of 1817, was 644,025,
and had increased, at the enumeration of 1826, to 713,936,
of which the Catholics and the Protestants were nearly equal
in number. Divided into thirteen circles, it is the most
densely peopled of any portion of the kingdom of Prussia,
and the great district in which was carried on that large
manufacture of linen for which Silesia was long celebrated.
It is generally a hilly, and in some parts a mountainous dis¬
trict ; and the soil, not being of great fertility, scarcely pro¬
duces sufficient corn for the consumption of the inhabitants.
The capital is the city of the same name, and stands on the
river Peilau. It is surrounded with double walls and ditches,
and contains two Catholic and three Lutheran churches, 460
houses, with 4350 inhabitants. It has considerable manu¬
factories of linens and woollens, and some of cottons, be¬
sides several breweries and distilleries. Long. 16. 31. 7. E.
Lat. 50. 59. 15. N.
REICHENBERG, a city of the Austrian kingdom of
Bohemia, in the circle of Buntzlau. It is situated on the
river Neisse, and has a cathedral church, a palace, and 1200
houses, inhabited by between thirteen and fourteen thou¬
sand persons, occupied in various branches of manufacture,
but chiefly woollen cloth, for which it forms the chief mar¬
ket in an extensive district.
REID, Dr Thomas, a distinguished philosopher, and in
some measure the founder of a school, was the son of Lewis
Reid, minister of the parish of Strachan, in the county of
Kincardine, Scotland. His mother, the daughter of*Mr
Gregory of Kinnairdie, in Banffshire, w^as one of twenty-
nine children, and sister to David, James, and Charles Gre¬
gory, w ho were at the same period professors of astronomy
or mathematics in the universities of Oxford, Edinburgh,
and St Andrews.
Dr Reid was born at the parsonage-house of Strachan
in April 1710, and received the elementary parts of his
education at the parish-school of Kincardine O’Neil. The
parochial schools of Scotland are said to have been much
superior at that period to what they are at present, and
young men went from them well furnished with philologi¬
cal learning to the different universities. The early pro¬
gress of young Reid must have been very extraordinary,
vou XIX.
since he was qualified to profit by the lectures of the pro- Reid.
fessors at the age of twelve. He soon gave very striking
proofs that he inherited the genius of his mother’s family,
and was conspicuous amongst the students of mathematics,
in a college where that science has always been cultivated
with zeal and success. He continued longer at the univer¬
sity than the usual term of years, having been appointed
to the office of librarian, a sitmition which was every way
agreeable to him, as it gave him ample opportunities of gra¬
tifying his passion for study. About this time he became
intimately attached to John Stewart, afterwards professor of
mathematics in Marischal College, a connection w hich great¬
ly strengthened his predilection for mathematical studies.
He resigned the office of librarian in the year 1736, and
accompanied Mr Stewart to England, when they paid a
visit to London, Oxford, and Cambridge, and were intro¬
duced to several persons of the first literary distinction. On
account of his relation to Dr David Gregory, he had ready
access to the celebrated Martin Folkes, whose house might
be said to contain many of the most interesting objects to
be met with in the metropolis. He saw Dr Bentley at
Cambridge, with whose erudition he was much delighted,
as well as amused with his vanity; and he also conversed
frequently with Saunderson, the blind mathematician. Dr
Reid in his philosophical speculations refers to this gentle¬
man’s blindness, as a singular phenomenon in the history of
the human mind.
Dr Reid maintained an uninterrupted friendship w ith the
learned and amiable Mr Stewart until the year 1766, at
which time the latter was carried off by a malignant fever.
The circumstances attending the death of this excellent
man deeply wounded the sensibility of Dr Reid; for his
wife and daughter wrere carried off’ by the same disorder,
and buried w'ith him in the same grave.
I he King’s College of Aberdeen presented Dr Reid to the
living of New Machar in the year 1737 ; but such w'as the
zeal of the people against the lawr of patronage at that time,
that he not only met with violent opposition, but was also
exposed to personal danger. But his attention to the du¬
ties of his office was so exemplary, his temper so mild and
forbearing, and his spirit of humanity so active, that in a
short time he subdued their prejudices; and when at last
called in the course of Providence to a different situation,
the very people who had been guilty of gross and indecent
outrages against him followed him, on his departure, with
their benedictions and tears.
In the year 1740, he married Elizabeth, daughter of his
uncle, Dr George Reid, physician in London, after which his
popularity at New Machar very much increased. Her man¬
ners were so accommodating, and so numerous were her
kind offices to the sick and the indigent, that the departure
of the family from the neighbourhood was looked upon as
a general misfortune. The manner in which several old
men were accustomed to speak upon the subject is worthy
of being kept in remembrance. “We fought,” said they,
“ against Dr Reid when he came, and we would have fought
for him when he went away.”
The greater part of his time during his residence at New
Machar was devoted to the most intense study, particularly
directing his attention to the laws of external perception,
and of the other principles which constitute the basis of hu¬
man knowledge. He unbended his mind by the amuse¬
ments of gardening and botany, of which he was extremely
fond, even in old age.
1 he professors of King’s College, in the year 1752, made
choice of Dr Reid to be professor of philosophy, originat¬
ing wholly from the high opinion they were led to enter¬
tain of his talents and erudition. We are not acquainted
with the particular plan which he adopted and pursued in
the course of his lectures; but his department at that pe¬
riod comprehended mathematics and physic, logic and.
o
106
Keid.
R E I
R E I
ethics; a practice then followed in the other universities of
'Scotland, instead of appointing a professor for each distinct
branch. _ ....
Dr Reid had not been long in Aberdeen, till, in conjunc¬
tion with Dr John Gregory, he projected a literary society,
which continued for a number of years, and met once a
week. The writings of Reid, Gregory, Campbell, Beattie,
and Gerard, evince the numerous advantages which the
members derived from this institution, as they were in the
habit of subjecting such works as they intended lor publi¬
cation, to the test of friendly criticism.
It is perhaps not too much to assert, that ol all the pub¬
lications which appeared about this time, the Inquiry into
the Human Mind by Dr Reid discovered by far the great¬
est originality and profound thinking. It appears that he
had conceived the plan, and deeply meditated upon it, long
before its publication ; yet, without the applause of Ins lite¬
rary associates, it is more than probable that his native
modesty would have prevented him from giving it to the
U°The publication of Mr Hume’s Treatise of Human Na¬
ture, in 1739, led him to question the principles commonly
received with regard to the human understanding. He
admitted, when a youth, but without any attentive exa¬
mination, the opinions on which Mr Hume’s scepticism was
raised; but when he carefully adverted to the consequences
which these principles appeared to involve, he instantly be-
cran to suspect their truth. To subvert the sceptical theory
of Mr Hume was the grand object of Dr Reid’s Inquiry,
which he submitted to the examination of Mr Hume him¬
self. That philosopher, even after he had seen some parts
of the work, discovers not a little of the Jewish spirit of un¬
belief that any good thing should come out of Nazareth ;
and considering his antagonist as a clergyman, and belong¬
ing to an order of men from whom prejudice would not al¬
low him to expect any soundness of reasoning in matters of
science, he betrays more than want of good humour, as Dr
Reid’s biographer expresses himself, when he says, in no
very courteous language, in a letter to Dr Blair, “ I wish
that the parsons would confine themselves to their old oc¬
cupation of worrying one another, and leave philosophers
to argue with temper, moderation, and good manners.”
But though Mr Hume, as appears from the words just quot¬
ed, was very angry that a clergyman should become a phi¬
losopher, on a second perusal of the Inquiry, he seems to
have held very dilferent sentiments, when he wrote to the
author himself in the following terms. “ By Dr Butler’s
means, I have been favoured with the perusal of your per¬
formance, which I have read with great pleasure and atten¬
tion. It is certainly very rare, that a piece so deeply phi¬
losophical is wrote [written] with so much spirit, and affords
so much entertainment to the reader; though I must still
regret the disadvantages under which I read it, as I never
had the whole performance at once before me, and could
not be able fully to compare one part with another. To
this reason, chiefly, I ascribe some obscurities, which, in
spite of your short analysis or abstract, still seem to hang
over your system. For I must do you the justice to own,
that when I entered into your ideas, no man appears to ex¬
press himself with greater perspicuity than you do ; a ta¬
lent which, above all others, is requisite in that species of
literature which you have cultivated—As I was desirous
to be of some use to you, I kept a watchful eye all along
over your style; but it is really so correct, and so good
English, that I found not any thing worth the remarking.
There is only one passage in this chapter, where you make
use of the phrase hinder to do instead of hinder from doing,
which is the English one ; but I could not find the passage
when I sought for it. You may judge how unexceptionable
the whole appeared to me, when I could remark so small a
blemish.”
The impression made on the minds of speculative men^
by the publication of Dr Reid’s Inquiry was as great as
could reasonably be expected from the nature of his under¬
taking. It was not level to the comprehension of the mul¬
titude, nor even addressed to them; and as it examined
opinions with the utmost freedom which had obtained the
sanction of the highest authorities, it had little prospect of
conciliating the favour of the learned. Some, however,
there were, who perceived the extent of his views, and be¬
held in his pages the true spirit and language of inductive
investigation, which made proselytes of many, who, again,
warmly recommended the work to the attention of otheis.
The Inquiry of Dr Reid was so much esteemed by the
learned body of teachers then in the University of Glas¬
gow, that they gave him an invitation to the vacant pro¬
fessorship of moral philosophy in the year 1763. It was
no doubt with a considerable degree of reluctance that he
resolved to leave Aberdeen ; yet so numerous were the
allurements which Glasgow presented to a man of his ex¬
tensive erudition and deep research, that he gave it the
preference. That seminary of learning could then boast
of a Moor, a Simpson, a Black, a Leechman, the two Wil¬
sons, father and son, and the acute, discriminating Millar,
with all of whom he was more or less intimate, and whose
fascinating conversation made him in some measure forget
that he had long been acquainted with men of genius in the
university of Aberdeen.
Dr Reid’s merit as a public teacher arose principally
from that fund of original philosophy which is characteristic
of his writings, and from his invincible patience and per¬
severance in recommending such principles as he con¬
ceived to be of the last importance to human happiness.
His style, too, was simple and perspicuous; his character
was grave and possessed of authority ; and his students felt
such an interest in the doctrines which he inculcated, that
he never failed to be heard with the most profound atten¬
tion.
In the year 1773 his remarks on Aristotle’s logic appear¬
ed in Lord Karnes’s Sketches of the History of Man. “ In
attempting,” says he, “ to give some account of the Analy¬
tics and of the Topics of Aristotle, ingenuity [ingenuous¬
ness] obliges me to confess, that though I have often pur¬
posed to read the whole with care, and to understand what
is intelligible, yet my courage and patience always failed
before I had done. Why should I throw away so much time
and painful attention upon a thing of so little use ? If I
had lived in those ages when the knowledge of Aristotle s
Organon entitled a man to the highest rank in philosophy,
ambition might have induced me to employ upon it some
years of painful study ; and less, I conceive, would not be
sufficient. Such reflections as these always got the better
Reir!
of my resolution when the first ardour began to cool. All
I can say is, that I have read some part of the different books
with care, some slightly, and some perhaps not at all. I
have glanced over the whole often ; and when any thing at¬
tracted my attention, have dipped into it till my appetite
was satisfied.”
But, in spite of his modest declarations, it is matter of
doubt with some, whether any of his publications does him
more honour than his perspicuous view of this complicated
system. It is unquestionably superior to any other analysis
of these writings that we have yet seen ; an opinion amply
confirmed by the sentiments of different literary characters
who were intimately acquainted with the works of the great
philosopher of antiquity.
Dr Reid declined reading lectures in the university for
some years before his death ; and he devoted this period
to the task of preparing for the press his great work, which
was published in two volumes 4to, the first in 1785, en¬
titled Essays on the Intellectual Powers of Man ; and the
second in 1788, entitled Essays on the Active Powers of
R E I U E I lor
Heigate. Man. His Essay on Quantity, occasioned by reading a the parish now added to the borough, contained, in 1831, Reiske.
'—-v'--'' Treatise in which Simple and Compound Ratios are ap- 1978 inhabitants, making in all a population of 3397.   
plied to Virtue and Merit, was composed previously to the REISKE, John James, a profound scholar and eminent
year 1748, and published in the Philosophical Transactions critic, was born in the year 1706, at a small town in the duchy
of London for that year. This paper affords some light re- of Anhalt, in Germany. His connections, it would appear,
specting the progress of his speculations about the period were in a humble situation of life ; and, in consequence of
in question. The Inquiry into the Human Mind, of which the narrow circumstances in which he was placed, he had
we have already taken notice, appeared in 1764; and at many difficulties to struggle with during the early part of his
this time he was complimented with the degree of Doctor education. These, however, he surmounted by unabating
in Divinity. perseverance ; and in 1733 went to Leipsic, where he re¬
in the year 1796, the last of his life, he was prevailed mained during five years in the ardent pursuit of his stu-
upon to spend wdth his friends at Edinburgh a few weeks dies. Here he acquired an extensive knowledge of the Ara-
during the summer. From that visit he returned to Glas- hie, and engaged in the translation of a book from that lan-
gow in his usual health and spirits, and for some time con- guage, which was afterwards published. With the view of
tinned to devote a portion of his time to the exercise both prosecuting to greater advantage the study of Arabic, which
of body and of mind. But about the end of September he had become with him a favourite object of pursuit, he tra-
wras seized with a violent disorder, with which he main- veiled on foot to Leyden, where new difficulties attended
tained a severe struggle ; and this, together with repeated him. Whilst he remained there he wras employed in ar-
strokes of the palsy, put a period to his long and useful life ranging the Arabic manuscripts belonging to the university;
on the 7th of October, and in the eighty-seventh year of and for this labour he received a very small compensation,
his age. During his residence at Leyden, part of his time was occu-
As to his bodily constitution, few men have ever been pied in the translation of various essays from the German
more indebted to nature than Dr Reid. In this respect he and French languages into Latin. These essays afterwards
was athletic and vigorous, and his muscular strength was appeared in the Miscellanea Critica. About the same time,
uncommonly great; advantages which were powerfully se- also, our learned author translated into Latin the whole of
conded by his temperance, exercise, and the unclouded s‘e- the Chariton from the Greek, and the Geography of Abul-
renity of his temper. Deep and collected thought was very feda from the Arabic.
conspicuous in his countenance, and all his looks were ex- Having spent eight years at Leyden, Reiske was driven
pressive of kindness and good will. from this place by jealousy and calumny, which, it is said,
With respect to his character, his rectitude was inflexi- were excited against him chiefly by the younger Burmann,
hie and intrepid; his attachment to truth was pure ; and in consequence of his critical strictures on the edition of
he had an entire command over all his passions, which he Petronius published by that author ; but before his depar-
acquired by the unwearied exertions of a long life. When, ture from this learned seminary, he had obtained the de-
therefore, he found it necessary to dispute the conclusions gree of doctor of physic, which w7as conferred in a manner
of others in any of his writings, he never employed any highly to his honour. Fie afterwards visited different parts
expressions to irritate those whom he was anxious to con- of Germany, and at last settled a second time at Leipsic,
vince; and the asperity of his opponents could not provoke where he remained for twelve years. But although he had
him to repress his spirit of liberality and good humour ; for received the appointment of professor of Arabic, the emo-
he considered the intemperance with which controversy is luments of his office were so scanty, that he had still to
carried on, as an enemy to the progress of useful know- struggle with all the difficulties attendant on poverty, and,
ledge, and as having done more harm to the practice than merely to procure a subsistence, was obliged to engage in
service to the theory of morality. He uniformly main- the humble employments of literary labour, and submit to
tained the dignity of philosophy in private life, and he the severe and ill-requited drudgery of editing works for
united in his character the most amiable modesty and gen- booksellers, or contributing detached papers to periodical
tleness with the noblest spirit of independence. He never publications. About this time the Acta Eruditorum were
solicited any favours from the great; and all his academical greatly indebted to the labours of Reiske. But in the midst
or other preferments were conferred upon him by those of all the difficulties and hardships now alluded to, he pre-
rvho were real judges of his merit, and thought he deserved pared and published a work of profound learning and great
them. To a sound, cautious, and discriminating judgment, merit. This work, which extended to five volumes, ap-
a singular patience and perseverance of thought, and fixed peared under the title of Animadversiones in Auctores Grcc-
attention to the operations of his own mind, he added the cos, and added much to our author’s reputation,
curiosity of a naturalist and the eyes of an observer; and In the year 1758, in consequence of the death of Hal-
of course bis information was accurate and extensive. His tausius, he obtained a situation, which was not only honour-
sensibility was of an active and lively nature ; and w herever able, but lucrative. This was the place of rector of the
he could command the means of relieving the distressed, academy of Leipsic, in which he continued during the re-
he always employed them with the utmost possible se- mainder of his life. He was now raised above want, and
crecy. The life of Dr Reid, by his disciple and friend being free from the difficulties and embarrassments which had
Mr Dugald Stewart, the great ornament of his master’s hitherto constantly attended him, he was thus enabled, in the
school, is known to all the world as one of the first spe- midst of learned ease, to prosecute his favourite studies,
cimens of philosophical biography that any language can In the year 1764 Reiske married E. C. Muller, a w'oman
furnish. of great learning, and of whom it is said that her know ledge,
REIGATE, or Ryegate, a market and borough town especially in Greek literature, was little inferior to that of
of the county of Surrey, in the hundred of its own name, her husband. In all his literary labours she w'as an useful
twenty-two miles from London. It is situated in a plea- associate; but the assistance which she contributed to his
sant valley at the foot of the Chalk Hills, upon a branch of great work, the edition of the Greek Orators, was particu-
the river Mole. It has a weekly market on Tuesday, and larly valuable. Thus passed the latter period of the life of
a monthly one for cattle on Wednesday. It is an ancient this learned man. He died in 1774, possessing a very dis-
borough, and, until 1832, returned two members to parlia- tinguished reputation as a scholar and a critic. The num-
ment, but it now returns only one. The population of the ber of ,the works w hich he superintended and published is
borough amounted in 1801 to 923, in 1811 to 1128, in 1821 very great. The most approved are the following, viz. Re-
to 1323, and in 1831 to 1419; but the Foreign, a part of marks upon Greek Authors; an Edition of the Greek Ora-
108
Reitra
II
Relics.
R E L
tors, in twelve vols. 8vo; Dionysius Halicarnassensis, in
seven vols.; and Plutarch’s Works, in nine vols.
IIEITRA, a city of the Austrian province ot the iiitner
' Danube, in Hungary, and the capital of a circle of the same
name, which comprehends 412 tovyns and villages, with
368,000 inhabitants. The city is situated on the river ot
the same name, is the see of a bishop, is defended by a
strong citadel, and contains 510 houses, whh 4100 inha¬
bitants, who grow much good wine. Long. 18. 58. o4. .
Lat. 48. 19. 10. N. , ,
REJANG, a country in the island of bumatra, bounuea
on the east by the territory of Musi, where the Palembang
river takes its rise. Bencoolen river is the limit on the
south-east. The other principal rivers are the Laye, the
Pally, and the Sunzedano, on all of which the English have
factories. The Rejangs are divided into tribes, of wine i
there are four principal ones. They live in villages under
the government of a head or magistrate, and the inhabi¬
tants seldom exceed 100.
RELAND, Adrian, an eminent orientalist, born at ityp,
in North Holland, in 1676. During three years’ study under
Surenhusius, he made uncommon progress in the Hebrew,
Syriac, Chaldaic, and Arabic languages, and these languages
were always his favourite study. In 1701, he was, by the
recommendation of King William, appointed professor of
oriental languages and ecclesiastical antiquities in tlie um-
versity of Utrecht, and died of the small-pox in 1 < 18. He
was distinguished by his modesty, humanity, and learning,
and carried on a correspondence with the most eminent
scholars of his time. His principal works are, 1. An ex¬
cellent Description of Palestine; 2.11 ive Dissertations on the
Medals of the ancient Hebrews, and several other disserta¬
tions on different subjects; 3. An Introduction to the He¬
brew Grammar; 4. The Antiquities of the ancient Hebrews;
and, 5. On the Mahommedan Religion. These works are
all written in Latin.
RELAY, a supply of horses placed on the road, and ap¬
pointed to be ready for the traveller to enable him to change,
and thus make the greater expedition.
RELICS, in the Church of Rome, the remains of the bo¬
dies or clothes of saints or martyrs, and the instruments by
which they were put to death, devoutly preserved, in ho¬
nour of their memory.
The respect which was justly due to the martyrs and the
teachers of the Christian faith increased in the course of time
almost to adoration; and at length all but divine honour
was really paid both to departed saints and to relics of holy
men or holy things. Such was the rage for them at one
time, that, as Mabillon, a Benedictine, justly complains, the
altars were loaded with suspected relics, numerous spurious
ones being everywhere offered to the piety and devotion of
the faithful. He adds, too, that bones are often consecrat¬
ed, which, so far from belonging to saints, probably do not
belong to Christians. From the catacombs numerous relics
have been taken, and yet it is not known who w^ere the
persons interred therein. In the eleventh century, relics
were tried by fire, when those which did not consume were
reckoned genuine, and the rest not. Relics were, and still
are, sometimes preserved on the altars whereon mass is ce¬
lebrated.
The Romanists plead antiquity in behalf of the respect
paid to relics. The Manicheans, say they, out of hatred to
the flesh, which they considered as an evil principle, refused
to honour the relics of saints ; and this is reckoned a kind
of proof that the Christians in the first ages did so. We
know, indeed, that the touching of linen cloths on relics,
from an opinion of some extraordinary virtue derived there¬
from, was as ancient as the first ages; there being a hole
R E L
made expressly for the purpose in the coffins of the forty Relie
martvrs at Constantinople. The honouring the re i of RelA
saints, on which the Church of Rome afterwards founded
her superstitious and lucrative use of them, as objects of de¬
votion, as a kind of charms or amulets, and as instruments
of pretended miracles, appears to have originated in a very
ancient custom which prevailed amongst Christians, of as¬
sembling at the cemeteries or burying-places ot the mar¬
tyrs, for the purpose of commemorating them, and of per¬
forming divine worship. When the profession ot Christi¬
anity obtained the protection of the civil government, un¬
der Constantine the Great, stately churches were erected
over their sepulchres, and their names and memories were
treated with every possible token of affection and respect.
This reverence, however, gradually exceeded all reasonable
bounds; and those prayers and religious services which
were performed over their tombs were thought to have a
peculiar sanctity and virtue. Hence the practice, which
afterwards obtained, of depositing relics of saints and ot
martyrs under the altars in all churches. This practice was
then thought of such importance, that St Ambrose would
not consecrate a church because it had no relics ; and the
council of Constantinople ordained, that those altars should
be demolished under which there were not found any relics.
The race of procuring relics for this and other purposes ot a
similar nature became so excessive, that in 386 the Emperoi
Theodosius the Great was obliged to pass a law, forbidding
the people to dig up the bodies of the martyrs, and to traffic
in their remains. Such was the origin of that respect for
sacred relics, which, when perverted afterwards, became
the occasion of innumerable processions, pilgrimages, and
miraC] 0§#
RELIEVO, or Relief, in Sculpture, is the projection
or standing out of a figure which arises prominently from the
ground or plane on which it is formed, whether that figure
be cut with the chisel, moulded, or cast.
There are three kinds or degrees of relievo; alto, basso,
and demi-relievo. The alto-relievo, called also high-reliej,
is when the figure is formed after nature, and projects as
much as the life. Basso-relievo, bas-relief, is when the
work is raised a little from the ground, as in medals and
the frontispieces of buildings, but particularly m the histo¬
ries, festoons, foliages, and other ornaments of friezes. De-
mi-relievo is when one half of the figure rises from the
plane. When, in a basso-relievo, there are parts that stand
clear out, detached from the rest, the work is called a demi-
basso. In architecture, the relief or projection of the orna¬
ments ought always to be proportioned to the magnitude of
the building it adorns, and to the distance at which it is to
]j0 viewed.
Relievo, or Relief, in Painting, is the degree of bold¬
ness with which the figures appear, at a due distance, to
stand out from the ground of the painting.
The relievo depends much upon the depth of the shadow
and the strength of the light; or in the height ot the dif¬
ferent colours, bordering upon one another, and particularly
on the difference of the colour of the figure from that of the
ground. Thus, when the light is so disposed as to make
the nearest parts of the figure advance, and is well diffused
on the masses, yet insensibly diminishing, and terminating
in a large spacious shadow, brought off insensibly, the re¬
lievo is said to be bold, and the clear-obscure well under¬
stood.
RELIGION (Religio) is a Latin word, derived, accord¬
ing to Cicero,1 from relegere, to reconsider; but, according
to Servius and most modern grammarians, from religare, to
bind fast. The reason assigned by the Roman orator for
deducing religio from relego, is in these words: “ Q.ui au-
1 Ds Natura Dtotutn, lib. ii. sect. 23.
r
11 E L
Religious tem omnia, quae ad cultum deorum pertinerent, diligenter
Missions, retractarent, et tanquam relegerent, sunt diet! religiosi ex
——v'—,-''relegendo.” The reason given by Servius for his deriva-
^ tion of the word is “ quod mentem religio religet.’’ If the
Ciceronian etymology be the true one, the word religion will
denote the diligent study of whatever pertains to the wor¬
ship of the gods ; but, according to the other derivation,
which we are inclined to prefer, it denotes that obligation
which we feel on our minds from the relation in which we
stand to some superior power. In either case, the import
of the word religion is different from that of theology, since
the former signifies a number of practical duties, and the
latter a system of speculative truths. Theology is therefore
RELIGIOUS
The present time, says Leibnitz, is the child of the past,
and the mother of the future. Yet though every genera¬
tion derives not only its existence, but in some measure its
lot and its fortunes, from the one that preceded it, it is often
most influenced by circumstances which attracted least the
notice of its immediate predecessor. We are well aware of
many of the changes which are taking place around us;
they are such as strike the most inattentive eye. There
are others of equal potency, but which force themselves less
on observation, and in which a portion only of the commu¬
nity are interested. Such are the religious missions now
coming into operation, which are scattering the seeds of
new institutions, and laying the foundation of future em¬
pires, and which will cause that which is now a waste and
howling wilderness to rejoice and blossom as the rose.
Protestant missions are so late in their origin and partial
in their establishment, that, if we look merely to themselves,
we have scarcely sufficient data for estimating their effects.
Fortunately, in the history of the world we may trace the
operation of similar causes, and be enabled to estimate upon
a great scale, during a long lapse of time, the immense be¬
nefits which missions for the diffusion of religious opinions
have produced.
At first view it may appear like a paradox to assert that
the civilization of the world is greatly owing to religious
missions; and yet no truth in remote antiquity is so well as¬
certained.
The ancient forms of civilization with which we are best
acquainted is that of Egypt and Greece in the west, and that
of India in the east. The civilization of Egypt was emi¬
nently sacerdotal; it spread with the colonies of the priest¬
hood, and had its chief residence around the temples. The
original inhabitants of Egypt long retained traces of their
ancient barbarity; and it was not till the system of life in¬
troduced by the sacred caste, and conformed to the reli¬
gious institutions, was complete, that Egypt assumed that
national character which so eminently distinguished it from
the surrounding nations. Whether Meroe or Thebes was
the original college of the priests, is of small consequence to
the present purpose. From either, new sacred colonies is¬
sued out in continued succession and in widening circles,
until not only Egypt, but the banks of the higher Nile, and
the green islands of the sandy desert, had their temples and
their oracles, their arts and their institutions.
But these institutions were not confined to Egypt. These
religious colonies crossed over the sea to impart their rites
to different lands ; and amongst others the priests of Sais,
bringing with them the worship of the divine wisdom, laid
the foundations of a temple to Neith, a name which was
afterwards transposed into Athene. From this religious
mission, then, Athens, “ the eye of Greece,” and the light
of the world in secular wisdom, derived that lustre which
length of years has rather increased than impaired.
R E L io<>
the foundation of religion, or the science from which it Religious
springs ; for no man can study what pertains to the worship Missions,
of superior pow ers till he believe that such powers exist, or -v'—-
feel any obligation on his mind from a relation of which he
knows nothing. The subject, in as far as it can be dis¬
cussed with advantage in a work of this kind, will accord¬
ingly be resumed under the former head. (See Theology.)
RELIGIOUS is used substantially for a person engaged
by solemn vows to the monastic or conventual life; or a
person shut up in a monastery or convent to lead a life of
devotion and austerity, under some rule or institution. The
male religious are popularly called Monks and Friars; the
female, Nuns and Canonesses.
MISSIONS.
Not dissimilar from the progress of the priesthood over
Egypt was the advance of the Brahminical caste or tribe
over India, except that the latter w ere attended by military
companions, and made their way by force of arms as wrell
as that of opinions. Wherever the country was rich and open
enough, this w'ell-organized priesthood introduced its temples
and its creed, its philosophy and its regulations, institutions
that were not indigenous to India, but which were spread
over its plains by colonies and conquest; whilst among the
hills are found a race, unmixed with the foreign intruders,
speaking a different language, and still following the simple
rites of their rude forefathers. Still more widely the re¬
jected offspring of the Brahmins, namely, the Buddhists, have
spread as missionaries over the half of Asia, and penetrated
alike the seclusion of China, the remoteness of Japan, and
the pastoral solitudes of Central Asia.
But these, it may be said, are the missionaries of a false
religion. True; but if so much good has accompanied so
much evil and error, wdiat may not be expected from the
missionaries of a faith founded upon revelation, who pro¬
ceed upon their enterprise in more favourable times and with
greater resources ?
When the true religion was established in the Jewish
nation, it appeared at first view to be stationary rather than
progressive. The Jews had the advantage of a central po¬
sition. I hey bordered upon the states which in early times
did most for the advancement of knowledge, Egypt, Phoe¬
nicia, and afterwards the dominions of Assyria and Baby¬
lon ; but what facilities the Jew ish people gained for spread¬
ing their opinions by their being central, was in a great
measure lost by their being morally isolated.
Providence, however, unfolded means, independently of
the exertion of the Jews, for spreading the knowledge
of the divine unity. The other descendants of Abraham,
who, as is seen by the book of Job, retained the true reli¬
gion, obtained that lot amongst the nations which placed
them in the direct route by which the early commerce of
the world was carried on ; and their favourable position
enabled them at once to promote knowledge and to diffuse
religion. The two points to which their journeys were
especially directed were Sheba and Saba, Arabia Felix,
and that part of Africa which still retains in a portion of it
the name of Azab. Extending along this line of intercourse,
a portion of the Ishmaelites occupied Mecca, in the paucity
of Arabian towns early named the Great, at once the mart
of superstition and commerce ; and where the Ishmaelites
united to the worship of the black stone their own religious
opinions, a mixture which is observable down to the time
of Mahommed, who endeavoured to separate the doctrine of
the unity from idolatrous rites, but who, from the invete¬
racy of ancient habits, was still forced to retain some of the
Pagan customs.
We have a subsequent proof of the line of communica-
no
RELIGIOUS MISSIONS.
Religious
Missions.
tion being kept open between Judaea and Arabia Felix, in
the journey of the queen of Sheba to Jerusalem in the time
of Solomon. And the Jewish religion was still more ex¬
tensively introduced, whether by early colonists or prose¬
lytes, both into Meroe, the dominions of Queen Candace,
and also into the remoter mountains of Abyssinia.
The Jewish worship had a strange aspect to the sur¬
rounding countries of the Gentiles. To their besotted
minds it appeared a wonder and an absurdity that a nation
should exist without idols.
Nil prater nubes et ccelos numen adorant.
But although the Jews, as far as we have positive infor¬
mation, made but few converts in their prosperity, they be¬
came missionaries as soon as they became captives; an
the Israelitish maid who directed Naaman the Syrian for a
cure to consult the prophet of her country, indicates to us
the way in which a large accession w as made from amongst
the Gentiles to the true worshippers of Jehovah.
We are better acquainted with the removal of the Jews
to the east than with the dispersion on a smaller scale which
was taking place towards the west, where the Phoenicians
were selling the Jewish captives to the isles of the Gentiles
or the coasts of the Mediterranean Sea. We have even in
the case of Jonah an instance of a Jew attempting volunta¬
rily to expatriate himself in a Phoenician vessel to Tarshish ;
the Tarshish doubtless of the far west, not the Tarsus of
Cilicia, but the Tartessus of Spain.
It is striking to observe how the great bulk of the Jewish
nation were subsequently dispersed throughout those very
tracts which war and commerce opened up in the remotest
periods of history; and howmuch more their misfortunes have
contributed to the success of their tenets than the victories
of their ancient kings. The moral influence of the Jewish
nation appears to have reached its greatest height when their
civil power was on the eve of vanishing, about the time of
our Saviour. Dissatisfied with their own sentiments of be¬
lief, many in the countries of Greece and Rome wrere look¬
ing to the East, their original instructress, for a deeper phi¬
losophy and a more venerable religion; and whilst many were
only the more bewildered amongst the mysteries of eastern
superstition, in the case of others the pursuit was not fruit¬
less, for they had revealed to them “ whatever Moses had
handed down in his dark volume.”
The influence which the Jews were acquiring is strongly
indicated in the jocular excuse which Horace’s friend makes
him for not entering upon any business, because it was the
“ thirtieth Sabbath” of the Jews, or their solemn passover;
and in the support which the Jews received from “ devout
and honourable women not a few” throughout the Roman
empire, including sometimes, as in the instance of Poppaca,
the empress herself.
The progress of early Christianity is wonderful, and be¬
comes the more so in proportion as we narrowly inspect the
agency by which that progress was carried on. To obtain
a just view, we should not dwell too much on the activity
of a few, and too little on the backwardness of the many.
The first Christians, with some rare exceptions, were men
of like passions and of like failings with ourselves. The
apostles and disciples had received a command, “ Go and
baptize all nations,” without (as far as appears by the re¬
cord) taking one step to put it into execution. The first
missionaries were those involuntary labourers who were
driven by persecution to Antioch, in answer to that early
petition, “ Pray ye the Lord of the harvest, that He would
thrust forth labourers into His harvest.” Still the work was
proceeding slowly till Paul appeared, and then, as Christian
churches are compared to lights shedding their salutary ef¬
fulgence over the dangers of the deep, a hundred beacons
seemed at once enkindled along every cape and headland, to
guide the mariner bewildered on his darksome way.
Christianity, as planted by Paul, took the shortest course JWW;
to become universal. It followed the hne ot greatest com-
munication, and took up a position in each of the principal
cities ; from thence, as from new centres, to spread its in¬
fluence over the surrounding country. Its success was va¬
rious in various places ; slow where the population was re¬
mote, scattered, and barbarous ; rapid where it was conden¬
sed and civilized. It had nearly attained an eaily predo¬
minance in the most refined region of the earth, that of
Asia Minor; and had it not been immediately checked by
the dread and majesty of the empire, and by an early per¬
secution, which showed how^ different nominal adherents are
from real friends whenever a day of tiial ariives, its supie-
macy would have been complete.
It deserves to be remarked, that it was not only by means
of the Greek language, but of the Greek race, that Chris¬
tianity was speedily diffused. To the east of the Roman em¬
pire it had its chief seats in the Grecian colonies, reduced
indeed under the Parthian sway, but still spirited and intel¬
ligent ; and still in its farther progress it kept in the line of
the same pre-eminent race, and sprung out again with fresh
vigour in the Bactrian regions, where the Greeks, after
Alexander, had been extending a kingdom that at one pe¬
riod promised to subjugate the East. From thence Chris¬
tianity penetrated into China and into Tartary, and, from
its ancient success in these quarters, kept in suspense the
emperors w ho wielded the sceptre of Zengis, whether they
should desolate the world with the sword in one hand, and
the Koran or the Bible in the other.
Much more might have been expected of the popes, for
the diffusion, if not of religion, at least of tenets that were
favourable to their own interest and sovereignty, than was
actually performed by them. Their attention was too much
distracted by the quarrels of nominal Christendom, and the
more tempting. opportunities of increasing their power at
home at the expense of Christian kings, to enable them to
look steadily and far abroad, or to form any settled plan
for extending their spiritual dominion over foreign nations.
Another obstacle presented itself, the Papists were inferior
in knowledge to the Moslem; the Greek church might boast
of some superior civilization ; but the Franks were despised
by the Saracens for their ignorance and barbarity, as well
as held in abomination for their gross idolatry. Their mis¬
sions therefore were there chiefly confined to tribes of kin¬
dred and German origin, whose conversion was facilitated
by the greater number of their own tongue and blood hav¬
ing already submitted to the papal sway.
But if the popes did little in comparison with their re¬
sources, individuals did much. The mission of St Patrick
to Ireland may compare in zeal and in success with what¬
ever had been undertaken for the spread of Christianity
since the times of Constantine; and its effects were not
confined to Ireland, but spread over Scotland and the north
of England, and reached even to Germany. The popes,
indeed, when aroused by the fear of a Tartar invasion, de¬
spatched an ill-contrived and hopeless mission to the sove¬
reigns of Tartary, in order to avert the danger which threat¬
ened Europe, by converting them; but any real and disin¬
terested zeal throughout the dark ages is chiefly to be found
in individuals, who, like the ingenious but fantastical Ray¬
mond Lully, were meditating plans for extending religion
whilst the rest of the Christian world were careless and
asleep.
The Reformation gave a revival to Popery itself; and as
the Carthaginians sought to regain the resources which they
had lost nearer home by founding a new empire in Spain,
so the Roman Catholics endeavoured to counterbalance the
loss of the third of Europe by extending the spiritual domi¬
nions of the church over the regions of the boundless and
populous East. Of the Jesuits, with Bacon, regarding their
talents and unwearied application, we can only speak with
RELIGIOUS MISSIONS. Ill
eligious regret. “ Talis quum sis, utinam noster esses.” “ Seeing
lissions. fhey are such, would they were ours.” The Jesuits alone
understood the power of education ; but it shows the spirit
of the body, how differently they used that mighty instru¬
ment in Europe, and in the countries that were beyond the
range of Christendom. Where they had to contend with
the reformed, they raised up disciples not unequal to the
contest; but where this motive wras withdrawn, they soon
showed they had no great liking to education for its own
sake, for all their arts were employed to train submissive,
not enlightened disciples ; and this is an error which Pro-.
testants as well as Papists may fall into. All men, good as
well as bad, are fond of power, and they naturally, if there
is no check over them, retain their disciples longer than
is necessary in the state of pupillage. How different would
have been the resources of the Jesuits, and how much
greater the renown they have justly acquired, had they ta¬
ken the same pains to instruct their Asiatic and American,
that they did for their European scholars ; and how differ¬
ent would have been the condition, at this day, of their mis¬
sions throughout the world.
The Reformation, of all religious revivals, least abounded
in missionary efforts; the cause of which, though obvious,
has not yet been sufficiently attended to and pointed out.
Other changes of religious opinion were owing to the per¬
sonal exertions of missionaries. The Reformation was spread
chiefly by means of writings; nor otherwise, with the eccle¬
siastical and secular power united against it, could it so ra¬
pidly have penetrated the different countries of Europe. It
was the first great manifestation of the power of printing,
and, being an unexpected attack, no defences whatever were
prepared, as in after-times, against its inroads. The use of
so new and mighty an engine seemed to supersede for a time
all other exertions; and the general mind, already stirring
and awake, hailed with eagerness the new dawn of civil and
religious freedom. Unfortunately the Reformation, neces¬
sarily controversial in its origin, continued, and almost end¬
ed, in controversy ; and, immersed in disputes with the
Church of Rome, and in dangers from the civil power, and
in domestic strifes about standards of orthodoxy, lost first
the spirit, and then the form, of sound doctrine, and its fol¬
lowers became equally unable and unwilling to proclaim that
truth to others which they were forsaking themselves.
The revivals amongst the reformed, and their returns to
the primitive doctrine and spirit, were local and sectional,
and their efforts, of course, were feeble and circumscribed;
but they were operated by personal exertion and fervent
preaching, and therefore possessed more of a missionary
character than the Reformation itself; and though much less
powerful at their centre, spread to a wider circumference,
and exerted a remoter influence. The Danes deserve the
praise of being amongst the earliest and most persevering of
the Protestant nations in planting Christianity in foreign
lands. But the plant has too much the air of an exotic still;
it does not fully take root and imbibe its nourishment from
the soil; it wants the strongest symptom of vitality, growth.
No cause can prosper that is chiefly dependent upon foreign
aid. External force may prop up a stationary and a sinking
cause; but whatever spreads and flourishes must have an
interior principle of life.
How numerous were the converts of the Dutch, if we
might believe the reports that were given of them ; but
when the Dutch dominion was withdrawn, how suddenly
did numbers of the Dutch converts disappear. The Dutch,
like the Jesuits, were doubtless contented in many instances
with an outward conformity to Christianity ; yet still it is
striking how slight a hold even the practice of outward rites
had upon multitudes, who quietly relapsed into the profes¬
sion of Paganism. It is evident that primitive Christianity
proceeded upon adiflerent plan. Itcollected itsconverts into
free societies, who were instructed by native teachers, train¬
ed to rely upon their own resources, not only in furnishing Religious
their own funds, but also in supplying the wants of others, Missions,
and who, in assuming the form of a church, assumed at the "-'v'—-
same time the model of a missionary society, and became
themselves the new centres from which light and civiliza¬
tion proceeded to still remoter regions.
The zeal, devotion, and activity of the primitive Chris¬
tians seemed revived in the Moravians, who, scarcely es¬
caped from persecution themselves, proceeded without de¬
lay to subject themselves to new trials, and, like the forlorn
hope of Christianity, chose the most desperate situations
and the most degraded tribes to exemplify what Christi¬
anity might be enabled to do in more favourable circum¬
stances, when it had succeeded ■where all things seemed to
be against it.
The Wesleyans, after Christianizing the abandoned dis¬
tricts of England, and encountering the rage of their own
savage countrymen, often backed by their civil or religious
guides, the neighbouring magistrate or clergyman, have
carried the same zeal, dexterity, and success, to the slaves
of the West Indies, more docile than their masters ; and to
the savages of the remotest countries and islands, less infu¬
riated and dangerous than the rude agricultural population
of England.
In the Serampore Mission we might produce equal if not
superior names to any of which the Jesuits can boast; su¬
perior to them even in the arts of education when applied
to a half-civilized people, and incomparably above them in
extending information amongst the general population of
the country, and in the most important of all operations,
the raising up of native labourers, and creating resources
for their maintenance, in part at least, in the country itself.
The London Missionary Society, distinguished for its
catholic spirit, and the largeness of its undertakings, has
achieved one of the most visible triumphs of Christianity,
in bringing so many islands into subjection to the mild law
of the gospel; and the Episcopal Church of England, so
long eminent for the numerous lights it has given to science,
to knowledge, and to morals, is preparing to transplant that
learning to the banks of the Ganges ; and the Church of
Scotland, after originating a national system of education
at home, is laying the commencement of an admirable plan
of instruction for the learned region of the East. In ad¬
dition to the different religious denominations, each able
from its own resources, if concentrated in any direction, tor
producing a wide and lasting .effect, several single congre¬
gations, without extrinsic aid, and with a self-devotion
worthy of the apostolic days, send out their own mission¬
ary or missionaries, supported by their private funds, and
strengthened by their fervent prayers.
Independently of what Britain can effect, with resources
far greater than any other nation has yet possessed, a new
empire has come into the conflict, with all the energy of
youth and freedom, and exulting in the consciousness of
ever-growing strength. The Americans are eminently fit¬
ted for missionaries. The maxim is scarcely true when ap¬
plied to them, that of all animals, man is the most rooted
in the soil. They move over America as if they were al¬
ready masters of that great continent, and revisit Europe
as another home, and their original birthplace. They
bring with them ardent hopes from the land where, in spite
of many disappointments, hopes are most speedily and
abundantly realized; and, accustomed to overcome the ob¬
stacles of nature, they engage with no less alacrity in the
more stubborn contest with the perversity and prejudices
of mankind. Their plans are admirably conceived, and in
the course of being ably executed; and they are already
receiving their due applause in the dread and detestation
of the corrupt priesthood of the East, who deeply feel and
sincerely express with what dangerous enemies they have
now to deal.
112
Iteligious
Missions.
RELIGIOUS MISSIONS.
If it be a duty to send the gospel to all nations, it can¬
not cease to be a duty because we have been unsuccesslul
in our efforts. The want of success should merely lead us
to reconsider the means to be employed. Hume remarks,
that, prior to experience, we do not know whether or not
the throwing of a pebble against the sky may not produce
the ruin of the world. Some with regard to missions seem
equally to overlook the proportion between cause and ef¬
fect, and expect that any efforts, however ill directed,
should be crowned with immediate success; whilst others
seem to suppose that no efforts can be successful, that the
Orientals never change their opinions, and that tney wil
continue steadfast to the same errors and the same idols
which they have worshipped ever since the earliest dawn of
history. .
But history itself might inform us that all nations have
already changed their opinions. In China all modes of
superstition are comparatively recent, the oldest, as far as
they exist in that country, not being prior to Confucius, at
least in their present form. If we look for aboriginal rites
in India, we can only trace some broken remains of them
amongst the barbarians of the remoter hills, or in the depth
of the undisturbed forest. Where are the idols of the coun¬
tries to the west of the Indus ? They are with the idols of
Hamath, Arphad, and Sepharvaim. The beautiful deities
of Greece are mingling their dust with the monster gods
of the East, in irretrievable and indiscriminate confusion.
Whatever obstacles may exist to the spread of Christianity,
we cannot reckon amongst them, as of most importance, the
obstinate tenacity with which men cleave to their previous
opinions. No one need despair of converts since the or¬
phan of Mecca has planted his victorious standards over the
ruins of the thrones of Chosroes and Constantine.
Not only are religious opinions continually changing, but
all religions at this present moment, with the exception of
Christianity, are in a state of continuous decay ; and not
merely decaying themselves, but imparting their caducity
to the states which uphold them ; and so forcible and rapid
is that decline, that it counterbalances both the tendency
of society to improve, and of the numbers of mankind to
increase. On the contrary, wherever Christianity exists,
even in its lowest form, there is an augmentation of the
numbers of mankind and an improvement in their condi¬
tion, so that the balance between Christianity and the un¬
christianized portions of the world is continually changing;
and whilst Christendom is filling with inhabitants, even to a
dread, on the part of some, of an overflow, barbarous tribes
are almost disappearing, and the Moslems are decreasing,
and the far East is stationary, so that there is a provision
making, even without the intention of Europe, for Euro-
peans spreading their augmenting numbers over the re¬
motest shores of the world.
Independently of colonization, the new intercommunity
of nations will efface ancient prejudices and national pecu¬
liarities. This has already taken place in Europe itself.
The former French, were they to rise from the dead, must
take their descendants for Englishmen ; and the ancient
English might have'equal difficulty in recognising their de¬
scendants, though, like all insular nations, less subject to
change from the influx of foreign manners. Increasing in¬
tercourse has its effects upon the remotest districts. Indi¬
vidual originality and national peculiarity have, from con¬
tinual attrition, lost their salient points, and are wearing
away. The same causes which have operated in Europe
will operate on a greater scale, though more slowly, on the
world at large. The Moslems are forsaking their creed, and,
what is still harder, their dress; and Hindu rajahs quote
Shakspeare, and read the Elegant Extracts.
But the loss of old principles would merely produce de¬
moralization, if no new ones were supplied. We are com¬
municating to all the world our vices and our diseases;
shall we withhold the remedies with which we are combat- Feng:
in-, and, we trust, successfully struggling against both? \V e ^
are sending out missionaries of evil, the convict and the
runaway, who are adding to the atrocities of savage war¬
fare and of savage life. Their vices spread even faster than
themselves, and reach to tribes which the white man has
not visited; and in a still more rapid and wider circle the
diseases which are generated amidst the coriuption and
misery of European society, are spreading desolation and
death in recesses where the name of Europe has scarcely
been heard. It would be but common charity to send out
physicians to these distant tribes, if they could be reached,
to combat, with European remedies, diseases originated in
Europe ; and it would be most unchristian neglect not to
send out the physicians of the soul to apply healing reme¬
dies to those moral diseases, the contagion of which, as a
nation, w^e have been so instrumental in extending.
Protestant missions are only in their commencement, there¬
fore we have not the means to judge fairly of their success.
Success in missions also must be distinguished into two
kinds; the gaining nominal, and the making reid converts.
We may compare the success of the gospel abroad with its
results at home. The promised results are great and un¬
confined ; the real results comparatively small and limited.
Multitudes of nominal Christians in our land pay just as
much regard to the precepts of the gospel, in all the real
business of life, as they do to the injunctions of the Koran.
If we number those who are really living under the in¬
fluence of the gospel, success in proportion to the number
of those who proclaim it may be found to be fully as great
abroad as at home. Each missionary effort will be found
to have had nearly as much success, and of the same kind
and value, as they originally proposed to themselves.
The success of the Jesuits cannot be compared to that
of any Protestant mission. Their aim was entirely different.
What they asked of their converts, was not so much to em¬
brace opinions, as to submit to rites; and if they became
outwardly Christian, they hoped partly to influence them,
and still more their children, whose training would neces¬
sarily be placed in their hands. They attempted, and they
succeeded in gaining the consideration, and in some degree
the favour, of the higher classes, for their European attain¬
ments, by their politic habits of insinuation. It was not
for their interest that the higher classes should become im¬
mediate converts. Whilst these retained their ancient su¬
perstition, they could afford the Jesuits a more effectual pro¬
tection. As soon as the more powerful left their ancient
belief, instead of helps they became hindrances to the
mission, by the jealousies which they inspired, as the na¬
tural heads of a new and rising sect. Thus the influence
which the Jesuits had acquired amongst the wise and power¬
ful, and which had forwarded their cause at first, contribut¬
ed to overthrow it; for the political dexterity which had
gained them friends necessarily raised up to them enemies
in a still greater proportion. We cannot, on the whole,
regret that the attempts of the Jesuits were not more suc¬
cessful. The experiment of Christianizing Paganism had
already been attempted, on a large scale, in the Roman
empire, under the successors of Constantine ; and the re¬
sult was, as Mr Coleridge justly expresses it, “ Paganiz¬
ed Christianity.” The success of the Jesuits in China
would have ended in attaching a new load of Pagan opi¬
nions and observances to that degenerate form of Chris¬
tianity which was already labouring under an intolerable
burden of them.
The Dutch, the lowest in character perhaps of Protes¬
tant missions, appeared to have that measure of success
which they aimed at. Numbers, under their routine of su¬
perficial teaching, assumed the outward form of Christiani¬
ty, which was all that could reasonably have been expected
from their efforts. In many later instances the success has
RELIGIOUS MISSIONS.
Religious been beyond the means employed. The distinguished abi-
Missions. ]ities 0f Dr Carey succeeded beyond all reasonable expec-
tation in the translation of the Scriptures into the lan¬
guages of the East. The education conferred by the Se-
rampore missionaries, by means of the circle of schools
under their superintendence, was superior in kind to the
education given to European children in the same condi¬
tion in life, and was more favourably received by the
natives, though there was a natural want of perseverance
on their part, in availing themselves of the benefit to the
utmost. *
It is more difficult to judge both with respect to the num¬
ber of converts and the influence which Christianity exer¬
cises over their lives. Neither at home nor abroad, at this
present moment, have we reason to suppose that Christia¬
nity is enjoying a season of spiritual prosperity. It is ra¬
ther a time of outward progression than of internal renova¬
tion ; and a review of what has been done, both here and
in distant countries, may more wisely lead us to place our
trust in the Divine arm, which will never desert his own
cause, than to form any very lofty and exaggerated notions
of our present acquisitions. In some instances we have the
encouragement to perceive that the success is far beyond the
means. Amiable as the character was, and great as were
the talents, of Henry Martyn, they are not sufficient to ac¬
count for the striking and lasting impression which he pro¬
duced on the Persians; and his short residence in Persia
produced more fruit than a long life might have done, even
with many prosperous circumstances attending it. Those
who are last and least upon the missionary field have yet
made a beginning; they have got what Archimedes re¬
quired in order to move the world, a place where to stand
and to erect their moral machinery, some influence over
the native mind, and increased facilities for introducing
new improvements and additional labourers from Europe.
Success in general will be proportioned to the means
employed, and the efficacy of the means will depend upon
the method of using them. The first efforts in all undertak¬
ings must be expected to be merely tentative. Resources
are few, and there is a want of experience, in order to em¬
ploy the scanty means to the uttermost. What was defec¬
tive in the commencement is often unnecessarily prolonged,
from the dislike of change; and the very proposal of im¬
provements often appears to imply the censure of previous
mismanagement.
In most instances it is the governed who force improve¬
ments upon their governors ; but in religious enterprises the
contributors are too well satisfied with having paid their
subscriptions, to give themselves any farther trouble or
thought as to the mode in which these contributions are
expended. Yet on no subject is thought more required.
The first requisite to lasting success is to act upon a sys-
tern, and to be provided with a plan. Circumstances must
modify that plan ; but they who act upon a large scale,
and through a considerable tract of time, wall at last modify
circumstances to their own purposes, and ultimately turn
what might seem hindrances into helps.
The first object is to understand the nature of the coun¬
try and of the people on whom a missionary society is in¬
tended to operate. The Americans afford excellent ex¬
amples of missionary pioneers, previously exploring the
country in which they intend to settle; weighing the ad-
vantages and the obstacles which present themselves, ex¬
hibiting a rare union of prudence and determination, and,
whilst strictly acting up to their own principles, succeed¬
ing, at least for a time, in conciliating the minds of others ;
though it is not to be expected that this transient favour
can last long, for it must be dissipated by the first success
on the part of the foreign missionaries. These missionary
ravels are of double service, creating and deepening an
interest at home, which is the true way to enlarge the re-
vnr.. ytv °
113
sources of missionary operations, and at the same time dis- Religious
covering how these resources are to be best economized, ^ Missions,
by preventing fruitless expenditure, and by pointing out K r J
and discovering the true points of attack by which the
country to be entered is assailable. Those, however, who
have done such service as explorers, should continue their
good offices as superintendents; and in many cases there
might be an advantage in separating between the council
and the executive, between those who laid down the plan
and were watching the progress of its being carried into
execution, and those who were filling up the outline, and
engaged in the details. Many reports and evil surmises
will aiise against missionaries, which, being engaged in more
important occupations, they little hear of and less heed,
and which, even if they were desirous to do so, they could
ill ward off; but these might easily be removed by one who
was friendly to the mission, and yet not a party implicated
in each of its transactions.
If a physician in Mahommedan countries should make
the first survey, and propose the original plan, by his in¬
fluence with the governors he would obtain a more favour¬
able opening for a missionary enterprise, and then watch
over its prosperity, without being identified with all its
proceedings. He would also have greater facilities, by the
access which his profession gives him, both to governors
and families of influence, to secure and extend favour and
assistance from the ruling powers, and to remove the more
speedily any obstacles or stumbling-blocks that might be
cast in the wray. The employment of physicians as mis¬
sionaries, which has only very lately and very partially been
practised, has been attended, on the limited scale on which
it has been tried, with yet happier results than could rea¬
sonably have been anticipated. It has opened a new foun¬
tain ot humanity in the hard and selfish breasts of distant
nations, to see the strange spectacle of a man, in imitation
of his Saviour, “ going about doing good,” and healing the
sick. Those who are insensible to the diseases of the mind,
feel with sufficient acuteness the sufferings of their bodies;
and though missionaries may complain of the want of listen¬
ers, a missionary-physician has no reason to complain of the
wyant of patients; nor has he reason to lament the want of
success in treating the cases that are submitted to him.
The healing art transported to a distance appears to assume
new powers ; and the reason is plain. Here medicine has
to contend with inveterate debility, and can only hope, by
the most successful treatment, to prolong a sickly ex¬
istence. There the more rigorous life has already swept
away those who were not possessed of the stamina of a vigo¬
rous constitution, and the physician has chiefly to attend
to the cases where nature is ready to second his efforts,
where disease is not inveterate, but accidental; not to men¬
tion, that our usual remedies come to distant lands with the
advantage of new discoveries, and seem to resume the effi¬
cacy which they possessed when first invented, and before
the body, like that of Mithridates, seasoned to drugs, and
therefore blunted to their operation, had lost the sensibility
wffiich it possessed on their first and hitherto untried ex¬
hibition. Novelty also greatly augments the power of not
the least potent of medicines, faith and hope.
What interest would the residence of an intelligent phy¬
sician possess at Jerusalem; of one who was a physician
indeed in the largest sense of the term, and wise in the
knowledge of nature ? We need such a commentator even
for the Scriptures, an intelligent and resident spectator, to
view and to record again the same natural appearances
which were viewed by the sacred writers of old, that we
may stand again in their position, see anew the same ob¬
jects, and affix the same significance to their terms. What
a benefactor he might be to the weary and superstitious
pilgrims from distant lands, who might return home with
prolonged life, and carrying with them the words of that
P
114
RELIGIOUS MISSIONS.
Religious life which will never end. The Moslems despise the Franks,
Missions. ]3Ut not the Frank physician. The caliphs themselves
—v ' owed much of their fame and their intelligence to the Na¬
zar ene doctors, who communicated to them not only the
art of healing, but much of the various knowledge ot the
Greeks. A Frank traveller is suspected; he is certainly
seeking for hidden treasure. But a physician proceeding
on the same path is reverenced; he is a benefactor, not a
spoiler ; he is culling simpleS to form some potent elixir ;
he has adopted the nobler part of the wonder-working art,
not the secret of finding or making gold, but the mystery
of prolonging life. # . .
As the physician enables the missionary to gain imme¬
diate access to the hearts both of the young and the old, so
the teacher, with the approbation of many who are unaware
of the changes which he must introduce, is enabled to cut
off the sources of error, and to implant the seeds of truth.
Why is it that the present generation of idolaters still be¬
lieve in their monstrous idols? It is because they have been
educated to do so. All these superstitions are attached to
the past, and have no other root in the present than what
custom and education give them. They already exhibit
the symptoms of decay, even with the Pagan education in
their favour. An education founded on facts, even though it
were not grounded on Christian principles, w ould unfasten
the slight and relaxing hold w’hich they yet retain over the
minds of the multitude, and would speedily accelerate then
destruction. It is a great improvement which is beginning
to be introduced into education, the uniting the acquisition
of reading and writing with the practice of some of the ma¬
nual arts. By this no time is lost, and health is promoted.
The first of all the arts, and applicable to every condi¬
tion of society, is the cultivation of the ground. How much
would a few simple rules and improved practices alter the
external comforts of the tribes amongst wdiom missionaries
are labouring, whilst the improvement of the mind would
proceed more rapidly along with the amelioration of their
outward condition, and the more abundant supply of their
temporal wants. The teacher also who is endeavouring to
infuse common elementary knowledge into the minds of the
young, has the best practice for obtaining that plainness of
speech and simplicity of illustration, which will convey, in
a tongue unused to express them, the truths ot the gospel
to those who are no longer young, but whose minds are still
in the state of infancy, retaining the weakness of childhood
without its pliancy.
There is great hope for the wrorld in this, that an educa¬
tion founded solely upon facts, without reference to opinions,
and therefore without open controversy, is calculated to
destroy all the roots of error, and, though it cannot change
the heart, yet will leave a much wider field for truth than
exists at present. The contests between different creeds is
in a fair way of being reduced to narrow ground, and to a
decisive issue. The only alternative speedily will be be¬
tween Christianity and no religion ; and, unless belief and
hope could he exterminated from the human breast, we
need have no doubt as to the general result.
The introducing agriculture, and the other manual arts,
into missionary establishments, would remedy one difficulty
which frequently presents itself in affording employment
and maintenance for new converts, who, in quitting their
former creed, are often cut off from society and the means
of existence, and in this way, without a new opening to en¬
able them to provide for their own living, must become a
burden and a discredit to the new society with which they
have become connected. The amelioration of the soil around
missionary stations, and improved methods of culture, would
be attended with manifold advantages; it would give a visible
reply to the objections of the most sceptical, of what use
are missionaries ? It would afford food and employment to
those who are in temporary want of both, till new outlets
could be found for the new converts, either from the ceas- Rel^
ing of persecution against them, or from placing them m si-
tuations where their recent change does not excite the same
enmity ; and it would form a little colony where Christian
habits and Christian maxims prevailed, a moral oasis in the
midst of the heathen wilderness. How great a change, in
many missionary stations, would even an acquaintance with
the best method of irrigation produce ? There is sunshine to
ripen any produce ; all that is required is moisture, and the
rock is as ready at the hand of art as at the rod of the pro¬
phet to yield its secret treasure of waters, and to spread as
it flows over the sand a profusion of fruits and flowers. It
was owing to this art that the Arab dominion in Spain owed
much of its prosperity and glory. The children of the de¬
sert, in their own burning regions, had been taught the
economy of water; the same skill which produced a wretched
garden in the Sahara, created a paradise in Spain ; and to
directing the streams which were descending from the snows
of the Alpuxaras, we owe these magic wonders which Ma¬
dame de Stael could never hear of without her pulse beat¬
ing faster, “ Les Grangers du royaume de Grenade, et les
citronniers des rois Maures.” _ #
The employment of a few religious artisans, whilst they
would tend greatly to the success of a mission, and to its
speedier taking root in the soil to which it was transplanted,
would, if they were possessed of a missionary spirit, add
little to the expenditure. A gardener or practical agricul¬
turist might be expected to do more than maintain him¬
self; a physician, though so important to the mission, might
also, in many instances, detract but little from the funds.
These, however, are minor considerations; for a somewhat
liberal expenditure, if judicious, is in the end the wisest
economy.
A source both of economy and power is to concentrate
the efforts that are made ; it may present a more imposing
appearance to have a number ot stations dotted about in all
parts of the world ; but we have the example of the apostles,
that the first object is to establish a church, to collect a
number of believers, and to form them into a new centre,
whence the truth may emanate in every direction around.
In war nothing is so frequently fruitless as a victory, and
it is the highest art of a commander to improve it to the
utmost. In missionary efforts, success might be almost as
fruitless, if advantage were not taken of it to the fullest ex¬
tent, by bringing up additional resources, and completely
occupying the ground that was gained. T-he fate of a bat¬
tle often depends upon the reserve. One or two additional
labourers on the missionary field might often terminate a
long series of disappointments by a prosperous result. A
little missionary colony would at once transplant Christiani¬
ty into the region proposed to be ultimately occupied, and
the children of the agriculturist or the artisan might form
the missionaries of future years, inured to the climate, ha¬
bituated to the mode of life and thought, and speaking the
language with native facility. When a single missionary
goes amongst a multitude of heathen, he has the whole tide
of sympathy against the sentiments which he endeavours to
introduce ; the case is reversed when the heathen youth is
brought to the missionary settlement, and placed under the
social influence of Christianity and civilization. A small
missionary colony would at once commence a Christian
church ; it would immediately become sacred ground, “ a
place where prayer is wont to be made,” and where He who
hears and answers prayer would interfere on their behalf,
and would abundantly grant their requests.
The missionaries are availing themselves, with much in¬
telligence and activity, of that instrument which is changing
the world, the press. The Reformation was occasioned by
tracts; and all other changes since, both religious and poli¬
tical, have been indebted to those swift and efficacious mes¬
sengers, which, like the winged Hermes of the ancients,
RELIGIOUS MISSIONS.
115
Religious glide without impediment over land and sea. The opera-
Missions. ^ions 0f Tract Society are one of the wonders of our
times. Their little works are showered down upon every
shore, if not quite as eloquent as the words of Ulysses, yet,
like his, they fall thick as the winter snows, and no barrier
has yet been found that can effectually repress the effect
of these missiles. There is no tongue or speech in which
their voices are not heard, nor does there seem any limit to
their operations, except that which circumscribes all human
endeavours, the “ alte terminus hserens,” the limitation of
funds.
Another great instrument for diffusing civilization and
Christianity, is the spread of the English tongue. It is to
be regretted that many natives are more anxious to learn
English than the missionaries are to teach them, from the
fear, it appears, by some missionary accounts, that these na¬
tives, when instructed, would only employ their know ledge
of English in the pursuit of gain. It might probably so
happen in several instances at first; but the demand for
those who have a superficial acquaintance with English is
not unlimited, the market would soon be supplied, and the
premium lowered. Then the advantages of teaching English
would remain when the disadvantages were removed. The
Romans understood the art of governing rather better than
the English, and met the desire of the provincials to be in¬
structed in the Roman tongue. With them it might be
matter of amusement, not of scorn or rejection, that even
remote barbarians had some aspirations after Italian refine¬
ment or Grecian eloquence :—
De conducendo rhetore jam loquitur Thule.
Still remoter regions from Rome than the farthest Thule
are now desirous of an acquaintance with English, and, if
the English were wise, would be encouraged in this attain¬
ment, for with the spread of their language they would ex¬
tend their glory and their commerce.
The true end of missionary societies, it must never be
lost sight of, is to raise up native teachers and preachers.
Until this point be gained, the foreign missionaries must
address the natives “ with stammering lips, and another
tonguefor though the words may be native, the idiom
is sure to be foreign ; and the missionaries will certainly
continue to think in English, even when they are pro¬
nouncing the words of another language. This plain and
obvious truth does not seem to have hitherto been suffi¬
ciently considered. Yet to perceive the difficulty, we have
only to imagine a number of French apostles endeavouring,
in broken English, to recall a heathen multitude of Britons
to a sense of solemnity, and trying to infuse into their
minds, through so distorting a medium, some knowledge of
the truths of the’Gospel. The actual engagement of a
certain number of native teachers may serve indeed as an
excuse, but not as a complete justification, for this impor¬
tant and obvious principle not having been carried more
fully into effect.
The employment of well-educated native preachers sup¬
poses, in some degree, the erection of higher schools and
colleges, and therefore presents the difficulty of finding
sufficient funds and suitable teachers. But the employ¬
ment of native teachers is itself a source of economy, tend¬
ing to diminish the number, and of course the expenditure,
of European labourers, whilst it would increase the efficien¬
cy of those who are actually sent. And the knowledge
to be taught must in the first place be elementary, and
suitable teachers for the elements might readily be found.
I he Kirk of Scotland affords a good example of scholastic
instruction ; the Church of England possesses a college on
a large and liberal scale ; and the plan of Serampore was
marked by great ingenuity and intelligence. What is de¬
sirable is, that these beginnings should be pursued and ex¬
tended; and that other denominations should make equal
efforts for training up a body of native missionaries, pos- Religious
sessed of the acquirements of Europe, and having greater ^Rssions.
opportunities than Europeans can possibly obtain, of fami- ^ y ^
liar intercourse and ready sympathy amongst their own coun¬
trymen.
But if missionary societies do not raise up native teachers
in abundance, without any one’s instruction or assistance
native heretics will rise up of themselves. Light and dark¬
ness are intermingling together, and new and foreign opi¬
nions, from casual intercourse with Europeans, will com¬
bine with old prejudices, and produce a new set of errors.
Thus Gnosticism arose from the first dawn of Christianity
in the East; and thus Manes united the Persian doctrine
with the true principles and the purer tenets of Revelation.
Thus the Sikhs in India have remodelled the opinions of
the Hindus, in part, upon the more warlike creed of their
Moslem conquerors, and have adopted the half of the Mos¬
lem religion, which consists of the Koran and the sword,
rejecting the Koran, but worshipping the “ All-Steel.” The
overflow of the English race from either side of the At¬
lantic would augment the confusion and destruction of the
ancient systems, alike by their profligacy or their piety;
even the outcasts, throwing contempt upon the idols, pre¬
pare the way for the reception of a new system of belief;
for in many instances the native savages only wait for an
example of their idols being despised with impunity, to
cast them aside, and admit the superiority of that Power
which has instructed the white strangers in so many arts
of which they themselves are ignorant. The enterprise and
rivalry of Europeans naturally tend to embroil the most
distant nations in their quarrels, and shake the thrones of
the native princes, already crumbling from their antiquity.
Every new invention shortens the period which will make
the whole world European ; and, considering only human
means, steam alone has brought us a hundred years nearer
to the conversion of the world.
The advantages of missions are obvious, both to those
who send missionaries and to those who receive them. The
contributors to missions have the double advantage both
of saving and of giving. Every step of progress that the
world has made from the lowest scale of barbarism, is by
saving ; by preferring the future to the present; by making
the acquisitions of the day go farther than the day itself;
and by rendering the surplus of the gain of the former ge¬
neration a bequest to the generation which is to succeed it.
But this noble attainment often proceeds from an unwor¬
thy cause. The love of money often injures the individual
as much as it benefits his species. In giving to missionary
societies, the saving is not only profitable, but the motive is
generous and ennobling. It solves the question of Who is
our neighbour, in the manner pointed out by the Saviour,
and brings into a nearness of affection those who are dis¬
tant in place. It restores the dormant affinity of our com¬
mon species, and embraces the whole family of man in a
new and still more elevated brotherhood. Some objects
chiefly warm the affections, and others enlighten the un¬
derstanding ; but the cause of missions at once accomplishes
both. The labourer who, from his hard earnings, spares a
portion for the greater spiritual need of that distant brother
whom he never saw, not only feels his heart warmed to¬
wards him whom he intends to benefit, but listens with an
interest, unfelt before, to all the information he may re¬
ceive concerning him. Curiosity becomes a loftier feeling,
which exists after novelty is ended; and the head and the
heart are alike actively employed in devising means to
ameliorate the most distant tribes of the family of man, and
in affording the resources which are to carry these plans
into execution. If missionary efforts were attended with
no other advantages, the benefits they confer upon the con¬
tributors were well worth all the sums that have been ex¬
pended upon them. But they are “ twice blessed.” Every
Itembau
116 RE M
Rem- step abroad is also an advantage, even if the mission should
brandt. proceed no farther. The mere employment of a physician,
s Y the diseases that he removes, and the gratitude that he ex¬
cites, were sufficient reward for any expense attending his
mission. Every step in education well recompenses the
trouble and expenditure attending it. Every communica¬
tion of knowledge, even if it should stop short of the high¬
est knowledge, should more than repay a benevolent man
tor any little sacrifices he might have made in affording
light to others. But these are merely the commencements.
With common prudence, there is no danger that the stream
of beneficence, after a short and rapid course, should be
swallowed up in the sands. We may rather anticipate that
its progress will be like the beautiful description oi the son
of Sirach.
r E M
I also came forth as a canal from a river,
And as a conduit flowing into a paradise.
I said, I will water my garden,
And I will abundantly moisten my border:
And, lo ! my canal became a river.
And my river became a sea.
God has raised Britain to a pitch of power and affluence
unexampled in the history of mankind. Great as its pros¬
perity apparently is, it is still greater than it seems; for its
immense resources have never been fully developed. 1 hose
who are blessed are intended to be made a blessing. \V e
were raised to the height of our present condition, not to
abuse the gifts of Providence in luxury, but to disseminate
the distinguished mercies which have been committed to us
in trust, as far as the winds and the waves can waft the mes¬
sengers of benevolence from our shores. (b. g.)
REMBRANDT Van Rhin, a Flemish painter and en¬
graver of great eminence, was born in 1606, in a mill upon
the banks of the Rhine, whence he derived his name of Van
Rhin. This master was born with a creative genius, which
never attained to perfection. It was said of him, that he
would have invented painting, if he had not found it already
discovered. Without study, without the assistance of any
master, by his own instinct alone, he formed rules, and a cer¬
tain practical method for colouring ; and the mixture pro¬
duced the designed effect. Nature is not set off to the
greatest advantage in his pictures; but there is such a strik¬
ing truth and simplicity in them, that his heads, particularly
his portraits, seem animated, and rising from the canvass.
He was fond of strong contrasts of light and of shadow. The
light entered into his working-room only by a hole, in the
manner of a camera ohscura, by which he judged with
greater certainty of his productions. This artist considered
painting like the stage, where the characters do not strike
unless they are exaggerated. He did not pursue the me¬
thod of the Flemish painters, that of finishing his pieces. He
sometimes gave his light such thick touches, that it seemed
more like modelling than painting. A head of his has been
shown, the nose of which was as thick of paint as that which
he copied from nature. He was told one day, that by his
peculiar method of employing colours, his pieces appeared
rugged and uneven ; but he replied that he was a painter,
and not a dyer. He took a pleasure in dressing his figures
in an extraordinary manner; and with this view he had col¬
lected a great number of eastern caps, with ancient armour
and drapery long since out of fashion. When he was ad¬
vised to consult antiquity in order to attain a better taste
in drawing, in which he was usually heavy and uneven, he
took his counsellor to the closet where these old vestments
were deposited, saying, by way of derision, that these were
his antiques.
Rembrandt, like most men of genius, had many caprices.
Being one day at work, painting a whole family in a single
picture, word was brought him that his monkey had died ;
and he was so affected by the loss of this animal, that, with¬
out paying any attention to the persons who were sitting
for their pictures, he painted the monkey upon the same
canvass. This whim could not fail to displease those for
whom the piece was designed ; but he would not efface it,
choosing rather to lose the sale of his picture than to act
like a rational being.
This freak will appear the more extraordinary in Rem¬
brandt, when it is considered that he was extremely avari¬
cious, a vice which daily grew upon him. He practised
various stratagems to sell his prints at a high price. The
public were very desirous of purchasing them, and not
without reason. In his prints the same taste prevails as in
his pictures; they are rough and irregular, but picturesque.
To heighten the value of his prints, and increase their price,
he made his son sell them as if he had purloined them from
his father; others he exposed at public sales, and went
thither in disguise in order to bid for them ; sometimes he
even gave out that he was going to leave Holland and to
settle in another country. These stratagems were success¬
ful, and he got his own price for his prints. At other
times he would print his plates half finished, and expose
them to sale; after which he would finish them, and then
they became fresh plates. When any of them wanted re¬
touching, he made some alterations; which promoted the
sale of his prints a third time, though they differed but little
from the first impressions.
His pupils, who were not ignorant of his avarice, one
day painted some pieces of money upon cards ; which Rem¬
brandt no sooner saw than he was going to take them up.
He was not angry at the pleasantry ; but it had no effect
in checking his avarice. He died in 1674<.
REMBANG, a Dutch residency on the north-east coast
of Java, which produces salt and timber for ship-building.
Long. 111. 15. E. Eat. 6.40. S.
REMEMBRANCE is when the idea of something for¬
merly known recurs again to the mind without the operation
of a similar object on the external sensory.
REMEMBRANCERS, anciently called clerks of the
remembrance, certain officers in the exchequer, three of
whom are distinguished by the names of the King’s Remem¬
brancer, the Lord Treasurer’s Remembrancer, and the Re¬
membrancer of the First Fruits.
REMINISCENCE, that power of the human mind by
which it recollects itself, or calls again into its remem¬
brance such ideas or notions as it had really forgotten. In
this it differs from memory, which is a treasuring up of
things in the mind, and keeping them there, without for¬
getting them.
REMISSION, in Physics, the abatement of the power
or efficacy of any quality; in opposition to the increase of
the same, which is called intension.
REMONSTRANTS, in Ecclesiastical History, a title
which was given to the Arminians in consequence of the Re¬
monstrance made by them in the year 1610, to the states of
Holland, against the sentence of the synod of Dordrect,
which pronounced them heretics. The chief leaders of the
Remonstrants were Episcopius and Grotius; and their prin¬
ciples were first openly countenanced in England by Arch¬
bishop Laud. In opposition to the representation or re¬
monstrance of the Arminians, the Dutch Calvinists present¬
ed an address, which was called a counter-remonstrance;
and hence they obtained the denomination of Counter-Re¬
monstrants. A great deal of keen controversy was agitated
in this affair by these rival sects.
REMORSE, in its worse sense, signifies that pain or an¬
guish which one feels after having committed some wicked
action. It also means tenderness, pity, or sympathetic sor-
f
R E M
lemphan.row; but it is most generally used in a bad sense, and is
v'"—' applied to persons who feel compunction for some great
crime, as murder, and the like. Murders which have been
committed with the utmost circumspection and secrecy,
and the authors of which could never be discovered by any
human investigation, have frequently been disclosed by the
remorse and confession of the perpetrators, and that, too,
many years afterwards.
REMPHAN, an idol or god whom St Stephen says the
Israelites worshipped in the wilderness as they passed from
Egypt to the Land of Promise. “ Yea, ye took up the ta¬
bernacle of Moloch, and the star of your god Jtemphan ;
figures which ye made to worship them.” That the mar¬
tyr here quotes the following words of the prophet Amos,
all commentators are agreed : “ Ye have borne the taber¬
nacle of your Moloch, and Chiun your images, the star of
your god, which ye made to yourselves.” But if this co¬
incidence between the Christian preacher and the Jewish
prophet be admitted, it follows that Chinn and Remphan
are tw o names of one and the same deity. This indeed is
further evident from the Septuagint translators having sub¬
stituted in their version the word Pa/pay, instead of Chiun,
which wre read in the Hebrew and English Bibles. But
the question which still remains to be answered is, What
god was worshipped by the name of Remphan, Raiphan,
or Chiun 9
That Chiun or Remphan was an Egyptian divinity, can¬
not be questioned; for at the era of the Exodus the He¬
brews must have been strangers to the idolatrous worship
of all other nations ; nor are they ever accused of any other
than Egyptian idolatries during their forty years’ wander¬
ings in the wilderness, till towards the end of that period,
when they became infected by the Moabites wdth the wor¬
ship of Baal-peor. That Moloch, Molek, Melek, or Mil-
com, in its original acceptation, denotes a king or chief is
known to every oriental scholar ; and therefore, when it is
used as the name of a god, it undoubtedly signifies the Sun,
and is the same divinity with the Egyptian Ra, Re, or Phre.
Reasoning in this way, many critics, and we believe Selden
amongst the number, have concluded that Chiun, and of
course Remphan, is the planet Saturn ; because Chiun is
w ritten Gun, Cevan, Ceuan, Chevvin, all of which are mo¬
dern oriental names of that planet.
But against this hypothesis insurmountable objections
present themselves. It is universally allowed that the first
objects of idolatrous worship wrere the Sun and Moon, con¬
sidered as the king and queen of heaven. The fixed stars,
indeed, and the planets, were afterwards gradually admitted
into the Pagan Pantheon; but we may be sure that these
wrould be first associated with the two prime luminaries
which most resembled them in brightness, and were sup¬
posed to be most benignant to man. The planet Saturn,
however, appears to the naked eye with so feeble a lustre,
that, in the infancy of astronomy, it could not make such
an impression on the mind as to excite that admiration
which we must conceive to have always preceded planetary
worship. It is to be observed, too, that by the Pagan wri¬
ters of antiquity Saturn is constantly represented as a star
of baleful influence. He is termed the leaden planet; the
planet of malevolent aspect; the dismal, the inhuman star.
lhat the Egyptians, at so early a period as that under consi¬
deration, should have adored as one of their greatest gods
a planet obscure in its appearance, distant in its situation,
and baleful in its influence, is wholly incredible.
There is another star, however, which they might natu¬
rally adore, and which we know they actually did worship,
as one of their most beneficent gods, at a very early period.
Ihis is the dergccxuuv or eug/og of the Greeks, the cam's or
R E M 117
Stella canicularis of the Romans, and the dog-star of mo- Remphan.
dern Europe. By the Egyptians it was called Sothis or
Soth, which signifies safety, beneficence, fecundity; and it
received this name because, making its appearance in the
heavens at the very time when the Nile overflowed the
country, it was supposed to regulate the inundation. On
this account, Plutarch tells us, they believed the soul of
their illustrious benefactress Isis to have transmigrated into
the star Sothis, which they therefore worshipped as the di¬
vinity which rendered their country fruitful. It made its
appearance, too, on the first day of the month called Thoth,1
which w as the beginning of the Egyptian year, and as such
celebrated with feasting and festivity ; and being by far the
brightest star in the heavens, Horus Apollo informs us that it
w’as considered as sovereign over the rest. A combination
of so many important circumstances might have induced a
people less superstitious than the Egyptians to pay divine
homage to that glorious luminary, which was confounded
with Isis, who had been long regarded with the highest
veneration ; and as Isis was the wife and sister of Osiris, and
always associated with him, the star of Isis or Remphan was
naturally associated with Moloch, the same with Osiris.
But it will be asked, how the star which by the Egyp¬
tians was called Soth or Sothis came to be worshipped by
the Hebrews under the appellation of Chiun or Remphan.
This is a pertinent question, and w e shall endeavour to an¬
swer it.
Every one know s that the pronunciation of oriental words
is very uncertain ; and that as the vowels were often omit¬
ted in w riting, it is of very little importance to the meaning-
how they be supplied, provided we retain the radical con¬
sonants. The word Chiun may with equal propriety be
written Kiun, Kion, or even Kyon, the Hebrewr /oc? being
convertible into the Greek u or the Roman y ; but the words
Cane, Chan, Kan, or Khan, which are often diversified in¬
to Khen, Kyn, Cohen, Cahan, signifying head, chief, prince,
or king, are diffused throughout a great part of Asia and
Europe. In the Chinese language Quin, which signifies a
king, is so similar to the word Chiun or Khiun under con¬
sideration, that no etymologist will hesitate to pronounce
them of the same origin and import. The word Kan or
Khan is universally known to be an honorary title in Tar¬
tary ; and Kaian or Kain, which is manifestly a cognate
of the word Chiun or Kiun, is, in the Pahlavi, or old
Persian language, the epithet applied to the dynasty of
princes which succeeded Cyrus the Great. Amongst the
Scythians or ancient Tartars, Ghiun signifies the Sun and
likewise the day; and Kang, Kinung, Kin, runs through
all the dialects of the Gothic tongue, everywhere denoting
a chief or sovereign. In the Syrian dialect, Kon signifies
a prince ; and hence the Almighty is styled (Gen. xiv. 19)
Konah, which is translated possessor, but might, with per¬
haps more propriety, have been rendered sovereign of hea¬
ven and earth. In the Hebrew^, the word Kalian or Kahen,
which is the same with Khan or Kan, signifies either a
priest or a prince ; and in ancient Egypt Kon was the
name of the first Hercules, or the Sun. Hence the same
word in composition denotes greatness, as Can-ohus, the
great serpent; Can-athoth, the great Thoth or Mercury;
Can-osiris, the great Osiris.
From this deduction we may conclude that the word,
which is found in so many tongues, and always denotes
chief, prince, or sovereign, is the very w'ord Chiun which the
Egyptians and Hebrews applied to Sothis, as being, in their
conceptions, the chief or sovereign of all the stars. This
will appear still more probable, when we have ascertained
the import of the word Remphan, or, as the Seventy-two
have it, Raiphan.
1 his was the case at a very remote period ; but it is otherwise at present, owing to the precession of the Equinoxes*
REN
Phan, the latter part of this word, is unquestionably the
same with Pan, the most ancient of the Egyptian gods. It
is likewise a cognate of the Hebrew Phanah, conspexit,
spectavit, vidit; and the radical word seems to be Phah, or
Phthah, which signifies sometimes the countenance, and
sometimes light. Hence Phaethon, which is compounded
of pha, light; eth or esh, fire; and on, strength ; came to
be one of the names of the Sun. liai, which we common y
write Rajah, has long signified, amongst the Indians, a
subordinate prince ; and we know that between India and
Egypt there was a very early intercourse. Raiphan, there-
fore, may be either the royal light or the bright prince,
subordinate to Osiris ; and in either sense it was a very pio
per epithet of Sothis in the Egyptian kalendar. The word
Rem or Rom, again, for it is sometimes written Remphan,
and sometimes Ilompha, is no other than the Hebrew on,
Rum, high or exalted. Hence Remphan is the high or ex¬
alted light, which Sothis certainly was. (o. o. o. o.)
REMUS, the brother of Romulus, was exposed, together
with his brother, by the cruelty of his grandfather. In the
contest which happened between the two brothers about
building a city, Romulus obtained the preference; and
Remus, for ridiculing the rising walls, wras put to death by
his brother’s orders, or by Romulus himself. After this
murder the Romans were afflicted with a plague ; upon
which the oracle was consulted, and the manes of Remus
were appeased by the institution of the Remuria.
REMY, St, a city of France, in the department of the
Mouths of the Rhone, and arrondissement of Arles. It
stands on a fruitful plain, and is celebrated for the marble
found near it, as well as for valuable Roman antiquities, es¬
pecially a triumphal arch, and a lofty mausoleum which is
still in good preservation. The city contains 930 houses,
with 6200 inhabitants, wdio manufacture serges and other
cloths.
RENAPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the Nizam’s ter¬
ritories, and province of Aurungabad, seventy-one miles
north-west from Reeder. Long. 76. 55. E. Lat. 10. 20. N.
RENDSBURG, a city of the Danish dominions, in Hol¬
stein. It is built on the river Eider, by which it is divided
into the old and the new town. It is strongly fortified, being
the bulwark of Denmark towards Germany. The great
canal ends at this place. It is a town of considerable trade,
especially of breweries and distilleries ; and here is the chiet
government military arsenal. It contains 545 houses, and
7572 inhabitants. Long. 9. 34. E. Lat. 54. 18. N.
RENFREW, the chief town of a shire or county of the
same name, in Scotland, situated on the south bank of the
river Clyde, about six miles below Glasgow, and three north¬
east of Paisley. It was made a burgh by David I., who began
to reign in 1124, and is undoubtedly the most ancient town
in Renfrewshire. In 1396 Robert III. raised it to the rank
of a royal burgh, and it is the only place in the county which
enjoys that distinction. The name is apparently derived from
rhyn in the British, or rinn in the Gaelic, both meaning a
point of land ; and/mi or frau, in the British, meaning a
How of water. This forms an apt description, the town be¬
ing situated on a point of land near the conflux of the rivers
Clyde and Cart. Assuming that the name Renfrew was
anciently applied to the site of the burgh, it is easy to un¬
derstand how it would be given to the burgh itself, and af¬
terwards be extended first to the barony, and then to the
sheriffdom.
Renfrew possesses considerable historical interest. Here
Somerled, Lord of the Isles, who rose in rebellion against
Malcolm IV., was defeated and slain in 1164. The family
of Stewart had their common residence at this place before
they were called to the throne. Even after that event Ro¬
bert II., and probably also some of his successors, occasion¬
ally resided here. The mansion of the Stewarts no longer
exists; but its site is still called “ Castlehill,” and near it is
REN
« tiie King’s Meadow.” In former times the waters of the Rent „
Clyde separated into two branches at Renfrew, and formed
an insular piece of ground, or inch, on which there stood an¬
other ancient edifice, called “ the Inch Castle.
This town had once a little foreign trade. In a charter
granted by James VI., in the year 1614, it is described as
the principal port on the Clyde. A century later, its chief
traffic was with Ireland. At present, some vessels in the in¬
land trade load and unload at the harbour. About fifty years
ago, a navigable canal was formed between the town and
the river; and at the mouth of this canal a commodious
quay was built in 1835, at an expense of about L.800. Some
salmon-fishings on the Clyde have long belonged to the
burgh. The principal occupation of the inhabitants is hand-
loom weaving, in which 561 persons were employed in the
year 1836. That Renfrew has but little participated in the
prosperity which commerce and manufactures have diffused
all around, is evident from the fact, that the population of
the parish, which in 1801 had amounted to 2031, had in
1831 increased to only 2833. It contains a constituency
of ninety-five qualified voters, and is joined with Ruther-
glen, Dumbarton, Kilmarnock, and Port-Glasgow, in send¬
ing a member to parliament.
RENFREWSHIRE, a county in Scotland, lying between
55. 40. 40. and 55. 58. 10. north latitude, and 4. 15. and 4.
52. 30. west longitude, is bounded on the east by Lanark¬
shire, on the south by Ayrshire, and on the north and west
by the river and frith of Clyde, which separate it from the
shires of Dumbarton and Argyle, excepting a section of
about 1300 imperial acres, which is situated on the north
bank of the Clyde, opposite the town of Renfrew. Its great¬
est length is thirty-one miles and a half, and its greatest
breadth thirteen miles and a fourth. Its area is 241 square
miles, or 154,240 acres, of which about 100,000 are cultivat¬
ed, 20,000 uncultivated, and 34,240 unprofitable. Notwith¬
standing the small extent of this shire, its manufactures and
commerce render it one of the most important in Scotland.
At the epoch of the Roman invasion, in the first century
of the Christian era, this part of Scotland was inhabited by
a Celtic tribe, called by the invaders the Damnii. After
the withdrawal of the Romans, it was comprehended in the
British kingdom of Strathclyde.
The district which now forms the county of Renfrew,
at least the greater part of it, was denominated, from one
of its rivers, Strathgryfe, the valley of the Gryfe, and at one
time formed part of the shire of Lanark or Clydesdale. It
was the chief patrimony of the great stewards of Scotland,
to whom it was granted by the sovereign in the twelfth cen¬
tury. Afterwards it was called the barony of Renfrew, from
the burgh of that name, where the stewards long had their
principal residence. In 1404, thirty-three years after the
accession of the house of Stewart to the Scottish throne,
King Robert III. granted this barony, and the other por¬
tions of the estates of the steward, to his son and heir James;
since which time the eldest son of the sovereign has, besides
his other titles, borne that of “ Baron of Renfrew.” Soon
afterwards this barony was erected into a distinct sheriff¬
dom, the courts of which were held at Renfrew till the year
1705, when they were, for convenience sake, removed to
Paisley. In 1815 the county was formed into two wards,
termed the Upper and the Lower, with a sheriff-substitute
for each, Paisley and Greenock being the seats of their re¬
spective courts.
Renfrewshire comprehends twenty-one parishes, besides
small portions of those of Beith and Dunlop in Ayrshire,
and Govan in Lanarkshire. Two of the parishes, Eagle-
sham and Cathcart, belong to the presbytery of Glasgow ;
the other nineteen composed the presbytery of Paisley for
a long time prior to the year 1834, when two presbyteries
were formed; that of Paisley, consisting of twelve of these
nineteen parishes ; and that of Greenock, consisting of the
REN
enfrew- other seven, with the addition of Cumbraes in Buteshire,
i *hire. and Largs in Ayrshire, both of which parishes formerly be-
longed to the presbytery of Irvine. In the above enume¬
ration of parishes, those which are so quoad sacra only have
not been taken into account.
About two thirds of this county, comprehending the west¬
ern and southern sides, are hilly, the medium elevation be¬
ing from 500 to 600 feet. Mistylaw, on the west, which is
about 1240 feet above the level of the sea, has been repre¬
sented as the highest hill in the county ; but it is now ascer¬
tained that a neighbouring height, called the Hill of Staik,
is entitled to that distinction, being a few feet higher. This
last was one of the points of observation in the general tri¬
gonometrical survey of the kingdom. Balagiech and Dun-
wan are the highest hills on the south-east side, being about
1000 feet above the sea-level. The hilly district is in ge¬
neral kept in pasture, for which it is better adapted, by the
nature of its surface, than for tillage; though, as it has a
free light soil, which readily absorbs water, it is seldom
injured by moisture. The cultivated land, which forms
the gently-rising district, lies on the north and north-east,
and in the centre of the county on both sides of the Black
Cart. Of this the greater part consists of low, detached
eminences, which swell in endless variety. These being in¬
terspersed w ith copses, and often, watered at the bottom by
winding streams, present views remarkable for richness and
variety. Indeed it will be difficult to point to a more beau¬
tiful surface anywhere in Scotland. Much of this tract has
a close subsoil of small stones and coarse clay, almost impe¬
netrable to water, though there are here many flat holms of
great fertility. It is only between Paisley and the Clyde that
the country sinks down into a plain, forming the flat district
known by the name of “ the Laighlands.” The length of
this beautiful level tract is about six miles, its breadth about
three, and its area 12,000 acres. Here the soil is generally
a deep rich loam of a dark-brown colour, sometimes of the
nature of what is called “ carse clay and much of it seems
to have been formed by the deposition of vegetable mould
from the higher grounds. Moss prevails in the first and
last divisions, but is not found in the second one, where the
soil is pretty uniform.
Like the other western counties of Scotland, Renfrew¬
shire has a moist climate, with frequent rains ; and the pre¬
vailing wind is from the south-west. At Largs, a village in
Ayrshire, near the western extremity of this county, the
yearly quantity of rain in 1809 and 1810 was 38§ inches ;
at Glasgow, near the eastern extremity, for thirty years,
from 1761 to 1790, it was 29*65 inches.
Besides the Clyde, which, as has been already mention¬
ed, flows along the northern and western boundaries of this
county, the principal rivers are the White Cart, the Black
Cart, and the Gryfe. The White Cart, which rises in La¬
narkshire, enters Renfrewshire from the south, and pursues
a winding course, first westerly towards Paisley, through
which it passes, and then northerly towards the Clyde. It
is joined at Inchinnan Bridge by the Black Cart, which had
previously received the waters of the Gryfe at Walkinshaw,
above Barnsford Bridge; and these united streams, which
contain nine tenths of the water of the county, fall into the
Clyde about three miles below Paisley. By means of a short
canal, which was cut to avoid the shallows at Inchinnan
Bridge in 1786, the White Cart is navigable up to Paisley.
Other improvements upon this river are in progress. Like
some other Scottish streams, it was once famous for the
pearls which were found in its bed, but these have disap¬
peared since the beginning of the eighteenth century. The
REN 119
Black Cart rises from Loch Winnoch, or, as it is usually Renfrew-
called, from an adjoining estate, Castle-Semple Loch, a lake idiire.
in the south-western extremity of the county. The Gryfe ^ J,~ v
rises in the west, amongst the high lands of the parish of
Greenock. All these streams, and several others of smaller
size, independently of their importance to agriculture, are,
in almost every part of their course, applied by the indus¬
trious and ingenious inhabitants to the various purposes of
manufactures. A ready supply of water is secured by means
of reservoirs, some of which are of the size and appearance
of considerable lakes; or by enlarging the natural lakes
themselves, of which there are many. These streams and
lakes contain the kinds of fish that are common in this
quarter of the country.
Two railways, which will traverse the county, are now
(March 1839) in course of being formed. Commencing at
Glasgow, they will have a common line to Paisley, from which
the one will lead north-westwards to Greenock, and the
other westwards to several places in Ayrshire. These ways
of transport must prove of incalculable value to the trade and
commerce of the county. It is expected that they will be
opened in 1840. The Paisley and Renfrew railway, and
the canal from Glasgow to Johnston, have been noticed in
the account of Paisley.
The minerals of Renfrewshire are of great importance,
and constitute the main source of its manufactures and com¬
merce ; but we can only advert to them very generally.
Coal, limestone, and sandstone, are wrought at Neilston,
one of the parishes of the hilly district; and both coal and
lime have been found in the flat district near Renfrew; but
it is in the middle division that mines are wrought to the
greatest extent. Of coal there are generally about twelve
different works carried on, of which the most extensive and
valuable are at Polmadie, on the north-east boundary; at
Hurlet, three miles south-east from Paisley, where it has
been wrought for more than three hundred years; and at
Quarrelton, south-east from Johnston, on the Black Cart,
near the centre of the county. The coal at this latter place
consists of five contiguous strata ; the thickness of the whole,
measured at right angles to their surface, is upwards of fifty
feet; but as in some places the seam forms a considerable
angle with the horizon, the thickness of the whole in these
places, measured vertically, is about fifteen fathoms. In
consequence of this great depth, it is wrought in floors or
stories. Limestone abounds in various parts, and is com¬
monly wrought at eight different quarries. Ironstone in
beds and balls is found in great profusion. Considerable
quantities of pyrites are found in the stratum of coal at
Hurlet and Househill, and manufactured into sulphate of
iron or green vitriol. Alum is obtained at Hurlet, from the
decomposed schistus which forms one of the strata of its
coal-mines. Excellent freestone, lying near the surface, is
wrought at various places in the middle district. Green¬
stone, or, as it is provincially called, whinstone, exists in
immense masses.1
The annual value of real property in Renfrewshire, as
assessed in 1815, was L.265,534 sterling. The valued rent
in 1674 was L.69,172 Scots. This, exclusive of small pro¬
perties occupied by feuars, chiefly as gardens, was, in 1810,
divided among 350 proprietors, the estates of eighty-one of
whom were above the valuation of L.100 Scots, and only
six were above L.2000 Scots. At that time nearly half
the valuation belonged to estates held under entail, and by
corporations, which were not therefore allowed to be brought
to market. Landed property in Renfrewshire underwent
great changes during the forty years which preceded 1810,
1 Much valuable and interesting information on the geology of Renfrewshire will be found in an essay by Mr William Montgomery,
younger of Cloak, factor, Castle-Semple, inserted amongst the Prize Essays and Transactions of the Highland and Agricultural So¬
ciety of Scotland for December 1838, p. 421.
REN
nearly one third part of the whole shire having been sold
within that period. There are about thirty seats of noble¬
men and gentlemen, besides villas belonging to merchants
and tradesmen. There are also many remains of ancient
structures, which formed the seats of powerful or respect¬
able families. This shire was anciently covered with wood.
Even now it is ornamented with many woods and planta¬
tions; and it is in general well enclosed.
As an agricultural district, this does not rank so hig.i as
some others in Scotland. Farms are generally small, sel¬
dom exceeding 100 acres on the arable land, and 400 or
500 acres on the hills. In 1811 the average rent per Eng¬
lish acre was about fifteen shillings, varying from two or
three shillings to four or five pounds ; partly owing to si¬
tuation, but still more to the different degrees of the natu¬
ral fertility of the soil. The usual period of leases here,
as in other parts of Scotland, is nineteen years ; but many
are now shorter. The mode of farming is such as every year
to leave more than a half of the arable land in grass, on which
the stock chiefly kept is cows, the most part of whose milk
is made into butter. There are few cheese-dairies. I he
corn chiefly raised here consists of oats and bear. Wheat,
barley, beans, and pease, are sown, but not in great quan¬
tities.* Clover and rye-grass are sown only for hay. a ur-
nips are much grown as a field crop. Potatoes are skil¬
fully and extensively cultivated, the vast population of the
REN
district creating an extraordinary demand for a root so cheap
and wholesome. A flock of Merino sheep was brought to
this county from Spain in the year 1810, but the experi¬
ment proved unsuccessful.
It is by its manufactures and commerce that this county
is most distinguished. Goods of silk, and cotton, and mus¬
lin fabrics, are the principal articles manufactured. Cotton-
mills, bleachfields, and printfields, furnish employment to a
large portion of the inhabitants. Paisley and its environs
form the chief seat of the manufactures. At Greenock and
Port-Glasgow the foreign and coasting trade of the county,
and, indeed, a great proportion of the foreign trade of
Scotland, are carried on. To prevent repetition, we refer
to the articles Paisley, Greenock, and Port-Glasgow,
for information concerning the manufactures and commerce
of Renfrewshire.
The other more considerable towns and villages, with
their population in 1831, are as follow: Johnston, 561/ ;
Pollockshaws, a burgh of barony, 4267 ; Lochwinnoch,
2645; Barrhead and Newton Ralston, 2640 ; Kilbarchan,
2333 ; Neilston, 1137 ; and Elderslie, 1093.
In 1755 the population of the county was only 26,645 ;
in 1831 it amounted to 133,443. The increase, therefore,
in seventy-six years has been 106,995, being upwards of
400 per cent., which exceeds that of any other county in
Scotland.
YEARS.
1811
1821
1831
HOUSES.
8,229
10,490
11,153
19,798
23,977
28,204
P
38
55
828
OCCUPATIONS.
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Agricul¬
ture.
1,847
2,725
2,016
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Trade, Ma¬
nufactures,
and Handi¬
craft.
15,959
15,780
21,071
Families
not com¬
prised in
the two
preceding
classes.
1,992
5,472
5,117
PERSONS.
Males. Females.
Total of
Persons.
41,960
51,178
61,154
50.636
60,997
72,289
92,596
112,175
133,443
lie
lie,
RENNES, an arrondissement of the department of Hie
and Vilaine, in France, extending over 577 square miles,
and containing ten cantons, seventy-eight communes, and
123,400 inhabitants. The capital is the city of the same
name, situated at the junction of the two rivers which give
name to the department. It is the seat of the departmental
government, as it was of that of the province of Normandy
in former times. It stands on a fine plain, and, excepting
the suburbs, is well built; the parade being one of the finest
squares in France. It has a cathedral and eight other
churches, a fine exchange, 4000 houses, and 31,200 inhabi¬
tants. There are extensive linen manufactures, especially
of sail-cloth for the royal navy. Cottons are made and
printed, and many stockings are woven. Many of the inha¬
bitants are employed in building, equipping, and navigating
vessels. Long. 1. 45. 7. W. Lat. 43. 6. 50. N.
RENNIE, John, a distinguished mechanist, architect,
and civil engineer, was born on the 7th of June 1761, at
Phantassie, in the parish of Prestonkirk, in the county of
East Lothian. His father, a highly respectable farmer, died
in 1766, leaving a widow and nine children, of whom John
was the youngest. The first rudiments of his education were
acquired at the village school; and as it frequently happens
that some trifling circumstance in early life gives a bent to
the pursuits and fixes the destinies of the future man, so
it fared with young Rennie. The school was situated on
the opposite side of a brook, over which it was necessary to
pass by means of a rustic bridge of stepping stones ; but
when the freshes were out, the only alternative of crossing
the stream was by means of a boat, which was kept at the
workshop of Mr Andrew Meikle, an ingenious mechanic,
well known in Scotland as the inventor of the thrashing-
machine, and many improvements in agricultural imple¬
ments. In passing through this workshop, which stood on
his family property, young Rennie’s attention was forcibly
drawn to the various operations that were in progress, arid
a great part of his leisure and holiday time was passed there¬
in. The sons of Mr Meikle, and the workmen, seeing the
delight which he appeared to take in examining their la¬
bours, were in the habit of indulging him with their tools,
and showing him their various uses. His evenings were
chiefly employed in imitating those models which had par¬
ticularly attracted his attention in the workshop; and it is
known in the family, that, at little more than ten years of
age, he had constructed the model of a windmill,'a pile- en¬
gine, and a steam-engine. That of the pile-engine is still
in existence, and is said to be remarkably well made.
Flaving continued at Preston school till twelve years of
age, he had about that time a quarrel with his schoolmaster,
whom he deemed incompetent to give him further instruc¬
tion, and therefore entreated that he might be permitted to
leave the school. But his active mind soon became rest¬
less ; for the first time he felt the hours hang heavily on his
hands ; and having expressed a wish to be placed under
his friend Mr Meikle, he employed himself with this in¬
genious mechanic for about twro years; but his mind ex¬
panding with his growth, he began to feel that the pro¬
gress of his intellectual faculties was likely to be retarded
by a constant application to manual labour. He there¬
fore at length determined to place himself under the tuition
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]{ennie. of Mr Gibson, an able teacher of mathematics at Dunbar ;
—where he soon distinguished himself in so particular a man¬
ner, that Mr David Loch, general inspector of the fisheries
in Scotland, in describing a visit which he paid to the school
at Dunbar in 1778, notices the great proficiency displayed
by young Rennie ; prophesying that at no distant period he
would prove an honour to his country.1 From this school,
in less than two years, he returned to Mr Meikle, with a
mind well stored with every branch of mathematical and
physical science which Mr Gibson could teach him. About
this time, Mr Gibson being appointed master to the public
academy of Perth, he earnestly recommended young Ren¬
nie to succeed him at Dunbar. But his view's w'ere of a
more aspiring cast. As a matter of favour, he undertook
the management of the school for about six weeks, when he
returned to his family, occasionally visiting and assisting his
, friend Mr Meikle, but mostly improving himself in draw¬
ing and making models of machinery. His first essay in
practical mechanics was the repairing of a corn-mill in his
native village ; and he erected two or three others before
he was eighteen years of age.
Resolved, however, that these mechanical occupations
should not interfere with his studies, he laid his plans so
that he should be able to proceed occasionally to Edinburgh
with a view of improving himself in physical science. He
there attended the lectures of Professors Robison and Black,
and formed that acquaintance with the former of these gen¬
tlemen, which was gradually raised into friendship, and
which, perhaps, may be said to have laid the foundation of
his future fortune ; for by him he was introduced to Messrs
Bolton and Watt of Soho, near Birmingham. With these
gentlemen he remained but a few months, for the purpose
of receiving explanations respecting the plan of the Albion
Mills, then erecting, the machinery of which he superin¬
tended. This exactly suited his views ; for, conscious of
his own powers, he deemed the capital the proper theatre
to try their strength, and in this he w'as not mistaken.
In proceeding from Edinburgh to Soho, he had taken the
route by Carlisle, Lancaster, Liverpool, and Manchester, for
the purpose of visiting the different mills and public w'orks
in those great commercial and manufacturing towms; and
the remarks w'hich he made on the bridge then building
over the Lune at Lancaster, on the docks at Liverpool, and
more particularly on the Bridgewater Canal, are distinguished
by great sagacity, and were of essential use to him after¬
wards. On leaving Soho, he again made a tour through
the manufacturing districts of Leeds, Sheffield, Rotherham,
and Newcastle.
For some time after he was settled in London, the Al¬
bion Mills, of which Bolton and Watt and Mr Wyatt were
t he projectors and leading proprietors, and who engaged him
to superintend the execution of the mill-work, occupied a
great share of his attention. Mr Watt, in his Notes to
Professor Robison’s Account of the Steam-Engine, says,
that, “ in the construction of the mill-work and machinery,
they derived most valuable assistance from that able me¬
chanician and engineer Mr John Rennie, then just en¬
tering into business, who assisted in placing them, and un¬
der whose direction they were executed.” He also says,
that the machinery, which used to be made of wood, was
here made of cast iron, in improved forms; and thinks that
this was the commencement of that system of mill-work
which has proved so beneficial to this country. In fact,
Rennie’s mills are the most perfect species of mechanism in
that way that exist, distinguished by a precision of move¬
ment and a harmony and proportion of parts that now
serve as models throughout the empire. His water-mills
are so accurately calculated, that every particle of water is
N I E. 121
effectively employed, and none of it lost, as in the common Rennie,
mode of constructing water-wheels. There is reason to
believe that the difficulties which occurred at the Albion
Mills with regard to the ebb and flow of the tides, and
which required all the ingenuity of that extraordinary ge¬
nius, Mr Matt, first led Mr Rennie to the study of that
branch of civil engineering connected with hydraulics and
hydrodynamics, and in which he soon became so celebrated
as to have no rival after the death of Smeaton, in whose
steps, he always used to say, he was proud to follow.
Our limited space will not permit us to enter upon even
an enumeration of all his great works, much less to give any
detailed account of them; we must therefore content our¬
selves by mentioning some of the most important designs
and undertakings in his threefold capacity of mechanist, ar¬
chitect, and civil engineer; three branches of art so inti¬
mately blended as scarcely to admit of a separation.
First, as a Mechanist. Immediately after the completion
of the A.lbion Mills, in 1786 or 1787, Mr Rennie’s reputation
was so firmly established in everything connected with mill-
work, that he found himself in a very extensive line of bu¬
siness. To him the planters of Jamaica and of the other
West India islands applied for their sugar-mills, which he
constructed in a manner so superior to the old ones, that he
soon obtained almost a monopoly of these expensive works.
The powder-mill at Tunbridge, the great flour-mill at Wands¬
worth, several saw-mills, the machinery for various brew¬
eries and distilleries, were mostly of his manufacture ; and
wherever his machinery was required to be impelled by
steam, the incomparable engines of his friends Messrs Bol¬
ton and Watt supplied the moving power; but, contrary to
what has been stated in some of the public journals, he
never had the least concern in directing, contriving, or ad¬
vising any one part or movement of the steam-engine. He
also constructed those beautiful specimens of machinery,
the rolling and triturating mills, at the Mint on Tower Hill,
to which Bolton and Watt’s engines give motion ; and, at
the time of his death, he was engaged in the construction
of a rolling-mill, and similar machinery, for the intended
mint at Calcutta.
As a bold and ingenious piece of mechanism, which may
be considered as distinct from positive architecture, there
is nothing in Europe that can bear a comparison with the
Southwark Bridge. The three immense arches, the centre
one of 240, and each side arch of 210 feet span, consist en¬
tirely of masses of cast iron, of various forms and dimen¬
sions, put together on the same principle as a similar fa¬
bric of hewn stone ; a method of employing iron which
may be considered to form a new epoch in the history of
bridge-building. Various sinister predictions were enter¬
tained against this light and beautiful bridge, which was to
be rent in pieces by the expansive power of the first sum¬
mer’s heat, or, if it escaped that, by the contraction of the
first winter’s cold ; but it lias stood the test of many win¬
ters and summers, and appears not to feel either. Mr Ren¬
nie was applied to by the East India Company for the de¬
sign of a cast-iron bridge to be thrown over the river
Goomty at Lucknow, at the desire of the nabob vizier of
Oude. It consisted of three arches of cast iron, the centre
arch ninety, and each of the other arches eighty feet span.
The arches were cast, and a superintending engineer sent
out with them; but on their arrival, the nabob, in one of
those moments of caprice to which eastern despots, even in
their impotency, are so liable, changed his mind, and would
not allow it to be put up.
Secondly, as an Architect. Since there are few parts of
civil engineering that do not occasionally require the aid
of architecture, Rennie, at a very early stage of his pro-
VOi,. XIX.
Loch a Essays on the Trade, Commerce, Manufactures, and Fisheries of Scotland, vol. iii. p. 211.
122
llennie.
RENNIE.
gress, was called upon for a display of Ins skill in this line
’ Amongst his first undertakings in either hne was that of the
Lancaster Canal, which presented many difficulties, and
amongst others, that of carrying it by an aqueduct over the
Lune, so as not to interrupt the navigation of the river.
Beino- one of the largest fabrics of its kind in Europe, and
of a pleasing design, it is an object that arrests the attention
of strangers, and is very generally admired. The bnuV,
of Leeds, Musselburgh, Kelso, Newton-Stewart, Boston,
New Galloway, and a multitude of others, attest the archi¬
tectural skill, the solidity, and, we may add, the good taste
of Rennie ; whilst a thousand smaller ones, with the various
locks, wharf-walls, quays, embankments appertaining to ca¬
nals, rivers, and harbours, in every part of the united king¬
dom, are so many proofs of his diversified talent, and his
skill in adapting the means to the end. The bieakwater
Plymouth Sound can scarcely be called an architectural work,
but it is constructed on true hydrodynamical principles, an
so o-igantic in its dimensions, and cyclopean in its structure,
as to defy equally the force of the waves and the ravages
of time. To Mr Whidby, who zealously superintended the
execution of this immortal work, the highest praise is also
due ; nor was the plan finally determined on without his ad¬
vice and assistance. ,, , •n
But the architectural work which, above all others, will
immortalize the name of Rennie, is the Waterloo Bridge, a
structure which, even foreigners admit, has no parallel in
Europe (and if not in Europe, certainly not in the whole
world) for its magnitude, its beauty, and its solidity. 1 hat
a fabric so immense, presenting a straight horizontal line,
stretching over nine large arches, should not have altered
more than a few inches, not five in any one part, from that
straight line, is an instance of firmness and solidity utterly
unknown, and almost incredible f but all Rennie’s works
have been constructed for posterity. He made nothing
slight; nor would he engage in any undertaking where,
from an ill-judging economy, a sufficiency of funds was not
forthcoming to meet his views. _ t .
Another work, executed from a design of his, is that of
the stone bridge over the Thames, by which the old Lon¬
don Bridge, so long the disgrace of the metropolis, was re¬
placed. His design, which was selected by a committee of
the House of Commons, out of at least thirty that were of¬
fered, consisted of a granite bridge of five arches, the centie
one of 150 feet span, being the largest stone arch in the
world which has been constructed in modern times. This
great work, an account of which will be found under the head
London, cannot but form a remarkable feature in the future
history of the capital. For of the five bridges which con¬
nect the two banks of the Thames, three have been built
from the designs of one man; a fact which must throw a
lustre on the name of Rennie, and be regarded with a feel-
inp- of pride by the most distant connection of his family.
"Thirdly, as a Civil Engineer. The first great attempt
in this line of his profession was the survey and execution
of the Crinan Canal, a work remarkable for the multitude
of practical difficulties that occurred throughout the whole
of this bold undertaking ; it being necessary in many places
to cut down through solid rock, to the depth of sixty feet;
and it is rather remarkable, that the second undertaking,
the Lancaster Canal, was also replete with difficulties, and
called for the exercise of his skill as an architect, as we have
already seen in noticing the aqueduct over the Lune. But
these two works established his reputation as a civil en¬
gineer, and his opinion and assistance were required from
all quarters. His faculties were now called into full play,
and they expanded with the demands made upon them.
The rage for canals had pervaded every part of the king-
don, and scarcely any of these useful means of conveyance tale
dom, ana scarcely a y , l t 0f without a previous con-
and communication was thong ^ ^ the gurveys
saltation ™th s0 serous, that he knew
Sc t rgland t i" were by heart, and could tell
* once, when a canal was projected, whereabouts the hue
of it ought to 0T7wM,T person-
XSSfAtXm BreX, Grand Western, Kennet
and Avon, Portsmouth, Birmingham, W orcester, besides
^iStthrresources of his mind were displayed in all their
vigour in the plans and construction of those magnificent
do'cks, which are at once an ornamentt0 th^ ^ltal^“da^
the utmost utility to commerce and navigation. Nor aie
these splendid and useful works confined to the metropolis.
The docks at Hull, Greenock, Leith, Liverpool, and Dub m,
attest his skill; and the harbours of Queensferry, Benuck,
Howth Holyhead, Dunleary (now called Kingstown Har-
W) Newhaven; and several others, owe their security
and convenience to his labours.
But even these works, splendid as they are, must yield to
what he has planned and executed m her majesty s dock¬
yards at Portsmouth, Plymouth, Chatham, and Sheerness.
The latter was a mere quicksand of forty feet m depth mixed
with mud and the wrecks of old ships ; the whole of which
was excavated, and a magnificent basin constructed, with a
beautiful surrounding wall of granite, with which three of
the finest dry docks in the universe communicate; and that
important dock-yard, which may be said to command the
mouths of the Thames and the Medway, from being an un¬
healthy and detestable place, and wholly inefficient for t
purpose, is now, by being raised many feet, and laid out w t
skill and judgment, one of the most convenient in the king¬
dom. He also planned the new naval arsenal at Pembroke,
which is considered as a perfect model for a building-yar •
But his plan for the projected naval arsenal at Northfiee
on the Thames was far superior to all m design; and upon
a scale so grand as to be capable of containing afloat two
thirds of the whole navy, with dry docks and slips for e
pairing and building ships of all classes to the same extent,
and with all manner of storehouses, workshops, and manufac¬
tories of all such articles as were required for consumption
in the navy. But the estimated sum of eight mil ions,
which would probably have amounted to ten, induced the
government to pause, and it was finally deemed prudent to
abandon the design altogether. ,. .
Mr Smeaton, we believe, was the first who used the diving-
bell effectually for building with stone under water; but the
machine he employed for that purpose was very defective,
and could be used only in certain situations. Rennie, how¬
ever, by improvements in the instrument itself, ant in it
machinerv by which its movements could be i egu ate , was
enabled to carry on the finest masonry, and the foundations
of sea-walls, piers, and quays, as well under water as above
it. The repairing of the pier-head of Ramsgate Harbour
was a remarkable instance of this kind. I he violence o
the waves, acting upon the bad quality of the stone, hat so
completely undermined it, that the stability of the w 10 e
pier began to be endangered. It was from ten to thirteen
feet below the level of kw water, spring-tides; }et, y
means of the improved diving-bell and its apparatus, the
pier-head was not only effectually secured, but rendei t
more solid and durable than it originally had been. In t ic
harbour of Howth the diving-bell was of the utmost use ,
and it is remarkable enough, that the masons who have
been for a little while accustomed to work under watei pr e¬
fer it, at least the Irish masons do, to working in the air,
The bridge of Neuilly, which the vanity of the French led them to rank as superior
to that of Waterloo, actually sunk 23 inches-
REN
it being cooler in summer, and warmer in winter ; though
an increase of pay for submarine work is probably the real
cause of preference.
The last effort of Rennie’s genius to which we shall ad¬
vert, was the drainage of that vast tract of marsh land bor¬
dering upon the rivers Trent, Witham, New Welland, and
Ouse, which for centuries past had baffled the skill of some
of the ablest men in that department of civil engineering.
Upon the same principles, he laid down a grand scheme for
draining the whole of that immense district known by the
name of the Bedford Level, which has in part been carried
into execution by the completion of the Eau-brink Cut,
near Lynn. The estimate he made for draining the whole
amounted to L.1,200,000.
Such are some of the grand undertakings which Rennie,
during the last thirty years of his life, wras either employed
to project or to carry into execution, and which, on a rough
estimate, collected from his valuable Reports, did not fall
far short of forty millions sterling; about twenty millions
of which were expended under his own immediate super¬
intendence. Indeed, few great works were carried on, either
by the public or individuals, on which he was not either
employed or consulted. His industry was very extraordi¬
nary. Fond of the society of his select friends, and of ra¬
tional conversation, he never suffered amusement of any kind
to interfere with his business, which seldom engaged him
less than twelve hours, and frequently fifteen, in the day.
His conversation was always amusing and instructive. He
possessed a rich fund of anecdote, and, like his old friend
James Watt, told a Scotch story admirably. As a travel¬
ling companion, he was highly entertaining; he knew every¬
body on the road, and everybody knew John Rennie. Of
an ardent and anxious mind, and naturally impetuous, he
was gifted with the most perfect self-control; and the irri¬
tation of the moment was seen but as a light summer’s
cloud, passing across his finely-marked features, which were
on so large a scale, though blended with much mildness as
well as dignity, as to obtain for his noble bust by Chantrey,
when exhibited in Somerset House, the name of Jupiter
Tonans.
Were we to seek for a parallel to Rennie, the name of
Smeaton would at once suggest itself. Their boyhood was
employed precisely in the same manner, in making models
of pumps and windmills, whilst their school-fellows were at
play; their pursuits in manhood were similar, and their pa¬
ramount success pretty nearly the same. But the spirit of
speculation and improvement was but just springing up
when femeaton finished his career, and when Rennie began
his. He was, in fact, the successor of Smeaton. There
was a strong characteristic likeness between Rennie and the
late Mr Ramsden. The pursuits of the former embraced a
wider sphere of action, but they both arrived at their pro¬
posed objects by the most simple and obvious, and, at the
same time, most effectual means. They were both equally
clear in their mode of communicating information to others;
and it is sufficiently remarkable that, in their illustrations,
both of them had recourse rarely to any other instrument
than a two-feet rule, which each always carried in his
pocket. Many a time has the writer of this article derived
instruction from the two-feet rules of John Rennie and
Jesse Ramsden. They were both equally communicative
when they saw that information was desired; and nothing
like professional jealousy, or selfish feelings, actuated either
of these ingenious men, who, on the contrary, were always
kind and condescending to the more humble artists of their
respective professions.
Mr Rennie possessed considerable skill in bibliography ;
and being a zealous and liberal collector, he succeeded in
oranng a very valuable library, consisting of the best and
rarest books in all the branches of science and art, of voy¬
ages and travels, and many curious books in the black let-
R E P
123
ter; whilst in his own department it' contained every work Rentering
of the least merit, in whatever language it might be written. } II
He had, besides, a good collection of mathematical and RcPent*
astronomical instruments, and frequently spoke of erecting v ailCL' _ „
an observatory, but did not live to carry his intention into
execution. Lie had for some years laboured under a dis¬
ease of the liver, which had apparently yielded to the usual
treatment; but a relapse took place, and on the 16th of
October 1821, after a few days’ illness, he expired without
a struggle, in the sixtieth year of his age.
Mr Rennie, in 1789, married Miss Mackintosh, who died
in 1806, leaving a family of seven young children, six of
whom are now living. The two eldest, George and John,
are successfully following the profession, and promise to
tread in the footsteps, of their able and excellent father.
Sixteen mourning coaches, filled with his friends, mostly
men of eminence in the arts, sciences, or literature, followed
his hearse to St Paul’s, where his remains were interred
near those of Sir Christopher Wren. A plain granite slab
covers his grave, on which is the following appropriate in¬
scription :
Here lie the mortal remains of
JOHN RENNIE,
Civil Engineer,
F. R. S. L. & E. F. A. S. &c. &c.
Born at Phantassie, in East Lothian, 7th June 1761 ; \
deceased in London 4th Oct. IS^l.
this stone
testifies his private virtues,
and records
the affection and the respect of
his family and his friends;
but
the many splendid and useful works
by which,
under his superintending genius,
England, Scotland, and Ireland,
have been adorned and improved,
are
the true monuments
of
his public merit. (31. j
RENTERING, in the manufactories, the same with fine
drawing. It consists in sewing two pieces of cloth edge to
edge, without doubling them, so that the seam scarcely ap¬
pears ; and hence it is denominated fine drawing. It is a
b rench word meaning the same thing, and is derived from
the Latin retrahere, compounded of re, in, and trahere, be¬
cause the seam is drawn in or covered.
Rentering, in tapestry, is the working new warp into a
piece of damaged tapestry, whether eaten by the rats or
otherwise destroyed, and on this warp restoring the ancient
pattern or design. The warp must be of woollen, not linen.
Amongst the titles of the French tapestry-makers is includ¬
ed that of renterers. Fine drawing is particularly used for
a rent or hole, which happens in dressing or preparing a
piece of cloth artfully sew ed up or mended with silk. All
fine drawings are reckoned defects or blemishes, and should
be allowed for in the price of the piece.
REN VERSE, Inverted, in Heraldry, is when anything
is set with the head downwards, or contrary to its natural
way of standing. Thus, a chevron renverse is a chevron
with the point downwards. The same term is also used
when a beast is laid on its back.
REOUNZEIK, a town of the Birman empire, situated
on the western bank of the Irrawaddy. It carries on a very
considerable trade with Rangoon, the chief article being teak
timber. Long. 95. 25. E. Lat. 17. 45. N.
REPENTANCE, in general, means sorrow for anything
past. In theology it means such a sorrow for sin as pro¬
duces a change of life, or such a conviction of the evil and
danger of a sinful course as is sufficient to produce shame
and sorrow in the review' of it, and effectual resolutions of
amendment.
121
11 E P
11 E P
llepresen-
tative
REPRESENTATIVE, one who personates or supplies
the place of another, and is invested with his right and an¬
il thority. Thus the House of Commons is composed ot the
Reptiha. repreSentatives of the people in parliament. (See Parlia-
REPRIEVE, in Criminal Law (from reprendre, to take
back), is the withdrawing of a sentence for an interval ot
time, by which means the execution is suspended.
REPRISALS, a right which princes claim of taking from
their enemies anything equivalent to what the latter unjust y
detain from them or their subjects. For as the delay ot ma -
ing war may sometimes be detrimental to individuals who
have suffered by depredations from foreign potentates, om
laws have in some respects armed the subject with power
to impel the prerogative, by directing the ministers ot the
crown to issue letters of marque and reprisal upon due de¬
mand ; the prerogative of granting which is nearly related
to, and plainly derived from, that of making war, the former
indeed being only an incomplete state of hostilities, and ge¬
nerally ending in a formal denunciation of war. I hese let¬
ters are grantable by the law of nations, whenever the sub¬
jects of one state are oppressed and injured by those of an¬
other ; and justice is denied by that state to which the op¬
pressor belongs. In this case letters of marque and reprisal
(words used as synonymous, and signifying, the latter a ta
ing in return, the former the passing the frontiers m order
to such taking) may be obtained, in order to seize the bodies
or goods of the subjects of the offending state, until satisfac¬
tion be made, wherever they happen to be found. And in¬
deed this custom of reprisals seems dictated by nature her¬
self; for which reason we find in the most ancient times
very notable instances of it. But here the necessity is ob¬
vious of calling in the sovereign power to determine when
reprisals may be made, else every private sufferer would be
a judge in his own cause. In pursuance ot this principle,
it is with us declared by the statute 4 tlenry V. c. 7, that
if any subjects of the realm are oppressed in time of truce
by any foreigners, the king will grant letters of marque in
due form to all who feel themselves aggrieved. I he form
to be observed is thus prescribed : The sufferer must first
Repnt
tioi
miniv to the lord privy-seal, and he shall make out letters
oln equest under L privy-seal; and if after such request
of satisfaction made, the party required do not within a
convenient time make due satisfaction or restitution to the s.
party aggrieved, the lord chancellor shall make him out let¬
ters of marque and reprisal under the great seal; and by
virtue of these he may attack and seize the property of the
aggressive nation, without hazard of being condemned as a
robber or a pirate. . ^ r u
REPROBATION, in Theology, means the act of aban¬
doning, or state of being abandoned, to eternal destruction,
and is applied to that decree which God has made from all
eternity to punish sinners who shall die in impenitence; in
which sense it is directly opposed to election. When a
sinner is so hardened as to feel no remorse or misgiving of
conscience, it is considered as a sign ot reprobation ; which
by the casuists has been distinguished into positive and
neo-ative. The first is that by which God is supposed to
create men with a positive and absolute resolution to damn
them eternally. This opinion is countenanced by St Au¬
gustin and other Christian Fathers, and is a peculiar tenet
of Calvin and most of his followers. The Church of Eng¬
land, in the Thirty-nine Articles, teaches something like it;
and the Church of Scotland, in the Confession of Faith,
maintains it in the strongest terms. But the notion is ge¬
nerally exploded, and is believed by no rational divine m
either church, being totally injurious to the justice ot^ the
Deity. Negative or conditional reprobation is that by wInch
God, though he has a sincere desire to save men, and fur¬
nishes them with the necessary means, so that all, if they
will, may be saved, yet sees that there are many who will
not be saved by the means, however powerful, which are
afforded them ; though by other means which the Deity
sees, but will not afford them, they might be saved. Re¬
probation respects angels as well as men.
REPRODUCTION is usually understood to mean toe
restoration of a thing before existing, and since destroyed.
It is very well known that trees and plants may be raised
from slips and cuttings ; and there are some animals which
have the same property of being reproduced.
REPTILIA. REPTILES.1
These form the third great division of the animal king¬
dom, and in systematic works on natural history occupy an
intermediate position between the class of birds and that of
fishes.51
As in tracing the modifications of various organs, fiom
the zoonhytical and radiated animals to the molluscous,
from these to the articulated classes, and onwards through
the fishes to the reptile tribes, it is among the last named
that we first perceive the passage from the truly aquatic to
the terrestrial or air-breathing animal,—so the respiratory
organs of such tribes are naturally those which excite the
greatest and most peculiar interest. Among the more im¬
portant classes of animals, respiration is effected in one or
other of two ways ; LA either by certain internal cellular
sacs, for the reception of air, called lungs, which commu¬
nicate with the mouth and nose by means of the trachea
or windpipe; or, 2dly, by external organs called gills, which
require either to float in water, or to be in some other
way continually immersed in that fluid. The object of
both contrivances is to subject the blood to the influence
of vital air, and this end is obtained very admirably, though
in a different way, by each. All mammiferous animals or
quadrupeds, including whales, all birds, and all reptiles (in
the perfect state), possess the first form of the respirator y
organs; all fishes, and several reptiles in their adolescent
condition, are distinguished by the second. But even among
such as are furnished with true lungs, we observe different
modifications of the circulating system.
The principal characteristic of reptiles in general con¬
sists in this, that only a portion of the blood is transmitted
through the lungs, the remainder being projected by the
heart directly to the other parts of the body, without being
specially subjected to the influence of the respiratory or¬
gans ; whereas, in the higher classes, such as man, the iest
of the mammalia, and birds, the whole of the blood must
pass by the lungs before it is retransmitted to the more
distant parts of the circulating system. The amphibious
habits of such reptiles as are unprovided with gills, result in
a great measure from the power which they thus possess o
carrying on a partial circulation of the blood, independent
of respiration. The respiration ot animals, or the process
by which the blood is oxygenated, becomes weaker and less?
1 The natural history of reptiles is frequently treated of under the term Erpf.tot.ogy, from i*vnjroy, reptile, and Xayot, discourse.
The verb signifies to creep.
8 See our general sketch, under the title of Animal Kingdom, in this Encyclopaedia, vol. iii. pp. 155-180.
K E P T 1 L I A.
125
Iteptilia. frequent in proportion to the diminution which takes place
in the quantity of blood transmitted to the lungs, compared
with that which passes directly from the heart; and as it
is respiration which warms the blood, and produces in the
fibres their susceptibility of nervous irritation, it follows, as
observed by Cuvier, that the blood of reptiles is cold, and
their muscular strength much less than that of birds and
quadrupeds. The seat of their sensations is also much less
centralised than in the last-named classes, and hence many
of them exhibit life and motion long after their heads have
been severed from their bodies.1
A truly amphibious animal, according to the proper mean¬
ing of the term (which is derived from u[j,<pi, on both sides,
and {3io;, life), ought to possess the power of breathing un¬
der water like a fish, and of respiring atmospheric air like
a land animal. According to this interpretation, neither
seals, nor beavers, nor even whales, are truly amphibious,
for they cannot sustain their existence under water except
by the use of a certain portion of air which they have pre¬
viously inspired at the surface. In like manner, neither
the frog nor the tadpole is amphibious (unless it may be
for a short intermediate period, or state of transition); for
the former seeks the water merely as a place of temporary
resort, in which it cannot breathe, and the latter is entire¬
ly aquatic, being unprovided with lungs, and consequently
unable to respire, except through the medium of water.
A frog, therefore, can only be said to be amphibious in as
far as it possesses, at two different periods of its life, the
faculty of living first in the water and then on the land.
Dorn with gills, and destitute of external members, its
form and functions are originally rather those of a fish than
of a reptile ; but as it advances in growth, the four limbs
become developed, the tail decreases and disappears, the
jaws are formed, and the gills absorbed, and their functions
supplied by lungs. But the peculiar structure of the heart,
already mentioned, enables these and other species to re¬
main submerged for a great length of time.
Among the many wonderful anomalies, however, with
which the kingdom of nature presents us, there exist two
truly amphibious animals, the proteus and the siren, both
of which are provided at one and the same time with the
gills of a fish and the lungs of a terrestrial creature. But
their propensities are decidedly aquatic. The former inha¬
bits certain subterranean waters in Carniola, the latter re¬
joices in the muddy marshes of South Carolina.2 Both will
be hereafter noticed.
The amount of respiration is by no means so fixed or de¬
terminate among reptiles as it may be said to be in quad¬
rupeds and birds, but varies with the proportion which the
diameter of the pulmonary artery bears to that of the aorta.
I hus, turtles and lizards respire much more than frogs and
others of the class; and from this results a much greater
difference in energy and sensibility between different tribes
of Reptilia, than exists among the members of the class of
quadrupeds or birds. Reptiles also may be said to exhibit
a much greater variety of form, aspect, and condition, than
either of the classes just named; and it is in their produc¬
tion that nature (as we are wont to term the powers of the
Omnipotent Creator), has invented the most extraordinary
forms and modifications which exist among the vertebrated
division of the animal kingdom.
No reptile is known to hatch its eggs, and in the Batra-
chian order (frogs, toads, &c.) fecundation does not take
place till after the female has excluded the so-called ova, Reptilia.
which in such cases are covered merely by a slight and
simple membrane, bearing no resemblance to a shell. The
young of this Batrachian order, on leaving the egg, bear
the general form of fishes, and are, moreover, furnished with
gills, which a few of them retain even after acquiring lungs,
and assuming the other attributes of maturity. Among seve¬
ral of the egg-laying species, the included young are not
only formed, but far advanced at the period of laying ; while
a few, such as vipers and certain lizards, are actually born
alive, being hatched within the body of the mother. Hence
the expression by which these are designated, of ovo-vivi-
parous. Some even of those which usually lay eggs may
be rendered viviparous by a short retardation of the pro¬
cess of laying, as effected by M. Geoftroy in the case of
certain snakes by merely depriving them of wrater.
Although many reptiles are active leapers, and even run
with rapidity for a short distance, the coldness of their
blood, and proportional want of muscular power, induce on
the whole an indolent habit. They are probably, of all ver¬
tebrated animals, the least perfectly endowed with the power
of migratory movement. The brain is proportionally very
small, a sea-tortoise, for example, weighing twenty-nine
pounds, having been found to possess brains to the weight
only of two drams, that is, equal to not more than an eighteen
hundred and fifty-sixth part of the entire animal. Now',
we know, that in several small birds and quadrupeds, the
brain exceeds a thirtieth part of the remainder of the body.
In reptiles, indeed, the brain seems less necessary than
among other vertebrated beings, to the exercise of the ani¬
mal and vital functions, and their sensations are less refer¬
able to a common centre. Connection with the nervous
system is also much less necessary to the contraction of their
fibres, and a portion of their flesh possesses its irritability
long after separation from the rest of the body. The heart
beats for several hours after being extracted, and the said
extraction does not prevent the body itself from moving
about for a considerable time. The cerebellum in several
species is extremely small, a fact regarded as being in ex¬
act accordance with their indolence of movement.
The small size of the pulmonary vessels admits of rep¬
tiles suspending their respiration without arresting the
course ol the blood, and they can accordingly dive more
easily, and continue submerged for a longer time, than either
mammiferous quadrupeds or birds. The cellules of the
lungs being less numerous, as having fewer vessels to lodge
upon their parietes, are much wider, and these organs have
sometimes indeed the form of simple sacs scarcely cellular.
They are all provided with a trachea and larynx, al¬
though many are entirely mute. Their blood being natu¬
rally cold, they have no need of such integuments as fur or
feathers to retain the heat, and are covered either by scales
or a naked skin.
Although no portion of the organ of hearing is external
in reptiles, yet among crocodiles there is an appearance of
an outer meatus auditorius, owing to the skin forming a
thick cover over the tympanum. This peculiar formation
is sufficient to explain a passage in Herodotus, who states,
that the Egyptians were in the habit of suspending jewels
from the ears of the crocodile.
The digestion in reptiles is extremely slow, and all their
sensations are obtuse. In cold, and even in temperate cli¬
mates, they fall into a state of torpor during the prevalence
na„aa ,1 eS ^,es conscrvent plus long temps encore leur irritabilite que ceux des poissons. Nous avons vu des era
"r/™11 re8’ tfc.'S tortues’ ^es serpens, prives de la tete et depouille's de leur peau depuis plusieurs jours, et maintenu
m t ’ P-° enco.re des mouyemens pendant des semaines entieres ; un tortue terrestre, du poids des pres de 40 kilogramme?
Ips vpmv o?1S ^ 1J.siei?rs J0U1]S> dont le cqu etait tombe dans cette sorte de flaccidite, suite de la raideur qui survient apres la mort, don
Ip- ’ Pailcuj1(;r avaient la cornee dessechee, manifester des mouvemens par la contractions et la retraction des membres, toute
e> mis qu on stimulait, en les piquant, les muscles des membres posterieurs.” (Dumeril et Bibron, Erpltologic, i. 4J.)
See Wilson’s Illustrations of Zoology, vol. i. a J
126
Keptilia. of chilly weather, being more than any other class of crea-
' v ' tures under the influence of temperature,fngula sestu-
antium animaliaand what is truly singular, is the tact
mentioned by Humboldt, that the inverse cause produces a
corresponding effect on some of the species of tropical cli¬
mates, the caymans or crocodiles of South America becom¬
ing torpid, and entombing themselves in mud, during tie
prevalence of the hottest season.
Indeed, among the more singular features in the econo¬
my of the reptile race, may be numbered their power ot
enduring long-continued abstinence, and the lethargic state,
infinitely more profound than the winter sleep of quadru¬
peds, into which they yearly fall. In connection with this
subject, Mr Jacobson of Copenhagen has recognised m
reptiles a special arrangement of certain vessels which con¬
stitute a peculiar venous system. This system may be said
to exist more or less in all the race; but, rudimentary m
the tortoises and crocodiles, it shows its chief development
among the other Saurians, and the Ophidian and Batrachian
groups. “ It is composed of the veins of the abdominal^
members, the pelvian or caudal veins, the hinder veins ol
the kidneys, the veins of the oviductus, a great portion oi
the veins of the skin, of those of the muscles ot the abdo¬
men, and of those of certain organs peculiar to the reptiles.
These veins combine, and form one or many trunks, which
proceed either into the vena porta or the liver, or into
both. What especially distinguishes this system is, that in
it a part of the veins of the organs of locomotion, and ol
the skin, proceed to distribute themselves into the liver.
There is no other example of this among the vertebrated
animals. Certain special organs appear connected with this
venous system in a peculiar manner, and are regarded by
Mr Jacobson as proper for secreting and preserving a nu¬
tritive juice, destined to be re-absorbed in the rigorous
months of the severe season, during the hybernal slumber
of these animals.”1
In regard to the geographical distribution of reptiles in
general, we shall here briefly observe, that they augment
in number as we advance towards the equatorial regions.
While Sweden possesses scarcely a dozen snakes and lizards,
about three or four frogs and toads, and not a single tor¬
toise, the temperate parts of Europe produce about forty
snakes and lizards, and several of the tortoise tribe. In
Scandinavia, however, although the species are so few in
number, the individuals are much more abundant than in
Britain; from which we infer, that it is rather the want of
strong continuous summer heat than the actuality of our
winter’s cold, that is unfavourable to the production of rep¬
tiles in our cloudy clime. As soon as we gain the southern
extremity of Spain, the number of species in these tribes
greatly increases, and in Andalusia the African complexion
of the country is still further manifested by the frequent ap¬
pearance of the chameleon. On proceeding further south,
not only does the number of reptiles increase, but they also
augment in size, splendour, and ferocity, till from the Tro¬
pic of Cancer onwards and beyond the line, we meet with
crocodiles, caymans, boas, and other giants of the reptile
race. Several species, however, even in sultry latitudes,
are subjected by their peculiar position to the influence of
severe cold. Thus the axolotl of Mexico occurs in the
chill waters of lakes elevated above 8000 feet from the sur¬
face of the sea; and the salamander (a water newt) of Eu¬
rope is frequently found frozen up in ice in early spring,
without being destroyed. Indeed, Dufay has remarked, as
a singular circumstance, that those very animals of which it
once was fabled they could withstand the fiery flames, are
in reality endowed with the almost equally surprising power
of resisting fi-ost, so generally fatal to the life of reptiles.
R E P T I L I A.
Although we have now endeavoured to state a few of Repta*
what may be regarded as the generalities of the reptile class
vet it must be borne in mind, that no great division of t
animal kingdom exhibits such a singular diversity of form
and aspect, or is more liable to exceptions from whatever
features we may incline to consider as general characteris¬
tics. “ Aussi les reptiles,” says Baron Cuvier, “ presentent-
ils des formes, des mouvements, et des propnetes beau-
coup plus varies que les deux classes precedentes (quadru¬
peds and birds) ; et e’est surtout dans leur production que
la nature semble s’etre jouee a imaginer des formes bizarres,
et a modifier dans tous les sens possibles le plan general
qu’elle a suivi pour les animaux vertebres, et speciale-
ment pour les classes ovipares.” Among no animals in¬
deed do we meet with beings of more singular forms than
in the class Reptilia, many of which exhibit an aspect so
unusual, so grotesque, and even so formidable, that it would
be difficult for the imagination of the poet or the painter to
exceed the “ dread realities” of nature. Although the ma¬
jority are oviparous, some, as we have said, produce their
young alive. Many have four legs, some only two, which
vary from an anterior to a posterior pair, while the entire
tribe of serpents have no legs at all. Some have their bo¬
dies more or less closely beset oy scales, varying in sizc
from extreme tenuity to the strength and thickness o>.
mailed armour; many, as the numerous tribes of frogs, are
defended only by a soft and mucous skin ; as many more
are shut up in a strong bony box-like covering, within which
they dwell, as in an impregnable castle. The greater num¬
ber possess a tail, but several entirely want that organ.
Numerous tribes live unceasingly in the water, others pass
their infancy in moist abodes, their maturer years on terra
firma, provided in the former case with gills, in the latter
w ith lungs for respiration. Marshes and muddy swamps,
the dry and desert sands, the umbrageous woods, the up¬
land mountains, the “resounding shores,” are all alike per¬
vaded by one or many of the numerous forms of reptile
life. The subterranean proteus fears the light, though deal¬
ing in no deeds of darkness; the agile lizard, “ all scaled
silver bright,” basks delighted beneath the beams of the most
brilliant sun, “ no cloud in heaven.” Some are fierce and
carnivorous, others gentle and herbivorous. I he most dead¬
ly poison is distilled by many, wTiile entire tribes are quite
innocuous; and while some are resplendent in burnished
gold and azure, “ like mailed angels on a battle-day, as
many exhibit the last stage of ugliness in
worse
Than fables yet have feigned or fear conceived,
Gorgons, and hydras, and chimeras dire.
It has been observed, that in the popular superstitions of
various countries, the reptile race have been almost always
clothed in revolting attributes, and that the worship ac¬
corded them wus one not of gratitude, but fear.- \ ictor or
vanquished, they seem ever to have borne a cruel and pes¬
tilential character, in opposition to the welfare of the hu¬
man race ; and the prowess both of gods and men was call¬
ed into frequent and vigorous exercise for their subduction.
“ Glorious Apollo” pursued the enormous Python with
his unerring shafts; the dreadful Acheloiis was strangled
by the son of Jove, in spite of folds “ voluminous and
vast;” the Hesperian gardens and the golden fleece were
protected by fierce dragons; Perseus, from the dripping
head of Medusa, sowed with serpents the arid Libyan sands;
and gorgons and furies, discord and envy, are armed by
the poets with snakes, “ as appropriate emblems of their
ministry of vengeance.”
It was chiefly on the comparative consideration of the
amount of respiration, and of the organs of movement, that
1 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, ix. 182.
* Ibid. 20.
R E P T I L I A.
127
helonia. M. Brogniart founded the four great orders of the class
—Reptilia, which are now so generally adopted in the works
of systematic authors.1 They are as follows.
Is/, The Chei.oman Reptiles (turtles, tortoises, &c.),
of which the heart is provided with two auricles, and the
body, borne on four legs, is contained as it were within an
upper and an under buckler, formed by a peculiar structure
of the ribs and sternum.
2d, The Saurian Reptiles (crocodiles, lizards, &c.),
which have likewise two auricles and four legs, but the
body is covered with scales.
‘id, The Ophidian Reptiles (or serpents), which have
a heart furnished with two auricles, but the body is desti¬
tute of legs.
\th, The Batrachian Reptiles (frogs, toads, &c.), in
which the heart has only a single auricle, the body is naked,
and the majority of species undergo a kind of transition as
they advance in age, from the form of a fish with gills to
that of a quadruped with lungs. Some, however, as already
mentioned, never lose their gills, and a few have only a
single pair of legs.
Our notices of the various genera of the different orders
must be here extremely brief; and in the following slight
sketch w7e shall adhere, as we have done in most of our
zoological treatises, to the systematic exposition of Baron
Cuvier.2 * * * *
Order I.—CHELONIA. CHELONIAN REPTILES.
The various groups of this order are known to English
readers by the general names of tortoise and turtle,—the
former appellation being usually bestowed on those which
dwell on land, the latter on such as inhabit water. The
heart is composed of two auricles, and of a ventricle with
two unequal chambers communicating with each other.
The blood from the body enters into the right auricle, that
from the lung into the left; but both streams mingle to¬
gether more or less in passing by the ventricle.
All the species of this order are distinguished at first
sight by the peculiar armature in which the body is con¬
tained, and which consists of an upper and under buckler,
nearly meeting along their edges, and permitting only the
head, limbs, and tail to appear externally. The upper Chelonia.
buckler, called the carapace, is formed by the ribs, which “'v"'—''
amount to eight pair, extended and united by toothed su¬
tures between, and having bony plates adhering to the an¬
nular portion of the dorsal vertebrae, and so connected that
all these parts are rendered motionless. The under buckler
is called the plastron, and is composed of portions which
represent the sternum, and which are usually nine in num¬
ber. A kind of lateral edging or frame-work, consisting of
osseous pieces, bearing some analogy to the sternal or carti¬
laginous portion of the ribs, and which in one sub-genus
even continue cartilaginous, surrounds the carapace, bind¬
ing and uniting together the ribs by which it is composed.
Thus the cervical and caudal vertebrae alone retain the
power of distinct movement. See Plate CCCCXXX. fig. 1.
These two bony envelopes being covered immediately
by skin or scales, the shoulder-blade and all the muscles of
the neck and fore-arms, instead of having their attachments
over the ribs and spine, as in other animals, are supported
from beneath these parts ; and the same peculiarity occurs
in relation to the bones of the lower extremity and the
muscles of the thighs, so that, as Baron Cuvier observes, a
turtle may be termed “ un animal retourne,” as if it had
been turned inside out.
The vertebral extremity of the shoulder-blade articulates
with the carapace; and the opposite end, which may be re¬
garded as analogous to the clavicle, articulates with the
plastron in such a manner that the two shoulders form a
ring through which the oesophagus and wind-pipe pass.
A third bony branch, larger than the other two, and direct¬
ed downwards and backwards, represents, as in birds, the
coracoid process, but its posterior extremity is free.
The lungs are much expanded, and lie in the same ca¬
vity with the other viscera. The thorax being immove¬
able in the majority of species, it is by the play of the
mouth that the Chelonians respire,—holding the jaws closed,
and alternately lowering and raising the hyoid bone. The
first movement permits the air to enter by the nostrils, and
then the tongue closing the interior opening, the second
movement forces the air into the lungs.
The Chelonians have no teeth, but their jaws are fur
nished with a horny substance like, the mandibles of birds,
with the exception of the Chelydes, in which they are cover-
1 Esmi (Tune Classification Naturclle des Reptiles, Paris, 1805.
2 The following are some of the principal works on reptiles in general. We do not here name those svsfematic writers who have
treated of the class in question merely in the course of their universal exposition of the animal kingdom, although they are elsewhere
referred to in the progress of the present treatise.
J. N. Laurenti, Specimen Medicum, exhibens synopsin Reptilitm emendatam, cum experimentis circa venena ct antidota Reptilium Austriu-
corum, 17G8. This work has been since attributed to M. Winterl, a chemist of Vienna, who is merely named bv Laurenti, on the
terminal page, as having been a co-labourer in his therapeutical experiments. Lacepede, Histoire Naturelle des Quadrupedes Ovipares
ct^ des Serpens, 2 vols. 4to, 1/88-90. The Abbe Bonnaterre is the author of the text which accompanies the plates of reptiles in the
French Encyclopedic,, under the title of Tableau Enajclopedique et Mcthodique dcs trois Reirnes de la Nature {Erpetolopie ct Ophiologie), 4to,
1789-90. L. J. M. Daubenton composed Les Quadruptdcs Ovipares et les Serpens, in Dictionnairc des Animaux Vertibrts, tom. ii part.
de I'Encydop. Method. J. G. Schneider, the celebrated Greek scholar, has not published anv general work on reptiles, but has written
extensively on various groups. His productions are the following:—Amphibiorum Physioiogice Specim. i. and ii. 1797- Amphibiorum
naturalis et littcrariae Fasciculus primus, continens Ranas, Calamitas, Bufones, Salamandras, et Hydros, in genera et species dcscriptos notisque
suis dislinctos, 1/99. dasciculus secundus, continens (drocodilos, Scincos, Chamocsauros, Boas. Pseudoboas, Elopes, Angues, Amphisbcenas, (Vr-
cilias, 1801. Latreille, Histoire Naturelle des Reptiles, four vols. small 12mo, 1801. Dr Shaw, General Zoology, vol. iii Amphibia,
1802. h. M. Daudin, Ilistoire R aturclle dcs Reptiles, eight vols. 8vo, 1802—3. Alex. Brogniart, Essui d'nne Classification Naturelle des
Reptiles, 1805. !\r. Oppel, Die Ordnungen Familien und Gattungen der Reptihen, a/s Prodrom einer Naturgeschichte derselben, one vol. 4to,
1811. Bias. Menem, Tentamcn Systematis Amphtbiorum, one vol. 8vo, 1820. A. H. Haworth, A Letter on the Binary Arrangement
of the Class of Reptiles, in the Philosophical Magazine for 1825, p. 372. F. J. Fitzinger, Nene Classification der Reptilien, one small
vol. 4to, 182G. Ritgen, A Classification of Reptiles, in Nova Acta Acad. Nat. Cur. for 1828. Bory St Vincent, Resume d'Erpetologie,
ou Hist. Nat. des Reptiles, 12mo, 1828. J. Wagler, Naturliches system der Amphibien, one vol. 8vo, 1830. We have also by the same
author an uncompleted work, leones et Dcscriptiones A?nphibiorum, two fascic. folio, 1830, as well as some explications and critical re¬
marks on Seba s plates of reptiles (Isis, 18.13, ninth cahier, p. 885). J. 12. Gray, Synopsis Reptilium, part 1st, 1831 ; and later in the
same year, Synopsis of the species of the Class Reptilia, in Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, end of vol. ix. John Muller, Beitrage fur Ana-
tomie und Naturgeschichte der Amphibien, in Zeitschrift fur Physiologie von Tiedemann, &c. No. 19, p. 190, 1832. H. T. Schinz,
Naturgeschichte und Abbildungcn der Reptilien, 4 fascic. large 4to, 1833. We conclude the list with a reference to a work already
named, and frequently hereafter quoted, the Erpetologie Ge.ne.rale, ou Histoire Naturelle complete des Reptiles, of Messrs Dumeril and
Bibron (four vols. 8vo, with plates), 1834-38. This work is still in course of publication. It contains as yet only the Chelonian, and
a great portion of the Saurian Orders ; and when to these are added the Ophidian and Batrachian tribes, we doubt not it will he de¬
servedly regarded as the highest authority extant in all that regards the reptile race. We shall afterwards indicate the principal more
special works which apply to particular departments of tbe'subject in hand.
128
KEPT
Chelonia. ed with skin. Their tympanic cavity and palatine mches
  v ' are fixed to the cranium, and immoveable. The tongue s
short and beset with fleshy filaments. The stomach is
simple and strong, the intestines of medium length, and
unfurnished with a caecum. The bladder is very large.
The females in this order produce eggs provided with a
hard shell. The males of many species may be recognised
bv the greater concavity of the plastron.1
* The limbs of Chelonian reptiles being so confined be¬
tween the carapace and plastron, their powers of locomotion,
at least on land, are very limited. They can scaicely ra^s
their bodies above the surface of the ground, and they ad
vance by a slow, awkward, and apparently embarrassed ac¬
tion. But the aquatic species being provided with fin-hke
members, and dwelling amid a fluid well adapted to their
use, the flat and smoothly expanded bodies of these crea
tures glide along with great ease and considerable sw
ness. Such of the land species as inhabit temperate coun-
I L I A.
is that of a tortoise which was introduced into the archie-cnelonia.
piscopal garden at Lambeth in the time of Archbishop'
T ami about the year 1633, and continued there till 1753,
when’it died, as was supposed, rather from accidental ne¬
glect than the effect of old age. Its shell is preserved in
the library of the palace. The Greek turtle is used as an
article of food in some of the southern countries of Europe.
According to Forskal, it retires under ground m September,
and re-appears in February. In this country it hybernates
later, and does not emerge so soon. It lays its eggs in
June, in a small hole, which it scratches m some sunny
spot, and the young are hatched in autumn, being on their
first exclusion about the size of walnuts.
Of the foreign species, one of the most remarkable for
size is the Indian tortoise (T7. Indica, Vosm.), first describ¬
ed by M. Perrault. It has been taken on the coast of Co¬
romandel, and sometimes measures four feet and a, halt
from the nose to the tail, with a height or convexity of
ness. Such of the land species as inhabit temperate conn- T1 shell is brown reflected or turned
tries pass the colder seasons of the year in a state of tor- fomteen rnc^ ^ ^ ^ a ^ ^ of
pidity, having previously excavated or presupposed the^tlweeanterior scutella.
some secure and subterranean retreat. Ihey are supposeu met  1 - ^
to be extremely long lived. The marine species are more
tropical in their distribution; and we are n»t “"are that any
hybernation takes place among them. They are often met
with many hundred leagues from land. They depos.t
Other species are less remarkable for size than for the
beautiful distribution of the colours by which they are adorn¬
ed Such is the geometrical tortoise ( T. geometnca, Linn.),
which is easily distinguished by the symmetrical regularity
my hundred leagues from land they deposit tneu and the alternate lines of brown
eggs on sandy shores, where they are hatche y vellow are disposed upon the scales of the upper shield,
of "the sun,-the process of laying being usually carried ethe Lterior part of the shield move-
^The^dfmenskms^of animals of this, order exhibit a great able, ^ ^ "^o^cm is
while the latter pertain to the genus Kinixis of that au¬
thor.
Genus Emys, Brogn. Fresh-water tortoises.
The species of this genus are not distinguishable from
those of the preceding by more important characters than
the greater separation of the toes, which are terminated by
range, some being only a few inches in length, while others
attain to a gigantic size, and weigh many hundred pounds.
Thev are all extremely tenacious of life,—whether under
the effects of long-continued abstinence while being con¬
veyed from distant regions, or when suffering from the
infliction of grievous wounds. Indeed they will live for
their bodies. . , .
The whole of this order was formerly contained in the
old and unrestricted genus Testudo of Linnaeus, divided
by Cuvier into the five following generic groups, of which
the distinctive characters are mainly derived from the form
and covering of the carapace, and from the feet.
Genus Testudo, Brogn. Tortoises. Carapace bulged,
supported by a solid bony frame-work, and soldered by the
greater portion of its lateral edges to the plastron. Legs
as if truncated, the toes extremely short, and united almost
to the nails, of which there are five to the fore-feet, and
four to the hmder, all thick and conical.
The species, most of which subsist on vegetables, are too
numerous to be here described, but we shall indicate a few
of the more noted or remarkable.
The Greek tortoise (71. Grocca, Linn.) is the most com¬
mon of the European kinds, and occurs in most of the
countries which surround the Mediterranean, and in several
islands of that sea. It is distinguished by its broad and
equally bulged carapace, its relieved scales, granulated in
the centre, striated on the margins, and spotted, or rather
marbled, with black and yellow ; in the centre of its pos¬
terior margin there is a small prominence slightly curved
over the tail. The Greek tortoise lives on leaves, fruits,
and insects. It sleeps throughout the winter, pairs in
spring, and lays four or five eggs resembling those of a
pigeon. It seldom attains to the length of twelve inches, its
general extent being from six to eight. This species has
form of their feet enables them to indulge in more aquatic
propensities. Their envelope is generally of a flatter form
than that of the terrestrial species, and the m^rnity live on
insects, small fishes, &c. See Plate CCCCXXX. g.
One of the best known of this group is the speckled tor¬
toise (T. Europcea, Schn.; T. orbicularis, Linn.), a small
species, pretty widely distributed over the southern and east¬
ern countries of Europe. Its carapace is of an oval form,
but slightly convex, rather smooth, of a blackish colour, be¬
set with innumerable small yellow spots. Its length seldom
exceeds ten inches. This creature inhabits lakes, marshes,
and muddy places. Its flesh is esteemed as food, on which
account it is sometimes kept in ponds appropriated to t e
purpose, and fattened with lettuce leaves, bread, and other
substances. It may also be kept in a cellar, and fed wit
oats scattered on the floor. These it eats readily, especia y
when they have begun to germinate. Its natural food,
however, is said to consist of insects, slugs, &c. It deposits
its eggs in warm and sandy places, and Marsigli alleges that
an entire year elapses before they are hatched.
Another species of this genus is la Bourbeuse 01 ^ e
French ( T. lutaria, Linn.), commonly called the mud-tor¬
toise. It is a small animal, with a flatfish brown-coloured
shield, and a tail of considerable length, which, instead of
being kept bent inwards, is stretched out in walking. It is
well known in France, and is particularly plentiful in Lan¬
guedoc and many parts of Provence. It has been known
to occur in such abundance in a lake of about half a league
been known to reach an extraordinary old age." One of in width in the plain of Durance, that the neighbouring pea-
the most remarkable instances has been often recorded. It santry, on one occasion, almost entirely sustained themselve
1 Jlegnc Animal, ii. 8.
T
R E P T I L I A.
lelonia. upon them continuously for three months. Though the spe-
'^v-“,^cies is aquatic, it always lays its eggs on land. When the
young are first hatched they do not measure above six lines
in diameter. Like most other tortoises, it may be tamed,
and its love of slugs and snails makes it a useful adjunct to
a garden. Yet it must be borne in mind, that however be¬
neficial to the horticulturist, it is a dangerous inmate of the
fish-pond, where it attacks and destroys the inhabitants,
first biting them till they become enfeebled through loss of
blood, and then dragging them to the bottom, where it
quietly devours everything but the bones and some of the
cartilaginous parts of the head. The air-bladder also is
often left, and, swimming on the surface, gives notice of the
depredation done below. The mud-tortoise walks with
greater quickness and activity than the ordinary land spe¬
cies, especially on even ground.
The painted tortoise ( T. pictd) likewise pertains to this
genus. It is a beautiful little creature, with a smooth, ra¬
ther flattish shield, of a brown colour, and each compart¬
ment bordered by a yellow band. It is a North American
species, often seen congregated in clear sunny weather along
the sides of rivers on stones and trunks of fallen trees, from
which it plunges into the water on the slightest disturbance.
It swims swiftly, but walks slowly, and is said to be very
voracious, sometimes even destroying ducklings, by seizing
their feet and dragging them below the water.
A few species with the neck more elongated (such as T.
longicollis, Shaw) form the genus Hydraspis of Bell. There
are also some peculiar species called toriues d boite by the
French, in which the plastron or lower shield is divided
into two by a moveable articulation. These tortoises can
close their carapace, and so shut themselves up as in a box,
after having drawn in their head and legs. Such is the
dose tortoise (T. clausa, Gmek), so called on account of
the peculiarity just alluded to. The shell is of great
strength, and although the creature itself rarely exceeds a
few inches in length, it remains uninjured under a weight of
five or six hundred pounds. It occurs in different parts of
North America, being usually found in marshy places, though
sometimes seen in dry and sultry situations. It feeds on in¬
sects, mice, and even snakes, which it is said to seize by the
middle, and crush to death by drawing them within its shell.
Others have the tail and limbs by much too large to be
withdrawn into the shell. Such is the long-tailed tortoise
(T. serpentina, Linn.), a fresh-water species, native to the
warmer parts of North America, where it is known under
the name of snapping turtle. It is of considerable size,
sometimes weighing twenty pounds, and seizes upon its prey
(fish, ducklings, &c.) with great force and rapidity, stretch¬
ing out its neck, and uttering a hissing sound. Its grasp
is so tenacious that it will suffer itself to be lifted up by a
stick rather than quit its hold. The tail is almost as long
as the body, and is beset by sharp raised ridges. The plates
of the shield assume a somewhat pyramidal form. See Plate
CCCCXXX. fig. 3.
Genus Chelonia, Brogn. Turtles, or sea-tortoises. This
group differs from all the preceding in its long, flat, fin-like
feet, with the toes closely united, and enclosed within the
membrane. The first two toes of each foot alone are fur¬
nished with nails, one or other of which often drops off at
a certain term of life. The different portions of the lower
shield do not form a continuous plate, but are variously
dentated, and have large intervals covered by cartilage
alone.. The ribs are narrow, and separate from each other
at their outer portion ; but the circumference of the shield
is occupied throughout by a circle of pieces corresponding
to the sternal ribs. The interior of the oesophagus is en¬
tirely beset by sharp cartilaginous points directed towards
the stomach.
To illustrate the prevailing habits of these curious crea¬
tures, we shall extract the following notices regardinsr se-
vol. xix.
129
veral species of sea-turtle, from one of those delightful pa- Chelonia.
pers with which Mr Audubon has enlivened his Ornitho- v'“—
logical Biography. That gentleman’s observations were
made chiefly among the Tortugas, a group of low uninha¬
bitable islands, or rather banks of shelly sand, which lie
about eighty miles from Key West, off the peninsula of the
h loridas. As usual, the author intermingles his minuter
notices of natural history with very pleasing sketches of
the general features of the surrounding scene. “ If you
have never seen the sun setting in those latitudes, I would
recommend you to make a voyage for the purpose; for I
much doubt if, in any other portion of the world, the de¬
parture of the orb of day is accompanied by such gorgeous
appearances. Look at the great red disk increased to triple
its ordinary dimensions ! Now it has partially sunk beneath
the distant line of w-aters, and with its still remaining half
irradiates the whole heavens with a flood of golden light,
purpling the far-off clouds that hover over the western ho¬
rizon. A blaze of refulgent glory streams through the por¬
tals of the west, and the masses of vapour assume the sem¬
blance of mountains of molten gold. But the sun has now
disappeared, and from the east slowly advances the gray
curtain w'hich night draws over the world.” “ Slowly ad¬
vancing landward, their heads alone above water, are ob¬
served the heavily-laden turtles, anxious to deposit their
eggs in the well-known sands. On the surface of the
gently rippling stream, I dimly see their broad forms, as
they toil along, while at intervals may be heard their hur¬
ried breathings, indicative of suspicion and fear. The moon,
with her silvery light, now illumines the scene, and the
turtle having landed, slowly and laboriously drags her heavy
body over the sand, her 4 flappers’ being better adapted for
motion in the water than on shore. Up the slope, how¬
ever, she works her way, and see how industriously she re¬
moves the sand beneath her, casting it out on either side.
Layer after layer she deposits her eggs, arranging them in
the most careful manner, and, with her hind paddles, brings
the sand over them. The business is accomplished, the
spot is covered over, and with a joyful heart the turtle
swiftly retires towards the shore, and launches into the
deep.” “ There are four different species, which are known
by the names of the green turtle, the hawk-bill turtle, the
loggerhead-turtle, and the trunk-turtle. The first is con¬
sidered best as an article of food, in which capacity it is
well known to most epicures. It approaches the shores,
and enters the bays, inlets, and rivers, early in the month
of April, after having spent the winter in the deep waters.
It deposits its eggs in convenient places in two different
times in May, and once again in June. The first deposit is
the largest, and the last the least, the total quantity being
at an average about two hundred and forty. The hawk-
bill turtle, whose shell is so valuable as an article of com¬
merce, being used for various purposes in the arts, is the
next with respect to the quality of its flesh. It resorts to
the outer keys only, where it deposits its eggs in two sets,
first in July, and again in August, although it ‘ crawls’
the beaches of these keys much earlier in the season, as if
to look for a safe place. The average number of its eggs
is about three hundred. The loggerhead visits the Tortu¬
gas in April, and lays from that period until late in June
three sets of eggs, each set averaging a hundred and seven¬
ty. The trunk-turtle, which is sometimes of an enormous
size, and which has a pouch like a pelican, reaches the
shores latest. The shell and flesh are so soft, that one may
push his finger into them, almost as into a lump of butter.
This species, therefore, is considered as the least valuable,
and indeed is seldom eaten, unless by the Indians, who,
ever alert when the turtle season commences, first carry off
the eggs, and afterwards catch the turtles themselves. The
average number of eggs which it lays in the season, in two
sets, may be three hundred and fifty.”
130
Chelonia.
loose sand back over the eggs, and so levels and smooths
the surface, that few persons, on seeing the spot, could ima¬
gine anything had been done to it. This accomplished to
her mind, she retreats to the water with all possible de¬
spatch, leaving the hatching of the eggs to the heat of the
sand. When a turle, a loggerhead, for example, is in the
act of dropping her eggs, she will not move although one
should go up to her, or even seat himself on her back, for
it seems that at this moment she finds it necessary to pro¬
ceed at all events, as she is unable to intermit her labour.
The moment it is finished, however, off she starts; nor
would it then be possible for one, unless he were as strong
as a Hercules, to turn her over and secure her.” “ Persons
Its eggs are also most excellent as articles of diet. I he
introduction of turtle into Britain, as an article of luxury,
is believed to be of no very distant date.
“ Of the sea-turtles,” says Catesby, “ the most in request
is the green turtle, which is esteemed a most wholesome and
delicious food. It receives its name from the fat, which is
of a green colour. Sir Hans Sloane informs us, in his His-
as a Hercules, to turn ner uvei anu bevuie nei. x cibuuo ui a " , .
who search for turtles’ eggs are provided with a light stiff tory of Jamaica, that forty sloops are employed by the m-
cane, or a gun-rod, with which they go along the shores, habitants of Port Royal, in Jamaica, for the catching them,
probing the sand near the tracks of these animals, which, The markets are there supplied with turtle as ours are with
however, cannot always be seen, on account of the winds butchers’ meat. The Bahamians carry many of them to
and heavy rains that often obliterate them. The nests are Carolina, where they turn to good account; not because
discovered not only by men, but also by beasts of prey, and that plentiful country wants provisions, but they are esteem-
the eggs are collected or destroyed on the spot in great ed there as a rarity, and for the delicacy of their flesh. They
numbers, as on certain parts of the shores hundreds of tur- feed on a kind of grass growing at the bottom of the sea,
ties are known to deposit their eggs within the space of a commonly called turtle-grass. The inhabitants of the Ba-
H E P T I L I A.
, , . . t Ti,pv fnrm a new hole each time they lay, and the Cheloni;
“ The loggerhead and the trunk turtles are the least cau- m . J d near the first, as if the animal were 
'tious in choosing the places in which to deposit their eggs, sec had befallen it. It will readily
whereas the two other species select the wildest and mos - q d that t|ie numerous eggs seen in a turtle on
eluded spots. The green turtle resorts either to the sllores .• ;t ,!0uld not be all laid tbe same season. The
the Maine, between Cape Sable and Cape Florida, or ente , » P deposited bv an individual in one summer
Indian, Halifax, and other large rivers or inlets, from which to foW hundred, whereas, if the animal is
it makes its retreat as speedily as possible, and betakes ? ^ or nea# her nest) as i have witnessed, the re¬
self to the open sea. Great numbers, however, are k c all smaU5 without shells, and as it were thread-
by the turtlers and Indians, as well as by various spe i s like^so^manv large beads, exceed three thousand. In
carnivorous animals, as cougars, lynxes, bears an wo i ^ instance where f found that number, the turtle weighed
iW
t»Sevved l^jay « ^^cavertog, and i—dy
them in the act, I am enabled to present you wit a cir e f p d 0f the green turtle consists chiefly of marine
cumstantial account of it. On first nearing the shores and ^ ^S^he grass.wrack marina),
mostly on fine calm moonlight nights, the turtle raises her P1^’ ^ reefs, to procure the most tender
head above the water, being still distant thirty or f0rty Their feeding grounds, as I have else-
yards from the beach, looks around her, and atten i Y , discovered by floating masses of these
amines the objects on shore. Should she observe nothing where ^are easuy a c y ^ ^
likely to disturb her intended operations, she emits a loud £S’S^C^ f|edS on sea-weeds, crabs, various
hissing sound, by whichsuchof \xer “^Y6™ r ve kinds 0f shell-fish and fishes ; the loggerhead mostly on the
unaccustomed to it are startled, and s I , ^ conch-shells of large size, which they are enabled,
to another place, although unseen by her. Should she beak’, t0 crush £„ pieces with
hear any noise, or perceive “tSrle See but Senriy as much^e as a ma; cracks a win,. One
stantly sinks and goes off to a considerable distance , PP^ br0UKht on |,oal,l the Marion, and placed near
should everything be quiet, she advan y f s p | er anchors, made a deep indentation in
the h^ch’^awlsoverih her head raised ^othe^ull stretch - fluked one ^ ^ ^ ^ P.^ me_
of her neck, and when she has reactiea a pmee nue trunk.turtle feeds on mollusca, fish, Crustacea, sea-urchms,
well^h^tuocee^to^orm^'hde^n^th^sandy'which fe ^"sm^ne plants. All the species move through
effects by removing it from under her body with her hind the water with surprising speed ; but the green, and law ;
flappers scoorfin" out with so much dexterity that the billed in particular remmd yom
sides seldom if ever fall in. The sand is raised alternately their motions, of the progress of birds through the air.
with each flapper,eas with a large ladle, until it has accu- We shall add a few br^
mulated behind her, when, supporting herself with her head preceding observations, and^ ^th sy
and fore nart on the ground fronting her body, she with a matic names bestowed by naturalists. .. . i
splg from each flapper sends the s^nd around her, scat- Our first species is Cheloma mydas, commonly called the
terinf it to the distance of several feet. In this manner green turtle, not so much by reason of its external colou ,
the hole is dug to the depth of eighteen inches, or some- as because its fat, beloved by aldermen, assumes, when the
times more than two feet. This labour I have seen per- creature is in high condition, a decidedly greenish hue.
formed in the short period of nine minutes. The eggs are This tint is by some regarded as derived from its marine pas-
then dropped one by one, and disposed in regular layers to tures, particularly
the number of a hundred and fifty, or sometimes nearly two it is particularly fond. The shield of ^1S sP^cl^nSf^
hundred. The whole time spent in this part of the opera- of thirteen plates, which do not he over each other after
tion may be about twenty minutes. She now scrapes the the manner of tiles. Those of the central oi upper line are
- - ’ i i ’ j  ,ci-~ almost in the form of regular hexagons. Hie gieen turtle
is a reptile of gigantic proportions, sometimes measuiing
six or seven feet in length, and weighing seven or eight
hundred pounds. Its flesh forms an agreeable and healthy
aliment to sea-faring men in most of the seas of the torrid
zone, and is still more highly prized by epicurean landsmen.
1 Ornithological Biography, ii. p. 370.
R E P T I L I A.
131
elonia. hama Islanck, by often practice, are very expert at catching
' turtles, particularly the green turtle. In April they go in
little boats to Cuba and other neighbouring islands, where,
in the evening, especially in moonlight nights, they watch
the going and returning of the turtle to and from their nests,
at which time they turn them on their backs, where they
leave them, and proceed on, turning all they meet; for they
cannot get on their feet again when once turned. Some
are so large that it requires three men to turn one of
them. The way by which the turtle are most commonly
taken at the Bahama Islands, is by striking them with a small
iron peg of two inches long, put in a socket at the end of a
staff of twelve feet long. Two men usually set out for this
work in a little light boat or canoe, one to row and gently
steer the boat, while the other stands at the head of it with
his striker. The turtle are sometimes discovered by their
swimming with their head and back out of the water, but
they are oftenest discovered lying at the bottom, a fathom
or more deep. If a turtle perceives he is discovered, he
starts up to make his escape, the men in the boat, pursuing
him, endeavour to keep sight of him, which they often lose,
and recover again by the turtle putting his nose out of the
water to breathe; thus they pursue him, one paddling or
rowing, while the other stands ready with his striker. It
is sometimes half an hour before he is tired ; then he sinks
at once to the bottom, which gives them an opportunity of
striking him, which is by piercing him with an iron peg,
which slips out of the socket, but is fastened with a string
to the pole. If he is spent and tired by being long pursued,
he tamely submits, when struck, to be taken into the boat
or hauled ashore. There are men who by diving will get
on their backs, and by pressing down their hind parts, and
raising the fore part of them by force, bring them to the
top of the water, while another slips a noose about their
necks.”1
“ The sea-tortoises, or turtles, in general,” continues our
author, “ never go on shore but to lay their eggs, which
they do in April. They then crawl up from the sea above
the flowing of high water, and dig a hole above two feet
deep in the sand, into which they drop in one night above
an hundred eggs, at which time they are so intent on na¬
ture’s work that they regard none that approach them, but
will drop their eggs into a hat, if held under them ; but if
they are disturbed before they begin to lay, they will forsake
the place and seek another. They lay their eggs at three, and
sometimes at four different times, there being fourteen days
between every time, so that they hatch and creep from their
holes into the sea at different times also. When they have
laid their complement of eggs, they fill the hole with sand,
and leave them to be hatched by the heat of the sun, which
is usually performed in about three weeks.”
A still more gigantic species is the loggerhead-turtle
( Ch. caretta, Gm.), distinguished by fifteen dorsal plates, of
which the central are raised into a ridge. The upper por¬
tion of the muzzle is bent or beak-shaped, the anterior pair
of feet are longer and narrower than in the allied species,
and the two nails are persistant and better marked. It in¬
habits the tropical seas along with the preceding species,
but extends into nearer northern latitudes, occurring occa¬
sionally in the Mediterranean. In a commercial point of
view it is of little or no value, the flesh being coarse and
rank, and the shell of no estimation. It furnishes, however,
a useful lamp-oil. The loggerhead is said to be a bold and
voracious reptile, feeding on shell-fish and other animal pro¬
ducts, which it crunches with its strong bony beak. Al-
drovandus alludes to one which he saw exhibited alive in Chelonia.
his days in Bologna. He held a thick walking-stick to-
wards it, which it immediately bit in two.
The imbricated turtle (67/. imbricala, Linn.) is so nam¬
ed on account of the mode in which its dorsal plates, thir¬
teen in number, lap over each other, after the manner of
tiles. (See Plate CCCCXXX. fig. 4.) Its muzzle is more
prolonged than in many species, on which account it is some¬
times named the hawk’s-bill. Its mandibles are serrated.
It measures from two to four feet, and occurs in the tropical
seas. The flesh is disagreeable, and occasionally even dan¬
gerous, but the eggs are excellent; and its shield yields the
finest quality of that valuable material in the arts called tor¬
toise-shell. The lamellae or plates are thicker, stronger,
clearer, and more beautifully mottled than in any other spe¬
cies. The colours consist of an elegant undulation of white,
yellow, red, and rich deep brown; but the article is too well
known to require any detailed description. It is obtained by
raising the fine external coating from the bony portion which
it covers, by placing fire beneath the shell, which causes the
plates to start and become detachable. They vary in thick¬
ness with the age and dimensions of the individual, and
measure from an eighth to a fourth of an inch in thickness.
A large turtle is said to afford about eight pounds weight of
tortoise-shell; and Mr Schoepf states the range to be from
five to fifteen or twenty pounds, adding, that unless the ani¬
mal itself has attained the weight of a hundred and fifty
pounds, the shell is of little value.
“ In order,” says Dr Shaw', “ to bring tortoise-shell into
the particular form required on the part of the artist, it is
steeped in boiling water till it has acquired a proper degree
of softness, and immediately afterwards committed to the
pressure of a strong metallic mould of the figure required ;
and where it is necessary that pieces should be joined, so
as to compose a surface of considerable extent, the edges
of the respective pieces are first scraped or thinned ; and
being laid over each other during their heated state, are
committed to a strong press, by which means they are ef¬
fectually joined or agglutinated. These are the methods
also by which the various ornaments of gold, silver, &c. are
occasionally affixed to the tortoise-shell.”
“ The Greeks and Romans appear to have been pecu¬
liarly partial to this elegant ornamental article, with which
it was customary to decorate the doors and pillars of their
houses, their beds, &c. In the reign of Augustus this spe¬
cies of luxury seems to have been at its height in Rome.”2
“ The Egyptians,” says Mr Bruce, in the supplement to
his Travels, “ dealt very largely with the Romans in this
elegant article of commerce. Pliny tells us the cutting them
for fineering or inlaying was first practised by Carvillus Pol-
lio ; from which we should presume that the Romans were
ignorant of the art of separating the laminae by fire placed
in the inside of the shell when the meat is taken out. For
these scales, although they appear perfectly distinct and se¬
parate, do yet adhere, and oftener break than split, where
the mark of separation may be seen distinctly. Martial
says that beds were inlaid with it. Juvenal, and Apuleius
in his tenth book, mention tjiat the Indian bed was all
over shining with tortoise-shell on the outside, and swelling
with stuffing of down within. The immense use made of
it in Rome may be guessed at by what we learn from Vel¬
leius Paterculus, who says, that when Alexandria was taken
by Julius Caesar, the magazines or warehouses were so full
of this article that he proposed to have made it the prin¬
cipal ornament of his triumph, as he did ivory afterwards
hiLeht rema(rkfle ™odes capturing turtles is that mentioned by Mr Salt. When that gentleman was at Mosarn.
bv^securing it hv ^ pre.Se.nt °f a.fishftof tke. Se.nus Echeneis, which the inhabitants assured him they were in the habit of employing,
met with and so firm lv Th^t u W1°uld fasten itself b-v a sucker on the head to the breastplate of the first turtle it
. wnn, and so nrm ly that the latter might be drawn towards the boat and captured.
(xeneral Zoology, ui. 91. 1
132
R E P T I L I A.
Cheionia. when triumphing for having happily finished the African
' war.
But of all the marine tortoises, the coriaceous turtle (Ch.
coriacea, Linn.) seems to attain to the greatest size, indivi-
duals having been met with measuring mfr^gt^
and weighing about a thousand pounds. It differs trom the
Sstof its tribe, as well in its more lengthened form and
tapering termination, as in the softer or more leathery tex¬
ture oHts shield, which is not formed into distinct plates,
but rather marked all over with small obscure subdivisions
or lineations, which do not interfere with the general smooth¬
ness of the surface. There are also three raised ongitu-
dinal ridges, which run from above the ^ers^he pos¬
terior portion of the shield. (See Plate CCCCXXX. g. •)
This species inhabits the Mediterranean Sea, has been fre-
quentlftaken even along the outer coasts of France, and oc-
casionally makes its way to our own island shores. In the
month of August 1729 a specimen was taken about three
leagues from Nantes, near the mouth of the Loire. It mea
sured above seven feet in length, and is said, when taken, to
have uttered a scream so loud and hideous as to have been
Sd at the distance of a mile. Its mouth “ foamed with
rao-e, and exhaled a noisome vapour.” It no doubt, and very
naturally, objected to being lifted into a stinking slimy boat,
from its own beautiful translucent sea. In the year 1778 a
specimen was captured off the coast of Languedoc, which
measured seven feet five inches; and, in 1756, another was
taken on the Cornwall coast, winch, Dr Borlase says, mea¬
sured six feet nine inches from the tip of the nose to the end
of the shell, and ten feet four inches from the extremities
of the fore-tins extended, and was adjudged to weigh eight
hundred pounds.” According to Lacepede, the coriaceous
turtle is the species with which the Greeks were best ac¬
quainted, and he supposes it to have been particularly used
in the formation of the ancient harp or lyre, which was ori¬
ginally constructed by attaching strings or wires to the
carapace of one of these marine reptiles. “ W e may add,
says Dr Shaw, “ that the ribs or prominences on the back
of the shell bear an obscure resemblance to the strings ot a
harp, and may have suggested the name of luth or lyre,
by which it is called among the French, exclusive ot the
use to which the shell was anciently applied.” Ihis turtle
is reputed to be extremely fat, and it is eaten by the Car¬
thusians, although its flesh is coarse and bad.
Genus Chelys, Dumeril. Wide-mouthed turtles. Inis
little group resembles the preceding genus Emys in the fbet
and claws. The carapace is much too small to admit ot
the withdrawal of the head and limbs, which are propor-
tionallv large. The muzzle is prolonged into a little trunk,
but the most marked and peculiar character consists in
the deeply cleft transverse gape, which is not armed with
corneous mandibles, as in the other Chelonians, but rathei
resembles that of the Batrachian genus Pipa.
The best known and most noted species is the matamata
( T. Jimbria, Gm.), an animal of a very singular and rather
repulsive aspect, first described by M. Bruguiere.1 It mea¬
sures about a foot and a half in length. Its carapace is
oval, with raised pyramidal plates pointing backwards. The
neck and other parts of the body are furnished with pecu¬
liar projecting fringes, or wart-like appendages. This rep¬
tile is native to Guiana, and was once common in Cayenne;
but its numbers were long ago much thinned by the fisher¬
men, who prize it as an excellent and nutritious food. It
feeds on aquatic plants, and is said to winder by night to
some distance from the banks in search of pasture The Jiauri,
specimen described by M. Bruguiere was brought to him' ^
alive, and was sustained for some time on bread and herbs.
It afterwards laid five or six eggs, one of which produced
a gSs’tiuonyx, Geoff. Soft turtles. These have no
plates or scales, but merely a soft skin enveloping their
carapace and plastron, neither of which are completely sup-
norted by the bones, the ribs not reaching to the margins
of the shield, nor being united to each other except by a
portion of their length, and the parts analogous to the ster¬
nal ribs being replaced by simple cartilage, and the sternal
pieces, partly toothed as in the marine species, by no means
filling up the whole of the under surface. I he feet, as in
the fresh-water tortoises, are palmated though not elon¬
gated, and only three of the toes are furnished with nails.
The corneous portion of the beak is clothed externally with
fleshy lips, and the snout is prolonged. The tail is short.
The species of this genus dwell in fresh waters, and the
flexible margins of their carapace are of use in swimming.
The Egyptian species or tyrse, the soft turtle of the Nile
(Test, triunquis, Forskal, Tr. jEgyptiacus, Geoff.), some¬
times attains the length of three feet. Its shield is flattish,
and of a green colour, spotted with white. 1 his reptile
devours young crocodiles the moment they are hatched,
and, according to Sonnini, is more serviceable in this way
than even the ichneumon.
An American species {Tr. ferox, Gmel.) inhabits the
rivers of the new world, from Guiana as far north as the
southern parts of the United. States. It lies concealed in
reeds and rushes, seizes on birds and reptiles, preying also
on young caymans, and being in turn frequently devoured
by the elder members of that powerful family. It is it¬
self sought after as an article of food even by the human
race, its flesh being by some esteemed equal to that of the
green turtle. This species has been described as possess-
ino- considerable vigour and swiftness in its motions, and as
springing forward when attacked to meet its assailant with
fierceness and alacrity. It measures about a foot and a
half in length, and seems to have been first described by
Dr Garden in his correspondence with Pennant.-
Order II.—SAURIA. SAURIAN REPTILES.
In this order the heart is composed, as among the Che¬
lonians, of two auricles and a ventricle, the latter being
sometimes divided by imperfect partitions. The ribs are
moveable, partly attached to the sternum, and are capable
of being raised and depressed for the purposes of respira¬
tion. The lungs extend more or less towards the hinder
portion of the body, and frequently enter far into the lower
part of the abdomen. Those in which the lungs are large
possess the singular faculty of changing the colour of their
skin, according as they are excited by their wants or pas¬
sions. The eggs are enveloped by a more or less consistent
covering, and the young are born in the perfect state, that
is, they merely increase in size, without undergoing meta¬
morphosis. The mouth is always armed with teeth; and the
toes are furnished with nails, with very few exceptions.
The skin is clothed with scales, or with little scaly granules.
All the species have a tail, varying in length in the different
kinds, but almost always thick at the base. I he majority
have four legs, although a few have only a single pair.
2 '/VtJ. Trans. Ixi. The chief works on the Chelonian reptiles are the following. J. G. Walbaum, Chelonographia oder les-
chreibung
nisse der <
the Archives B a , , . „ . „ . - .
Jtanarum quas in itinere, &c., 1824. The various species are also enumerated by Mr Gray in his Synopsis Reptmum.
R E P T I L I A.
133
<ise.
iauria. The Saurian order of reptiles was included by Linnaeus
oeodili- un(]er two genera, Draco and Lacerta. The latter has
been greatly subdivided, in accordance with the number of
the feet, the form of the tongue, tail, and scales; and the
formation of several separate families has resulted from
the consideration of these important features. None of the
saurian reptiles are venomous, although the bite of several
of the larger kinds is to be avoided rather than otherwise.
They all appear to be what may be called carnivorous;
that is, they feed on living prey. Many assume the torpid
state during the colder seasons of the year; but in their
more active condition they affect, according to the species,
a great diversity of situation ; some haunting obscure and
humid places, others rejoicing in a dry and sandy soil, ex¬
posed to the influence of the most radiant sun. Several are
aquatic; while many climb trees, or, avoiding “ leafy um¬
brage,” seek the surface of exposed and barren rocks. Their
form and outward adornment are as varied as their habits.
Some are remarkable for beauty of shape and brilliancy of
colour, while others present a repulsive aspect and a lurid
hue. Many are extremely small, entirely innocent, and na¬
turally familiar and confiding in their mode of life ; others
are of gigantic size, and distrustful and dangerous in their
disposition. How great the difference between the beauti¬
ful, bright-eyed lizard, which suns itself beside a cottage
window, and the huge cayman of America, stretched like a
blackened log along the desolate shore of some forsaken
FAMILY I—CROCODILID/E. CROCODILES IN
GENERAL.
The CrocodihdfB take the first place in the Saurian or¬
der, a distinction to which they are well entitled from their
great magnitude and strength, and a ferocity which has ob¬
tained for them the appellation of the tyrants of the fresh
waters, both in the old and new world. They often attain
the size of ten and twelve feet, frequently that of fifteen
and twenty, and, more rarely, even that of twenty-five and
thirty. Inhabiting the margins of the mighty streams of
tropical climates, they are the terror of all who approach
them; they prey upon every animal which comes within
their reach ; and man himself is not free from their attacks,
for instances are by no means rare, both in ancient and mo¬
dern times, of their suddenly seizing upon human beings, and
carrying them oft' to their watery haunts. Hence these for¬
midable animals are never witnessed, especially in temperate
climates, but with the deepest interest. In the year 58 before
the common era, the edile Scaurus exhibited at Rome five
crocodiles from the Nile ; on another occasion, Strabo men¬
tions that the inhabitants of Denderah brought many to the
great capital of the world; but the most astonishing spec¬
tacle of this sort ever witnessed was when the Emperor Au¬
gustus caused the Flavinian Circus to be filled with water,
and there displayed thirty-six crocodiles, which were killed
by an equal number of men accustomed to fight with these
monsters. Popular curiosity continues unabated ; and the
intimate connection of the creatures in question with geo¬
logical investigations has more recently conferred upon
them a very different but not less important interest.
The Crocodilidse form an exceedingly natural group, close¬
ly associated by many common characters, of which the fol¬
lowing are the most striking. They all attain a great size.
Their tail is compressed laterally. The fore-feet have five
toes ; the hind four, the three internal of which are furnish¬
ed with nails, but all of them are more or less united by
membranes. There is a single row of teeth in each jaw.
The tongue is fleshy, flat, and attached by nearly the whole
of its margin, a circumstance which led the ancients to be¬
lieve that crocodiles were destitute of this member. .The
back and tail are covered with great scales or plates, which
are often pointed in their centre ; the scales on the abdomen
are not so thick and strong.
The nostrils of these amphibious creatures open at the
end of their snout by two small apertures, which shut with
valves. The lower jaw is prolonged behind the cranium,
which gives the appearance of motion to the upper jaw
when the mouth is opened, an idea entertained by the an¬
cients.1 Their external ears are shut at will by two fleshy
lips ; their eye has three eyelids, two horizontal, like our
own, and the third, a membrana nictitans, capable of being
drawn from within outwards over the whole front of the
globe. Beneath the lower jaw, on either side, is a gland,
whose duct opens by a small slit a little within the lower
edge of the jaw ; it secretes an unctuous matter of a strong
musky smell, and is supposed by Mr Bell {Phil. Trans.
1827) to be a bait for attracting fish towards the sides of
the mouth. This gland, with others of a like nature situat¬
ed elsewhere, confers a smell which pervades the whole
animal. The vertebrae are to the number of sixty ; seven
are cervical, and these are so connected with each other by
bony processes that they impede lateral movements, so that
it is difficult for the animal to change its direction; and
hence, when a person is pursued, he may easily escape by
turning. Of all the Saurians, they are the only ones which
are destitute of clavicles. Besides the ordinary supply of
ribs, they have some which protect the abdomen without as¬
cending to the spine. Their lungs do not descend into the
abdomen, as in other reptiles of their order; and this, with
their heart of three cavities, where the blood from the lungs
does not mix with that from the body so freely as in the rest
of the Reptilia, associates them somewhat nearer to warm¬
blooded animals.
It would be interesting, did space permit, to enlarge upon
these physiological details. It is not a little curious, that in
the animals belonging to this group, two openings are found,
leading from the surface to the internal cavity of the abdo¬
men, a structure similar to that which prevails in a few ani¬
mals further down the scale. M. Geoffrey St Hilaire sup¬
poses that the superior energy of the crocodile in water is
due to this penetration of that fluid, and the consequent
conversion of the peritoneum into an additional respiratory
surface. Another singular circumstance is, that these ani¬
mals, as in some higher up the scale, are in the habit of
swallowing great stones. An officer in the Colombian navy,
who mentions this, tells us, that being somewhat incredu¬
lous on the point, he was satisfied of the fact by Bolivar,
who, in order to convince him, shot several alligators with
his rifle, and in the stomachs of all of them were found
stones varying in weight according to the size of the ani¬
mal. The largest killed was about seventeen feet in length,
and had within him a stone weighing from sixty to seventy
pounds. U pon their dispositions and habits we cannot greatly
dilate.
In relation to the geographical distribution of the Croco-
dilidae, we may here remark, that they are entirely foreign
to Europe, and do not occur in New Holland, but are else-
Sauria.
Crocodili-
dse.
1 The peculiar structure of the jaws, and the nature of their movement, among these reptiles, have formed the subject of frequent
argument. The fact, or rather the knowledge of it, although controverted by Perrault and Duverney, is as old as the time of He¬
rodotus; and Aristotle asserts that they can’move both jaws : xivoupueov ovra ru* ffiayovuv. “ Enfin, nous reviendrons encore sur la
circonstance, tout-a-fait particuliere, qui permet a la machoire superieure, ou plutdt a toute la masse superieure de la tete, de s’elever
en bascule, et de se mouvoir ainsi sur la machoire inferieure quaud celle-ci repose sur le terrain ou sur un plan fixe.” (Erpitologie
Genirale, iii. 25.) See also Anmles dit Mus. ii. 38.
134:
R E P T I L I A.
Sauria.
Crocttdili-
<iae.
where extensively spread over various regions of the earth. ^ &
The caymans are peculiar to America, the crocodiles, pro- depressed, tne teem, "U1LI , J . , dae.
perly so called are common to both worlds and the gavials *“7?; ^ upper; the fourth, which are the longest,
have hitherto been found only in Continental India, ihe nineteen in me upj e , ’ (\\zt\nct foramina of
following table will show the distribution of the family, and P^^Tw^ihrLind feet have^ usually a denticulated
the amount of species, in all the great divisions of our globe • f ho 1,r,T'pr iaw - t ne nin Y
Asia.
Cayman 0
Crocodile 2
Gavial 1
Both Asia
and Africa.
0
1
0
1
Africa.
0
1
0
America.
5
2
0
Doubtful.
0
2
0
2 = 14
Total species ...3
Genus Gavialis, Cuv. and Geoff. We begin with the
very limited genus Gavial, which, so far as known, is con¬
fined to the old world, if not to the Asiatic continent. The
first description of one of these animals was given by our
celebrated countryman Edwards.1 Count Lacepede intro¬
duced the native name Gavial into our systematic works.
The most recent researches of Cuvier have scarcely suc-
the upper jaw; the hind feet have usually
crest at their outer margin ; and the interval of their toes,
at all events the external ones, are palmated. There is a
deep hollow behind each eye.
Different species of crocodile are found in the hot regions
of Asia, Africa, and America. Many bear a very close re¬
semblance to each other, but about eight seem to be satisfac¬
torily established. These are, the species called chamses, or
temsach,—the common crocodile of the Nile; the biporcatus,
or double crested; the acutus, rhombifer, galeatus, and ea-
laphractus (Cuv.); to which are to be added the Gravesii
and Journei (of Bory de St Vincent). We begin with that
which has been longest, and perhaps is best known, the fa¬
mous crocodile of the Nile.
C. vulgaris, Cuv.; Temsach of the modern Egyptians;
Laccrta crocodilus, Linn. The length of the head of this
species is double that of the breadth ; the snout is very rag-
ceeded in determining whether there is more than one liv ^
ing species ; there appear, however, to be several fossil, and ged and unequal, especially in the old; its eyes are more
i ic asunder than in other species. Without entering into mi¬
nute details of the number and arrangement of the scales on
hence additional interest is excited
In this genus the snout is slender, and very much pro¬
longed ; the teeth are nearly uniform and alike; the fourth
of the under jaw, when the mouth is closed, locks not into
a foramen in the upper jaw, but into a lateral groove only ;
the neck, back, tail, &c. we shall only state, that six rows of
nearly equal-sized plates run all along the back, giving it
the appearance of mosaic. The colour is a bronzed green,
the hind feet are denticulated on the outer margin, and pal- speckled with brown; underneath it is a yellowish-green
mated to the extremity of the toes; and there is a deep These animals sometimes attain the enormous size of
depression behind the eye. thirty feet; “ and if we except,” says Lacepede, “ the ele-
G. longirostris, Cuv.; Crocodilus longiroslris, Schn.; La- phant, the hippopotamus, some cetacea, and a few enormous
certa Gangeticus, Gmel. The Great Gavial. The muzzle of serpents, they have no equal in nature.” The female lays
this species is almost cylindrical, and somewhat bent at its her eggs twice or thrice in the year, but only during the
extremity ; its head is singularly broad, especially towards
the back part; the length of its muzzle to that of its body
is as one to seven and a half. Its dental formulary is if =
108. Its scales, as in all its congeners, supply excellent
specific characters. This animal appears to attain a great
size. Baron Cuvier received from Mr Wallich a specimen
of an individual captured near Calcutta, which was seven¬
teen feet long ; and from a fragment in the Paris museum,
it is calculated it must sometimes attain to nearly double
that size. Notwithstanding its great bulk, the very slen¬
der form of its muzzle renders it much less formidable than
the other and more numerous genus (Crocodilus), which also
frequents the Ganges. It feeds wholly upon fish, and is not
regarded as dangerous to man, a fact confirmatory of Asian’s
observation, that “ there are two kinds of crocodiles in the
Ganges, the one innocent, the other cruel.” Though it has
not hitherto been observed in other Asiatic rivers, it may
reasonably be supposed to exist elsewhere than in the
Ganges.
G. tenuirostris. Though the materials possessed by Ba¬
ron Cuvier did not enable him to come to a definitive con¬
clusion regarding the existence of the small gavial, yet upon
the whole he favoured its claims to being something more
hot weather, and deposits them in the sand, where they are
hatched by the sun. They amount to about twenty ; and
are said to be hatched after fifteen or twenty days. They
are about twice the size of the goose’s egg, and it is stated
that the mother takes no charge whatever of them. Indeed
we believe that this maternal carelessness is characteristic
of the reptile race.
This species is frequently designated the crocodile of
the Nile, a name far from happy,—because other species
may inhabit its waters, and the one in question may be
more common elsewhere. There seems, indeed, to be no
doubt that this same animal abounds in the Senegal and
other rivers of Western Africa; probably even in all the
rivers of that continent, and certainly in those of Madagas¬
car. Formerly it used to frequent the Nile as far down as
the Delta, but now we must ascend to its less frequented
portions before it is encountered. It was probably in re¬
ference to an individual of this species that Mungo Park re¬
lates the fact, that one of his guides across the river Gambia
was suddenly seized by a crocodile and pulled under water.
The negroes, however, are so familiar with these creatures,
and so skilful in meeting their attacks, that they generally
escape. On this occasion the negro thrust his fingers in the
than the young of the preceding species; the existence of crocodile’s eyes with so much violence that it quitted its
some nearly allied fossil kinds favouring the conclusion
There is no difference in the shape and arrangement of the
teeth or scales ; and the greater narrowness of the upper
and back part of the head, and of the orbital foramina, are
the only specific differences supplied. Its average size has
not been ascertained. Like the preceding, it frequents the
Ganges.
hold ; but seizing him again, he resorted to the same expe¬
dient, and with more success, as it again released him, ap¬
peared stupified, and swam down the river. Although its
flesh has a strong musky smell, yet the inhabitants of the
districts wherein it abounds frequently attach a high value
to it, as, according to the testimony of Herodotus, did also
some of the ancient Egyptians. A common method em-
Genus Crocodilus, Cuv. The generic characters of ployed by the Africans for destroying the crocodile is to
the true crocodiles are sufficiently distinct. They do not thrust the arm, well defended with ox-hides, down its throat,
possess the slender beak of the gavials ; the head is oblong, and then to plunge a dagger into its vitals. The European
1 Phil. Trans. 1756.
XI E P T I L I A.
135
uria. traveller will probably prefer avoiding such a close encoun-
IjyodilU ter>
Although we have hitherto treated of the common croco¬
dile as one and distinct, yet- it seems beyond doubt, that in
the wide habitat assigned to it, many varieties at least exist.
Cuvier remarks, that from the Senegal to the Ganges, and
even beyond it, there are crocodiles very like the common
one, which have the muzzle somewhat longer or narrower,
and have slight differences in the scales of their neck and
back, but which it is very difficult to distribute into distinct
species. He himself was not able to establish any; nor could
he with satisfaction adopt the four proposed by his eminent
colleague M. Geoffroy, viz. C. suchus, marginatus, lacu-
nosus, and complanatus.1 Of these, by far the most famous
is the suchus, which the last-named naturalist considers
identical with the sacred crocodile of the ancient Egyptians.
His theory is, that there existed a species of a small size,
having a narrow snout, and a disposition which was wholly
gentle and inoffensive, which affected the margin of the
river, and was thus the precursor of its inundations ; and
that it was to this species that the Egyptians rendered di¬
vine honours. The opposing view, advocated by Cuvier, is
that the favoured crocodile did not belong to any one species
or variety more than another, and, far from being less, was
even more ferocious; but that it was the custom of the
priesthood to entertain, not a host of crocodiles, but only
one, or a few, of any given variety, under the name of
souchis, as the idol of a divinity who wras represented by a
crocodile’s head; and that it wras to this individual espe¬
cially that divine honours were paid, in the same way as
apis was the name of the sacred ox at Memphis, and mnevis
at Heliopolis. This favoured animal wras always nourished
and adorned with extreme splendour, and after its death
was buried in the subterranean cells of the Labyrinth;
whilst throughout the district where these honours were
paid, the whole race of crocodiles were respected and pre¬
served. Cuvier assigns the following among other reasons
for the accuracy of his views, which we think conclu¬
sive : First, the crania of the buried and embalmed croco¬
diles do not belong to any one variety, but to all of them;
and, 2dly, there is the strongest historical proof that the
crocodiles in those districts where they were worshipped,
far from being less savage, were even more so than in
others, because from their impunity they became more
bold. Thus Allian reports, that in the district of Tyntyri-
tes, where they unsparingly destroyed the crocodiles, the
inhabitants could bathe and swim in the river securely,
whilst at Arsinoe they could not safely walk, far less draw
water from the river’s banks. The evidence that indivi¬
duals, when taken young, may be completely tamed, is equal¬
ly satisfactory. Thus Bruce relates, that on the western
shores of Africa, the negroes bring up crocodiles, which be¬
come so gentle as to let children play with them and ride
upon their backs; a fact which satisfactorily corroborates
the accounts of those religious processions, &c. in which the
sacred crocodile performed so essential and conspicuous a
part. -
C. biporcatus, Cuv. Dum ; C. porosus, Schn. Double
crested crocodile. This species is the common crocodile of
India and its archipelago, frequenting the Ganges and other
great rivers which empty themselves into the ocean, as also
those of Corea and China, Ceylon, Java, Timor, &c. It has a
strong resemblance to the Egyptian species; but the cervical
scales are differently arranged, and the dorsal are smaller, more
numerous, and differently shaped. (See Plate CCCCXXX.
fig. 6.) The appearance of the pores between the scales is
much more conspicuous than in the other species, and grows Sauria.
with their growth. Its colour is brownish, with black bands Crocodili-
on the back, and spots on the side. In the Paris museum v
there is one seventeen feet long, from the Ganges. In the
account of Macassar, or Celebes, we read, that in the great
river of that island, there are crocodiles so ferocious that
they do not confine themselves to making war on fish, but
assemble in troops to watch the boats, and endeavour to
overturn them, that they may devour those who are in
them. It is the opinion in Java that these animals do not
devour their prey on capturing it; but bury it for a time
in the mud, that it may decay. This remark is so general¬
ly made of other species in different parts of the world, that
it would appear to be a prevailing habit among them.
C. acutus, Cuv. Dum. The slender-snouted crocodile, or
crocodile of St Domingo. This slender-snouted crocodile
is extremely common in the island of St Domingo, as well
as in Martinique, and the northern parts of South America.
Its most remarkable specific characters are the length of
the muzzle, which is bulged at its base; and the scales of
the back are differently disposed from those of the pre¬
ceding. The upper part of the body is of a deep green
colour, spotted and marbled with black; the under part is
pale green. Dr Descourtils states that this animal is more
flexible than is usually supposed, for it can introduce the
extremity of its tail into its mouth. On the same respect¬
able authority we learn that the males are not so numerous
as the females; that they fight furiously at the season of
reproduction; that the males are fit for generation at the
age of ten, and the females at that of eight or nine, their
fecundity not lasting more than four or five years,—a
statement which may well be questioned. The eggs are
deposited in spring, and hatched in a month. On issuing,
the young are only nine or ten inches long; their growth
continues for about twenty years, and some are as long as
sixteen feet. At the time of the escape of the young, the
female comes to scrape away the earth and let them out.
She conducts, defends, and feeds them, by disgorging her
own food for about three months, a space of time during
which the male would seek to devour them.
C. rhombifer, Cuv. Dum. Lozenge-scaled crocodile.
The habitat of this species has been ascertained only of late
years. It occurs in the island of Cuba, and probably inha¬
bits the other Antilles. Its specific characters are well
marked. Its chanfrin is extremely prominent, forming a se¬
micircle, whilst in the common crocodile it is*only a gentle
elevation ; and the extremities are clad with much stronger
and more projecting scales than in the other species. Its
ground colour is green, bespeckled with small and very dis¬
tinct brown spots.
C. galeatus, Cuv. Dum. Helmeted crocodile. The
helmeted crocodile has been hitherto found only in Siam,
and is remarkable for two bony triangular crests implanted,
the one behind, the other on the middle line of the head.
It has been taken ten feet long. C. biscutatus is now re¬
garded as an anomalous variety of C. acutus. C. cata-
phractus, the cuirassed crocodile, may be witnessed in the
museum of the London Royal College of Surgeons, and it
is very different, according to Cuvier, from all the others
described. The source from whence it was obtained is
unknown.2 Its muzzle is longer and narrower than that of
the St Domingo crocodile, whose peculiar chanfrin it wants.
It is most easily distinguished by the armour on its neck;
there are first two oval plates, then a row of four, then scaly
bands common to the neck and back, which together, form
a cuirass as strong as that of any of the gavials or alligators*
1 These seem all to be now regarded as varieties of the common Egyptian crocodile,—C. vulgaris, Cuv. and Dum. See Erpetoloine
Genirale, in. 104. J
a A specimen of a young individual was presented to the Paris museum as having been obtained from “ le grand Galbac, riviere qui
coule pres de Sierra de Leone.’’
136
R E P T I L I A.
Saurij. There still remain two other true crocodiles, described
Crocodili- by M. Graves,1 and which he regards as new; the C. Gra-
,l8e‘ vesii and Journal of Bory de St Vincent. Both of them are
-l~ v ^ iu the Bordeaux museum. 1 he habitat of the former is
believed to be the Congo, and of the latter America. All
the bones of the Gravesii are as if pierced with small holes,
a character they possess in common with some of the alli¬
gators. Its head is of the shape of a slender isosceles tri¬
angle ; the extremity of the snout is rounded, and its sui-
face covered with great obtuse tubercles, having no regu¬
lar arrangement. The ninth, tenth, and eleventh teet i o
the lower jaw are received into a furrow, as well as the
fourth. The colour of the upper part is a dark deep brown,
that of the lower a dull yellow. The snout of the Journal
is very slender, approaching to that of the gavials; it is con¬
vex as well as long, and near its extremity is almost cylin¬
drical. The back of this species is of a deep yellowish
green; the flanks are yellowish, and the belly yellow.
Genus Alligator, Cuv. The alligators are by far the
most common representatives of this group in the new
world ; although, as we have already seen, there are true
crocodiles in St Domingo, and probably in many other lo¬
calities. In most parts of America they are known by the
title of cayman, a name apparently of African origin, and
applied by the negroes, not to the alligators only, but indif¬
ferently to every species of the group. It does not seem
to be yet ascertained whether any true caymans are found
in the old world. Adanson thought he discovered one
in the Senegal; M. de Beauvais states that he saw one in
Guinea; and Cuvier thinks it most probable that they have
their representatives in our hemisphere. They possess all
the power and ferocity of the true crocodiles, and in many
places are found in astonishing numbers.
The head of the alligators is not so oblong as that of the
true crocodiles ; the snout is broad and obtuse ; the teeth
are somewhat unequal, the number ranging from nineteen
to twenty-two on each side of each jaw ; the fourth of the
under jaw is received, not into a lateral furrow of the upper
one, but into a distinct foramen. Their feet are only semi-
palmated, and are not denticulated.
A. Indus, Cuv.; Croc. Cuvieri, Leach. Pike-muzzled
alligator. This is peculiarly the alligator of the southern
parts of North America, including Carolina, the Floridas,
and Louisiana. In the Mississippi it ascends as far as the
thirty-second degree north, a higher latitude than any spe¬
cies reaches in the old world. In these countries they fre¬
quent the muddy banks, and quite bury themselves in the
cold season, falling into a lethargic state before the setting
in of the frost.2 This sleep is so profound that they may
be almost cut to pieces without manifesting any sign of life ;
when the warm weather returns, they are soon roused in¬
to activity. According to Bose, their eggs are white, and
not larger than those of the turkey. They are good eat¬
ing, and are prized by the natives, though they partake of
the musky smell of the animal. As soon as they escape,
the young betake themselves to the water; but the vast
majority become the prey of turtles, fish, and amphibious
animals, not excluding the older of their own species.
During the first year they feed upon insects and very young
fish. Bose states that he preserved a brood of fifteen.
They ate only living insects ; and never captured them ex¬
cept when moving, upon which they darted at them with
great velocity. They appeared quite gentle when he took
them in his hand. At the end of the first year they are
still very feeble creatures; during the second they ac¬
quire their formidable teeth. The duration of their exist¬
ence is not precisely ascertained, but is supposed to equal
that of man. They never cast their skin ; and on acquiring Sauf
their full size, few animals can injure them. They can fast
long. They live on frogs, fish, aquatic birds, on dogs, hogs,
cattle, and any animal they can catch ; when these go to
the river to drink, they seize them by the muzzle or leg,
and draw them into the water to drown them. “ I used
often,” adds the traveller last named, “ to amuse myself,
bringing them from their retreats by making my dog bark.
Sometimes I used to advance and strike them with my stick,
at which they were little disturbed. They never thought
of attacking me, and deliberately retired when they found
their hunting promised no success.” Though slow on land,
they swim with great velocity. In Carolina they make deep
burrows, where they pass the whole winter, and even the
entire day in summer. Though usually met w ith on the
edges of rivers and lakes, they are sometimes also found in
ponds in woods., Bose often attempted to take them with
every kind of strong snare ; but these were invariably broken
to pieces. They are commonly taken with a strong hook
bated with a bird or small quadruped, and connected by a
chain to a tree. The Indians eat the tail only. At the
time of reproduction they fight furiously with each other,
and bellow^ as loud as bulls. They avoid the salt water and
proximity to the sea, because they are there exposed to the
attacks of sharks and the great turtle. In very warm dis¬
tricts in the Floridas, the rivers are sometimes quite crowd¬
ed wdth them, so that they almost interrupt the navigation.
The specific characters of the pike-headed alligator are
a flat snout, the sides of which are nearly parallel, uniting
in front in a regular curve. There are eighteen transverse
rows of scales on the back. The colour above is a deep
greenish brown, beneath white tinged with green, and the
flanks are regularly striated with the two colours, Catesby
has seen them fourteen feet long. Its hide, except at par¬
ticular spots, resists a musket ball; it is most vulnerable at
the inferior part of the belly, and round the eye.
The great alligator of North America certainly forms one
of the most remarkable features in the zoology of the United
States. Whatever may be said of the African or South
American species, this huge reptile is usually neither shy
nor dangerous. Its ordinary motion on land is slow and
sluggish, a kind of laboured crawling, which leaves the track
of a lengthened trail upon the mud, like the keel of a small
vessel. When met with at any distance from the water, it
immediately squats, that is, lies as flat as it can, with its nose
upon the ground, and staring around with rolling eyes.
“ Should a man approach them,” says that accurate and ad¬
mirable describer Audubon, “ they do not attempt either
to make away or attack, but merely raise their body from
the ground for an instant, swelling themselves, and issuing
a dull blowing sound, not unlike that of a blacksmith’s bel¬
lows. Not the least danger need be apprehended; you
either kill them with ease, or leave them.” As if conscious
of their incapacity of self-defence, they seldom travel ex¬
cept during the night, being then less subject to disturb¬
ance, besides “ having a better chance to surprise a litter
of pigs, or of land-tortoises, for prey.” “ In Louisiana,” Mr
Audubon observes, “ all our lagoons, bayous, creeks, ponds,
lakes, and rivers, are well stocked with them; they are
found w'herever there is a sufficient quantity of water to
hide them, or to furnish them with food; and they conti¬
nue thus in great numbers as high as the mouth of the Ar¬
kansas river, extending east to North Carolina, and as far
west as I have penetrated. On the Red River, before it
was navigated by steam-vessels, they were so extremely
abundant, that to see hundreds at a sight along the shores,
or on the immense rafts of floating or stranded timber, was
1 Ann. Gen. des Scien. Physiques, t. ii. p. 343.
s An individual, however, was observed by Messrs Dunbar and Hunter in latitude 32U north, in the month of December, while
the weather was very cold.
R E P T I L I A.
uria. quite a common occurrence, the smaller on the backs of the
•odili- larger, groaning, and uttering their bellowing noise, like
(thousands of irritated bulls about to meet in fight j1 but all
so careless of man, that unless shot at or positively disturb¬
ed, they remained motionless, suffering boats or canoes to
pass w ithin a few yards of them without noticing them in
the least. The shores are yet trampled by them in such a
manner that their large tracks are seen as plentiful as those
of sheep in a fold.” It was in the Red River, it seems, that
so many thousands of these reptiles were killed, while a ma¬
nia prevailed for wearing boots and shoes made of crocodile
leather. This had fairly become an article of trade, many
of the squatters following for a time no other business.
But this leather, though handsome and pliant, exhibiting
all the regular lozenges of the scales, and capable of receiv¬
ing the highest polish, is not sufficiently firm or close-
grained to prevent for any length of ‘time the ingress of
damp or moisture.
The power of this alligator lies chiefly in his jaws and
tail. The latter is admirably adapted to serve as an ally to
the former, because when curved into a semicircle it sweeps
everything towards the enormous mouth. “ Woe be to
him who goes within the reach of this tremendous instru¬
ment ; for, no matter how strong or muscular, if human, he
must suffer greatly if he escapes with life. The monster, as
he strikes, forces all objects within the circle towards his
jaws, which, as the tail makes a motion, are open to their
full stretch, thrown a little sidewise to receive the object,
and, like battering-rams, to bruise it shockingly in a moment.
The alligator, when searching after prey in the water, or at
its edge, swims so slowly towards it as not to ruffle the wa¬
ter. It approaches the object sidewise, body and head all
concealed, till sure of his stroke ; then, with a tremendous
blow*, as quick as thought, the object is secured.” When
these giant reptiles are engaged in fishing, the flapping of
their tails upon the water may be heard at half a mile. In
the vicinity of Bayou Creek, on the Mississippi, there are
extensive shallow lakes and marshes, yearly overflowed by
the dreadful flooding of that mighty river, and stored with
myriads of fish of many different kinds—trouts, white perch,
cat-fish, alligatorgars or devil-fish. Thither, in the heats
of early autumn, after a burning summer sun has exhaled
a quantity of water, the squatter, planter, hunter, all pro¬
ceed in search of sport. The lakes are then not more than
two feet deep, with a fine sandy bottom, and much grassy
vegetation bearing seeds, keenly sought for by vast multi¬
tudes of water-fowl. In each lake is a deeper spot, called
the Alligator Hole, because dug and dwelt in by these rep¬
tiles. There they may be seen in numbers lying close to¬
gether. “ The fish that are already dying by thousands,
through the insufferable heat and stench of the water,
and the wounds of the different winged enemies constantly
in pursuit of them, resort to the alligator’s hole to receive
refreshment, with a hope of finding security also, and fol¬
low down the little currents flowing through the connecting
sluices; but no! for as the water recedes in the lake, they
are here confined. The alligators thrash them and devour
tnem whenever they feel hungry ; while the wood-ibis de¬
stroys all that make tow?ards the shore. The hunter, anxious
to prove the value of his rifle, marks one of the eyes of the
largest alligator, and as the hair-trigger is touched, the al¬
ligator dies. Should the ball strike one inch astray from
137
the eye, the animal flounces, rolls over and over, beating Sauria.
furiously with his tail around him, frightening all his com- Crocodili-
panions, who sink immediately ; while the fishes, like blades <3ae-
of burnished metal, leap in all directions out of the water, Y
so terrified are they at this uproar. Another and another
receives the shot in the eye, and expires ; yet those that do
not feel the fatal bullet pay no attention to the death of
their companions till the hunter approaches very close, when
they hide themselves for a few moments by sinking back¬
wards.” So disinclined are they to attack the human race,
that Mr Audubon and his companions have waded waist-
deep among hundreds of them. The cattle-drivers may be
often seen beating them away with sticks before crossing
with their beasts, for they w ill readily attack cattle, and
swim after such animals as dogs, deer, and even horses.
As soon as the cool autumnal air gives warning of the
approach of frosty weather, alligators leave the lakes to
seek for winter quarters, by burrowing beneath the roots of
trees, or covering themselves with earth. They speedily
become inactive; and to sit and ride on one, according to
Mr Audubon, who never rows in the same boat with Squire
Waterloo, would now be no more difficult than for a child
to mount a rocking horse. The negroes kill them by se¬
parating, at a single blow, the tail from the body. They are
afterwards cut into large pieces, and boiled in a good quan¬
tity of water, from the surface of which the fat is collected in
large ladles. A single man often kills above a dozen alligators
in an evening, prepares his fire in the woods, and, by morn¬
ing, the oil is rendered. This oil is used for greasing the
machinery of steam-engines and cotton-mills ; and formerly,
when Indigo was made in Louisiana, it served (we know
not how) to assuage the overflowing of the boiling juice,
when a ladleful was thrown into the caldron. We would
have deemed the remedy more dangerous than the disease.
These reptiles emit a strong odour, and a large one may be
discovered by it at a distance of sixty yards. The smell
is musky, and, when strong, is insupportable. It is not,
however, perceptible when they are in the water, “ al¬
though I have,” says Mr Audubon, “ been so close to them
while fishing, as to throw the cork of my line upon their
heads to tease them.” He adds, that he has regularly
found in their interior round masses of a hard substance
resembling petrified wood. He has broken these with a
hammer, and found them brittle, and as hard as stones,
which they outwardly resemble. “ And as neither our
lakes nor rivers in the portion of the country I have hunt¬
ed them in, afford even a pebble as large as a common egg,
I have not been able to conceive how they are procured
by the animals if positively stones, or (if not) by what power
wood can become stone in their stomachs.” They are pro¬
bably concretions formed of indigestible animal substances,
or may themselves assist digestion.2 Mr Audubon has
often amused himself, when fishing where alligators abound¬
ed, by throwing an inflated bladder towards the one next
him in the water. It makes lor it at once, flapping it to¬
wards its mouth, and trying to seize it, but in vain. The
light inflation floats aside, and in a few minutes many more
of these huge creatures are seen attempting to master the
delusive bladder, “ putting one in mind of a crowd of boys
running after afoot-ball.” A black bottle is also sometimes
thrown among them, tightly corked; but some one, more
active than the rest, will seize it greedily, and the crunched
vmm.Ir i°f |aU,tll0rs who hav<: written of crocodiles from personal observation, agree regarding the frequent cries oft!
Lv-fttn i but.seem t0 consider the older ones as seldom giving utterance to their feelings in that wav. “ Au contraire,
!’?ir , le1rU?1Sn^ie"t du crocodile adulte doit etre tres rare, car ay ant vecu pendant plusieurs amides ou en couchant
h vniv a >'Ur eS ■°rtSv( e lOccnoqu0, nous avons dtd presquetoutes les nuits entoures des crocodiles, nous n’avons jamais entend
ia voix de ces saunens a taille gigantesque.” (Recueil d'Observ. de Zoologie, tom. i.) J
rrt^Ulari^.n0t^ble,mais T P8™1 assez constante chez les crocodiles, puisque tousles auteurs qui en ontfait I’anatomi
tinr Hoa r 10n 10n’ C e8^ i^U °n .trouve <lans leur estomac des cailloux de differentes grosseurs, qui semblent devoir servir it la triturr
rak, hi. 27 T"8’ C°mme fcS retUS rierreS qUi 86 rencontrent dans k gesier ou 1’estomac musculeux des oiseaux.” (Erpkologie Gem
VOL. XIX.
s
138
Sauria.
Crocodili-
dse.
REFT I L I A.
glass gives way within its ponderous jaws as easily as if
cround in a coarse mill. in-
During the season of love, in spring, the male alligator
is a fierce and dangerous animal, and possibly its observa¬
tion by different naturalists, at different seasons of the year,
may account for the contradictions which pervade the re¬
corded statements of its life and manners. When thus ex¬
cited, no man dares to swim or wade among them, or, as
Mr Audubon quietly observes, “ they are usually left alone
at this season,” a delicate piece of attention, which, we
doubt not, like other virtues, is its own reward. Ihe
male prepares her nest about the first of June, choosing a
place about forty or fifty yards from the water, m some
thick bramble or cane, where she gathers leaves, sticks,
and rubbish of all kinds, carrying the materials in her
mouth as a hog does straw. As soon as a pioper m
is formed, she lays about ten eggs, whmh she covers over
with more rubbish and mud; and proceeding in ns
ner, she deposits about fifty or sixty eggs in various layers.
The whole is then covered up, matted, and tangled toge¬
ther with long grasses, in such a manner that it is extreme¬
ly difficult to break it up. These eggs are in size like those
of a goose, but of a longer form, and are protected rather
by a parchment-like transparent substance than by shell.
Though they are not eaten either by hogs or vultures, the
female, now not only wary, but ferocious, watches ^car t ie
spot, visiting the water from time to time for food. Ihe
nest is of course easily discovered, as she always goes and
returns the same way, and soon forms a conspicuous path
by the dragging of her giant form. According to Mr Au¬
dubon, to whom we stand indebted for these details, it is
not the heat of the sun which hatches the eggs, but that of
the nest itself,—a perfect hot-bed, from the mode of its for¬
mation. The young, as soon as excluded, force their way
through the walls of their putrescent chambers, and issue
forth all as beautiful and brisk as lizards. The female then
leads them to the lake, or more frequently, for greater se¬
curity, to some small detached bayou; for now the males,
their own ungentle fathers, will swallow them by hundreds,
and the wood-ibis and sand-hill cranes devour them.1
A. sclerops, Cuv.; Croc, sclerops, Schn. Spectacled al¬
ligator. This is more especially the alligator of Guiana and
Brazil. Its snout, though broad, has not the sides parallel, as
in the preceding^ and is more triangular in its shape. -The
lower edge of the orbits are very prominent, and a crest pro¬
jecting between them gives the appearance whence their spe¬
cific n°ame is derived. Its colour is bluish-green above, and
irregularly marbled green and yellow, more or less pale, be¬
low. Azara speaks of a red variety, which is the most savage
of all. It acquires a great size. Cuvier has seen it fourteen
feet long; and in Surinam some have attained the length of
twenty and twenty-four feet. In South America it extends
as far as 32° south latitude, the same distance from the
equator on the one side, as the preceding species reaches on
the other. It cannot run half so swiftly as man, and rarely
attacks him; but when the eggs are plundered, the female
defends them courageously. She lays, according to some,
as many as sixty, and covers them with a few leaves or a
little straw. It passes the night in water, as Herodotus states
of the crocodile of the Nile, and during the day basks in the
sun on the banks. It has been stated, that in certain places,
when the morass is partially dried, the remaining water is
so crowded with caymans that nothing is to be seen but
their projecting backs.
It was probably over this species (the Yacare of Azara,
Jacare noir of Spix) that Mr Waterton obtained his far-
famed and well-known conquest; and of it also that he re¬
lates the following anecdote. “ One fine evening last year,
as the people of Angustura, said its governor, were saunter- Sauria
ing up and down here on the bank of the Oronoco, I was Lacen
within twenty yards of this place, when I saw a large cay- to¬
man rush out of the river, seize a man, and carry him
down, before any body had it in his power to assist him.
The screams of the poor fellow were terrible as the cayman
was running off with him. He plunged into the river with
his prey ; we instantly lost sight of him, and never saw or
heard him more.” The negroes of South America sometimes
eat the flesh, notwithstanding its fetid and musky smell.
Azara tells us that they succeed in sticking it with an armed
harpoon, and after fatiguing it in the water, null it out by
main force and despatch it.
A. palpebrosus, Cuv. Bony eyelid alligator. The muz¬
zle in this species is somewhat longer and less depiessed
than in the preceding, and the margins of the orbits are
not projecting. Th<J character, however, which at once dis-
tinguishes it from all the other Crocodilidse is, that the
upper eyelid is wholly occupied with an osseous plate, divided
into three pieces by sutures. None of its congeners have
more than a small osseous particle near the inner angle. Its
teeth are on each side of each jaw. The interval between
the two external toes is less palmated than in the other
species, from which it may be concluded to be more terres¬
trial. This animal inhabits Cayenne, and exhibits consider¬
able variation in its characters.
In addition to these clearly distinct species, naturalists
now recognise the two following, viz. the dog-headed cay¬
man, Al. cynocephalus, Dum. and Bib., and the black spot¬
ted cayman, Al. punctulatus, Spix.2
FAMILY II LACERTINIDjE.
RAL.
LIZARDS IN GENE-
The members of this family are characterised by a slen¬
der extensile tongue, terminated by two filaments, like that
of many snakes. All the four legs have five toes, separate,
of unequal size, especially the hinder ones, and furnished
with nails. The scales on the abdomen, and those beneath
the tail, are disposed in transverse parallel blinds. A pro¬
duced portion of the skin, longitudinally clelt, and closing
by a sphincter, protects the eye, beneath the antenor angle
of which there is the vestige of a third eyelid. The false
ribs do not form an entire circle.
The species of this family are numerous and diversified,
and now constitute several generic groups. Like all other
reptiles, they are much more abundant in sultry than in
cold or temperate climates. “ I am positive, says i i
Bruce, alluding to the lizard tribe in general, “ that I can say
without exaggeration, that the number I saw one day, in the
great court of the temple of the sun at Balbec, amounts
to many thousands; the ground, the walls, and stones o^
the ruined buildings were covered with them, and the va¬
rious colours of which they consisted made a very extraor¬
dinary appearance, glittering under the sun, in which they
lay sleeping and basking.” He adds, that the desert parts
of Syria, bordering on Arabia Deserta, abound with these
reptiles beyond the possibility of calculation.
The genus Monitor of Cuvier contains the largest spe¬
cies, some of them almost approaching to the size of croco¬
diles. They have teeth on both jaws, but none upon the
palate. The greater number have the tail compressed,
which aids their aquatic propensities. Their vicinity to wa¬
ter brings them into the frequent neighbourhood of croco¬
diles and caymans, and they are said to give warning of the
approach of these formidable reptiles by a shrill whistle.
Hence probably their name of monitor. That of Tupinarn-
1 See “ Observations on the Natural History of the Alligator,” by John J. Audubon, Esq. in Edinburgh New Philosophical Jour-
ml, ii. 270. 2 Erpitulogie Generate, iii. 86-91.
R E P T I L I A.
139
auria. bis, which they often bear, was bestowed upon them by an
certini- error of Seba’s, who, misconstruing a passage in Margrave,
applied to these reptiles the designation of a tribe of people.
The first subdivision of the genus contains the Monitors
properly so called (genus Varanus, Dum.),1 distinguished
by small and numerous scales on the head, limbs, beneath
the abdomen, and around the tail, the last-named portion
being surmounted by a kind of keel formed by a double
range of projecting scales. The thighs want the peculiar
range of pores observable among several other groups of
saurians. The species are confined exclusively to the an¬
cient world, although Seba, and in later years Daudin, have
stated the contrary. Travellers report that they prey on
the eggs of water-fowl and on those of crocodiles, and that
chameleons, young turtles, and fishes, have been found in
their stomachs. M. Leschenault de Latour even states that
they combine together on the banks of lakes and rivers
for the purpose of attacking such quadrupeds as come to
assuage their thirst, and that he has seen them attempt to
drown a young stag which was trying to cross a river. He
moreover found the thigh-bone of a sheep in one which he
dissected.
The monitor of the Nile (L. Nilotica, Linn. Varanus
Niloticus, Dum.), called Ouaran by the Arabs, has the
teeth strong and conical, the posterior becoming rounded
by age. The general colour is brown, with paler and darker
points, forming various compartments, among which are
transverse rows of large ocellated spots, which on the tail
become ring-like. The tail is rounded at the base, and
surmounted by a keel throughout its whole length. This
species grows to the length of five or six feet. A vulgar
belief prevails among the Egyptians, that it is a young
crocodile hatched in drier earth than usual. Its figure is
engraved on the ancient monuments of Egypt, probably in
connection with the fact of its preying on the eggs of the
crocodile. To the monitors also belong the animal called
scink {L. scincus, Merr., but not of Linn., Var. arenarius,
Dum.), a small species, very abundant in Libya, Syria,
Egypt, and Arabia, where it frequents rather dry and
sandy soils. It is called Ouaran el hard by the Arabs.
Its teeth are compressed, cutting, and pointed, the tail al¬
most without ridge, and a great part of it rounded. Its
habits are more terrestrial than those of the preceding, and
it may be regarded as identical with the land-crocodile of
Herodotus. The jugglers of Cairo pluck out its teeth, and
then employ it in the performance of tricks. Many other
monitors are found both in Africa and India.2
1 he second subdivision of Baron Cuvier’s monitors con¬
sists of such as have angular plates upon the head, and
large rectangular scales beneath the abdomen and around
the tail. The skin of the throat is clothed with small scales,
and forms a couple of transverse folds. There is a row of
pores upon the thighs.
This subdivision corresponds to the genus Teyus of
Merrem, and several minor groups may be indicated in it.
For example, those called Dracmnse by Lacepede have the
scales raised up into ridges, as among the crocodile tribe,
and forming crests along the tail, which is compressed. An
eatable species {Mon. crocodilinus, Merr.) occurs in Guiana,
where it inhabits holes in the vicinity of marshes. It is
said to swim with difficulty, to run rather swiftly, to climb
trees with facility, and to bite severely. It attains the
length of six feet, and is characterized by some scattered
ridges of scales upon the back. Another and much smaller
species {Drac. bicarinata) likewise inhabits South America.
(See I late CCCCXXXI. fig. L) The little group of safe¬
guards {Sauvegardes, Guv. the restricted genus Monitor of Sauria.
Fitzinger) have all the scales of the back and tail with- Lacertini-
out ridges. Their teeth are dentated, although those ofv (^‘
the back part of the mouth become rounded by use or "" v
age. Some have the tail more or less compressed, and
the scales of the abdomen longer than broad. They dwell
by the banks of rivers. Such is the very large variegat¬
ed lizard {L. tequixiri), well represented by Madame Me-
rian at the end of her work on the insects of Surinam. It
inhabits Brazil, Guiana, &c. where it attains the length of
six feet. It runs rapidly, and plunges into the water when
pursued, although it can scarcely be said to swim. It feeds
on insects, reptiles, the eggs of poultry and of other birds,
and is itself useful as an article of food. Others, distinguished
by the name oi'Ameiva, scarcely differ from the preceding sec¬
tions of the genus Teyus, except in the tail being rounded,
and no way compressed, and furnished, as well as the ab¬
domen, with transverse rows of square scales. The scales
of the abdomen are rather broader than long. The species
of this little group may be regarded as the lizards of Ame¬
rica, that is, as representing in the new world the reptiles
which we so designate in the old; but they differ in want¬
ing the molar teeth, the majority have no collar, and all the
scales upon the throat are small. Their heads also are more
pyramidal, and they want the osseous plate above the or¬
bits. Several different species have been confounded un¬
der the title of Lacerta ameiva. The most generally dis¬
tributed is that named Teyus ameiva by Spix. (See Plate
CCCCXXXI. fig. 2.) It is of a green colour, with vertical
rows of white ocelli, bordered with black upon the flanks.
The genus Lacerta, Cuv., or lizards properly so called,
forms the second principal group of the Lacertine family.
They have the back part of the palate armed with two rows
of teeth, and are further distinguished from the Ameivas and
Safeguards by a collar beneath the neck, formed by a trans¬
verse row of broad scales, separated from those of the ab¬
domen by a space, on which there are only minute scales,
as on the throat. A portion also of the bones of the crani¬
um projects over the orbits and temples, so that all the up¬
per part of the head is provided with a bony buckler.
Lizards are remarkable for their lively movements, and
light and elegant forms. Their colours are also often bril¬
liant. They pass the winter in a state of torpidity, and are
always active and vivacious in proportion to the power of
the solar heat. They are often seen stretching themselves
on rocks or stones, however heated, and brandishing from
time to time their forked tongues, a motion which in some
countries has induced the belief of their being venomous,
an unfounded idea, we need scarcely say, no creatures be¬
ing more innocent. They are by no means difficult to tame,
but in a state of nature we have usually found them very
timorous, although M. Bory St Vincent regards them as be¬
ing as bold as they are beautiful. “ Nous en avons vu plu-
sieurs saisir bravement au museau des chiens d’arret qui
les avaient surpris dans quelque pelouse seche, et ne pas
lacher prise malgre les secouses violentes et les efforts que
faisaicnt ces chiens pour se delivrent.” They are by no
means devoid of intelligence, and, though shy and fearful, are
decidedly inquisitive in regard to what takes place around
them. When raising themselves as high as their little
limbs permit, in order to enlarge their “ visible diurnal
sphere,” they often exhibit themselves to a quiet and con¬
cealed spectator in attitudes of great beauty. They fre¬
quently show themselves more alarmed for birds and quad¬
rupeds than for the human race, and they will even ac¬
quire a certain degree of tameness when domiciled near
the term A/onitfor is somewhat injudiciously applied to this restricted group, in as raras it does not contain the species originally
z Ulat 1S’ tbe 6rande canvegarde d'Amcrique,—Lacerta tequixin of Linn, and Shaw.
^ Renera fiaranus and Heloderma form a distinct family ( Varaniens) in the system of MM. Dumeril and Bibron. Of the former
genus, tour are Asiatic, two are from New Holland, one is from the Papous, one from Timor, and C
torrtdum (the sole species) is the only American member of the family.
three are of African origin. Heloderma
140
REPTILIA.
Saiiria. the dwelling of a gently-disposed lover of nature. They
Lacertini- tear cats and children. Lizards change their skins,like most
<1ae- other reptiles, and the difterence between the brightness
 ' anc[ brilliancy of their old and new attire has caused the
description by naturalists of many species which have no
foundation in reality. Although belonging to the cold¬
blooded classes, they are warmly attached to their females,
and frequent battles take place among the males tor the
possession of their fair companions. The eggs are covere
bv a pale-coloured membranous skin, and are hatched by
the heat of the sun, whether in the body ot the basking
parent, or after exclusion. The eggs themselves increase
in size considerably, as the creature contained within deve¬
lops its parts. The reptiles of this group are never volun¬
tarily found in water. They dislike that element, and avoid
it, being bad swimmers; nevertheless, when pursued down
steepish banks, we have seen them swim across small ditches
to gain the other side and avoid persecution. One ot the
most singular attributes of these creatures consists m their
extreme fragility. When running up a bank or otherwise
attempting to escape from danger, if even a light glove or
handkerchief is cast upon them, several inches of the ter¬
minal portion of their body comes rigghng off, and wi l
twist about among the grass for a considerable period witn
great liveliness, while the body with its head and four legs
proceeds upon its way rejoicing. The tail even appears to
rest itself from riggling for a time, and if touched with
pin, or otherwise incommoded, will then resume its move¬
ments with such an apparent character of discomposure, as
if it were expressing its dislike at the annoyance.
Although several anatomists, proceeding upon their too
exclusive knowledge of the higher classes of creation, in
which there is no reproduction of important parts, have
doubted the extent and universality of this inherent power
in reptiles, there is yet no fact in natural history more sa¬
tisfactorily determined. When we refer to the satisfaction
of the subject, we allude chiefly to the feelings of the ex¬
perimenter, those of the creatures in question being, we
fear, in such a crisis, but sparingly consulted. In nume¬
rous reptiles, the limbs, and a great portion of the poste¬
rior part of the body, may be cut off without more than a
temporary inconvenience, the removal being not only speedy,
but complete. Blumenbach, one of our highest modern
authorities, has repeated1 the experiment alluded to by
Pliny.2 He destroyed with an iron point the eyes of the
green lizard, and placing the poor creature in a vessel with
some fresh earth, which he deposited in moist soil, he found,
after the lapse of a brief period, that the organs of sight
were entirely reproduced,—“ in integrum rest i tut os.” Li¬
zards and reptiles of the genus Scincus, of which the tail
has been either intentionally or accidentally broken off, are
found to reproduce it speedily. I he newer portion is re¬
cognisable externally by the form and colour of the scales,
and on dissection the vertebra; are found replaced by
pieces of a more cartilaginous nature, which probably ne¬
ver acquire the hardness or consistency of bone. Many ex¬
periments have shown the facility w ith which the limbs and
tail of water-newts, and other aquatic reptiles, may be re¬
produced.3 “ Qu’il nous soit permit,” says M. Dumeril,
rather winningly, “ de consigner ici une de nos experi¬
ences : nous avons emporte avec les ciseaux les trois quarts
tie la tete d’un triton marbre. Get animal, place isolement
an fond d’un large bocal de crystal, ou nous avions soin de
conserver de 1’eau fraiche a la hauteur d’un demi-pouce, en
prenant la precaution de krenouveler.au moins «ne fois ^aum,
chaque jour, a continue de vivre et d agir lentement. - ^
tait^n cas bien curieux pour la physiologic; car ce triton ^
prive de quatre sens principaux, les nannes, la langue, les
yeux, et les oreilles, c’etait reduit a ne vivre exteneurement
que par le toucher. Cependant il avait la conscience de son
existence; il marchait lentement et avec precaution ; de
temps a autre, et a des grands interval es, ,1 porta,t ie
moignon de son eon vers la surface de 1’eau, et dans les
premier jours on le voyait faire des e#orts pour resp.rer.
Nous avons vu, pendant au moins trois rnois, se tare un
travail de reproduction et de cicatrisation telle quil nest
reste aucune ouverture ni pour les poumons m pour les
aliments. Par malheur, cet animal a peri au bout des trois
premiers mois d’observations suivies, peut-etre par le de-
faut de soins d’une personne a laquelle nous 1 avions re-
commande pendant une absence. Mais on a conserve le
suiet dans les collections du museum, et quand nous en
parlous dans nos cours, nous le faisions voir a nu pour qu on
puisse constater la singularite du fait d’un animal qui a vecu
sans tete, et surtout pour demontrer la possibility et la ne-
cessite, meme chez les Batracians, d’une sorte de respira¬
tion par la peau.”4 . . ^ .
We may observe, that in all the tentative experiments
which have been hitherto made upon tins subject, it has
been perceived that these renewals are favoured by warmth
and retarded by cold. As an article of diet, lizards are
scarcely ever used in Europe, unless in years of peculiar
scarcitv. Their flesh is said to possess a sudorific quality.
The species of this genus are numerous in many conti¬
nental countries (from'fifteen to twenty different European
kinds being known to naturalists), but are few in Britain.
Of the former, one of the most beautiful is the ocellated li¬
zard (L. ocellata, Daudin), well known in Spain, Italy, and
the south of France. It likewise occurs in Barbary, and,
generally speaking, over a great portion of the basin of the
Mediterranean; but being extremely sensible to cold, it is
not likely to extend into Kamtschatka, as some suppose. It
may be kept alive within doors in Spain throughout the
winter (it naturally then assumes the torpid state), but will
perish if dug up from its retreat, and exposed to cold ap¬
proaching to the freezing point. This magnificent reptile
sometimes attains the length, even in Europe, of two feet,
although its more usual length is from twelve to fifteen
inches. Its proportions are rather ample, that is, somewhat
thicker than usual, yet it is by no means devoid of elegance;
and although it can scarcely be said to be ornamented with
those tints of azure, green, and gold, which Lacepede has
lavished on it, with more of poetical fancy than precision, it
yet is pleasingly adorned. The back is black, beset wit.i
numerous circles of green or yellow distributed in great
profusion, and showing like pearly beads upon a darker
ground. The head is beautifully marbled with green and
black, as are also the upper portions of the thighs and feet.
The tail is brownish, and all the under parts are ot a green¬
ish yellow. “ Le lezard dont il est question est innocent,
mais hardi; il fuit au moindre bruit, non lachement, s’arre-
tant de distances en distances pour observer la cause de sa
crainte, et si on le presse de trop pres il se jette sur 1’assaii-
lant en faisant entendre un certain soufllement qui rappelle
en petit celui qui font entendre les oies en colere. Comine
on en trouvait beaucoup aux environs d’une baronie de
Saint Magne, ou nous avons passe les premiers temps de
notre ieunesse, et que nous en avons ete souvent violem-
1 Specimen Pliyfiologicr Comparative*, p. 31. 5 Ilistoria Mtmdi, lib. xxix. ebap. 38 ; and Mian, edit. Schneid. lib. v.
3 On this verv curious physiological subject the reader may consult the following works : Plateretti, Sn le reproducione delle gamut
r della coda delle Salamandre aquajmle. Scelt. de Opusc. interes.' vol. xxvii. p. 18. Spallanzani, Sopra le reproduzioni animali, 1 wica Am-
male e Vegetabile, 17(i8. Murray, Commentutio de redintegratione partium ne.vn sno solutarnm vel amissarum, 1787• Lonnet, Aar la c«-
ji rod action des membrex de. la Salamandre aquatiqfic. O' u v res d Hist. ISat. et de Philos, t. v. p. 177*
* Erpitologie General*, i. 20!).
R E P T I L I A.
141
ment mordus en leur faisant la petite guerre cpie I’enfance
livre a tout ce qui fuit, nous pouvons affirmer que leur dent
ne produit aucun mauvais efFetapres la douleur du moment.
II suffit d’avoir vu un seul grand lezard vert, pour s’etonner
que Linne ait pu confondre cette espece avec le lezard
gris”1
It has been observed by the prince of Musignano (C. L.
Bonaparte), that the Linnaean term agilis has been applied
by the naturalists of different countries to that species of
lizard which was most common or best known in their own.
In this way several distinct kinds have been described un¬
der one name, and regarded as identical. The true L. agi¬
lis of Linn, is a northern species, which becomes rare in
Italy, but is sufficiently common in France, and extends
into Denmark and Sweden. Its history as a British reptile
has been clearly illustrated only within a recent period by
Mr Jenyns and others ; for the so-called L. agilis of the ge¬
nerality of British authors ought not to be so named.2 The
actual species varies as usual in colour and markings; but
the most common hue of the upper parts is sandy-brown,
with obscure longitudinal fasciae of a darker brown, and a
lateral series of black rounded spots, each marked with a
yellowish-white dot or line in the centre. “ It is more ti¬
mid,” says Mr Bell, “ and far less easily rendered familiar,
than the beautiful green lizard ( L. viridis) of Guernsey and
the south of Europe. This latter species may be readily
tamed, and taught to come to the hand for its food, and to
drink from the hollow of the palm of any one to whom it is
accustomed. It will lie coiled up between the two hands,
enjoying the w armth, and not offering to escape. But it is
very different from the present species, which appears not
to be susceptible of any such attachment. It will indeed
attempt to bite any one who handles it, which I have never
known to occur with L. viridis. When in confinement it
ceases to feed, conceals itself with extreme timidity when
approached, and ultimately pines and dies.” Mr Bell has
bestowed the English name of sand-lizard on this L. agilis.
Our only other British species is the common viviparous
lizard {L. vivipara, Jacquin, Zootoca vivipara, Bell3) con¬
founded with the true L. agilis by many authors. “ This
agile and pretty little creature,” Mr Bell observes, “ is the
common inhabitant of almost all our heaths and banks in
most of the districts of England, and extending even into
Scotland; it is also one of the few^ reptiles found in Ire¬
land. On the continent its range does not appear to be
very extensive; it is not found in Italy, nor, I believe, in
France, and is very probably confined in a great measure Sauria.
to our own latitude. Its movements are beautifully gracile Jgnamda*.
as urell as rapid ; it comes out of its hiding-place during the ^
warm parts of the day, from the early spring till autumn
has far advanced, basking in the sun, and turning its head
with a sudden motion the instant that an insect comes with¬
in its view; and, darting like lightning upon its prey, it seizes
it with its little sharp teeth, and speedily swallows it.” This
species also varies greatly in its external aspect. The pre¬
vailing ground colour of the upper parts is greenish browrn,
with a dark brown dorsal line often interrupted; a broad
fascia extends parallel with this on each side, commencing
behind the eyes, and extending to a greater or less distance
down the tail; and between these and the former are often
one or more rows of black dots, and similar ones occur in
many individuals in the broad lateral fascia. The under
side of the body and base of the tail are orange, spotted
with black in the male; in the female grayish brown with¬
out spots. In reference to Mr Bell’s excellent account of
this reptile, we take leave to add, that although it is no doubt,
entitled to the character of an ovo-viviparous species, the
young are not always born at once from the body of the
mother, that is, already freed from the encumbrance of the
egg. We have several times kept gravid females in our pos¬
session, and on two occasions the membranous eggs were
deposited unbroken, and the young lay w'ithin them for from
two hours till a day and a half before they made their ap¬
pearance. Their movements, however, w'ere visible through
the walls of their prison from the moment they were laid.
The more limited genus Algyra of Cuvier has the
tongue, teeth, and pores of the lizards; but the scales on
the back and tail are ridged, those on the abdomen smooth
and imbricated, and the collar is wanting. In the genus
Tachydromus, Daudin, the scales on the back, and those
beneath the tail and abdomen, are square and ridged ; the
collar on the neck is absent, as well as the pores on the
thighs, but on either side of the anal aperture there is a ve¬
sicle opening by a pore. The body and tail are both much
elongated. The species run with great swiftness. See
Plate CCCCXXXI. ffo. 3.
FAMILY III—IGUANIDiE. IGUANAS.4
In this family the general form, the lengthened tail, the
free and unequal toes, resemble those parts in the lizard
1 Dictionnaire Cl a.is': que d'Hht. Nat. ix. 339.
2 See Jenyns’s British Vertebrate Animals, p. 291 ; and Bell’s History of British lieptiles, p. 22.
6 Air Bell assigns as one of the generic characters by which this species differs from his restricted genus Laceria, that the palate is
toothless, while it is armed in that last named.
4 The great family of the IguanidjE is divided by AIAI. Dumeril and Bibron into forty-six genera, containing 14<i species, the de¬
tailed descriptions of which occupy about 559 closely-printed pages in the work of those authors. (See Erp'tologie Glntrale, tom. iv.).
AV e regret that our restricted limits debar us from following their extended system, but we shall here present a tabular view of the
genera and amount of species, partitioned in accordance with their geographical distribution.
. Australasia and
Genera. Europe. Asia
Sub-Family Pleueodontes.
Poly crus 0 0
Lsemanctus 0 0
Urostrophus 0 0
Nerops 0 0
Anolis 0 0
Corythophanes 0 0
Basil iscus 0 0
Aloponotus 0 0
Amblyrhincus 0 0
Iguana 0 0
Aletopoceros   0 0
Cyclura 0 0
Brachylophus 0 1
Enyalius 0 0
Opryessa 0 (l
Uperanodon 0 0
Polynesia.
0
0
0
0
9
9
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
9
9
Total Species.
3
5
1
L
25
.0
54
55
Carry over,
142
R E P T I L I A.
Sauria. tribe, and the eyes, ears, and other characters are similar,
Isruanidse. but the tongue is thick, fleshy, not extensile, am, i
/   of being terminated by two filaments, is merely notched at
the extremity.
gECX, i. No teeth on the palate. Agamians, Cuv.
'a. Tail surrounded by rings composed of large scales,
which are frequently spiny. Stelliones, haw-
In the genus Cordylus of Gronovius, not only the tail,
but even the back and abdomen, are furnished with large
scales placed in transverse rows. The head, as m the com¬
mon lizards, is provided with a bony buckler, and covered
with plates. In several species the points of the scales ot
the tail form spinous circles, and there are also little spines
on the sides of the back, on the shoulders, and outside the
thighs. The last-named parts have a line of very large
pores. The Cape of Good Hope produces several species,
which have been long confounded in systematic works un¬
der the name of Lacerta cordylus, Linn. 'Ihey are some¬
what larger than the common green lizard of Europe, and
like it feed on insects. _ ~ * •,
In the genus Stellio of Daudm, the spines of the tail
are of medium size, the back part*of the head is bulged
by the muscles of the jaws, the back and thighs are here
and there beset with scales of larger size, sometimes spiny,
and little groups of spines surround the ears. The thighs
want the pores. The tail is long and pointed. Only a
sino-le species seems distinctly known to naturalists, ot.
vulgaris (L. stellio, Linn.), a reptile very common in Egypt,
and throughout the Levant. It measures about a foot in
length, and. is of an olive hue shaded with black. It is the
koscordylus of the modern Greeks (hardun of the Arabs),
and is not unfrequently named the rough lizard, in con¬
sequence of the unusually hispid appearance of the whole ot
its upper surface. The Mahommedans slay this species
wrathfully, from a feeling that a peculiar downward incli¬
nation of its head is in mockery of their own reverential mo¬
tions while engaged in prayer. The species called stellio
by ancient writers was so named on account of its being
marked by spots resembling stars, and was probably in no Saurij
way allied to the genus to which in after times the title was
* The genus Doryphorus, Cuv. (a name too nearly resem¬
bling one already bestowed upon a group of insects), re¬
sembles the preceding in the absence of P"r^s’
is not beset with groups of spines. (See Plate CCCCXXX1.
flo- 4 ) The azure lizard {L. azurea, Linn.) may serve
as&'an example. The genus Uromastix Cuv may be
described as composed of stelhons, of which the hind head
is not inflated; all the scales of the body small, smooth, and
uniform, except those of the upper surface of the tail, which
are large, spiny, and projecting. There is a series of pores
upon the thighs. Stellio spmipes of Daudin is a Lromas
tix It is found in the deserts which encompass Egypt,
and is supposed by Belon, although without sufficient proof,
to have been the land-crocodile of the ancients. It measures
from two to three feet, has an inflated body of a fine grass-
green colour, with small spines upon the thighs, as well as
on the upper portion of the tail.
h. Scales on the tail imbricated. Aganue, Baud.
In the ordinary or restricted genus Agama, scales raised
into points or tubercles beset different parts of the body,
and especially the ears, with spiny projections, isolated or
in groups. There is sometimes a row upon the nape ot the
neck, but not forming a compressed crest as in Calotes.
The skin of the throat is loose, transversely folded, and
susceptible of dilatation. A species from New Holland
(Aq. barbata, Cuv.) is remarkable for its size and extraor¬
dinary formation. A series of large spiny scales, disposed
in transverse bands, prevails along the back and tail. I he
throat, often much inflated, is furnished with long pointed
scales, forming a kind of beard-like appendage ; ana similar
scales beset the sides, and form two oblique crests behind
the ears There are yellow spots upon the abdomen, bor¬
dered with black. Another of this genus is the muricated
lizard of Shaw (L. muricata), likewise a native of New
Holland. In some the body is enlarged or inflated, so as
Genera.
Brought over,
Leiosaurus 
Hypsibatus 
Holotropis   
Proctotretus 
Tropidolepis 
Phrynosoma 
Callisaurus 
Tropidogaster 
Microlophus 
Ecphymotus 
Stenocercus   
Strobilurus 
Trachycyclus 
Opiums   
Doryphorus 
Sub-Family Acrodontes.
Istiurus     
Calotes 
Lophyrus 
Lyriocephalus 
Otocryptis 
Ceratophora 
Sitana 
Chlamydosaurus 
Draco 
Leiolepis 
Grammatophora 
Agama 
Phrynocephalus 
Stellio 
Uromastix 
Europe.
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
....0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 0
 1
 0
Asia.
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
2
5
4
1
1
1
1
0
R
1
0
2
:i
1
1
1 32
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
8
1
0
3
54
2
2
2
10
8
3
1
1
4
1
1
1
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
Australasia and
Polynesia.
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
0
0
0
0
1
0
0
4
0
0
0
1
Total Species.
55
2
2
2
10
8
3
1
1
4
1
1
1
1
2
1
3
5
4
1
1
1
1
1
8
1
4
10
4
2
5
94
146
R E P T I L I A.
143
Sauria. to appear orbicular, as in A. orbicularis, a South American
uanidae. reptile, which, from its thickened form and broadened head,
seems at first sight a connecting link between the frogs and
lizards.
The genus Trapelus, Cuv., has the teeth and general form
of Agama, but the scales are small and spineless. There
are no pores on the thighs. T. Egyptius, Geoff’., is a small
species, in which the body is sometimes inflated. It can
change its colour even more rapidly than the chameleon.
This genus is not easily distinguished from some thick and
slightly spined species of Agama, to which indeed the ge¬
nera Leiolepis, Tropidolepis, and Leposoma, are nearly allied,
and for the descriptive characters of which we may refer
the reader to systematic works. The genus Calotes, Cuv.,
differs from Agama in being regularly covered with scales
disposed tile-ways, often keeled and pointed, as well on the
body as on the limbs, and tail, which is of great length.
The scales on the middle of the back are more or less rais¬
ed and compressed, forming a crest or ridge of variable ex¬
tent. There are neither wattles nor pores upon the thighs,
—characters which sufficiently distinguish them from the
Iguanas proper. The best-known species is that called
the galeot lizard (A. calotes, Linn.), of a variable colour,
but usually of a fine light blue, with transverse lines of
white upon the sides. There are two rows of spines behind
the ear, and a lengthened ridge along the back. Its eggs
are fusiform, or spindle-shaped. This curious reptile is
native to the East Indies, and is called chameleon in the Mo¬
luccas, though it scarcely changes its colour. It is said to
wander about upon the roofs of houses in quest of spiders;
and Lacepede observes that it is reported to prey even on
rats, and to fight with serpents. When out of temper, its
throat becomes so inflated as to give it a frightful aspect.
If authors are correct, its distribution must be very exten¬
sive, as it is said to occur not only in the East Indies, but
in Arabia and Barbary. It certainly, however, does not in¬
habit Spain, as some have said. In the genus Lophyrus,
Dumeril, the scales of the body resemble those of Agama,
and the palisade-like ridge upon the back is even higher
than in Calotes. The tail is compressed. To this genus
belongs Agama gigantea of Khul, remarkable for the height
of its crest above the neck. Two bony ridges continued
from the muzzle terminate in a point on each side above
the eye, and join upon the temples. It is a native of India.
In Lyriocephalus, Merrem, we find a species in which
the bony crest above the eyes is even more marked than in
the preceding, and terminates behind on each side in a sharp
point. This strange reptile is found in Bengal and other
parts of the East, and is said to live on grain. See Plate
CCCCXXXI. fig. 5.
The preceding generic groups, from Agama downwards,
are all more or less allied to the Agamce of Daudin. We
now proceed to a brief consideration of certain genera, of
which the relationship is more remote.
The genus Istiurus of Cuvier is distinguished by an
elevated cutting crest, which extends to a portion of the
tail, and is supported by the high spinal processes of the
vertebrae. This crest is scaly like the rest of the body,
and the scales of the abdomen and tail are small, and rather
of a square form. There are no teeth on the palate, but
those of the other parts of the mouth are strong, compress¬
ed, and without dentation. The thighs bear a row of pores.
The skin of the throat is loose, but does not form a dew¬
lap. To this genus belongs that very remarkable animal
the Amboyna lizard (Z. Arnboinensis, Gm.), first described
by \ alentyn, and afterwards with great accuracy and an
excellent figure by Dr Albert Schlosser in 1768. The
back is spined, but the regular ridge only commences at
the base of the tail, over a portion of which it extends, like
a broad upright fin. The head and neck are green, va¬
ried by transverse whitish undulations; the back and tail
are brown, with a slight cast of blue or purple; and the Sauria.
sides and abdomen are grayish, spotted by means of round Iguanidae.
white scales. It resides, according to Valentyn, in the
vicinity of fresh waters, and is frequently observed on the
banks of rising grounds as well as on the lowlier kinds of
shrubs which vegetate near the water, but does not ascend
the taller trees. When disturbed by the approach of man
or beast, it instantly dives, and hides itself among the rocks
or stones beneath the banks. When captured, it does not in
any way defend itself, but seems stupified. It may be caught
by a noose or snare, and its flesh is said to be w hite and
sw eet, although of a penetrating odour. It is highly esteemed
as food by many, and is itself accustomed to prey both on
insects and vegetable substances. It sometimes attains a
length of nearly four feet.
The genus Draco, Linn., may be distinguished at a
glance from all other Saurian reptiles, by the singular pecu¬
liarity of six false ribs, which, instead of conforming as usual
to the shape of the body, extend from it at right angles,
and supporting a produced portion of the skin, present the
appearance of a pair of wings. They support the animal in
the air, as it leaps from branch to branch, but have no pro¬
pelling power, and so cannot raise it in the least degree.
In relation to their other characters, these so-called dragons
are of small size, and covered all over by imbricated scales,
of which those on the tail and limbs are keeled. The tongue
is fleshy, not very extensile, and slightly notched. Be¬
neath the throat there is a long pointed dewlap, supported
by the tail of the hyoid bone; and on its sides are two
others of smaller size, sustained by the horns of the same
bone. The tail is long; there is a small dentation on the
nape of the neck; and the thighs have no pores. Each jaw
is furnished with four small incisor teeth, with a pair of
long-pointed canines, and twelve triangular three-lobed
grinders. The genus may be said to combine the scales
and dewlaps of the Iguanas, with the head and teeth of the
Stellions. See Plate CCCCXXXI. fig. 6.
All the known species of Draco inhabit the East Indies,
and have derived their generic appellation from their sup¬
posed resemblance to the fictitious Dragons of antiquity.
In all ages, and in most countries, the imagination of timid
or fantastic men has produced a belief in the existence of
fabulous beings, of monstrous forms and irresistible fero¬
city, which carried devastation into provinces, guarded the
entrance to sacred places, or watched over “ sunless heaps”
of hidden gold. The heroic history of Greece, and the
darker superstitions of the Germanic people, are alike per¬
vaded by these fond beliefs. “ Rendered celebrated,” says
Lacepede, “ by the songs of Greece and Rome, the prin¬
cipal ornament of pious fables imagined in more recent
times, conquered by heroes, and even by youthful heroines,
who were contending for a divine law, and adopted by a
second mythology, which placed the fairies on the throne of
the enchantress of old, the Dragon became the emblem of
the splendid actions of valiant knights, and has enlivened
modern as it animated ancient poetry. Proclaimed by the
severe voice of history, everywhere described, everywhere
celebrated, everywhere dreaded; exhibited under all forms,
always clothed with tremendous power, and immolating his
victims by a single glance; transporting himself through
the midst of clouds with the rapidity of lightning, dissi¬
pating the darkness of night by the terrific splendour of
his glaring eyes, uniting the agility of the eagle, the strength
of the lion, and the magnitude of the giant serpent; some¬
times presented under a human figure, endowed with an
intelligence almost divine, and adored, even in our own
days, in the great empires of the East,— the Dragon, in
short, has been all in all, and everywhere to be found, ex¬
cept in nature.”
The existence of these animals has not been altogether
discredited, even in modern times. About the middle of
144
Sauria.
Icyuanuke.
R E P T I L I A,
last century, a Hamburg merchant greatly prided himself
on the possession of a famous dragon, which he valued at
10,000 florins. It w'as however , discovered by the pene
Sect. 2. Tc€tJi oh the PolutCt
Saurjit
Iguanie
Genus Iguana, Cuv. Iguanas properly so called. These
have the body and tail covered with small imbricated scales
trating eye of the then youthful Linmeus to be ^ gross de ^ ^ or raised scales> compressed and pointed,
ception, formed by a combination of prevails along the back ; and beneath the throat there is a
the teeth of weasels, and other absurd and heterogeneous P Jnd dant dewlap, or gular pouch, of which
elements, “ non Naturae sed artis opus exirmum. it s ig sunported by a cartilaginous production ot
said that the great Swedish naturalist was obliged to flee § bone. 'The thighs bear a line of tubercular pores
the city to avoid the wrath of the enraged proprietoi. of ]izardSj and the head is covered with plates,
similar fraud seems to have been practised in our ow ji cou - ^ w rts a range of compressed triangular teeth
try towards the close of the seventeenth centiiryj^ind 1 ^ith intatePd cutting edges, and there are moreover two
related by Dr Grainger, from a note, of Dr ^chary U 0f teeth on the posterior ihargin of the palate,
in his edition of Hudibras. “ Mr Smith of Bedfo The common iguana (7. tuberculata, Laur., Lac. iguana,
serves to me, on the word dragon, as follows . M J naturally of a greenish-yellow colour above, mottled
Rotart, botany profesaor' of Oxford, did. abotU forty yeata Lmnd ^ with brown . the under
ago, find a dea'd rat in the Physic Garden, to made P™0 ^ The of the doreal crest are
to resemble the common picture of dragons, y | , j | spin0us, and there is a conspicuous rounded plate
head and tail, and thrusting in taper sucks, which distend, g “d J . the ,e 0f the jaws. The sides
ed the skin on each side, till it mimicked wings. He let it beneatn tne y p ^ yj, ^ mi |ed with the
dry as hard as possible. The 'warmed immediately^ro- ^ a„teriorP5edge of the dewlap is denoted
nounced it a dragon ; and one of the Trand like the back. This species measures from four to five feet
description of it to Dr ^abech^ !n length and is extensively spread over many of the warmer
Duke of Tuscany ; several copies of verses _ countries of America, where it is held in high esteem as an
so rare a subject; but at last Mr Lobar , ’ ie djet though by many regarded as by no means
however, it was looked upon as a masterpiece of art, Andas 1 chiefly among'trees, feeding on fruits,
such deposited in the museum, or anatomy school, where I health^ geen tQ enterfethe watei,
saw it some years after.    denosits her eggs in the sand. Tliey equal in
We need hardly here observe, that the actua ^ gize thosc of a pigeon, have scarcely any albumen, and afford
Dracones of naturalists, are harmless ammas, . excellent eatingg The common method of catching this
though extraordinary forms, which "J jabit c reptile is by casting a noose over its head, and then draw-
lar forests of the Indian Ocean (See Plate CCCCXXXi bg W e | ^ f It seldom makes an effort t0 escape,
«•> birt'stands Sing at its antagonist, a, the same time inflat-
S Tcttlt o'vai, Ernest^ a Dutcl, cS^S=^es, ftom two
naturalist, they couple among the branches an l the fern O , y y ^ furnished with ex.
deposits her eggs in ^ ^ tee!, but their jaws armed with a long beak,
exposure. We ar^ d(! BeauvPis, who with which they bite with great strength; they inhabit warm
XXToiie in 'the kingdom of Benin, whieh j,e was un “XZl’the’ttopics' toVoShlaTslTnd^bounl
of white * I)’viridis is^ween, the wings gray, with brown of the Bahama Islands, for which purpose they visit man>
bands This' S the spedes described'b/seba under the of the remote kayes and islands in their sloops to eaten
name of winged dragon of America, and afterwards figured them, which they do by dogs trained up for that purpose,
bv^hat author as the flying dragon of Africa, in neither of which are so dexterous as not often to kill them, which, if
li^co^ It is said by Bontius to they do, they serve only for present spending ; if othenvjse
be not uncommon in Java, where it will shoot from tree to they sew up their mouths to prevent their biting, and put
tree for a distance of thirty yards, producing a perceptible them into the hold of their sloop till they have catched
noise by the vibration of its wings. With a view to render sufficient number, which they either carry alive lor sale to
itself specifically lighter, it inflates its yellowish goitres when Carolina, or salt and barrel up for the use of their families
it flies D. fuslush brown above, paler beneath ; the wings at home. These guanas feed wholly on vegetables and
likewise brown. Eight species are now known to natu- fruit, particularly on a kind of fungus growing at the roots
of trees, and on the fruits of the difterent kinds of annonas.
Their flesh is easy of digestion, delicate, and well tasted;
they are sometimes roasted ; but the more common way L
to boil them, taking out the leaves of fat, which are melted
and clarified, and put into a calabash or dish, into which
ralists.
The genus Sitana, Cuv., possesses the teeth of the pre¬
ceding ; the limbs and body are covered with scales imbri¬
cated and keeled, the thighs are without pores, but the false
ribs are not expanded. The species are distinguished by an
ribs are not expanaeu. a ne species aie uisuu^ui&neu uy <ui emm ~ -—  . T . ,
enormous dewlap, which extends as far as the middle of they dip the flesh of the guana as they eat it. It is remark-
the abdomen, and is more than twice the height of the body, able that this fat, which adheres to the inside of the abdo-
We know not that there is any other described than the men, imbibes the colour of the fruit the animal eats last,
Pondicherry species (Sit. Ponticeriana), a small reptile of which I have frequently seen tinged of a pale red, yellow,
a fawn-colour, with a range of large rhomboidal spots along or sometimes of a purple colour, which last was from eating
the hack. See Plate CCCCXXXI. fig. 7. Xheprunus maritima, which fruit, at the same time, I took out
1 He was rather superintendent of the garden than professor properly so called.
R £ P T I L I A.
Sauna, of them. Though they are not amphibious, they are said
guanirife- to under water above an hour. When they swim, they
use not their feet, but clap them close to their body, and
guide themselves with their tails ; they swallow all they eat
whole. They cannot run fast, their holes being a greater
security to them than their heels. They are so impatient
of cold that they rarely appear out of their holes but when'
the sun shines.”
“ The guana,” observes Browne, in nis Natural History
of Jamaica, “ like most of the tribe, lives a very considerable
time without food, and changes its colour with the weather,
or the native moisture of its place of residence. I have
kept a grown guana about the house for more than two
months; it was very fierce and ill natured at the beginning,
but after some days it grew more tame, and would at length
pass the greatest part of the day upon the bed or couch,
but it went out always at night. I have never observed it
to eat anything, except what imperceptible particles it had
lapped up in the air; for it frequently threw out its forked
tongue, like the cameleon, as it walked along. The flesh
of this creature is liked by many people, and frequently
served up in fricassees at their tables, in which state they
are often preferred to the best fowls. The guana may be
easily tamed while young, and is both an innocent and a
beautiful creature in that state.”
The horned iguana of St Domingo {Ig. cornuta, Cuv.)
is distinguished from the common kind by an osseous coni¬
cal point between the eyes, and two raised scales upon the
nostrils. The neck is not tuberculated. This species mea¬
sures about four feet in length, and is frequently found on
the hills of St Domingo, between Artibonite and Gonaives.
It lives on fruits, insects, and small birds, which it seizes
with surprising agility, and during the day it couches on
trees and rocks to watch for its prey. During the night,
and throughout the greatest heats of the hot season, it
retires among the chambered rocks, or into the hollows
of old trees, and there passes many months in a state
of lethargy. This iguana is considered by the negroes as a
great delicacy, and they accordingly search for it with avi¬
dity. According to the report of the colonists, its flesh re¬
sembles in flavour that of the roe-buck, and the maroon
dogs make great slaughter among these reptiles.1
The naked necked iguana (Ig. nudicollis, Cuv.) re¬
sembles the preceding species in its dorsal crest, but it does
not possess either the large plates beneath the tympanum,
nor the scattered tubercles on the sides of the neck. The
upper part of the cranium is furnished with gibbous plates,
the occiput is tubercular, and the dewdap or gular pouch
is slightly dentated, and only on its anterior portion. Its
native regions are Brazil and Guadaloupe, not India, as
Laurenti supposes. (See Plate CCCCXXXI. fig. 8.) Se¬
veral other species are described by naturalists.
In the genus Ophryessa, Boie, the scales are small and
imbricated ; a dorsal crest, not greatly projecting, is prolong¬
ed upon the tail, which is compressed. The teeth resemble
those of the preceding genus, but there is neither dewlap
nor pores. The supercilious lizard of the older authors
(Oph. superciliosa) may be named as an example. It is an
American species, of a fawn-colour, with a festooned band
of brown along the flanks, and measures from twelve to
sixteen inches. It derives its specific name from a pecu¬
liar membranous ridge which occupies the region of the
eyebrow.
The genus Basiliscus, Daudin, has the scales of small
size, and the raised ridge on the back and tail is continu¬
ous, and supported by the spiny processes of the vertebra.3,
a teJ ^a^llon °f the t^l in the Amboyna lizard, as al¬
ready mentioned in our brief notice of the genus Istiurus.
145
The name of Basilisc as naturally recalls to mind the Sauria.
fabled stories of antiquity as that of Dragon. It was sup- Iguanidae.
posed to be the most poisonous and malignant of creatures, ''••■■■‘-y'-'—''
its very aspect being regarded as fatal to the unhappy be¬
holder. It exercised its tyrannous sway amid the burning
and desert sands of Africa, and obliged each meaner rep¬
tile to keep at a respectful distance.
Sibilaque effundens cunctas terrentia pestes,
Ante venena nocens, late sibi submovet omne
Vulgus, et in vacua regnat Basiliscus arena.
But the animals now known to naturalists under the
name of Basilisc, we are happy to say, are harmless crea¬
tures, of very innocent manners, although of most extraor¬
dinary aspect. They do not occur in Africa, as Lucan
feigns, nor in India, as Seba alleges, but in South America,
especially Guiana, as Daudin has determined. The best
known is the mitred species (B. mitratus, L. Basiliscust
Linn.), distinguished by a membranous crest upon the oc¬
ciput, somewhat in the form of a cowl or hood, and sup¬
ported by cartilage. It is of a bluish colour, with two
white bands, one behind the eye and another behind the
maxillae. It measures from two to three feet in length, and
feeds on grains.
In the genus Polychuus, Cuv. there is no dorsal crest,
the head is covered with plates, and the tail is long and
slender. The extensile skin of the throat is capable of be¬
ing formed into a gular pouch at the will of the animal,
and this genus possesses the power of changing colour like
the cameleons. Their lungs are likewise very voluminous,
filling up a great portion of the body, and subdividing
into various branches. Their false ribs, too, like those
of the cameleon, encompass the abdomen, and so unite as
to form entire circles. The marbled lizard (Lac. marmo-
rata, Linn.) may be named as an example. It is of a red¬
dish-gray colour, marbled with transverse irregular bands
of brownish red, sometimes mingled with blue. The tail
is of great length. This species is frequent in Guiana.
The genus Anolius, Cuv. combines with the form of
the preceding a very peculiar and distinctive character,
the skin of the toes being enlarged beneath the ante-penul¬
timate joint, into an oval disk, transversely striated on the
under surface, which aids the animal in climbing, which it
is otherwise enabled well to do by means of its crooked
claws. The body and tail are moreover chagrined with
minute scales, and the majority bear a dewlap or goitre-like
expansion beneath the throat, which they not only inflate,
but cause to change both in form and colour, in accordance
with their various moods of love or anger. Indeed seve¬
ral of the species at least equal the cameleon in their power
of assuming frequent and rapid alternations in the colour
of their skin. Like these creatures, too, and the genus
Polychrus, the ribs form entire circles. The species are
peculiar to America, and several of them are even naturally
of familiar habits, frequenting the vicinity of human habi¬
tations.
In some there is a crest upon the tail, supported by the
spiny processes of the vertebrae, as in Istiurus and Basilis¬
cus. Such is the great crested Anolis (An. velifer, Cuv.),
which measures about a foot in length. The crest extends
over one half of the tail, and is supported by from twelve to
fifteen rays; the dewlap reaches to beneath the belly.
(See Plate CCCCXXXII. fig. 2.) It is found in the An¬
tilles.
In others the tail is round, or only slightly compressed.
The species of this section of the genus are numerous,
and have been frequently confounded under one or two
specific names. They inhabit the warmer parts of con-
vol. xtx.
1 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, jx. 225.
T
146
R E P T I L I A.
Sauna, tinental America and the West Indies, and change colour
Geckotifa. with surprising facility, especially in warm weather. 1 hey
 V ' feed on insects, and scarcely equal the size ot the gray
lizard of Europe. They capture their prey with great
alacrity; and the different individuals are said to tight
fiercely when they meet each other. We may^ntmu^
an example the red-throat lizard, called by Cateshy the
green lizard of Jamaica (L. hdlaris, Linn.). Its muzzle is
short, sneckled with brown, the eyelids projecting, and the
prevailing-colour a grassy green. It is common in Jamaica,
where it frequents hedges and trees, but does not enter
houses. When approached or angered it protrudes its gu-
lar pouch, which speedily becomes as bright as a cherry.
This peculiar change may be regarded as a kind of menace,
to deter its enemy from closer quarters. It is incapable ot
inflicting the slightest injury by its bite or otherwise. An¬
other species is Catesby’s green Carolina lizard (An. Caro-
linensis), which is of a beautiful golden green, the muzzle
flat and elongated. This kind is said by Catesby to be very
common in Carolina, where it frequents houses, and be¬
comes in a manner familiar, so as to sport about tables anc
windows, catching flies with great dexterity. It is seen
chiefly in summer, retreating in winter into hollow trees,
where it assumes the torpid state. Sometimes, when tempt¬
ed by delusive sunshine, it re-appears, and on the return o
chilly weather becomes enfeebled by the cold and dies.
Its colour changes frequently from green to brown, accord¬
ing to the temperature.
FAMILY IV.—GECKOTIDiE.
This family consists of what may be termed the noctur¬
nal lizards, all of which bear a strong resemblance to each
other. Baron Cuvier regards them as constituting a single
genus, divisible according to the form and structure 01 the
toes, as after mentioned. . . c
The genus Gecko may be characterized as consisting ot
Saurian reptiles, of not so lank a form as those of the pi e-
ceding genera. They are rather of a flattened shape, es¬
pecially about the head; the feet are of medium size, and
the toes of nearly equal length. Their gait is heavy and
crawling. Their eyes are large, and the pupil extremely
contractile under the influence of light, so that they usual¬
ly keep themselves concealed throughout the day in dark
or sombre places. Their eyelids are very short, and with¬
draw entirely between the eye and the orbit, which be¬
stows on these animals a very peculiar physiognomy. Their
tongue is fleshy, not extensile; the jaws are furnished all
around with a row of very small close-set teeth ; the pa¬
late is toothless. The skin is chagrined above with very
small granular scales, among which some larger tubercles
are often dispersed; the under parts are covered by flat-*
tish scales scarcely so small, and imbricated.. The pores
on the thigh are not here regarded as a generic^character,
being absent in some and present in others. The tail is
marked by circular folds, as in the genus Anolis ; but when
mutilated, it has been noticed to renew itself without these
i ’Tiie following table exhibits a view of the geographical distribution of the Geckotidtr, so far as known at this tune
6 Australasia and Locality lotal
Generic Groups. Europe.
Platydactylus •...!
Hemidactylus 1
Ptyodactylus 0
Phyllodactylus 0
Spheriodactylus.... 0 ■
Gymnodactylus 0
Stenodactylus 0
Totals 2
See ErptlU'Ogic Generate, iii. 290.
Asia.
5
S
0
0
0
3
0
13
Africa.
5
1
2
1
0
2
1
12
America.
2
1
1
3
3
12
Polynesia.
3
3
b
3
0
2
1
12
Unknown.
1
1
1
1
0
0
0
Total
Species.
17
12
4
8
3 -
9
folds. This genus is numerous and widely spread, oc- Saum
curring both in the old world and the newJ The dull and^kot,
doleful aspect of the geckoes, and a certain resendflwce
which they bear to toads and newts, render them liable to
the imputation of poisonous properties,—an assumption
without proof, and altogether against analogy.
The majority of the species have the toes enlarged foi
a greater or less extent, and furnished beneath with regu¬
lar folds upon the skin, which, by some peculiar action,
enable them to adhere to smooth surfaces, to ascend per¬
pendicular walls, and even to creep in a reversed position
along a ceiling. The claws are retractile m different ways,
and preserve their points and cutting edges; and these
characters, combined with the contractile nature of tire
pupil, has induced a comparison of the geckoes among
reptiles to the feline tribes among carnivorous quadrupeds.
The claws, however, vary in the different species, and m
some are altogether wanting. It is in accordance with the
particular structure of the toes indifferent species that the
geckoes have been subdivided into several separate groups,
which some authors regard as constituting so many distinct
genera.2
Sect. 1. Platydactyli. Toes widened throughout, and
furnished beneath with transverse scales.
In certain species of this section of the genus the nails
are entirely wanting, and the thumb is very small. They
are rather ornamental in their aspect, covered over by tu¬
bercles, and adorned by lively colours. They occur m the
Isle of France. Some have no pores upon the thighs : such
are G. inunguis, Cuv., of a violet colour abov^white be¬
neath, with a black line along the sides ; and G. ocdlatus,
Oppel, of a gray hue, covered with brown spots, with white
centres. Some possess the pores, as G. Cepediensis, a yel¬
lowish-red coloured species, marbled with blue, and marked
with white along the sides.
In other platydactylous geckoes the nails are wanting
only on the thumbs, and on the second and fifth toes of all
the feet, and there are no pores upon the thighs, io this
little grouo belongs the wall-gecko, a European species
( G. fascicidaris, Daud.), called Terrentola by the Italians.
It is of a deep-gray colour, with a rough head; all the
upper parts beset with tubercles, each of which is formed
of three or four others of smaller size. It is a creature of
a most unseemly aspect, which hides itself in the holes Oi
walls, or beneath heaps of stones, and moreover covers its
body with dust and ordure. It, however, delights also in
sunshine, and is said not to occur in damp or very sombie
situations. In winter it lies inert, but not torpid. It in¬
habits the countries around the Mediterranean, and ven¬
tures as far north as Provence and Languedoc. A nearly
allied species occurs in Egypt and Barbary, G. Atgyp-
tiacus, Cuv. Its tubercles are round and simple, more pro¬
jecting on the sides.
The greater number of the platydactylous species want
the nails only on the four thumbs, and have a range o
pores anterior to the anus. G. guttatus, Daud. has a i ed¬
dish coloured body, spotted with white, and beset by roun
R E P T I L I A.
Sauna. ed sliglitly projecting tubercles. The scales on the under
-eckotidae. part 0f tjie tail are square and imbricated. Seba describes
this as a Ceylonese species, and adds, that the name of
gecko is applied to it on account of its cry resembling that
word. It is believed to occur throughout the Indian Ar¬
chipelago. A belief prevails in the native country of this
and other species, that an acrimonious fluid exudes from
the lamellae of the feet, and remaining on fruit, or other
edible vegetation, is productive of injury to those who swal¬
low it. A species is described by Bontius in his history
of Java, under the name of Indian Salamander; and that
old author states that the Javanese are said to hold it up
by the tail until it discharges a foam or sanies from the
mouth, with which they poison their arrows.
Sect. 2.—•Hemydactyli, Base of the toes furnished with
an oval disk, formed beneath by a double row of scales
en chevron ; from the centre of this disk the second joint
springs, and bears the third or nail at its extremity.
All the known species of the hemydactylous division
have five nails on each foot, and a range of pores on each
side of the anus. The scales beneath the tail are in the
form of broad bands, like those of many serpents. A gray¬
ish red kind ( G. verruculatus, Cuv.) occurs in the southern
countries of Europe. The body is beset with small, conical,
slightly rounded tubercles, and circles of the same surround
the tail. A nearly allied species (G. mabuia, Cuv.) is wide¬
ly spread over the warmer parts of the new world, where it
orten enters dwelling-houses, occurring apparently identi¬
cal both in Bengal and Pondicherry. Cuvier presumes it
may have been transported thither accidentally in ships.
A species more peculiar to India is G. marginatus, Cuv. of
which the body is margined, and the tail flattened horizon¬
tally, with its edges sharp and slightly fringed.
Sect. 3—Thecadactyli. Toes enlarged throughout their
entire length, and furnished with transverse scales, which
are divided by a deep longitudinal furrow, wherein the
claw may lie entirely concealed.
Such as are clearly known do not want the claws except
upon the thumbs. They have no pores upon the thighs,
and the scales upon the tail are small. As an example,
may be named the smooth, or, as it is sometimes called,
the perfoliated gecko (G.lcevis, Baud., Stellio perfoliatus,
Sclmeid.). I he tail of this species in the natural or normal
state is long, and surrounded by the usual fold ; but it is
easily fractured, and the reproduced portion often assumes
a bulbous form, with a tapering termination, not unlike a
small turnip with its root. In this accidental condition it
was formerly described as a distinct species, under the title
ol Lacerta rapicauda.
Sect. 4.—Ptyodactyu. Toes dilated only at the tips, and
striated below. The dilatation is cleft, and the nail placed
m the fissure. The whole of the toes are furnished with
curved claws.
In some the toes are free, and the tail rounded. Such
is G. lobatus, Geoff'., sometimes named the house-gecko. It
is smooth, or at least both scales and tubercles are very
small, the general colour reddish-gray speckled with brown.
I Ins species is common in houses in many of the countries
on the southern and eastern parts of the Mediterranean. It
is known in Cairo by the unlovely name of abou burs, or
Jather of the leprosy, because it is supposed to produce that
dreadful malady by poisoning provisions with its feet. Has-
selquist relates that he saw at Cairo two women and a girl
at the point of death, in consequence of their having eaten
147
some cheese over which this creature chanced to crawl. Sauna.
He likevvise mentions a man who, having laid hold of a Geckotid3e'
gecko, his hand became instantaneously covered with red
inflamed pustules, which were as itchy as those produced
by the stinging ot a nettle. Cats are said to eat these rep¬
tiles ; and they are driven from the Egyptian kitchens bv
the odour of g'arlic. The house-gecko feeds on insects, and
its eggs are equal in sifce to a small nut. Its voice resem¬
bles that of a frog.
In otheis the tail is bordered oh both sides by a mem¬
brane, and the feet are semi-palmated. Baron Cuvier is of
opinion that they are probably aquatic. The species are
truly singular in their external aspect. Such is the fimbri- ~
ated gecko (G.Jimbrintus, Cuv.), of which the Form is much
depressed, and the tail bordered by a lateral margin, which
is also visible on the sides of the body, ivhere, however, it
becomes fringed or slashed. It is a n'ative of Madagascar,
where it is erroneously held in great dread. In Lacepede’s
opinion, it connects together the cameleons, geckoes, and
water-newts. It measures eight or nine inches in length ;
and lives in trees, leaping from branch to branch. The
colours of this species, like those of the cameleon, are very
changeable, at least on the upper surface, the under por¬
tion being usually of a bright yellow. “ These changes,”
says Dr Shaw, “ we are informed, have been observe°d in
the living animal by Mons. Bruyeres in its native country,
viz. Madagascar, where it is not very uncommon, and where,
though a harmless animal, it is held in great abhorrence by
the natives, who consider it of a poisonous nature, and fly
from it with precipitation, pretending that it darts on their
bi east, and adheres with such force by its fringed mem-
brane, that it cannot be separated from the skin without the
assistance of a razor. The principal cause of this popular
dread of the animal is its habit of running open mouthed
towards the spectator, instead of attempting to escape when
discovered. Its chief residence is on the branches of trees,
where it lives on insects, holding itself secure by coiling its
tail, short as it is, half round the twdg on wdiich it sits.^ It
chiefly appears in rainy weather, when it moves with con¬
siderable agility, often springing from bough to bough. On
the ground it wTalks but slowly, the fore-legs being shorter
than the hinder.”1
An equally singular species of this section is the scollop¬
tailed gecko (G. caudiverberct), whieh has no fringe upon
the body, but a very peculiarly indented margination on
cacn side of the tail. It is of a blackish colour, measures
above a foot in length, and was found by M. Feuille in a
fountain of the Cordilleras. Some confusion exists in sys¬
tematic works between this species and that figured by Seba
under the name of Salamandra aquatica ex Arabia.
Sect. o. Spheuiodactyli. Toes terminated by a small
cushion without folds; the claws retractile.
Such species as have the cushion double or notched in
front are natives of the Cape of Good Hope and the East
indies. Example, G. porphyrins. Baud. More frequently
the cilsmon is rounded and simple, as in the species called
the spitting gecko ( G. sputator. Lac.), a small reptile, pleas-
mgiy marked by transverse bands of brown upon a reddish
ground. It inhabits houses in St Domingo. A lizard de¬
scribed by Sparman under the same specific name, if not
identical with the species just named, no doubt pertains to
this genus. It is said when disturbed by a near approach
to eject from its mouth a black and acrimonious fluid into
the face of the spectator, causing an inflammation of the
skin, which, however, is allayed by rubbing the part affect¬
ed with camphorated spirits of wine.
Finally, there are Saurians which, with all the characters
1 General Zoology, iii 274.
148
R E P T I L I A.
Sauria. of the geckoes, exhibit no enlargement of the toes, although
Chamse- their claws, five in number, are nevertheless retractile. 1 iey
leonidse. at present compose three genera, as follows :
In Stenodactvlus the tail is round, the toes striated
beneath, and dentated on the edges. Sten. guttatus is an
Egyptian species, of a gray colour, sprinkled with whitish
spots; the skin smooth. In Gymnodactylus, Spix, t e
toes are slender and bare, and the tail rounded. Example,
Gym. qeckoides, Spix. In Phyllurus, Cuv., the toes re¬
semble those of the preceding; but the tail is flattened ho¬
rizontally, and shaped like a leaf. The only known Species
is Ph. platura, from New South Wales, described by White
under the name of broad-tailed lizard.1 It measures about
six inches in length, and is of a brownish-gray colour, beset
with tubercles. (See Plate CCCCXXXII. fig. d.)
FAMILY V CHAM.SLE ONIDiE. CAMELEONS.
This family consists solely of the genus Cham^leo, dis¬
tinguished by the following characters. The entire surface
is chagrined with small granular scales, the body is com"
pressed, the dorsal edge narrow; the tail is rounded and
prehensile. There are five toes on each foot, arranged as it
were in two groups, three in one, and two in the other, in
some measure resembling the foot of a scansorial bird ; but
the toes of each group are connate, or enclosed within the
skin, as far as the claws. The tongue is fleshy, cylindrica ,
extensile, and of great length. The teeth are trilobed.
The eyes are large in themselves, but almost entirely co¬
vered over by the skin, except a small opening opposite the
pupil; and each eye has the power of movement indepen¬
dent of the other. There are no external ears, and the oc¬
ciput rises in a pyramidal form. The first ribs unite with
the sternum, and the succeeding ones meet each other so
as to form a circle around the abdomen. The lungs are of
vast extent, and according to their state of collapse or in¬
flation, greatly affect the form and aspect of the animal.
This, with its long power of abstinence, may have given
rise to the common belief that it feeds on air.2
Cameleons are insectivorous reptiles, of which the slow
pace, the extraordinary form, the awkward movements, the
vivacity of eye, and the marvellous rapidity of tongue, have
excited the wonder of mankind from the earliest ages.
Their change of colour, by no means so marked or sudden
as supposed, has nothing to do with the hue of the objects
by which they are surrounded, but bears relation physically
to the degree of light or obscurity to which they are ex¬
posed, morally to the state of their own feelings of fear or
anger, and physiologically and directly to the action of the
lungs upon the circulating system. “ En effet,’’ says Cu¬
vier, “leur poumon les rend plus on moins transparents, con-
traint plus ou moins le sang a refluer vers la peau, colore
meme ce fluide plus ou moins vivement, selon qu’il se rem-
plit ou se vide d’air.” “ The general or usual colour in the
chameleon,” says Dr Shaw, “ so far as I have been able to
ascertain from my own observation of such as have been
brought into this country in a living state, are from a blu¬
ish-ash colour (its natural tinge) to a green and sometimes
yellowish colour, spotted unequally with red. If the animal
be exposed to a full sunshine, the unilluminated side gene¬
rally appears, within the space of some minutes, of a pale Sauria.
yellowfmth large rounded patches or spots of red brown. C W
On reversing the situation of the animal the same change .  *
takes place in an opposite direction, the side which was be¬
fore in the shade now becoming either brown or ash colour,
while the other side becomes yellow and red; but these
changes are subject to much variety, both as to intensity of
colours and disposition of spots.”3 4
Authors of all ages have differed greatly m opinion re¬
garding the causes of the change of colour in cameleons.
The phenomenon, though remarkable, and strongly exem¬
plified in these creatures, is by no means peculiar to them,
but occurs, as we have noted in the course of this article,
among many others of the reptile race, especially in such
as the general envelope not adhering closely to the muscles,
receive a portion of air beneath the skin. It is also observ¬
able in many mollusca, particularly the cuttle-fish tribe. But
to recur to the cameleon. Aristotle and many other authors
have maintained that the change of colour only took place
when the animal inflated itself. Pliny repeats the opinion
(which has since prevailed) that it assumed the colours of
the bodies by which it was surrounded, with the exception
of red and white. Wormius was among the first to main¬
tain that the changes in question were due to the emotions
of the reptile. Solinus assigns as the cause the reflexion
of the luminous rays. Kircher supports the theory of vo¬
lition and emotion. Goddard adopts the same explanation,
with the addition that the colours at the same time bear a
relation to neighbouring bodies. Hasselquist and Linnseus
refer to the pigmentum as the cause. Finally, the majority
of modern authors who have written on the subject (and
their name is legion) have sought to explain the phenome¬
non either by the modifications of the respiratory system,
by these modifications combined with the state of the pul¬
monary circulation, or by the transposition of the various
layers which are believed to exist in the pigmentum.
We may state briefly in regard to the geographical dis¬
tribution of the cameleons, that Africa is their characteris¬
tic country. Of the fourteen species known to naturalists,
the whole occur there or in the adjacent islands, especially
Madagascar; three species, however, are not exclusively
African, Cham, dilepis, Leach, being found in Georgia,
Cham, vulgaris in the south of Europe, and Cham, bifidus
in continental India, the Moluccas, Isle of France, and New
Holland. They are thus entirely unknown in America.
These reptiles dwell habitually among shrubs or trees.
“ Nous avons observe,” says M. Bory de St Vincent, “ des
cameleons en liberte, fixes sur les rameaux des^ arbustes,
qu’ils tenaient fortement serres entre leur doigts, a peu pres
comme le font les perroquets dont le pied presente une cer-
taine analogic avec les leurs; ils 6taient aussi immobiles
que s’ils eussent ete des imitations artificielles. Leurs yeux
seulement, dont la prunelle briliait comme une pierre pre-
cieuse au milieu d’une globe blanchatre perce d\m petit
trou etincelant, roulaient en tout sens, et tandis qim 1 un
regardait par devant, fautre observaif les objets situes en
arriere. Quelquefois le mouvement anguleux d’une pate
Comme disloquee, lentement suivi de celui dela suivante ct
du deroulement de la queue, qui servait de cinquieme point
d’appui au cameleon, determinait un tardif avancement de
quelques lignes. Dans cet etat de paix, au milieu du feuil-
1 Voyage to New South Wales, pi. 32; and Naturalist's Miscellany, pi. 65. < .
i “ All which considered,” says Sir Thomas Brown, in his Vulgar Errors, “ severer heads will be apt enough to conceive the vul¬
gar opinion of this animal to be not much unlike that of the Astumi, or men without mouths, in Pliny ; suitable unto the relation ot
the mares in Spain, and their subventaneous conceptions from the western wind ; and in some way more unreasonable than the fig¬
ment o{ Rabican, the famous horse in Ariosto, which, being conceived by flame and wind, never tasted grass, or fed on any grosser pro-
vender than air ; for this way of nutrition was answerable unto the principles of his generation ; which being not airy, hut gr088 antl
seminal in the chameleon, unto its conservation there is required a solid pasture, and a food congenerous unto the principles of its na¬
ture.”
s General Zoology, iii. 256.
4 For a summary on this subject, see a paper by Dr Spittal in the Edin. New Phil. Journ, for 1829, p. 292.
KEPT
^auria. lage des lentisques, sa couleur 6tait d’un blanc assez pur,
[lhamse- tirant sur le jaunatre. Saisi, il se gonflait d’abord et ne
?omdae. fajsait nui effort pour eviter le danger; sans doute il en sen-
tait I’inutilite; mais bientot on voyait circuler sur toutes
les parties de son corps des teintes diverses dues au sang,
pousse vers 3a peau par la dilatation de ses vastes poumons.
Le cameleon, rendu a lui-meme, ne tardait point a repren-
dre sa couleur blanchatre que la mort rembrunit. Du reste,
le plus innocent de tous les animaux, ce cameleon change-
ant, qui ne cherche jamais a mordre, vit de mouches qu’il
guette; lorsque celles-ci passent a sa portee, son corps, sa
tete, ses membres demeurent immobiles; mais il a calcule la
portae de sa langue, il la lance comme un trait; et 1’animal
aile, malgre son agilite et la promptitude de son vol, se
trouve coll 6 au bouton visqueux qui le rapport en un clin-
d’ceil dans la bouche de son ennemi.
“ On a imprime, dans la plupart des livres d’histoire natu-
relle, qu’on ne trouvait des cameleons que dans les parties les
plus chaudes des regions intertropicales. Ces animaux s’y
plaisent sans doute, mais non seulement ils depassent les tro-
piques, ils s’elevent encore beaucoup au nord dans la zone
temperee, puisque nous en avons trouve frequemment dans
le midi de 1’Espagne. L’espece de Barbaric y est aussi
commune autour de la baie de Cadix, ou lorsque, pour les
operations de la siege, nous faisions abattre des pins sur la
rive gauche du Guadalete, nous en trouvions communement
entre les rameaux dont se formaient la cime de ces arbres.
On en voit dans quelques maisons, qui demeurent fort long-
temps, sans remuer, suspendus a des ficelles sur lesquelles
on les a places comme objets de curiosite ; les chats en sont
assez friands, et ceux qu’on tient en captivite finissent ordi-
nairement par les griffes de ces tigres domestiques.”1
The best-known species is Cham, vulgaris, often called
the African cameleon (Lac. Africana, Gm.), an ill-select¬
ed name, in as far as several other kinds occur in Africa,
and the species in question spreads from the south of Spain
through many intermediate countries into India. The
hood is pointed, and raised into a ridge on its anterior por¬
tion, the dorsal ridge is dentated as far as the middle of the
back, the inferior one as far as the anus. The granules of
the skin are equal and closely set. In the female the hood
is of smaller size, and the dentations of the ridge less
strongly marked. It is to this species, which measures about
a foot and a half in length, that our preceding quotations
apply, and that is also referred to in most of the general
observations on cameleons found in books. See Plate
CCCCXXXII. fig. 1.
The female deposits her eggs to the number of thirty, in
an excavation which she hollows in the ground, and after¬
wards covers over with loose earth, “ servendosi,” says Va-
lisnieri, “ a questo lavoro delle sole zampe di dietro, come i
gatti, quando nascondono et cuoprono le loro sozzure, non
contenta della cavata terra vi ramasso e ammonticello delle
foglie secche, della paglia, e degli stecchetti avendovi inal-
zato sopra una collinetta di copertura.2
We shall here mention briefly a few of the most distinct¬
ly known of the other species of the genus.3 Cham, tigris,
Cuv., has the hood or helmet small, and is distinguished by
a compressed dentated wattle beneath the end of the lower
jaw. Its body is beset with black points, and the granules
^ne an.^ e9ua^ It inhabits the Seychelle Islands. An
allied species ( Cham, verrucosus, Cuv.) has larger granules
mingled with the others, and there is a series of parallel
warts on the sides of the back. It is a native of the Mau¬
ritius. Cham, pumilus, Baud., has the hood directed back¬
wards, and scattered warts upon the sides, limbs, and tail;
and beneath the throat are numerous compressed finely-
ILIA. 149
toothed wattles, which vary in different individuals. It oc- Sauria.
curs in the^ south of Africa,'the Isle of France, and the Sey- Scincidae.
chelles. Cuvier is of opinion, that Cham. Seichellensis of " v'"""'''
Khul is merely the female of this species. The Senegal
kind, Cham, planiceps, Merr. {Lac. chameleon, Gm.), has the
hood flattened, almost without ridge, and horizontally of a
parabolic form. It occurs in Barbary, and has likewise been
seen in Georgia. Cham, par dolts, ‘Cuv., from the Isle of
France, is marked irregularly with black round spots, bor¬
dered with white. A peculiar species from the Moluccas
is distinguished by two large compressed prominences pro¬
jecting in front of the muzzle. It is the Cham, bifnrcus of
M, Brogniart.
(& .^rt .LLiKXXOOOD 9j«M 09(f) ■■
FAMILY VI.—SCINCIDjE.
Distinguishable by their short legs, their nnextensile
tongue, and their scales of equal size, which cover the bodv
and tail like tiles.
In the genus SCincus, Daud., the legs are rather short,
the body of almost equal size with the tail, without any oc¬
cipital enlargement, crest, or dewlap, the scales uniform,
shining, and disposed like those of a carp. Some of the
species assume a fusiform or spindle shape, others are nearly
cylindrical, and more or less lengthened, resembling cer¬
tain serpents, especially those of the genus Anguis, with
which they are likewise connected by several internal rela¬
tions. The tongue is fleshy, little extensile, and but slightly
cleft; and the jaws are furnished all around with small close-
set teeth. The toes are free.
A few have teeth upon the palate. Of these is the com¬
mon or officinal scink {Sc. officinalis, Schn., Lac. scincus,
Linn.), which measures six or eight inches in length. The
tail is shorter than the body, and the proportional length
considerable from the snout to the shoulder. The general
colour is a silvery yellow hue, with transverse blackish bands.
It is very abundant in Libya, Syria, Arabia, and Egypt, and
is frequently imported from Alexandria into Europe. It
frequents rather dry and sandy soils, and is remarkable for
the extraordinary rapidity with which it burrows, vanishing
almost instantaneously, and seeming, as Bruce has well ex¬
pressed it, “ rather to have found a hole than to have made
one.” This is the reptile called el adda by the Arabs. It
was once held in high estimation as an article in the Materia
Medica, its flesh being regarded as advantageous in leprous
and many other cases. A much larger species ( Sc. Cgprius)
occurs in the Levant, and some of the Mediterranean Islands,
Sc. rufescens is widely spread over India, and Sc. trivitta-
tus is common at the Cape of Good Hope. To this group
also belongs the galley-wasp of Jamaica {Sc. occidua,
Shaw), a large reptile of nearly two feet in length. We
are not acquainted with its modern history, and doubt its
poisonous properties, though Browne, in his Natural History
of Jamaica, informs us that it is reckoned the most vene-
mous reptile in the island, and that it is believed no crea¬
ture can recover from its bite. The author, however, just¬
ly regards this as a popular error.
Other species of this genus have no teeth upon the pa¬
late. Such is Sc. ocellatus, Schneid., well known in the
southern countries of Europe, the Mediterranean Islands,
Egypt, &c. The West Indies, the Moluccas, and New
Holland, produce analogous kinds, some of them remark¬
able for their size.
The genus Seps of Daudin differs from the preceding in
having the body so elongated as to resemble that of a ser¬
pent (a conformation well expressed by the names Lacerta
V'ctimu Class- d'Hist. Nat., iii. 96. = istoria del Camekonte Africatw.
see a paper by Mr Gray, in the Philosophical Magazine, vof ii. p. 209; and Erpltologie Generale, iii. 203.
150
Sauria.
Scincidffl.
R E P T I L I A.
serpens, Anguis quadrupes, &c, which certain species bore);
their legs are extremely small, and the two pairs placed at
a great distance from each other, (bee Plate CCCCXXXII.
fig. 4.) The lungs in this genus begin to exhibit an ine¬
quality of size. Indeed, we may here observe, that in the
few remaining groups of Saurian reptiles with which we are
still to be engaged, there is a manifest approximation to the
true serpents or ophidian race, in the diminution of the feet,
the entire disappearance, in certain species, of either the
anterior or posterior pair, and the elongated form of the
body. Indeed, on the one hand, Lacerta apoda of Pallas
is actually now classed with the Ophidians (being placed at
their head), although on each side of the anus there is a pro¬
minence containing a small bone analogous to the femur,
and pertaining to a true pelvis concealed beneath the skin ,
while on the other, certain systematic writers range our
Anquis fragilis, and other snakes usually so called, among
the Saurian reptiles. But to return to our remaining genera,
which may really be said to hold their legs and feet by a pie-
carious tenure, so subject are they to variation—the five-toed
seps (.S', pentadactylus, Lac. serpens, Linn.) inhabits the
East Indies, while a four-toed species (S. tetradactylus), and
a third with only three toes {S. tridactylus), both being vi¬
viparous, occur in the Isle de Cres. Another fhiee-toed
species (S. chalcides) is native to the south of Europe, and
is named cecella by the Italians. It dwells in meadows,
feeding on spiders, slugs, &c. and runs rapidly by means of
a snake-like wriggling motion, without using its feet. It is
also viviparous. A more peculiar kind, known under the
name of serpent-lizard {S. monodactylus, Lac. avguina,
Linn.), occurs at the Cape of Good Hope. Its legs are
nothing more than small footless undivided appendages.
This is the vermis serpentiformis ex Africa of Seba, said by
some authors to be found “ in great plenty in the water and
about the rocks in Table Bay.”
The genus Bipes, Lacep., makes a still nearer approach
to the serpents, as its name indicates. It scarcely differs
from Seps, except in the entire absence of the fore-legs.
It forms as it were the stepping-stone to Anguis. (See
Plate CCCCXXXII. fig. 5.) A species from New Holland
(B. lepidopoda, Lacep.), examined by Baron Cuvier, al¬
though its hinder extremities showed themselves externally
only under the form of a pair of small oblong scaly plates, was
yet found on dissection to possess a femur, tibia, peroneum,
and four metatarsal bones without phalanges. To this
genus likewise belongs an African species, the Anguis bipes,
Linn., and another of larger size from Brazil, described
by Spix under the name of Pygopus cariococca.
The genus called Chalcides by Daudin is likewise
characterized by a long and serpent-like body, but there
are four legs (as in Seps), and the scales, instead of over¬
lapping like tiles, are rectangular, and form transverse
bands, which do not encroach upon each other. See Plate
CCCCXXXII. fig. 6.
Certain species have a groove on each side of the body,
and the tympanum still very obvious. Of these, an East
Indian kind ( C/W. seps, Lac. seps, Linn.) has five toes, while
another ( Chal. tetradactylus) has only four. Others have the
tympanum concealed, and conduct directly to Chirotes, and
through it to the ophidian genus Amphisbccna. Examples,
Chal. pentadactylus, which, as its name implies, is a five¬
toed species, and Chal. heterodactylus {Het. imbricatus,
Spix), which has four toes to the front feet and five to
the hinder. Chal. abdominalis, Thunberg, has four toes
on each foot. Lastly, Chal. flavescens. Gray {Chal. mono¬
dactylus, Daudin), is distinguished by five anterior and
three posterior toes, so reduced in size as to resemble
small tubercles, and so ill defined by nature (to our percep¬
tions though no doubt wisely formed in relation to the Ophidj
end in view) that zoologists still differ as to their exacts—v~
amount. The species alluded to is native to Guiana.
The genus Chirotes, Cuv. resembles Chalcides in its
verticillated scales, and is allied to Amphisbeena by the
blunted form of its head; but it is distinguished from the for¬
mer by the absence of the hind legs, and from the latter
by the presence of the fore ones. (Seel late CCCCXXXII.
fii 7.) The only known species is the lumbriciform lizard
of Shaw ( Chir. lumbricoidcs,—canaliculatus of Lac.), anative
of Mexico, and first described by Lacepede. It has two
short anterior feet (each with four toes, and the rudiments of
a fifth), well organized interiorly, and attached to a small
sternum by means of shoulder-blades and clavicles; but
the head, vertebra-, and the general skeleton, closely re¬
semble those of the genus Amphisbama. It is of a flesh
colour, and measures eight or ten inches long, with a cir¬
cumference like that of the little finger. It is surround¬
ed by about 220 semi-rings upon the back, and as many
on the abdomen, which meet upon the sides in alternation.
The tongue of this species is but slightly extensile, and
terminates in two little horny points. Its eye is extremely
small, and the tympanum invisible outwardly, being cover¬
ed by the skin. On dissection Baron Cuvier could detect
in this reptile only a single large lung, with the vestige of
a small one, as in serpents. It preys on insects.
Order III.—OPHIDIA. OPHIDIAN REPTILES.
This great division is distinguished by the absence of
legs and other external members, and includes all manner
of snakes and- serpents. The expected completion of the
Erpetologie Generale of MM. Dumeril and Bibron would
have enabled us to present a more satisfactory sketch of
their history and habits (which have been greatly embroil¬
ed by many modern authors), than we can otherwise attain
to; but the French writers just named have not as yet
published the result of their labours among the ophidian
tribes. In the mean time, we think it advisable to delay
their consideration to a future time. Therefore see in this
work the term Serpents.
Order IV.—BATRACHIA. BATRACHIAN REP¬
TILES.
We now proceed to the fourth order of the class Reptilia,
the Batrachia, a name derived from Barga^o;, a frog, and
expressive of a general resemblance which very distinctly
marks the majority, although in truth many resemble lizards,
and a few* have more the appearance of eels or serpents.
This tribe is one of the most singular in nature; for, besides
the naked body and remarkable sanguineous circulation, they
possess another peculiarity, which is regarded by many
naturalists as sufficient to constitute them a distinct class
rather than an order, viz. the change of form which they
undergo in their progress from the young to the adult state.
In this concluding order are ranked all those reptiles
which have neither the carapace of the Chelonia nor the
scales of the other orders.1 Their bodies therefore are
naked ; their head is without any distinct neck or division;
their toes are always distinct and without claws; they have
no external organs of reproduction, and usually undergo
metamorphoses. This change of form constitutes the Ba¬
trachia the principal step in the transition between terres¬
trial and aquatic vertebrata or fishes, and is one of the
most singular phenomena presented by animal life. Bred
A curious link, we perceive, has recently been discovered in South America, between the Batrachia and the Chelonia, which is no¬
thing less than a frog furnished with a carapace and plastron.
R E P T I L I A.
trachia. after the manner of fishes, from spawn-like ova, they pos-
sess for a time the essential characters of the finny race;
and yet, on the lapse of a few brief weeks, their pisciform
appearance vanishes, and leaving the water, they crawl
or leap about upon the earth, or climbing the stems of
forest trees, they dwell among the umbrageous branches.
In some the transition state, if we may say so, continues
permanent, the gills existing simultaneously with feeble
lungs, and a tail being combined with short external mem¬
bers. Of the structure of these curious animals more will
be said hereafter.
The ovum or egg of these reptiles is a round mass of
transparent nutritive jelly, in the centre of which appears
a small black globule. By degrees this shapeless globule
exhibits the appearance of a head and tail, and in this state
it emerges from its prison, and moves about briskly in the wa¬
ter. It is provided with a long fleshy tail, and a small horny
beak, and has no other visible member, except two feathery
tufts on the sides of the neck, which float loosely, and with¬
out protection, in the surrounding fluid. These, however,
are mere temporary organs ; for they serve the purpose of
respiration only until the proper gills are formed, and then
shrink or disappear.1 The true gills or branchiae are con-
tained within the body, three or four in number on each side,
constructed on a plan similar, to those of fishes; the water en¬
tering by the mouth, and escaping in some species by two
openings, and in others by one only. Retaining their aqua¬
tic constitution, the tadpoles (as in this intermediate state
they are often called) rapidly increase in size and activity for
some weeks. In the mean time the legs, of which no trace
was at first apparent, have commenced their growth. The
hind ones are the first to make their appearance externally,
although the anterior pair are as soon developed, and may
be seen at an early period folded beneath their transparent
covering. The animal at this period wears a very ambigu¬
ous appearance, partaking both of the form of the frog and
lizard, and swimming as well by the inflection of the tail as
by the irregular impulse of the feet.2 At this time the beak
tails off, and the true jaws, which originally were hid under
the skin, appear. The eye, too, which had been seen only
through a transparent spot in the tadpole’s skin, appears
complete and prominent. This interval is also employed
in acquiring the faculty of respiring atmospheric air. The
animal every now and then rises to the surface and takes
a mouthful of air, which is received into the newly formed
lungs, and then discharged. When the necessary internal
changes are at length completed, the tail, which has now
become a useless member, diminishes and disappears. The
gills, too, have by this time shrunk, their function being su¬
perseded by the lungs, and the animal emerging from the
water, begins a new mode of existence as a perfect reptile.
During its aquatic state the tadpole lives principally on
vegetable food, but in its perfect form much more upon
various insects; and there is a remarkable and correspond¬
ing change in its digestive organs, which assume the cha¬
racter of those of a carnivorous creature. Most of the
Batrachia, we may also remark, are oviparous, whilst not
a few of them are ovo-viviparous. It should, moreover,
151
be observed, that most of the species of this group, during Batrachia.
their aquatic condition, possess the extraordinary power of'
suffering the privation of a part, or the whole, of one or
more of their members without vital injury, and of afterwards
i enewing them as if no loss had been endured ; a proper¬
ty of which we have already made mention in our summary
account of lizards, and to which we may again briefly return
in our notice of the aquatic salamander
We shall now take a nearer view of the vascular and
respiratory systems of these animals. The circulation, in
the tadpole state, is in every respect analogous to that of
fishes : the blood is transmitted from a simple bilocular or
two-lobed heart to the branchial arches, and, after aeration
by the water, returns, and is circulated through the system.
1 he transition from this condition to that which the vascu¬
lar organs present in the perfect reptile state is very strik¬
ing. Originally three or four branchial trunks pass off
from each side of the heart, and terminate in the minute
network of the gills ; from this network the returning ves¬
sels take their origin, one from each of the gills, the first
of which goes to the head, and the other two conjoining,
convey the blood to the rest of the system, as in fishes.
Lut in addition to these vessels, there are some small un¬
developed ones, which effect a communication between the
\essels which go to the gills and those which return from
them; as also another which, given off from the heart,
unites with the aorta, to be distributed to the as yet rudi¬
mentary lungs. After the metamorphosis is begun, the
branches which connect the arteries of the gills with the
returning veins are greatly enlarged, so that a part of the
blood flows continuously through them without proceeding
to the gills at all, and the proper branchial vessels relatively
diminish ; and the last-named trunk, which was the small¬
est of all, becomes the largest, and an increased proportion
of blood is sent to the lungs. By a continuance of these
changes, the branchial vessels are finally obliterated, and
the communicating branches, at first only secondary and irre-
gulai, now constitute part of the continuous and permanent
system of circulation.
The respiration of the Batrachia, after they have arrived
at their permanent mode of existence, is not less singular
than their circulation ; and this chiefly in two particulars, 
as it regards the lungs, and the function of the skin. If we
take a f rog, for example,3 and watch its respiration, we can-
no*. readily discover that it breathes at all; for it never opens
its mouth to receive air, and there is no motion of the sides
to inuicate that it respires ; and yet, on any sudden alarm,
w’e see the animal blovving itself up, as if by some internal
povver, though its mouth all the w7hile continues closed.
WTe may perceive, however, that its throat is in frequent
motion, as if the frog were economizing its mouthful of air,
and transferring it backwards and forwards between its
mouth and lungs ; and if w7e direct our attention to the
nostrils, we may observe in them a twisting motion at each
movement of the jaws ; for it is through the nostrils that
the frog receives all the air which it breathes. The jaws
are never open but for the purpose of eating ; and the sides
of the mouth form a sort of bellows, of which the nostrils
le momenJoules BatralSns soSent ^ S 13 n0t Very satisfactorily described by physiological observers. “ Des
de panaches colores situes sur les Dirties latfW^ !fanchlesfso“t aPParentes au dehors, elles representent des especes de franges ou
sistes 8 ^ 8ur les bords des fentes ^ correspond k la gorge; elles per.
pour servir uniquement k la resnintion D-uis r lserv.^t 1<?ur queue, tant que leurs poumons ne sont pas assez developpes
pendant un teiXTrls court EnU Vnr S Grenomlbs et autres genres voisins sans queue, le premier etat ne dure que
avec une lon<me queue Ir's hraurhie, n V / Une autre f°rme, celle d’un tetard a ventre enorme confondu avec la tete et
narines,” &c.° (lErpitoiogie Gem rale, i. urs cucnces,et contenucs dam une cavld ; 1’eau arrive dans Ja bouche par les orifices des
Sylva Syfvnruri hej!ac<)n, bad not Practised his inductive philosophy so far as young frogs are concerned, for in his
tial or unhealthy; Tnd^e^hen drawss.ome^™e® 0^serve<^ with tails, in such years ashave been more than usually pestilen!
faction in the soile and aire. 1C ^ SI°n at the appearance of such tailed reptiles, c- argueth a great disposition to putre-
3 See Roget’s Bridge-water Treatise, ii. 339.
152
R E P T I L I A.
Batrachia. are the inlets; and by their alternate contraction and re-
v^laxation, the air is swallowed and forced into the windpipe,
so as to inflate the lungs. The tongue also contributes its
share in carrying on this function. This organ is remark¬
able in its connection, being fixed very differently m these
from what it is in most other animals. Its root is not si¬
tuated deep down the throat, but is attached superficially
at the fore-part of the lower jaw; it is remarkably long,
and instead of inclining forward, is turned backwards, ex¬
tending down the throat, and so acts as a valve, affecting
the entrance and exit of air from the lungs. If the mout
of the frog be forcibly kept open, it is suffocated, because
it is deprived of the power of swallowing the required air ;
and if the nostrils be closed, it in like manner can no longer
breathe. Hence the frog and allied genera may be said
rather to swallow air than to inhale it. Respiration, again,
is not carried on, as in most animals, by the chest, but by
the compression of the muscles of the abdomen ; and it these
are in any way injured or destroyed, the breathing ceases,
and the individual speedily dies. Nor is the function ot
respiration in the Batrachia confined to the lungs ; for the
blood which circulates through the capillaries of the skin is
likewise aerated by communication with the atmosphere.
This kind of respiration, closely connected with the extra¬
ordinary perspiration for which these animals are celebrated,
is of such importance to them, that if impeded by covering
the skin with oil or other unctuous substance, death will
take place almost as soon as if the lungs were removed;
and, on the other hand, the animal may be supported by it
alone, for a considerable time, if the temperature be not
too high,—a physiological fact which, we apprehend, goes
a great way to account for the extraordinary power pos¬
sessed by many of these creatures (to which we shall af¬
terwards allude), of enduring, without detriment, a long,
protracted burial, enclosed in wood or stone
The reproductive act in these reptiles, somewhat inter¬
mediate between what occurs in terrestrial animals and
fishes, is so remarkable that it must not be passed by. We
shall borrow our illustration from what occurs in the frog,
the genus by much the best known in the order. The
embraces of the male occur only once a year, and in spring.
As soon as the sun’s influence is felt in their wintry resorts,
the black spongy knob at the base of the thumb of the
male augments in size, and his abdomen swells. On find¬
ing his mate, he mounts on her back, extends his arms
round her chest, and so locks the fingers of his hands into
each other, that, from the peculiar structure, they cannot
be separated. The two animals are'thus inseparably join¬
ed, and so live and swim together for fifteen or twenty
days, or even for a month. If, under these circumstances,
the thumbs be cut off, the junction is at an end ; but if the
animal be decapitated, the grasping apparatus still performs
its mechanical office. During the period of this long em¬
brace, the spawn, as in fish, escapes in long floating cords
or chaplets, of a gelatinous fluid, crowded with the ova,
which is bedewed with the milt of the male. When the
spawning is completed, the male frog is able to dismount,
the fingers speedily regaining their flexibility, and the thumbs
their ordinary form. The reproductive power is very great,
the ova amounting to from 600 to upwards of 1000. Swam¬
merdam once reckoned 1100 from a single individual, and
Montbeillard 1300.
It is remarked that tnese animals live to a great age, if
fortunate enough to escape the attacks of their enemies;
an instance will be given in the sequel, of an individual
whose history was traced for forty years. Their foes,
however, are very numerous. A number of quadrupeds,
birds, reptiles, and fishes, live habitually at their expense. Batracb
Serpents, pikes, vultures, and storks, destroy an immense tala
number of them. Without the intervention of the last-
named birds, Egypt, in particular, would swarm with frogs.
In several countries, certain species are sought after by
man ; and they are considered by competent judges as an
agreeable and wholesome food. The Batrachia have no
weapons either of offence or defence. Taken as an order,
they are certainly as harmless to man as any tribe of ani¬
mals ; and, as has been well remarked, though the forms
of many of the species offend our notions of beauty, and
their love-songs have gained them the charactei of hor¬
rible musicians,” there is certainly nothing to justify the
aversion and disgust with which they are so usually re¬
garded.
The Batrachia generally feed upon the larvae of aquatic
insects, on worms, small mollusca, flies, &c., and alwajs
choose a prey which is living and in motion. Dead and
motionless animals are rejected by them. To obtain their
prey, they often remain fixed in one situation, with won¬
derful patience, watching till they believe it is within their
reach, and then darting at it with great rapidity, they at the
same time protrude their lengthened tongue, bedewed all
over with a viscid fluid. If we watch a frog when an insect
has approached sufficiently near it, we are surprised to ob¬
serve the insect suddenly disappear without our being able
to perceive what has become of it. This arises fiom the
frog having darted its tongue upon its victim w ith such
extreme quickness, and again withdrawn it with the adher¬
ing insect, that it is scarcely possible for the eye to follow
it in motion. Thus from the nature of their fbod5 so far
from being prejudicial, they are very useful in gardens, by
extensively destroying those small slugs, &c. which are so
detrimental to plants of every kind.
FAMILY RANIDAD FROGS IN GENERAL.
All the members of the frog family (corresponding to the
great genus Rana of Linnaeus), have in their peifect state
four extremities and no tail. Their head is flat, theii muzz.e
rounded, their mouth very large. In the greater number
the tongue is not attached to the deeper part of the throat,
but to the edge of the lower jaw, and thence proceeds back¬
wards, and down the throat. Their front feet have only four
toes, and their hind five, sometimes exhibiting the rudi¬
ments of a sixth. .
We cannot better bespeak a favourable consideration tor
this despised group than in the words of an enthusiastic
naturalist. “We shall have considerable difficulty,” says
the eloquent Lacepede, “ in assigning to frogs the place
which they should occupy in the minds of our readers, such
as it really is in nature; but it is not less true, that if toads
had never existed, if we had not before our eye this hoi rid
object of comparison, which caricatures by its resemblance,
as it defiles by its approach, the frog would appear to us as
agreeable from its conformation, as distinguished by its qua¬
lities, and interesting from the phenomena it exhibits at the
different periods of its existence. W e would behold it as
a useful animal, from which we have nothing to fear, whose
instinct is harmless, which unites an elegant form with supple
and slender limbs, and is adorned with pleasing colours,
rendered more vivid from the kind of natural varnish with
which the animal is constitutionally provided. And who
can regard with pain a being whose form is light, whose
movements are nimble, whose attitudes are graceful ? Let
us not deprive ourselves of an additional source of pleasure;
1 Although the patronymic termination in idee is not classically correct in cases where the primitive has a feminine termination, we
nevertheless follow in this matter the suggestion of Mr Kirby, and the example of Mr Macleay, who regards it as preferable to any
other yet devised, as well on account of uniformity, as euphonice gratia. See Home Entomologicce, p. 23.
REPTILIA.
rachia. and, in our peregrinations through the smiling fields, let us
nidoe. not regret to see the banks of rivulets adorned by the co-
lours of these harmless creatures, and animated by their
light and lively gambols. Let us contemplate their little
manoeuvres; observe them in the midst of stilly lakes, the
solitude of which they diminish without troubling the re¬
pose; see them exhibit, under sheets of water, the most
agreeable tints, cleave the bosom of the tranquil stream, and
vary its silvery surface with many a circling furrow.”
In summer these Ranidae are usually found in humid
places, in grassy meadows, and on the banks of streamlets,
into which, when approached, they usually leap and dive.
They swim admirably, by means of their w ebbed hind feet.
Frequently at the close of warm rains they spread themselves
through the country, and are so numerous as to be crowd¬
ed and pressed against each other in places w here they had
never been observed before. To this appearance is owing
the popular belief of rams of frogs, which undoubtedly is
usually a mistake ; but raised by a hurricane, and thereby
transported to a great distance, such an occurrence is yet,
we believe, quite within the range of possibility, As soon
as the summer is over, and the weather begins to get cold,
these reptiles lose their natural activity, and give over feed¬
ing. When the cold becomes more considerable, they pro¬
tect themselves from its rigour by sinking into the mud in
deep water, in the holes of fountains, and even in the earth.
The quantities which sometimes thus collect in one place
are so considerable, that they have been known to cover the
soil to a foot in depth, and thousands may be taken in a few
minutes. Hearne informs us, in his voyage to the Icy Sea
of North America, that he many times found under the moss
frozen frogs, whose legs might be broken without their ex¬
hibiting any sign of life, but which resumed their energy with
returning warmth.
Genus Rana, Laurenti, Cuv. Frogs proper. This first
genus of the Ranidae has the body slender, the hind feet
very long, and more or less webbed; their skin is smooth ;
their upper jaw is furnished all round with a row of minute
sharp teeth, and there is an interrupted transverse range in
the middle of the palate. The males have on each side,
beneath the ears, a fine membranaceous bag, which they
expand with air when they croak. They leap and swim ad¬
mirably. See Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig. 1.
The skeleton of the frogs does not present any trace of
ribs ; and the breast-bone, very large, with collar-bones at¬
tached, is merely cartilaginous. The cranium is almost prism
shaped, flattened above, and very broad behind, and is less
round than in the toads. 1 he vertebrae are ten in number.
The muscles have a considerable resemblance in arrange¬
ment to those of man, and are very strong, very irritable,
and very sensible to the action of galvanism. The muzzle
in frogs is somewhat more acute than that of toads ; and the
nostrils are visible at the summit. Their orbits are large,
and are directed upwards; the eye is large and brilliant,
and surrounded by a bright golden circle. The lids are
three in number, and all horizontal; the upper one is a mere
projection of the skin ; the lower is more mobile ; and the
third, which is quite transparent, moves from below upwards,
and is most of all in action. We have already dwelt so fully
on the habits of the whole group, that little requires to be
added in this place. It is, however, a curious circumstance,
that these animals, like many other inhabitants of the water,
can become habituated to the very high temperatures of
thermal springs. Thus Reaumur mentions that he had
known one found alive in winter about 1110 Fahrenheit; and
Spallanzani mentions an example of this kind wdiere, in the
baths of Pisa, they were exposed to a temperature of 138°.
The power of voice in frogs, commonly called croaking,
is exercised by the different species in very different de¬
grees ; a remark which is also applicable to the genus Bvfo
in their more limited range of expression. It is more par-
VOL. XIX.
153
ticularly during the time of rain, and in hot days, in the Batrachia.
evening and morning, that they indulge in their harmonious Ranidae.
concert. The noise which they make becomes sometimes
insupportable. It is principally the males which croak ;
their voice being stronger in consequence of the two sacs
which they possess on the sides of the neck, and which
swell out under the effort. As for the female, she has only
a slight swelling in her throat, and produces but a feeble
note. During the feudal regime in France, when all the
castles were surrounded by water, it is said that it was the
business of the serfs to attack the frogs, and prevent them
from disturbing the morning repose of the lordly inmates.
It is rather remarkable that these creatures should be so
much esteemed as delicious food in some countries, and so
much despised and even abhorred in others. The ancients
appear not to have discovered the nutritive virtues of frogs,
nor their value in the science of gastronomy. In the six¬
teenth century, however, they were served up at the best
tables on the continent. In Britain this kind of aliment is
held in detestation, whilst in France and other European
countries a very great consumption takes place. They are
captured in various ways ; either with lines, or small nets,
or by means of a rake. Sometimes they are pursued at
night, and with torches, the light of which attracts them.
In Vienna, where they are rather favourites, they are fat¬
tened in /raggeries constructed for the express purpose.
Though one species of frog is called par excellence the
edible, yet several others partake of this distinction. In
Germany all parts of these animals are eaten, the skin and
offals excepted. In France it is the hinder quarters alone
which are used. They are dressed like fish, with white
sauce, and in wine, or they are fried or even spitted. A
foreign species of great size, to be afterwards mentioned
(/?. grunniens), which abounds in the West Indies, is often
domesticated there for the use of the table. The flesh is
white and delicate; it is fricasseed like fowl; and two frogs
make a good dish. Nor is it frogs proper alone which are
used in this way. The abhorred toads are habitually eaten
by the negroes, both in Africa and America; and there
seems to be little doubt that even in Paris the thighs of these
animals are constantly sold for those of frogs.
We now proceed to a rapid sketch of the most remark¬
able species.
11. esculenta, Linn. The edible frog, green frog, or com¬
mon frog of France. The colours of the green frog vary so
much, that different individuals might almost be taken for
a diversity of species. It is often of a beautiful green co¬
lour, spotted with black, with three yellow stripes on the
back, and the belly yellowish. This description generally
holds good in the environs of Paris. Those in the rivers
and ditches of Lombardy have the back of a uniform green
colour. Another variety, which has been observed in Hol¬
land, has the lips black, round black spots on its sides, and
the belly entirely white ; in Provence it has a reddish belly ;
and in the neighbourhood of Beauvois, sombre green, with
transverse brownish spots upon the limbs, is found to be
the prevailing hue. It varies in size from twro to three
inches, measured from the snout to the end of the body. It
abounds in all dead and still waters, and is pre-eminent
for its croaking powers. It is very common in France,
Italy, and Germany ; but is rare in Britain. It supplies, in
the former countries, a very wholesome and agreeable food.
It deposits its ova in small bundles, in the pools. This species
seldom removes far from the margin of some quiet stream¬
let, into which it plunges on the least noise. It swims in
the same manner as man, with its head above the surface.
It may be often seen amusing itself among aquatic plants,
darting after insects on the wing, mounting upon the um¬
brageous leaves, or squatted on the bank, with its snout pro¬
jecting, as if to court the rays of the sun, in which it de¬
lights, even during the most scorching days. It is indeed
u
154
H E P T I L I A.
Batrachia. most agile in this kind of weather, and leaps with the great-
llanidae. est liveliness. It feeds solely upon living objects, and will
' y'—^ swallow no animal whose motions do not prove it to be in
life. Its voracity is so extreme, that it may be captured
with almost anything which is made to move, and will dart
at a hook when baited with a rose or poppy leaf. With the
warmth of autumn the gaiety of the green frog ceases;
and as winter becomes severe, it entirely disappears, plun¬
ging deep into the mud to secure an asylum from the co.d.
Here they often crowd together, as if for the purpose o
keeping each other warm.
R. temporaria, Linn.; R.fusca terrestns, Roes. The com¬
mon frog of Britain. The red frog of the French. This
species, the most common in Britain, and also abundant
throughout Europe, has the same elegant and slender form
as the preceding, and differs from it merely in its colour,
which is often of a russet hue, like that of decayed leaves,
varied in front with black spots between its brilliant eyes
and upper lip. These spots sometimes assume the form ot
whiskers passing down the neck. It is of the same size as
the preceding, and is met with from early spring-time
till towards the close of autumn, leaping in woods and mea¬
dows, sheltering itself beneath hedges, and penetrating
into cottage-gardens, where it ought to be protected, as
waging deadly war with destructive snails and insects. It
proves quite as good eating as the green frog, and in trance
is often placed upon the table. It is by no means so great
a croaker as the preceding species; and those accustomed
to the latter think it does not croak at all. It is most ge¬
nerally found upon land in the summer season ; and while
the green frog rarely abandons the immediate neighbour¬
hood of still or gently flowing waters, this species is often
found in brushwood, remote from the banks ot streams. At
the approach of winter it retires into fountains and ponds ot
pure water, usually, it is alleged, avoiding miry places. Nor
does it bury itself in mud like its congener ; for numbers
of these frogs may be taken during the winter by making
holes in the ice. It lays its ova at a later season than the
green frog, and the development of its tadpole ft slower.
Like the preceding, it presents many varieties of colour,
which it would be tedious here to name.
Under the appellation of R. cultripes, Cuv., may be noted
a frog which occurs in the south of France, bespeckled with
black spots, its feet extensively webbed, and especially re¬
markable for having a vestige of a sixth toe, armed with a
horny and cutting nail. The spotted frog (/t1. punctata,
Daudin) occurs in the neighbourhood of Paris, though not
very common. It rarely exceeds an inch in length. Its
gray colour is relieved by a number of green spots over the
body, and a black spot behind the eye, and it is said to
change its colour when alarmed. Its toes are only partially
webbed. The folded frog {R. plicata, Daudin) is found in
the most southern parts of France. It is of the same di¬
minutive size as the last, of a brown colour above, and gray
beneath; the fingers quite free, the toes semi-palmated. It
is particularly distinguished by having two folds of the skin
on each flank ; and there are four large brown spots on the
chest and arms. Our knowledge of the brawling frog (R.
clamitans, Bose) is due to the indefatigable Bose, who dis¬
covered it in the marshes near Charlestown, United States.
It is about two inches long, of a dull ash colour, spotted
with black, the upper lip green. Its vivacity is extreme,
and it is by far the most lively of all known frogs, so that
it is extremely difficult to catch it if it once makes its es¬
cape. It does not remove far from water, and when hunt¬
ed, shoots into the stream with a sharp cry. Its continual
croak is almost insupportable.
The bull-frog of the Americans, R. pipiens, Linn., is one
of the largest species of the genus, being three or four
inches broad, and six or eight long; and when measured
with extended legs, its entire length is about eighteen inch¬
es. The hind limbs are long, stout, and deeply palmated. Batraeh
It is of a dull green colour, varied with black, and relieved ^mda
bv a coppery yellow circle which surrounds the tympanum,
and marks the situation of the ear. It abounds m Caro¬
lina and Virginia, remaining at the entrance of its hole,
near some fountain, into which it precipitates itself on the
least alarm. Catesby affirms that it utters sounds very
much resembling the bellowing of a bull, and with greater
force when at the bottom of the water. During the sum¬
mer evenings, and in dry weather, it makes indeed a most
astounding noise. It is exceedingly partial to young ducks
and goslings, which it swallows whole, and will proceed to
a considerable distance from its home in search of prey. As
the voracity of this species is proportioned to its bulk, it is
rare to find more than a single pair in each marsh. This
frog is very difficult to catch ; it is only during the night,
and when it removes a little from its haunt, that it is pos-
sible to procure an individual. When on level ground it
makes leaps of from six to eight feet in length. Baron Cu¬
vier justly remarks, that several species go under the gene¬
ral name of bull-frog in America. . #
The grunting frog, R. grunniens, Daudin, is of the same
large dimensions as the preceding, and inhabits the Flori-
das and the West Indies, where it has been accurately ob¬
served by M. Moreau de Jonnes. It is vulgarly designated
a toad, because it frequents shady and humid places, and
not the vicinity of waters, as the other frogs. In its habits it
is nocturnal, and its strength is so great that at a single
spring it can clear a wall five feet high. It is very torpid
during the dry season, but resumes its vivacity when the
rains set in. It is this frog which is often domesticated in
the West Indies for the use of the table, and becomes to¬
lerably familiar; the flesh is white and delicate, and two
frogs form a very good dish. The argus frog of Shaw, R.
ocellata, Linn., is often mistaken for the preceding. It in¬
habits Pennsylvania and Carolina, and was first figured by
Seba. It is one of the largest of the genus, equalling if not
exceeding the bull-frog in size, and being stronger; it is of a
pale reddish-brown colour, striped with chestnut; the feet
are unwebbed, and each joint is furnished with a kind of
tubercle. The laughing frog, R- ridibunda, Gmeh, accord¬
ing to Pallas, is common about the Ural and the Caspian Sea.
It is of great size, weighing half a pound. It always keeps
in the water, and in the evening utters its croakings in a
way that resembles a horselaugh. The paradoxical jrog,
R. paradoxica, Linn., the jackie of the French, is remark¬
able for the great size of its tadpole state in proportion to
the adult animal. The loss of its enormous tail, and of the
envelopes of its body, induces a great diminution in bulk ,
its length in the tadpole state being seven or eight inches,
while that of the body when transformed is only three.
Thus many of the first observers were led to the conclusion
that it was the frog which was metamorphosed into the tad¬
pole, or, as they declared, into a fish. I his species is green,
spotted with brown, and is especially recognised by irre¬
gular stripes of a brown colour running along the limbs.
The male has a gular sac, and the hind foot is provided
with a supplemental toe. It inhabits Guiana. Our readers
will bear in mind that in the preceding list we have not at¬
tempted more than to give a specimen of the distinctive
characters and habits of some of the best-established species.
Many more have been described and catalogued in systema¬
tic works. .
Genus Ceratophris, Boie, Cuvier. This genus is dis¬
tinguished by the great size of the head, by the skin being
rough, and engrained in whole or in part, and by a mem¬
branous or horn-like prominence on each eye-lid. (See
Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig. 2.) In certain species the tym¬
panum is hid beneath the skin. The species are found in
South America and Asia. The horned frog, C. varius, Boie,
Rana cornuta, Seba, is certainly one of the most singular of
R £ P T I L I A.
15!)
:trachia
ianidre.
the Batrachia, having an aspect exceedingly deformed. This
arises not so much from the general shape of the animal, as
from the extraordinary structure of the upper eyelids, which
are so formed as to resemble a pair of strange sharp-pointed
horns, while the width of the mouth exceeds that of its con¬
geners, and equals half the length of its body. Seba, in fact,
describes it as having two sharp horns on its head, within
which its eyes are situated; and Schneider more accurate¬
ly, as a pair of accuminated callous processes, of a conical
shape, placed upon the eyelids. The colour is grayish yel¬
low, striped with brown. The body is rough, with pointed
spines. The head is very large and thick, and the tongue
proportionably so. Baron Cuvier assigns five species to this
genus, from the works of Seba, Daudin, Spix, and Prince
Maximilian. In Mr Gray’s catalogue an additional one is
furnished by Mr Wagler, the habitat of which is Asia.
Genus Dactylethra, Cuv. The south of Africa, ac¬
cording to Cuvier, produces a group of Batrachians which
resemble the frogs in their teeth, their smooth skin, their
pointed toes, those of the hind feet being deeply webbed,
and the inner three having their extremity enveloped in
a conical nail, which is black; their head is small, and
their mouth not very large. The tongue, attached deep
in the throat, is fleshy and large ; their tympanum not ap¬
parent. These numerous distinctive characters have induced
the baron to constitute a new genus under the above name,
from daxTvXfipa, a thimble. The smooth toad, crapaud lisse
of Daudin (Pipa bnfonia of Merrem), belongs to it.
Genus Hyla, Laurenti; Calamita, Schn. The tree-
frogs of the English,—Rainettes of French authors. The
Hylae were first separated from the frogs and toads by Lau¬
renti, and his arrangetnent is now universally followed.
They differ from the other genera in having all the extre¬
mities of their toes enlarged, and rounded into a kind of
disk or cushion, usually covered with a viscid humour,
which enables them to attach themselves firmly to foreign
bodies, and to climb trees. (See Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig.
3.) Trees, in fact, constitute their abode during the whole of
summer, and there they hunt for food. They, however, pro¬
duce their ova in water, and shelter themselves in the mud
during winter. They have a gular pouch, and are good
croakers.
1 ^6 disks with which the toes of the tree-frogs are pro¬
vided are simply fleshy, and in the form of lentils. Exa¬
mined with the microscope, they appear like porous sieves,
from which a glutinous fluid slowly exudes ; they are usual¬
ly somewhat concave, and are sometimes furnished with a
distinct fold. By means of this apparatus the species can
attach themselves to smooth surfaces ; they can leap from
branch to branch, and can traverse twigs when agitated by
the wind. They may be regarded as among the most nimble
of their kind. They are, however, more tranquil than many,
and watch most patiently for prey. In the day time, and
especially when the sun’s heat is great, they are said to shel¬
ter themselves among the thick foliage, putting themselves
in motion on the approach of evening, and then sporting with
dehght. The croaking of these animals is similar to that of
the proper frogs, but stronger, though not quite so sharp. It
is most frequently heard in wet weather; but on a beautiful
summer evening the traveller is sometimes surprised by a
vast group of these hoarse musicians, assembled on the tops
of the highest trees. They feed on the insect tribes. Late
m the season they retire to the w'ater, where they pass the
winter in a kind of lethargy, and remain there till the spawn¬
ing season has elapsed. Some Indian species deposit their
eggs on the under side of leaves hanging over water ; and
General Hardwicke has observed them place their ova on
a leaf which stood over a pail of water, so that the young;
dropt into the fluid beneath. There is not a single species
o the tree-frog in the British isles; they occur, how¬
ever, frequently in the more favoured climes of Europe,
and superabound in warmer regions. The number of as- Batrachia.
certained species is not inferior to that of the frogs pro- Ranidae.
per. They are among the most interesting of the race,
and many of them are very beautiful.
Arborea, Cuv.; R. Arborea, Lin. Common tree-
frog. In beauty of colouring, as well as in elegance of
form, and general agility of movement, the tree-frog
exceeds every other European species. It is found in
t ranee, Germany, and Italy; but more towards the south
than north. It avoids dry situations and mountainous fo¬
rests, and delights in humid woods, in hedges bordering on
marshes, and in parks and gardens ornamented with water.
Its principal sojourn during the summer months is the up¬
per parts of trees, searching for insects, which it catches
with extreme alacrity, stealing softly upon them, as a cat
towards a mouse, and seizing them with a sudden spring
of frequently more than a yard in height. It often sus¬
pends itself by its feet, or by a single foot, or even by its
abdomen and drawn-up toes from a twig, or the under por¬
tion of a leaf, thus continuing beneath the shade. It is
among the smallest of European frogs. Its colour is green
above, more or less bright; its belly whitish, and covered
with numerous small tubercles ; a dark violet-coloured
streak runs along the flanks; and the limbs are reddish.
I he body is smooth above, and rather short and plump;
the hind legs are very long and slender. The fore feet
have four toes, the hind five, and all of them terminate in
dilated flattish tips. The surface of the abdomen is very
remarkable, being so granular, adhesive, and elastic, that
it enables the animal to adhere almost to anything, even,
it is said, to polished glass, at whatever inclination, or in
whatever position it is placed. The spawn is deposited to¬
wards the end of April, and the perfect animal appears in
August, when it ascends the neighbouring trees, and as¬
sorts with its parents. Being very noisy on the approach
of rain, this species is considered as an excellent barome¬
ter ; and in the German Ephemerides there is an account of
one which was kept in a state of domestication for seven
years, and gave the greatest satisfaction from being pecu¬
liarly weather-wise.
The Zebra hyla, H. calamita, Gray, Calamita maxi¬
ma, Schn., appears to be one of the largest of these slen¬
der-bodied frogs, a specimen described by Seba having
a.ttairfed the length of five inches. It is a native of Caro¬
lina and Virginia. It is of a rufous-brown colour, striped
with chestnut bands ; all its feet are webbed, and the toes
orbicular. The Merian hyla, H. Meriana, Gray, Rana
Merianct, Shaw, first depicted and described by Maria
Merian, in her Surinam, merits a distinct notice. It is
about three times the size of the common hyla; and on
each side of the neck has a remarkable protuberance, re¬
sembling an obtusely conical inflated pouch ; its hind feet
are distinctly webbed. It is of a brownish-green colour
above, and is variegated with patches of yellow. It is found
sometimes on trees, and sometimes in water. Mad. Me-
lian states that they have external ears, and that the balls
on their toes facilitate their progress over the soft marshes
which they frequent. The H. tibiatrix, Laurenti, is an
American species, and is said by Seba to croak in a melo¬
dious manner during very hot weather after the setting of
the sun, while in the cold and rainy season it is silent, con¬
cealing itself at the bottom of the waters.
H. lateralis, Catesby, has been observed in Carolina,
and also, it is said, in Surinam. It is usually found attached
underneath the leaves of trees, concealing itself, and lying
secure from birds and serpents, its most dangerous foes.
They are sometimes found in vast heaps, the bushes and
woods being completely covered with them ; and their
croaking may be heard at the distance of whole leagues.
They make prodigious leaps, and hence in the United
States are called the crickets of the savannahs, their cry
156
R E P T I L I A.
Batrachia. Visa resembling the nmse made by that mseet. H. hnc
Ran ids. toria, Cuv. R. tinctona, Lm. or Dying Hyla, has a smgu
    lar property assigned it, apparently on good authority. It
is sauHhat by its means the American Indians partially
change the plumage of their parrots from green to red.
With this object in view, they pluck out the green ea s
when the bird is young, and rub the wounded skin with the
blood of the hyla, after which the feathers spring up of a
fine red or yellow colour. It inhabits Surinam and Guiana,
frequenting the woods nearly the whole year, concealing
itself in clefts of trees, and under the bark m cold nights,
and resorting to water only for the PurP0S"
tion. Cuvier has enumerated, as among the largest and
most beautiful, the H. bicolor ot Daudin and Sp«, itj
of a celestial blue colour above, and of a rosy tmt bebw.
He has catalogued several additional species; and ^ir
Gray’s list is very extensive, including some species fio
^ Genus' bufo. The generic characters of this group,
which includes the toads, are, a body thick, shorfi clumsy,
and generally covered with warts and pimples, with a glan
dular pad behind the ears, from all of which distils a milky
fetid humour ; there are usually no teeth; the hind tec
frequently short, and hence the species rather crawl than
leap; and they are generally found at a considerable dis¬
tance from water. By Linnaeus they were incorporated
the same genus with the frogs, and so close is their resem¬
blance, that that arrangement is still sometimes followed.
Toads have in all times and places been regarded as dc-
gusting animals, and sometimes even as objects ot hono .
They are usually believed to be venomous, and are conse¬
quently subjected to proscription and extermination, it
will be found, however, on examination, as has been ob¬
served by a noted naturalist, that these animals are compa¬
ratively harmless, that the study of their organization in¬
volves much interest, and that their history presents a crowd
of facts equally curious and important. A slight sketch ot
the structure and habits of these despised animals having
already appeared in our general remarks on the order, we
shall here allude only to a few distinguishing traits.
The European toads are stated to have only eight verte¬
bra?, and some as few as seven. Though generally describ¬
ed as wanting teeth, yet some species have them on the
gums, large and curved. The tongue is not forked, as in
most of the frogs; nor do they possess the gular pouches,
which give to the frogs their peculiarly resounding voices.
The glandular cushion-like body behind the ears, sometimes
stated as the most distinct mark of the genus, is considered
by Schneider as nothing else than the parotid gland, well
known in man as the seat of that disease called the mumps,—
with what degree of accuracy we are not prepared to say.
The toads, in general, are heavy sluggish animals in com¬
parison with frogs, and sometimes even crawl with difficulty.
* The cuticular excretion usually regarded as so offensive
is possessed by frogs as well as toads ; but is much more
abundant in the latter. It is alleged that the toad can at
will increase the secretion of this viscous humour, and cause
it to distil like dew from all its pores. The most important
use, as previously suggested, is probably connected with re¬
spiration ; the one usually assigned is, that it defends the
animal from the heat of the sun and the dryness of the air.
This abundant perspiration must, of course, maintain the
species at a low temperature; and Adanson states the fact
to be so well known, that the negroes in traversing the burn¬
ing sands of Senegal are in the habit of applying a live crea¬
ture of this kind to the forehead for the purpose of cooling
it. These reptiles have the power of emitting another se¬
cretion, which is regarded as a weapon ot defence and of¬
fence. It is discharged from the lower gut, is shot forth in
a small stream, and often occasions apprehensions from its
supposed venomous nature. When toads are surprised and
alarmed, instead of seeking safety in flight, tney make a dead ^
halt swell out their body, making it hard and elastic, and v^
dfstil this humour from its surface in augmented quantiUes.
They also make efforts to bite, without, however, inflicting
any injury. The direct application of the fluids proceeding
from the common toad to the human skin is innocuous and
the idea that it confers a poisonous quality upon vegetables,
fruits, and mushrooms, is entirely groundless.
The process of spawning in the toad is carried on much
in the same way as in the frog. In the latter ova ap¬
pear imbedded in a glary continuous mass, which has been
compared to a cord or chaplet: m the toad two of the.-e
cords appear together, the united length of which would
extend to about twenty feet. Ten or twelve days after de¬
position, the eggs acquire double their volume ; the tadpoles
issue forth about the twentieth day, and acquire their gills
two or three days after. , ^ .
Though the taste is not likely to become prevalent, there
is no doubt that toads have been made familiar pets. Mr
Pennant gives a curious account of one having lived m a
kind of domestic state for the space of more than forty years,
and of having been, in a great degree, reclaimed from its
natural shyness and desire of concealment. On the ap¬
proach of its master, and on the lighting of the candles a
night, it left its retreat, and came to demand its regular
evening meal. It grew to a very large size, and attracted
many curious visitors. It was often brought to table, and
fed upon various insects, which it seized with avidity, with¬
out being embarrassed by the presence of company. Its
favourite retreat was beneath the steps ot the house-dooi;
and it had all the appearance of surviving many additional
years, when it was attacked and destroyed by a raven.
But the most curious trait in the history of the toad, is
its alleged power of being encased and buried for a long
period of time without food or respiration, and of reviving
again when reintroduced to light and air. Not that tne
toad is singular among the Batrachia for this faculty, for its
conveners are likewise celebrated on account of it. Aor
would it appear to be confined to this order, for smmar sto¬
ries are told of serpents, and even of fish, insects, (Ac. 1 he
attention of the French academy was directed to this sub¬
ject about the year 1771, from its having been stated, that,
upon pulling down a wall of a mansion belonging to the
Duke of Orleans, and which was forty years old, a toad
which proved to be alive, was found in it, its hind feet be¬
ing actually entrapt and imbedded in the mortar. Stimu¬
lated by the interest which this story excited, M. Ileni-
saut, in presence of the academy, enclosed three toads in
as many boxes, surrounding them with a thick coating o
plaster, and deposited them in an apartment of the academy.
Here they were left untouched for eighteen months, when,
on being examined, two of them were found alive, and t le
third dead. The former were re-enclosed, and on a second
examination some months after, were found dead, ihe
animals were completely impacted and imbedded, without
leaving any space for surrounding air. Notwithstanding the
apparently conclusive nature of these experiments, the pos¬
sibility of such long endurance was still denied by many,—
the more so, as the fact was as inexplicable as extraordinary.
Dr Edwards, however, performed somewhat similar |xPe^
riments in Paris in the year 1817, by shutting up toads ei-
fectively in plaster, when he found that they lived for a long
period; and additional light was thrown upon the subject by
that observer discovering, that when the plaster was made
impervious to air, as by sinking the whole mass in water,
the toads speedily perished. From this it follows, that ow
ing to the porosity of the plaster, a portion of air still pene¬
trates to the imprisoned toad, sufficient to maintain its vita
functions in that low state in which we often see these rep-
tiles during hybernation, or when completely frozen.^ the
importance, under these circumstances, of the cuticmar re-
R E P T I L I A.
iatrachia. spiration already mentioned, is obvious. Analogous phe-
Sianidae. n0mena are observable in other classes of the animal king-
—v—^ dom. Thus, the reviving powers of the Rotifer redivivus,
though so astonishing, are now undisputed ; and no one
doubts Franklin’s anecdote of the apparently dead flies, which
he took from a fresh-drawn bottle of Madeira, and revived
in the sun. Many drowned insects, to all appearance dead,
are made to renew their vital powers when sprinkled over
with dry warm sand, or pounded plaster; and it appears
that in like manner, a certain feeble life, capable under al¬
tered circumstances of quick and strong increase, lingers
long in many reptiles.
The great majority of the instances of imprisoned toads
and frogs is said to have occurred in growing trees, hard
wood, coal, and in sandstones and other rocks not of a very
dense or impenetrable consistence. The fact has been
long and frequently alleged, and the difficulty of account¬
ing for it forms the chief ground of the prevailing scepti¬
cism. The wonder produced is forcibly though quaintly
expressed in a Latin inscription written in letters of gold,
framed with a coat of arms, and hung over a mantle-piece
of sandstone, formerly in Chillingham Castle. In this sand¬
stone there was a deep excavation, believed for ages to have
been the living tomb of one of these creatures. We give
a translation of a part of this document.
Hither, Stagyrite!
If you would see a phenomenon more wonderful than Euripus,
Come hither;
Let seas ebb and flow as they may, and. let him be a lunatic
Who despoils the moon of her honours.
Behold here a novelty, such as neither Africa presents to thee..
Nor the Nile with her fabulous sands;
A tire and pure flame
Existing, though shut out from vital air.
From the dark recesses of the cut rock which you see.
The hands of the obstetrical stone-cutter gave light
To a living toad !!
In illustration of this alleged phenomenon, we shall adduce
but a single recent instance out of many. On the 25th of
July 1832, four men made affidavit, “ that they were asto¬
nished, on splitting a large block of millstone grit on Stain-
more, more than a ton weight, by a living yellow frog spring¬
ing out of a cavity in the centre of the said solid rock,
w here it had been as closely imbedded as a icatch in its outer
case, without any communication with the surface nearer
than eight inches. This frog was conveyed to Brough,
Westmoreland, and given to Mr Rumney, surgeon, in whose
possession it now (Jan. 21, 1833) continues in a healthy
living state.”
We have already mentioned, that however disgusting may
be their qualities in the apprehension of many, toads are
eaten greedily by savage tribes, and not seldom, though un¬
wittingly, by the more fastidious inhabitants of the gay and
splendid capitals of Europe. We now proceed to allude
more particularly to a few of the species.
The common toad (R. vulgaris,—Rana bufo, Linn.) is
of a russet or brownish-gray colour, sometimes olive, and
even blackish. It is covered with numerous round tubercles
on the back, and wuth smaller ones beneath. The hind feet
are semi-palmated. It is found throughout Europe (most
abundantly in its western parts), and is common in this coun¬
try. It usually sojourns in obscure and sheltered places, and
passes the winter in holes which it finds or makes for itself.
It spawns in water in March and April; the ova are very
small and numerous, suspended in two cords of transparent
jelly. The tadpole is blackish, and remarkably small when
it loses its tail and acquires its feet. The branchial aperture
is on the left side. This toad is long lived, fifteen years being
assigned as not unfrequent. Its cry has a distant resem-
157
blance to the barking of a dog, and during summer it croaks Batrachia.
feebly Ranidap.
Many toads possess a strong disgusting smell. Of this
kind are the rush toad {Rana bufo calamita, Gmel.), of
which the colour and size much resemble those of the com¬
mon toad, the cushions behind its ears being somewhat less.
Its hind feet are not at all webbed, and it has a pouch or
sac under its throat. Its pace differs from that of most of
the toad tribe, as it runs nearly after the manner of a mouse,
with the body and limbs somewhat raised. It is chiefly a
nocturnal animal. The ova are contained in twm cords ; and
the evolution of the ova is so speedy, that the tadpoles li¬
berate themselves in the space of five or six days. During
spring it frequents places overgrown with reeds, and croaks
loudly. When handled or irritated it pours forth its cutane¬
ous exudation, and squirts its other fluid to a distance of three
or four feet, and thus diffuses an intolerable odour, resemb¬
ling the smoke of gunpowder, but stronger, and so perma¬
nent, that if it fall upon furniture it cannot be got rid of for
months. Analogous to, if not identical with the preced¬
ing, is B. calamita of Laurenti, the natter-jack of British
Erpetologists,—mephetic toad of Dr Shaw. In general ap¬
pearance it resembles our common toad, but the eyes are
more projecting, with the eyelids greatly elevated above
the crown, and there is a line of bright yellow along the
middle of the back. This reptile was first remarked as
British by the late Sir Joseph Banks, in Lincolnshire, and
has since been met with on many heaths near London, as
well as in Cambridgeshire and Norfolk. Except during the
spawning season, it appears to affect dry and sandy districts.
It is of much more active habits than the common toad,
its pace “ being a kind of shuffling run.”1 It never leaps.
The broivn toad, B. fuscus, Laurenti, is also distinguish¬
ed by an offensive discharge; but in addition to the gun-
powder-smoke smell, and overpowering it, there is an ex¬
tremely strong odour of garlick or onions, which produces
the same effects upon the eyes as do these vegetables. The
whole of the skin of this animal is nearly smooth, and
the hind limbs are long and deeply w^ebbed. It leaps well,
and prefers the neighbourhood of water. Its ova are depo¬
sited in a single cord, which, however, is thicker than the
double one of the common toad. The tadpole of this spe¬
cies arrives at a great size before it attains its complete
form, so that, according to Roesel, it is considered by the
country people as a kind of fish, and is eaten accordingly.
The variable or green toad, B. variabilis, Cuv., Rana va-
riabilis, Gmel. and Pallas, B. viridis of Schneider and Shaw,
is a third species, likewise characterized by a most disa¬
greeable smell, resembling that of the rank and deadly night¬
shade, but more powerful, and soon contaminating any close
apartment. This kind is a native of Germany, the south
of France, and other parts of Europe. It derives its spe¬
cific name from the tints of its colour undergoing striking
changes as it sleeps or wakes, or is exposed to sun or
shade. It is called the green toad from its spots being of
that colour. Pallas’s account of it is as follows; The gene¬
ral colour is pale or whitish, becoming in hot sunshine entire¬
ly gray ; when asleep the spots only appear gray, and when
torpid the general hue is flesh-coloured.
The obstetric toad, B. obstetricus of Laurenti, is a small
grayish reptile Avhich inhabits France, and affords an exam¬
ple of a very curious instinct. The process of spawning is
not conducted by this species in the water, but on land, and
there the male assists the female to get rid of her eggs,
which amount to about sixty. These he attaches in small
bundles to his thighs by means of an adhesive fluid, and
for wreeks carries them about wnth great care. When
the young are ready to escape, he seeks some stagnant wa-
1 Jenyns’s British Vertebrate Animals, 303.
158
R E P T I L I A.
Batrachia. ter, and there deposits them in safety, the tadpole soon is-
Ranidse. suing forth, and swimming immediately. The prickly toad,
' * ' B. spinosus of Daudin, which derives its name from strong
projections on its tubercles, seems also to possess a singu¬
lar peculiarity. It is never met with on the surface of the
soil, and is only procured by means of the plough. The
country people are persuaded it never leaves its retreat vo¬
luntarily ; and Daudin suspects that it deposits its ova in
the earth, in humid places, near the subterranean sources
of water. . „
Most of the toads of tropical climates are remarkable lor
their great size. Of this we give an instance in the ma¬
rine toad, Rana marina, Gmel., a native of South America,
the length of whose body extends to nearly a foot. It is
also remarkable for its post-aural projections, which are an
inch long, and oval shaped. The feet are not webbed ; the
toes are terminated with round knobs, and furnished witi
short claws resembling the human nails in miniature. 1 ^e!e
are many other recorded species of toads proper, on which,
however, we cannot dwell; and we now proceed to seve¬
ral genera which have recently been separated from the
group. ,
Genus Bombinator. This genus differs from the other
toads only in having the tympanum, or soft covering of the
ear, hid under the skin. Rhinella of Fitzinger (Oxyr-
hyncus of Spix) is distinguished by a prolonged muzzle.
(See Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig. 4.) M. Gay has lately in¬
formed us (Ann. des Sc. Nat., Avril 1836, p. 224), that in
Chili there is a genus allied to Rhinella, consisting of seve¬
ral agreeably coloured species, which are always viviparous.
In the same locality he made a similar remark regarding
several species of snakes. To these two genera succeed the
Otilopha of Cuvier, which has also an acute snout, and
on each side of the head a projecting crest extending to the
gland called parotid. In the genus Breviceps of Merrem
(part of Fitzinger’s genus Engystoma), neither the tym¬
panum nor parotids are apparent; the body is oval, the head
and mouth are remarkably small, and the feet scarcely at
all webbed. (See Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig. 5.) We shall
here introduce a very few species belonging to these genera.
To the genus Bombinator belongs B. bombinus (Rana
bombina, Gmel.), which is the smallest and most aquatic
of the European toads. It is gray or brown above, black¬
ish blue with orange spots beneath. The hind feet are
completely webbed, and nearly as long as those of frogs,
so that it leaps nearly as well as they do. It affects mo¬
rasses. Of the genus Rhinella, Spix has depicted and de¬
scribed five species, most of which, according to Cuvier, it
is difficult to distinguish from the proper toads. The mitred
toad of English writers, the margaritifera of Gmelin, is usual¬
ly adduced as a type of the genus Otilopha. It is a native
of Brazil, and about the size of the common toad ; it is ru¬
fous brown above and whitish beneath, beset with nume¬
rous small tubercles of a bluish or pearly cast, whence the
French name crapaud perle ; but its principal characteris¬
tic is the subtriangular form of its head, the sides of which,
beyond each eye, project into an angular protuberance. From
the nose likewise an elevated white line runs along each side
of the head, over the shoulder, to the sides; the fore feet
are unwebbed, the hind are partly so. Genuine specimens
of the genus Breviceps present animals not a little singular
in their forms. Such are the short-headed and the indistinct
toad of British authors, the Rana breviceps and R. systoma
of Schneider. They are oval-shaped like eggs, with scarcely
any projecting head ; and one of them has actually been
called the headless toad (Rana acephala, Schn.). The short¬
headed toad is a very small animal, about half the size of
the common toad ; the head is completely blended and in¬
corporated with the thorax, and the surface is rather wrinkled
than tuberculous. It is a native of Africa. R. systo¬
ma comes from the East Indies, and has a thick rounded
body, with a head so lost in the general outline that the Batrack
mouth is scarcely apparent; the legs, too, are peculiarly
short, and appear almost as if imbedded in the wrinkled skin
of the sides. ,. . . .
We now advance to the genus Pipa, which is universally
distinguished from the toads. Its generic characters are
the following : The body is flattened horizontally ; the head
is broad and triangular; the tongue is so adherent that it
appears to be wanting (it is often said to be so) ; the tym¬
panum is hid beneath the skin ; the small eyes aie placed
toward the margin of the lower jaw ; the extremities of all
the fingers are divided into four small points ; and finally,
the male has an enormously sized larynx, like a triangular
osseous box, which encloses two moveable ossiculi which
occasionally close the branchiae. Of this genus, that well-
known and most singular animal commonly called the
Surinam toad (Pipa Surinamensis, Laurenti,—Rana pipa
of Linnaeus), may be taken as a type. It seems to have
been introduced to the notice of naturalists at the close of
the seventeenth century, and was first described by the ce¬
lebrated Ruysch. It is one of the most uncouth and hi¬
deous of nature’s creatures, and is especially signalized for
some of the most extraordinary phenomena regarding the
growth of its young which are to be found throughout the
range of the animal kingdom. The size of the Surinam
toad considerably exceeds that of our common species.
The mouth is very wide ; the hands are tetradactylous; the
fingers long and slender, and each divided at the tip into
four distinct processes, all of which, when narrowly inspect¬
ed with a glass, are found to be again subdivided in nearly
a similar manner. The web of the hind feet reaches to the
tips of the toes. The male is rather larger than the female,
sometimes attaining the length of seven inches. The back
is studded with granules, which are somewhat more nume¬
rous and larger on the female; the skin round the neck,^ in
both sexes, forms a kind of loose wrinkled collar. T. he
general colour of both is a dark blackish brown. This rep¬
tile has been long celebrated for the manner in which its
young are perpetuated; and on this account it has become
the object of much attention. It was for a time supposed
that the ova issued from the deeper seated parts of the back,
and were then enclosed in small cells on its surface till they
were regularly hatched. Later observations in correcting
this mistake have demonstrated a not less peculiar history.
The precise truth was first made known by Dr Fermin,
who had an opportunity, during his residence at Surinam,
to investigate the creature’s structure in a more satisfactory
manner than had previously been practicable. His account
is, that the female Pipa spawns at the brink ot some stag¬
nant water, and that the male immediately collects and
amasses the heap of ova, and after impregnation deposits
them with great care on the back of the female, where they
are received into cellules which at this period are open
for their reception, but speedily close upon them. They
are there retained to the time of their second birth, which
happens in somewhat less than three months. During this
period the cells gradually enlarge, till the young emerge
from the back of the parent in a completely formed state.
During the time of their concealment, however, they under¬
go the usual change which is effected upon their congeners,
being first hatched from the ova in the form ot a tadpole;
and then, after gradually acquiring their perfect shape,
losing their tail, and so forth, they are extruded from the
cellules. This strange process has since been examined
and verified by Camper, Spallanzani, Blumenbach, and other
naturalists, and is now established as a phenomenon equally
true as extraordinary. Fermin found the brood he observ¬
ed amount to seventy-five, and the period of their extrusion
as young Pipas occupied five days. When they had made
their escape, the female, having rubbed the epidermis from
her back on some hard substance, returned to land, ihis
R E P T I L I A.
: atrachia. species lives in the fresh waters of South America, and some-
lialaman- times in obscure houses in Cayenne and Surinam, where it
dndie. jg cajjec} te([0 and curucu. According to Seba and Madame
Merian, the negroes of the colonies use its flesh as food.
Spix has figured another species, P. curururu, nearly
resembling the above, which affects the bottoms of lakes in
Brazil. That author assures us that the female does not
receive and hatch its young in the alveola on her back.
Another kind is preserved in the Paris museum,—a true
Pi pa, according to Cuvier, from the Rio Negro. It is quite
smooth, and has a narrower head than the common species.
The baron names it Pipa Icevis.
FAMILY SA LAM AN Dill D/E. NEWTS OR SALAMAN¬
DERS.
We have now reached a group of which the name has
been celebrated from remote antiquity, and the history en¬
compassed by fables in every age. “It was on the fortu¬
nate soil of ancient Greece, in the bosom of a wise and war¬
like nation, where imagination, favoured by a happy clime,
exaggerated even the wonders of creative power, that the
reputation of the salamander originated.”1 It was among
that fanciful people that an obscure and changeful reptile
was as it were consecrated to posterity by a fantastic but
immortal name.
But the times of superstitious fiction regarding the once
famous salamander are now for ever passed and gone, and
it is only to be regretted that they have not carried along
with them the ignorant prejudice which still remains re¬
specting a few harmless reptiles. “ The daughter of fire,”
with her “ frame of icy crystal,” is now nearly forgotten ;
and for unchanging love and unflinching courage, other
and more fitting emblems have been long invented. The
ancient story of the salamander enduring fire and extin¬
guishing flame is now recognised only as an idle tale ; and
scarcely less so its faculty of poisoning vegetables, and its
other pernicious powers. These gross errors being swept
away, more room is left to investigate whatever is instruc¬
tive in the history of those once widely abused, but really
interesting creatures.
As the salamanders resemble in many respects the fore-
going genera of the order, many of the details which have
previously been stated equally apply to them. This remark
relates also to the extraordinary metamorphoses they un¬
dergo, but with some striking variations. We here find
examples of a species of reproduction not uncommon among
fish, and met with, as already mentioned, among certain
lizards. We allude to that mode of birth known under the
name of ovo-viviparous. The mode we have been hitherto
contemplating resembles that of birds in being strictly ovi¬
parous. The ova or eggs are extruded from the parent,
and under the influence of heat the young are in due time
hatched. In the salamanders, however, another stage in¬
tervenes. When the ova have arrived at the state in which,
in the other Batrachia, they are wont to be expelled, in
these they are retained for some time after their develop¬
ment has begun. The eggs are, in fact, never laid, but are
hatched in the interior of the parents ; so that they bring
forth living offspring, although originally contained in eggs.
These eggs, by a natural process, are deposited in certain
bags, which are called oviducts. In the salamander there
are five of these, each of which contains six, or eight, or
more young, and there they are nourished by a peculiar
fluid, and do not issue forth till they have undergone their
metamorphoses, that is, have acquired their feet and other
organs. They are deposited in or near marshes.
159
In our general remarks on the Batrachia, wre traced, in Batrachia.
a few words, the changes which take place in the respi- Salaman.
ratory system of this group. We saw that being first ex- ^rfose.
ercised in water, it was for a time precisely analogous to ^
that of fishes; and that terminating on land, it perfectly
corresponded with that of land animals. In the salaman¬
ders there is this peculiarity,—that while one section of
them ere long become terrestrial in their structure and
habits, another division continues aquatic for life. But so
far as respiration is concerned, the same complete meta¬
morphosis takes place in these latter as in the former; their
gills vanish, regular lungs are completed, and yet the aqua¬
tic salamander, water-newt, or triton as it is sometimes call¬
ed, continues a constant inhabitant of the water. The spe¬
cies are in fact habitual inmates of that element, and yet
inhale the vital breath of heaven; and in this respect com¬
pletely correspond to the cetaceous or whale tribes, with
whose peculiarities, on a scale so greatly more gigantic,
naturalists have been long acquainted. Like them they
must regularly come to the surface, inflate their lungs, de¬
scend to their weedy homes, and after a time return again
for air,—repeating this process as often as their exigencies
may require. Peculiar characters distinguish the circulating
system of the Cete, as compared with that of other Mam¬
malia ; and we have little doubt that parallel features occur
among the tritons, although we are not Aware that this point
has been as yet investigated.
When speaking of toads, we took occasion to make a few
remarks on the cuticular secretion, for which they, in com¬
mon with other Batrachia, are remarkable. The salaman¬
ders have on this account been still more celebrated; and
there seems no reason to doubt that the fable of their
withstanding the effects of fire has originated from this
peculiarity. The humour is in them found to possess more
concentric virtue, having withal a more offensive odour,
and a more acrid taste. Count Lacepede says, that if a
drop of it come in contact with the tongue, it produces the
sensation of burning; so that it really proves a defence
against many animals which would otherwise devour them.
It is more especially when they are irritated and alarmed,
and particularly if exposed to fire, that they distil the secre¬
tion in quantities, and envelope themselves in a damp co¬
vering, which, for a brief period, might possibly prevent
their being consumed. Hence, then, may have originated
the ancient opinion that these animals could live not only
on land and in water, but also in fire; and from the slender
germ of that same peculiarity has no doubt spread the mon¬
strous statement of Pliny, that these creatures infested the
herbage of a country to such a vast extent as even to cause
the extinction of entire nations !
Another remarkable peculiarity of the salamanders, more
especially of the aquatic kind, which has been successfully
elucidated by Spallanzani, is common to them, and in some
measure to the tadpole state of the other Batrachia. We
allude to that surprising power whereby, when repeatedly
deprived of even an important portion of their body, that
portion is as frequently renewed. This property is not un¬
known among some of the lower orders of creation, but in
none is it more striking than in these reptiles. Thus, in the
triton, the whole limb may be removed, and by and by
we find it completely restored, and furnished with perfect
bones, muscles, nerves, &c. In other instances an eye has
been extracted, and speedily a new and perfect one is found
to have supplied its place. These renewals are more com¬
plete than such as take place among the true lizards, for¬
merly alluded to.
The salamander group are distinguished by the following
peculiarities. They have an elongated body, four feet, and
1 Griffith’s Animal Kingdom, ix. 464.
160
Hatrachia.
Salaman-
(iridae-
11 E P T I L I A.
a lengthened tail, which gives them a general resemblance
to the lizards. Their head is flat, and the ear entire Y hid
in the flesh, without any apparent tympanum, there bein
only a small cartilage over the external aperture, both
jaws are furnished with numerous small teeth, and two simi¬
lar rows occur upon the palate. The tongue resembles that
of frogs, but there is no third eyelid. They have a skele¬
ton with fourteen dorsal vertebrae, and remarkably sim
rudiments of ribs, but without any osseous sternum; the
pelvis is simply suspended from the spine by ligaments.
They have foi/fingers and five toes. As we have already
stated, they respire like the preceding genera, ibe arm
of the tadpole are developed before the legs, contrary to
what happens in the animals already reviewed.
Salamanders are divided into the terrestrial and aquatic.
We commence with the former. . ,
Genus Salamandra, Laur. Terrestrial salamandeis
("See Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig. 6.) In their perfect *tate
these reptiles have a round tail - they remain in water «n y
during their tadpole state (which is brief), or while in the
act of reproduction. Their ova are enclosed in
These salamanders, though not unfrequent m bur p ,
and in warmer regions, seem never to have been observed
in Britain. They take up their abode in damp ground, and
amidst brushwood, in ditches and shady places, in subter¬
ranean caverns and among old rums. They are feeble, timi ,
stupid creatures, which live on worms, snails, flies, and other
insects, and apparently on rich mould. They appeal almost
entirely deaf and dumb, and show no dread either of man,
or of other animals stronger than themselves. It throw n into
water, they immediately attempt to escape from it. 1 hey are
capable of enduring most serious mutilation without appa¬
rently suffering from it; if, however, they are plunged into
vinegar or alcohol, or are sprinkled with salt or tobacco,
they' are killed in a moment. We may now enumerate
a few of the species. The spotted salamander, S. maculosa,
Laur., of the usual length of six or eight inches, sometimes
more, is one of the largest, and most widely spread through
Europe. It is of a shining black colour, with two bright
yellow stripes on its flanks, and of a livid blue colour be¬
neath. It has conspicuous glands (parotids) behind its occi¬
put, and along its sides are rows of tubercles, from whence,
when alarmed, a milky humour flows, bitter to the taste, ot
a strong smell, and injurious to the life of very small ani¬
mals. Its tail is of a roundish or cylindrical form, tapering
to the extremity. It affects humid places, and retiies into
subterranean holes, under large stones and roots of trees.
The brain of this reptile is said to be so small as not to
equal the diameter of the spinal marrow, and its perceptive
powers are proportionally dull. The black salamander, S.
atra, Laur., is not above half the size of the foiegoing ; it
is black, and devoid of spots above, and of a yellowish hue
beneath. It is rare in France, but is found in the Alps,
and is abundant in the mountainous regions of Southern
Germany. (See Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig. 6.) The fu¬
nereal salamander, S. funebris, is six or eight inches long,
of a deep-brown colour. It was observed by Bory St Vin¬
cent in the hottest and dampest parts of Andalusia. This
species issued in dozens from their retieats at night, ^and
speedily advanced towards destruction near the bivouac fires,
by which they were attracted. Into these they would ap¬
parently have themselves advanced, had not the soldiers cast
them amid the flames, where they remained for a few mo¬
ments as if unhurt, thus far supporting their incombustible
reputation. We need scarcely add, however, that they very
speedily died roasted, as any other small animal would have
done under a similar predicament.
Among the foreign salamanders a great number inhabit
North America; and these are said to be destitute of the
occipital glands. Palisot and Bose have each described a
new species. Thunberg has also discovered one in Japan,
to which die natives ascribe medicinal virtues of the most flatrach:
valuable kind. The spectacled salamander, S.per spied -
lata of Savi, has only four toes on the hind feet. It is black ^
above, and yellow spotted with black beneath, with a yel¬
low line between the eyes. It is found in the Apennines.
Genus Triton, Laur. Aquatic salamanders. We now
turn to the aquatic group, commonly called newts, which
have a tail always compressed vertically, and pass a great
portion of their lives in water. (See Plate LLLLXXXlii.
firr 7.) These are the animals experimented on by Spal¬
lanzani, and so celebrated for their reproductive powers.
Another faculty scarcely less singular, is that which M. Du¬
fay has recognised them as possessing,—we mean their power
of remaining frozen for a length of time in ice without mor¬
tal injury. "Their ova are fecundated by the milt being
mixed with the ambient water, and penetrating with it into
the oviducts. After a certain sojourn there, the young issue
in long gelatinous cords, from which they do not effect their
escape till several days after their extrusion. The branchiae
continue for a longer or shorter period in different species.
Few have been accurately observed in Europe, and doubts
remain about their specific determination, because they
change their colours with their age, and differ according
both to sex and season. The crests and other ornaments
of the males, also, are only fully developed during spiing.
If winter surprises them still wearing gills, these parts are
then maintained throughout the colder season, and even
continue to increase.
The following are species which have been accurately
characterized. The marbled salamander, S. marmorata,
Lat. {Triton Gesnerii of Laurenti), has the skin chagrined,
pale green above, spotted with large irregular brown blotches,
and browm spotted with white beneath. A red line runs
along the back, which in the male forms a kind of crest,
marked with black spots. The crested triton, S. cristata,
Lat., has the skin chagrined, brown above spotted with
black, and orange beneath similarly spotted ; the flanks are
spotted with white. The crest of the male is high, acutely
serrated, and embroidered with violet during the love sea-
This is our great water-newt ( T. palustris, Flem. and
Jen.), by no means uncommon in Britain during summer
in ponds and ditches, and sometimes found in autumn out
of water, in damp and shady situations. M. Bibron, who
lately read a paper on these tritons to the London Zoologi¬
cal Society, stated that he had found this an o the preceding
species indigenous to Britain ; and that the distinguishing
characteristic consists in this, that in the crested species
the upper lip is so largely developed that it oveilaps the
under one posteriorly when the jaws are closed, a condition
never present in the marmorata. The spotted triton, S. al-
pestris, Bechst., has a chagrined skin, and is slaty and biown
coloured above, and orange or red beneath ; whilst S.punc¬
tata, Lat. ( T. punctatus, Bonap.), has a smooth skin, light
brown above, pale reddish beneath, and spotted everywhere
with black. The crest is festooned, and its toes somewhat
enlarged, but not webbed. This is the common (or small¬
er) water-newt of Britain. It is subject to considerable va¬
riation, and is often found on land. A third British species
is the striped eft, T. vittatus oi Gray. Finally, T. palmata,
Lat., is brown on the back, black and brown on the head,
lighter on the flanks, and spotted with black. 1 he male has
three small crests on its back; the toes are dilated and web¬
bed, and the tail terminates in a slender membranaceous fin.
North America is rich in aquatic salamanders; but our know¬
ledge of these, as of many European species, is too obscure
to admit of their precise classification. Baron Cuvier has
w'ell remarked, that a good monograph of this interesting
group, with accurate plates, is a great desideratum.
We have now to conclude the present article with a few
brief notices of certain very remarkable genera, some ot
R E P T I L I A.
161
Urachia. which differ considerably from all the members of the two
Sen us preceding families, while others are by no means remotely
allied to the salamanders. They are all aquatic ; and while
, some lose their gills at so early a period as to have misled
observers into the belief that they never at any time possess¬
ed these organs, others retain them throughout their lives,
even after the development of internal lungs,—thus exhibit-
decidedly of opinion that they are not larva?, but completed Batrachia-
reptiles.5 Genus
Genus Menobranchus, Harlan ; Necturus, Rafinesque. ,Siren-
Here there are only four toes to each foot. (See Plate ^ v ^ ^
CCCCXXXIV. fig. 2.) There is a single range of teeth
on the intermaxillaries, and another, parallel, but more ex¬
tended, on the maxillaries. The best-known species is M.
ing, as we observed at the commencement of our treatise, the lateralis ( Triton lateralis, Say), a large reptile, which some-
ar,irr,Ql= — times attains the length of two or three feet, and inhabits
the great lakes of North America.6
only truly amphibious animals of the vertebrated kingdom,
a. No apparent bronchia:.
Genus Menopoma, Harlan; Abranchus, ejusd. We
have here a form resembling that of the salamanders. The
eyes are obvious, the feet well developed, and there is an
orifice on each side of the neck. Besides the range of de¬
licate teeth around the jaws, there is a parallel range upon
the anterior portion of the palate. The only species known
is the great salamander of North America (S. gigantea, Bar¬
ton), called Hellbender in the United States. It measures
from fifteen to eighteen inches in length, the colour of a
blackish blue, and dwells in the rivers of the interior, and
the great lakes.1 See Plate CCCCXXXIII. fig. 8.
Genus Amphiuma, Garden. The species of this genus
have also an orifice on each side of the neck ; but the
body is much lengthened, and the legs and feet but slight¬
ly developed. Their palatine teeth form two longitudinal
rows. Amph. tridactylum, Cuv. is distinguished by three
toes to all the feet.2 Another species, Amph. didactylum,
(Amph. means, Garden and Harlan), has only two toes.
The body is long and cylindrical, the head depressed and
obtuse; the tail compressed, with a sharpened ridge above,
but blunt below. The fore feet are formed like tentacu-
la. The colour is blackish gray above, and pale beneath,
without spot or stripe. The observed size varies from six
inches to two feet. This species inhabits ponds in the vi¬
cinity of New Orleans, and is met with in other parts of
the southern states. It is sometimes found deeply sunk
in mud, lying concealed like an earthworm, even at the
depth of several feet. It is greatly dreaded, though with-
Genus Proteus, Laurenti. Distinguished by having
three toes to the anterior feet, and only two to the hinder.
The only known species is P. anguinus (Siren anguina,
Schneid.), an animal resembling an eel with legs, of a
pale rose or flesh colour, and measuring from ten to twelve
inches in length, with a diameter seldom exceeding half an
inch. The muzzle is depressed and elongated ; both jaws
are furnished with teeth, and the tongue is free in front,
but not very moveable. The eye is excessively small, and
covered over by a kind of tegument. The ears are also
covered over more substantially, as among the salamanders.
Besides the internal lungs, there are three feathered gills or
branchiae on each side of the posterior portion of the head.
The skeleton resembles that of the salamanders, except that
there are many more vertebrae, and fewer rudiments of ribs.
The osteology of the head, however, is entirely different,
and approximates that of the siren. The heart, composed
of a single ventricle and auricle, is placed between the
fore legs, and the lungs have the form of simple slender
tubes, terminated by a vesicular dilatation. This truly re¬
markable reptile is found occasionally in a noted and ro¬
mantic lake called Zirknitz (the Lugea Palus of the an¬
cients), about six German miles from Labac, in the duchy
of Carniola. From this lake, as extraordinary as its slimy
inhabitant, the waters retire during the summer season by
numerous subterranean outlets, leaving the ground fit for
pasture and the cultivation of millet. In the month of Oc¬
tober they return again with great force, springing out of the
subterranean passages from a vast depth, till the lake is
mw am, k,, ' v - , n amply filled. It is situated in a hollow or valley, surround-
out any reason, by the negroes, who name it the serpent of u „ i j j j i -n • J .
Congo ] n > ^ ed by rocky and wooded lulls, in whicn are great caverns,
and is supplied by rivulets running into it from the adjoin-
b. Branchiae apparent and persistant. ing mountain regions. According to M. Schreibers, to
whom we owe the first correct account of the proteus,7 its
Genus Axolotus. The only known species of this genus, proper locality is Lake Sittich, one of several which com-
which we may name Ax. pisciformis (the specific title be- municate with that already named. Its more characteristic
stowed by Shaw), so entirely resembles the larva state of an abode is probably among the subterranean canals which
aquatic salamander, that it even yet regarded by some as are known to connect together those peculiar lakes of Car-
anincompleted reptile. It was so regarded by Baron Cuvier niola. All its characters, in fact, present the aspect of a
in his contribution to Humboldt’s Voyage ,-3 and even in his subterranean animal. It has a pale, bleached, ghost-like
latest work he yielded rather to the opinion of others than aspect, and its small, opake, skin-covered eyes bear but
his own conviction. “ Ce n’est encore qu’avec doute que je small resemblance to the brilliant visual organs of other
place 1’axolote parmi les genres a branchies permanentes, reptiles.
mais tant des temoins assurent qu’il ne les perd pas, qui We come, finally, to the genus Siren, Linn., in which
je my vois oblige.”4 The species in question measures the posterior legs are entirely wanting, and the anterior
jrom eight to ten inches in length, and is of a gray co- pair furnished with four toes. We have it in our power to
our, spotted with black. It has four toes to the anterior state several particulars in the history and structure of a
eet, and five to the hinder, and there are three long tuft- species of this genus from personal observation,—a mode
e branchiae on each side. (See Plate CCCCXXXIV. fig. of acquiring knowledge which, however desirable, has by
•) It inhabits the lake on which the town of Mexico stands, no means been granted us in regard to the majority of
ant is naturally subjected at times to a low temperature, the groups discussed in this exposition of the reptile race.
le sPecimens brcjught home by Mr Bullock were from an We never, like Colonel Bory St Vincent, tossed a salaman¬
der into the fire,—we never, like Mr Waterloo, rode on the
back of an alligator,—we never waded waist deep, with Mr
Audubon, among hundreds of these huge reptiles,—we
never sailed, like Wordsworth’s Highland boy, in a turtle’s
elevation of 8000 feet. That collector informed us that at
certain seasons they stock the markets, and are eaten in
great quantities by the peasants. Sir Everard Home has
published an account of their anatomical structure. He is
' Annal» of the Lyceum of New York, i. pi. 17.
Mem. du Mut. xiv. pi. 1 ; and Journal of the Academy of Sciences of Philadelphia, vol. iii.
. P-I23; * Big.' Animal, ii 119.
‘ fo1 18“4’ u' Annals of the Lyceum of New York, i. pi 16. 7 Phil. Trans, for 1801.
VOL. XIX.
X
it" «
XcS it is related, and as it is in itself a very extraordmary ^f^l’y ’ ^^d. Pallas, nol perceiving that
and interesting reptile, we shall make no apoloBy fo metamorphoses as he supposed were rendered impos-
length of the following observations. _ ^ j „:ui^ k,. nh^nee of any serm of the hinder extremities,
R E P T I L I A.
Siren.
iiiitii ui i/iiv- xv/xxvr..— - —- - t Viv tlip oKcpncG of* any fferm oi tlin hinder extremities^
The Gardenian siren (Siren lacertino, Linn.), so named in s b> ^ gkeletonj still insisted that the siren was nothing
remembrance of Dr Garden, by whom it seems to have been e ^ larva of a four.footed salamander.2 ; A simi-
first observed, in its general form and aspect ^ea * g ^ opinion was maintained by Hermann,J Lacepede,4 and
resemblance to an eel, but is at once to be distingu Schneider5 About twenty vears after the original disco-
from a fish by its anterior arms. The fine specimen long ^ ^ anima]? Camper (in 1785) examined a specimen
preserved alive by Dr Patrick Neill of Edinburg w [ British Museum, the condition of which was so bad
ginally transmitted by Dr Farmer of Charlestown Sou h ^ ^ ^ lu g . whereupon he took
Carolina, to Dr Monro. It measured one foot five inches m ^ ^ "u]gated an entirely new view, according to
length, and about four inches in circumference. ( 1 jj j p ^thout reference to the existence of feet, he de-
CCCCXXXIV. fig. 3.) Its colour was deep blackish brov^n, the siren was a feh. Gmelin, of course, imme-
rather paler beneath, where it was partially tmged w diately classed it with the eels, and it thus became the Mu¬
lsh hue, and marked all over with numerous s , b - 0f his edition of the Systerna Natures! What-
lar, pale, ashy-brown spots, not very perceptible except n a ^ be thought of Dr Garden’s skill as an anatomist,
rather close inspection. The muzzle was blunt, depres d, J conclusion was certainly somewhat precipitate, in
sub-rounded or slightly square, and ^ ^ ^ ^^0 great an authority as that of John Hunter,
than the hinder portion of the head, fhe nostnk, c ■ ^ year igOO, Baron Cuvier received a young siren
are inconspicuous, are placed near the anterior ang l Y B i The great French anatomist, whose
upper jaw. The head is broad and flat. The eyes are dim, Zom M ^ thrown such a flood of light on so
of an obscure blue, and there is no very obvious distinction of zoological science, was not likely
of colour between the ins and pupil, both paring if Y opportunity of settling this still disputed point,
seen through a semi-transparent membrane. The gills con- to lose tne PI J d j “n after and more ample
sist of three fleshy peduncles, which increase in size from ^e^irhl7Sthe0^ae;V,7e1°ti1 lk, successfully shown that both ihe
the first to the last. They are beautifully branched from tbat is^ completed animals,
beneath and along their lateral and terminal ed? , a different genera of Batrachian reptiles, but
these little branches are divided and subdivided into still t0 lizards 0r salamanders in any of
more minute ramifications. This elegant fringe-work forms qm e ^ st4nct ^ h ite inion (s0\e-
the true gills, the central and fleshy stalks --mg mere y continue ^Fthout a^herenk In
as their support. Beneath, and rather in advance of tl ese b tw0 Italian authors, Big. Configliachi
^^Srth/i^rKluthupon^e from anrfo^^th^Eis Ae
tions are sustained and kept in separation by four arches,
which Garden, Ellis, and Camper appear to have mistaken
for gills, although both Linnaeus and John Hunter took a
more accurate view of the matter.1
The general surface of this siren is very smooth and
shining ; and if there are any scales, as some have said, they
are not apparent to the naked eye. T ovvards the tail its
the mouth, so it must be incapable of respiring atmospheric
air, and would speedily die if removed from its liquid ele-
roent.8
Now, the value of the living siren observed by Dr Neill
for six or seven successive seasons, consisted in this, that
it demonstrated de facto, what had been previously a mat¬
ter of mere logical inference on the part of the anatomist.
gined for°several Inches both ^ and belolv, as well as ever took place either m tts ^'S^been a^a U
around its terminal point, by a narrow membrane or fin, or stnictuie of the feet and s. ‘
which no doubt greatly aids its movements through the water, would assuredly have lost re?
The earliest notice of this singular reptile appears to have the time of observation. But the most curious result re
been communicated by Dr Garden to Linnaeus through the garding this specimen was obtamed accidentally, and haj-
medium of Mr Ellis in the year 1765. He described the p.ly dlustrates the very point on wh chj was most desumb e
simultaneous existence of lungs and gills, and concluded to obtain information. It is thus i elated by D . * f
that it was a perfect animal, chiefly because there did not though I certainly would not have made the experiment of
exist in Carolina any species of salamander, or other aqua- the fragility of the siren, by throwing it on ic groum ,
tic creature, of equal size, of which it could be regarded as although I would have hesitated to keep the animal out ot
the larva. It was in consequence of the information re- the water for several hours, while I knew that respectable
ceived regarding this species that Linnseus, though with naturalists doubted if it would live more than a ewmin.i e
hesitation, founded his order of Amphibia meantes, of which out ot that element, yet it so happened that tie cieauie
the most peculiar character consisted in there being “ bran- on one occasion made of its own accord an expenmen y
chise et pulmones simul.” The great Swedish naturalist it may be so called) illustrative of both points. e wa-
appears to have been particularly interested by the peculi- ter-box itself (in which the siren dwelt) was ten inc es
arities of the siren ; for in his reply to Mr Ellis, acknow- deep: it was placed on a plant trellis or shelf, close by tne
of Dr Garden’s “ very rare two-footed ani- lower end ot the sloping roof-sash of the green-house, an
ledging receipt _ _
mal with gills and lungs,” he observes that nothing had ever
thus stood nearly three feet from the ground. At that pe-
1 See Phil. Trans. Ivi. 191 and 307- 3 Tabula Affinitatum Animalium, 256.
a Nov. Comm. Petrop. xix. 438. 4 Hist. Nut. des Quadrupedes Ovipaires, 611.
7 Rcchcrchcs Anatomiques, &c. in Humboldt’s Rccueil d Observations de Zoologic, 98-117
8 Del Proteo Anguino di Laurenti Monographia, Pavia, 1819.
5 Ilistoria Amphibiorum, fascic. 1, 48.
6 Bulletin des Sciences, an. 8, p. 106.
R E P T I L I A.
163
i xen us
liren.
'“v-"
trachia.riod the box happened to leak ; and the gardener therefore
filled it up with water between seven and eight o’clock in the
evening, at which time the siren was seen safely lodged in
the box. The door of the green-house was locked as usual
over night, and before it was opened in the morning, the
siren, to the great surprise of the gardener, was found lying
on a footpath which passes round the exterior of the green¬
house. I was speedily apprized of the circumstance, and on
examining the spot, we could most distinctly trace, by a
shining glaze, derived from its skin, the passage of the ani¬
mal through an edging of heath {Erica herbacea), and across
a narrow flower-border, to a hole which he had scooped out
under the brick-wall of the green-house, in escaping from
within. The foundation of this wall, it may be remarked,
had intentionally been made shallow, or near to the surface,
for the purpose of permitting the roots of some shrubs,
planted in the conservatory style within, to penetrate to the
exterior border. We possess no data for fixing with cer¬
tainty the number of hours during which the animal had
been out of the water. The box, as already mentioned,
being leaky, was filled near to the brim between seven and
eight in the evening; it seems likely that this filling up had
disturbed the animal, and that it had been enabled partly
to crawl and partly to glide over the margin, while the wa¬
ter yet stood high, or early in the night; for the water had
subsided five or six inches before morning. The escape of
so much water bad formed, of the soil below', a kind of
sludge, probably somewhat analogous in character to the
‘ stiff clay’ of its native swamps, in which it is said some¬
times to burrow ; and this must have greatly facilitated the
first underground operations of the siren. Still, however,
as the excavation made was not less than eight inches in
depth, and nearly three feet in length, for the ascending
aperture on the outside sloped at an angle of about 30°, it
seems reasonable to conclude that the siren must have been
several hours hard at work in forming so extensive a tun¬
nel for itself. In further proof of its exertions, it may be
observed, that a considerable part of the dark-coloured epi¬
dermis, or covering of minute indistinct scales, w’as worn off
its snout, and the skin of the upper part of the back wras
in different places ruffled. The morning wTas very cold,
and the mercury in a register-thermometer kept in the
green-house had been as low as 33° Fahrenheit at one pe¬
riod of the preceding night. The animal was observed about
seven a. m. lying doubled, or with the body bent round, but
not coiled, on the footpath. He wras exceedingly benumbed,
being just able to show signs of life when lifted by the
gardener. Considering the evidence of long-continued ac¬
tive exertions during the night, it seems reasonable to ascribe
his almost torpid state when found, to the freezing cold
which he had encountered when he had made his way fair¬
ly to the outside. When first restored to the watery ele¬
ment, the animal breathed hard, rushing to the surface, and
opening his mouth with a wide gape to inhale air. He soon
Siren.
after sunk down, and let several strings of air-bubbles es-Batrachia.
cape. The branchiae were doubtless to a certain degree Cenus
dried, and thus obstructed ; and it evidently took some time
before they could freely perform their accustomed office.
When, however, I again examined him several hours after¬
wards, he seemed perfectly contented to remain wholly un¬
der W'ater; and on being touched, appeared as lively and as
well as ever. The decorticated portions of the back and
snout showed us the colour of the true skin below, which
was of a pale leaden hue.”1
During the first year and a half of the siren’s captivity
at Canonmills, his box (filled with moss and water) was
placed in a green-house, which merely excluded the severity
of winter. He was very sluggish all this time, exhibited
few signs of appetite, and from October to May entirely
declined food. In the spring of 1827 he was placed in a
hot-house intended for the culture of tropical plants, wdiere
the temperature was generally about 65°. Fie there be¬
came much more lively, and soon began his song, which,
unlike the delusive voice of the ancient sirens, differed little
from the croaking of a frog. He then devoured small earth¬
worms with some avidity, and continued the practice with¬
out any lengthened intermission till his death in October
1831, after a captivity of nearly six years and a half, dur¬
ing which long period no structural change took place, nor
was the slightest tendency to any such change discernible.
The death of this reptile was occasioned, we doubt not, as
Dr Neill supposes, by the drying up of the fimbriae of the
branchial apparatus, consequent on its having again escaped
from its wAtery reservoir. Though truly amphibious, the
siren may certainly be regarded more as an aquatic than a
terrestrial creature. Dr Mitchell, indeed, seems to think
it most probable that the air-sacs called lungs do not per¬
form any direct respiratory function, but are mere recep¬
tacles of air, performing only an auxiliary service, by occa¬
sionally furnishing the gills with atmospheric air.2
We observed that the siren breathed air rather through
the mouth than the nose, and expelled it in the same man¬
ner when put into the water, from which it may be inferred,
that the nasal organ is in a rudimentary state (in the pro-
teus it is said not to exist at all), so far at least as concerns
the act of respiration. The eyes of the siren are dim and
motionless; and we did not perceive that an increase of
light caused any appearance of contraction or other change.
Yet the sight must be tolerably acute, as in pressing a fly
downwards under water with the point of a hair pencil, on
the side of the vessel in which the reptile lay, it made a
catch at the insect almost the moment it touched the sur¬
face, and immediately snapped it in two.3
Besides the species to which the preceding history and
observations apply, two others are known to naturalists as
inhabitants of the southern states of North America, viz.
the tSiren striata of Le Conte, and the Siren intermedia of
that author.4 (T#)
Page
Agama 142
Agavxx 143
Agamians 142
Algyra 141
Alligator 13G
Ameiva 139
Amphiuma 1GI
Anolius 145
Axolotus 1G1
Basilisc  145
Basiliscus 145
BATRACHIA S
Bipes 150
Bombinator 158
Breviceps 158
Bufo J56
Calotes.. ,....143
Cameleons..... 148
Ceratophrys 154
Chalcides 150
Chamseleo 148
Chamaxeonida: 148
INDEX.
CHELONIA P127
Chelonia (Genus).... 129
Chelys 132
Chirotes 150
Cordylus .142
Crocodiles 133
CnOCODILIDiE 133
Crocodilus 134
Dactylethra 155
Doryphorus 142
Draco 143
Page
Enays 128
Frogs 152
Gavialis 134
Gavials ...134
Gecko 146
Geckotid^e 146
Guanas 144
Gymnodactylus 148
Hemidactyli 147
Hydraspis 129
Hyla 155
Page
Iguana 144
Iguanas 141
Iguanidaj 141
Istiurus   143
Lacerta 139
Lacertini da; 138
Lizards 138
Lophyrus 143
Lyriocephalus 143
Menobranchus 161
Menopoma 161
1 Jameson’s «/w«rreaZ, January—April, 1828.
! Set? New York Med. and Phys. Joum. for June 1824 ; and Dr Neill’s additional notice in Edxn. New Phil. Journ. xii. 298 (18321.
4 Idnstrations of Zoology, vol. 1st, art. Siren. ' 1
See Annals of the Lyceum df New York, vol. i.; and Harlan’s American Herpetology, p. 6.
164
RES
’‘“If0" Monitor.. S rroteus
OPHIDIA 150 Ranid^: 152
Oiihryessa 145 Reptiles,
Otilopha 158
Phyllurus 148
Pi pa 158
Platydactyli 148
Polychrus 145
Page
.161
definition of, &C...124
Batrachian 150
Chelonian 127
Ophidian 150
Saurian 182
RES
Ithinella  .Is! Sitena TheoadactjU 147 aS,”
ft-r !S Ee«B<i
 |« » 
SAUItIA 132 Stenodactylus 148 Inonyl  34
Sa„ve.g*,Je, 139 Tachydromns HI rnton; 160
SciNCiDiE 149 Tadpoles  TTrnmastv^ 149
vrnu?.hm
Siren 101
REPTON, an ancient market-town of the county of
Derby, situated in the hundred of Repton cum Gresley,
four miles from Burton-on-Trent, and 124 from London.
It is a place of great antiquity, having been the residence
of the Saxon kings of Mercia during the heptarchy, seve¬
ral of whom are buried in the church, which is still a
handsome Gothic building, with a lofty spire. It had once
a market, but it is now fallen into neglect. The population
amounted in 1801 to 1424, in 1811 to 1648, in 1821 to
1802, and in 1831 to 1758.
REQUENA, a city of Spain, in the province of Cuenca,
and the capital of a district of the same name. It stands on
a height in a valley watered by the river Magro, which is
fertile as regards meadows, and produces great quantities of
rich fruits. The city contains three churches, seven mo¬
nasteries, and 6500 inhabitants, who make silk goods from
the worms fed on the mulberries growing in the vicinity.
RESENTMENT means a strong perception of good or
ill, generally a deep sense of injury, and may be distinguish¬
ed into anger and revenge.
RESHD, or Resht, a town of Persia, and the capital
of the province of Ghilan. It is a large town, with a con¬
siderable trade, and well-furnished shops and warehouses.
It is so enveloped in trees, that no idea can be formed of it
taken in any one point of view. Exclusive of the bazaars,
which occupy a considerable space in the centre of the
town, it is composed of small compartments, divided for
the most part by narrow and obscure alleys. There are
not many principal streets ; and only some of them are
paved, whilst others have merely a little gravel thrown in
the centre for the water to run on, and some are left un¬
fashioned in any way, except in having a raised pathway
at the sides for foot-passengers, which is of great conve¬
nience in wet weather. The bazaars or shops, of which
there are said to be 1200, are extensive, regular, clean, and
well kept. They are well paved, but not entirely covered
in from the weather. Instead of arched or domed roofs,
extending from one side of the street to the other, the roofs
only project nearly to the centre of the street, covering the
shops and foot-passengers. There is in this town a bustle
and hum of business, more than is seen in most of Persian
towns. Natives of various countries are seen passing and
repassing on the pavement below; and persons of every oc¬
cupation, busily following their several callings, animate the
scene, and enliven it with their gay costumes. This town
swarms with beggars of all descriptions, beyond what can easi¬
ly be conceived. They are covered with leprosy, and cuta¬
neous disorders the most revolting. The opium-eaters are
among the most miserable of these objects. The religious
mendicants, or fakeers and dervishes, are also very nume¬
rous, and the most impudent of all. There were formerly
Russians, Armenians, and Jews in this city; but they were
forced away by the bigotry and intolerance of the inhabi¬
tants, who reviled every foreigner that professed a different
creed from their own. Reshd is one of the most consider¬
able entrepots on the Caspian for exchanging the commodi¬
ties of Persia with those of Astracan, and is the chief mart
for silk, the staple produce of the province. The rate of in¬
terest for money is from four to twelve per cent, per month;
but this last rate is seldom paid. Fraser, who visited this
place in 1822, was at pains to ascertain the amount of the
population; and from every inquiry he could make, he es¬
timated the male inhabitants at between thirty and forty
thousand; and, considering other circumstances, the ap¬
pearance of the markets and other public places, he esti¬
mates the whole population at eighty thousand. Reshd is an
inland town, and all its maritime trade is carried on through
the port of Ezellee. Long. 49. 50. E. Lat. 37. 20. N.
RESIDUAL Analysis, a calculus invented by Mr Lan-
den, and proposed as a substitute for the method of fluxions.
The design of it was to avoid introducing the idea of mo¬
tion, and of quantities infinitely small, into mathematical
investigation. The residual analysis accordingly proceeds
by taking the difference of the same function of a variable
quantity in two different states of the said variable quanti¬
ty, and denoting the relation of this difference to the dif¬
ference between the two states of the said variable quanti¬
ty. This relation being first generally expressed, is next
considered in the case when the difference of the two states
of the variable quantity is — 0; and by that means it is
obvious that the same thing is done as when the function
of a variable quantity is assigned by the ordinary methods.
The evolutions of the functions, considered in this very
general view, require the aid of a new theorem, discoveied
by Mr Landen, and remarkable for its simplicity and great
extent. It is, that if x and v are any two variable quantities
1
xn X
1+s+^+?+
.{m)
3m
'+©-+©' + ©" <•>
where m and n are any integer numbers.
This theorem is the basis of the calculus, and from the
m m
expressions xTl — v", and x — v having the form of what
algebraists denominate residuals, the inventor gave to his
method the name of the residual analysis.
Mr Landen published the first account of this method in
1758, which he denominated a Discourse concerning the
Residual Analysis. The first book of the analysis appeared
in 1764, and contained an explanation of the principles of
the new calculus, with its application to problems of the di¬
rect method of fluxions; the second book, which solved seve¬
ral problems of the inverse method, was never published.
Residual Figure, in Geometry, the figure remaining
after the subtiaction of the less from the greater.
Residual Foot is a root composed of two members only
connected by the sign — or minus. Thus, a i, or 5 3,
is a residual root; and is so called, because its true value is
no more than the residue or difference between the parts
a and 5 or 5 and 3, which in this case is 2.
RESINA, a town of Italy, in the kingdom of Naples, on
the sea-shore. It is situated near to Portici, and is built
on the ruins of Herculaneum, at the foot of Mount Vesu¬
vius, and in the way by which it is commonly ascended.
It contains about 7700 inhabitants, who are mostly culti¬
vators of vines, and produce the wine lachryma Christi.
165
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
sistance Resistance, or Resisting Force, in Philosophy, denotes,
Fluids. in general, any power which acts in an opposite direction to
—v-'-'' another, so as to destroy or diminish its effect. See Me¬
chanics, Hydrodynamics, and Pneumatics.
Of all the resistances of bodies to each other, there is un¬
doubtedly none of greater importance than the resistance or
re-action of fluids. It is here that we must look for a the¬
ory of naval architecture ; for the impulse of the air, which
is our moving power, must be modified so as to produce
every motion we want by the form and disposition of our
sails; and the resistance of the water, which is the force to
be overcome, must also be modified to our purpose, in or¬
der that the ship may not drive like a log to leeward, but,
on the contrary, may ply to windward; that she may answer
her helm briskly, and be easy in all her motions on the sur¬
face of the ocean. The impulse of wind and water makes
these elements ready and indefatigable servants in a thou¬
sand shapes for driving our machines, and we should lose
much of their service did we remain ignorant of the laws of
their action ; they w ould sometimes become terrible mas¬
ters, if we did not fall upon methods of eluding or softening
their attacks.
We cannot read the accounts of the naval exertions of
Phoenicia, Carthage, and of Rome, exertions which have
hardly been surpassed by anything of modern date, without
believing that the ancients possessed much practical and
experimental knowledge of this subject. It wras not, per¬
haps, possessed by them in a strict and systematic form, as
it is now taught by our mathematicians; but the master-
builders, in their dockyards, did undoubtedly exercise their
genius in marking those circumstances of form and dimen¬
sion which were, in fact, accompanied with the desirable
properties of a ship, and thus frame to themselves maxims
of naval architecture, in the same manner as we do now.
The ancients had not made any great progress in the phy-
sico-mathematical sciences, which consist chiefly in the ap¬
plication of analysis to the phenomena of nature; and in
this branch, in particular, they could make none, because
they had not the means of investigation. A knowledge of
the motions and actions of fluids is accessible only to those
who are familiarly acquainted with the fluxionary mathe¬
matics ; and without this key there is no admittance. Even
when possessed of this guide, our progress has been very
slow, hesitating, and devious; and we have not yet been
able to establish any set of doctrines which are susceptible
of an easy and confident application to the arts of life. If
we have advanced farther than the ancients, it is because
we have come after them, and have profited by their la¬
bours, and even by their mistakes.
Sir Isaac Newton was the first who attempted to make
the motions and actions of fluids the subject of mathemati¬
cal discussion. He had invented the method of fluxions
long before he engaged in his physical researches, and he
proceeded in these saa malhesi facem prceferente. Yet even
with this guide he was often obliged to grope his way, and
to try various by-paths, in the hope of obtaining a legiti¬
mate theory. Having exerted all his powers in establish¬
ing a theory of the lunar motions, he was obliged to rest
contented with an approximation instead of a perfect solu¬
tion of the problem which ascertains the motions of three
bodies mutually acting on each other. This convinced him
that it was. in vain to expect an accurate investigation of
the motions and actions of fluids, where millions of unseen
particles combine their influence. He therefore endea¬
voured to find some particular case of the problem which
would admit of an accurate determination, and at the same
time furnish circumstances of analogy or resemblance suffi-Resistance
ciently numerous for giving the limits of those other cases of Fluids,
that did not admit of this accurate investigation. ^
Newton figured to himself a hypothetical collection of
matter possessing the characteristic property of fluidity, viz.
the quaqnaversum propagation of pressure, and the most
perfect intermobility of parts, and forming a physical whole
or aggregate, whose parts were connected by mechanical
forces determined both in degree and in direction, so that
the determination of certain important circumstances of the
motion of the parts might be rendered susceptible of pre¬
cise investigation. And he concluded that the laws which
he should discover in these motions must have a great ana¬
logy with the laws of the motions of real fluids : and from
this hypothesis he deduced a series of propositions, which
form the basis of almost all the theories of the impulse and
resistance of fluids which have been offered to the public
since his time.
It must be acknowledged that the results of this theory
agree but ill with experiment, and that, in the way in which
it has been prosecuted by subsequent mathematicians, it
proceeds on principles or assumptions which are not only
gratuitous, but even false. But, with all its imperfections,
it still furnishes (as was expected by its illustrious author)
many propositions of immense practical use, they being the
limits to which the real phenomena of the impulse and re¬
sistance of fluids really approximate ; so that when the law
by which the phenomena deviate from the theory is once
determined by a well-chosen series of experiments, this hy¬
pothetical theory becomes almost as valuable as a true one.
It continues to be the groundwork of all our practical know¬
ledge of the subject.
We shall therefore lay before our readers a very short
view of the theory, and the manner of applying it; we
shall then show its defects (all of which were pointed out
by its great author), and recount some of the attempts
which have been made to amend it; and, lastly, we shall
give an account of the chief sets of experiments which have
been made on this important subject, in the hope of esta¬
blishing an empirical theory, which may be employed with
confidence in the arts of life.
We know by experience that force must be applied to a
body in order that it may move through a fluid, such as air
or water; and that a body projected with any velocity is
gradually retarded in its motion,, and generally brought to
rest. Analogy leads us to imagine that there is a force
acting in the opposite direction, or opposing the motion,
and that this force resides in or is exerted by the fluid ; and
the phenomena resemble those which accompany the known
resistance of active beings, such as animals; therefore w e
give to this supposed force the metaphorical name of Re¬
sistance. We also know that a fluid in motion will hurry
a solid body along with the stream, and that force is re¬
quired to maintain it in its place. A similar analogy makes
us suppose that the fluid exerts force, in the same manner
as when an active being impels the body before him ; there¬
fore we call this the Impulsion of a Fluid. And as our
knowledge of nature teaches us that the mutual actions of
bodies are in every case equal and opposite, and that the
observed change of motion is only the indication and mea¬
sure of the changing force, the forces are the same, whether
we call them impulsions or resistances, when the relative
motions are the same, and therefore depend entirely on
these relative motions. The force, therefore, which is ne¬
cessary for keeping a body immoveable in a stream of wa¬
ter flowung with a certain velocity, is the same with what
166
Resistance
of Fluids.
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
Newton’s
theory.
is required for moving this body with this velocity through
stagnant water.
A body in motion appears to be resisted by a stagnant
fluid, because it is a law of nature that force must be em¬
ployed in order to put any body in motion. Now the body
cannot move forward without putting the contiguous fluid
in motion, and force must be employed for producing this
motion. In like manner, a quiescent body is impelled by
a stream of fluid, because the motion of the contiguous fluid
is diminished by this solid obstacle ; the resistance, there¬
fore, or impulse, no way differs from the ordinary commu¬
nications of motion among solid bodies.
Sir Isaac Newton, therefore, begins his theory of the re¬
sistance and impulse of fluids, by selecting a case where,
although he cannot pretend to ascertain the motions them¬
selves which are produced in the particles of a contiguous
fluid, he can tell precisely their mutual ratios. He supposes
two systems of bodies such, that each body of the first is
similar to a corresponding body of the second, and that each
is to each in a constant ratio. He also supposes them to be
similarly situated, that is, at the angles of similar figuies,
and that the homologous lines of these figures are in the
same ratio with the diameters of the bodies. He farther
supposes that they attract or repel each other in similar
directions, and that the accelerating connecting forces are
also proportional; that is, the forces in the one system are
to the corresponding forces in the other system in a con¬
stant ratio, and that, in each system taken apart, the forces
are as the squares of the velocities directly, and as the dia¬
meters of the corresponding bodies, or their distances, in¬
versely.
This being the case, it follows, that if similar parts of the
two systems are put into similar motions in any given in¬
stant, they will continue to move similarly, each correspon¬
dent body describing similar curves, with proportional ve¬
locities : For the bodies being similarly situated, the forces
which act on a body in one system, arising from the com¬
bination of any number of adjoining particles, will have the
same direction with the force acting on the corresponding
body in the other system, arising from the combined action
of the similar and similarly directed forces of the adjoining
correspondent bodies of the other system ; and these com¬
pound forces will have the same ratio with the simple forces
which constitute them, and will be as the squares of the ve¬
locities directly, and as the distances, or any homologous
lines, inversely ; and therefore the chords of curvature, hav¬
ing the direction of the centripetal or centrifugal forces, and
similarly inclined to the tangents of the curves described by
the corresponding bodies, will have the same ratio with the
distances of the particles. The curves described by the
corresponding bodies will therefore be similar, the veloci¬
ties will be proportional, and the bodies will be similarly
situated at the end of the first moment, and exposed to the
action of similar and similarly situated centripetal or cen¬
trifugal forces; and this will again produce similar motions
during the next moment, and so on for ever. All this is
evident to any person acquainted with the elementary doc¬
trines of curvilineal motions, as delivered in the theory of
physical astronomy.
From this fundamental proposition, it clearly follows, that
if two similar bodies, having their homologous lines propor¬
tional to those of the two systems, be similarly projected
among the bodies of those two systems with any velocities,
they will produce similar motions in the two systems, and
will themselves continue to move similarly, and therefore
will, in every subsequent moment, suffer similar diminutions
or retardations. If the initial velocities of projection be the
same, but the densities of the two systems, that is, the quan¬
tities of matter contained in an equal bulk or extent, be dif¬
ferent, it is evident that the quantities of motion produced
in the two systems in the same time will be proportional to
the densities; and if the densities are the same and uni¬
form in each system, the quantities of motion produced will
be as the squares of the velocities, because the motion com¬
municated to each corresponding body will be proportional
to the velocity communicated, that is, to the velocity of the
impelling body; and the number of similarly situated par¬
ticles which will be agitated will also be proportional to this
velocity. Therefore the whole quantities of motion pro¬
duced in the same moment of time will be proportional to
the squares of the velocities. And, lastly, if the densities
of the two systems are uniform or the same through the
whole extent of the systems, the number of particles im¬
pelled by similar bodies will be as the surfaces of these
bodies.
Now the diminutions of the motions of the projected
bodies are (by Newton’s third law of motion) equal to the
motions produced in the systems ; and these diminutions are
the measures of what are called the resistances opposed to
the motions of the projected bodies. Therefore, combining
all these circumstances, we have the following proposition.
Itesistam
of Fluid:;
Prop. I. The resistances and (by the third law of motion)
the impulsions of fluids on similar bodies, are proportional
to the surfaces of the solid bodies, to the densities of the
fluids, and to the squares of the velocities, jointly.
We must now observe, that when we suppose the parti¬
cles of the fluid to be in mutual contact, we may either
suppose them elastic or unelastic. The motion communi¬
cated to the collection of elastic particles must be double
of what the same body, moving in the same manner, would
communicate to the particles of an unelastic fluid. The
impulse and resistance of elastic fluids must therefore be
double of those of unelastic fluids. And thus the funda¬
mental proposition of the impulse and resistance of fluids,
taken in its proper meaning, is susceptible of a rigid de¬
monstration, relative to the only distinct notion that we can
form of the internal constitution of a fluid. W e say taken
in its proper meaning, namely, that the impulse or resist¬
ance of fluids is a pressure, opposed and measured by an¬
other pressure, such as a pound wreight, the force ot a spring,
the pressure of the atmosphere, and the like. We appre¬
hend that it would be very difficult to find any legitimate
demonstration of this leading proposition different from this,
which we have now borrowed from Sir Isaac Newton, Prop.
23, b. ii. Princip. We acknowledge that it is prolix, and
even circuitous; but in all the attempts made by his com¬
mentators and their copyists to simplify it, we see great
defects of logical argument, or assumption of principles
which are not only gratuitous, but inadmissible.
Before we proceed farther, it will be proper to make almpulsio
general remark, which will save a great deal of discussion.and re*
Since it is a matter of universal experience, that every ac-^^n_
tion of a body on others is accompanied by an equal and^y
contrary re-action; and since all that we can demonstrate
concerning the resistance of bodies during their motions
through fluids proceeds on this supposition (the resistance
of the body being assumed as equal and opposite to the sum
of motions communicated to the particles of the fluid, esti¬
mated in the direction of the body’s motion), we are entit¬
led to proceed in the contrary order, and to consider the
impulsions which each of the particles of fluid exerts on the
body at rest, as equal and opposite to the motion which the
body would communicate to that particle if the fluid were
at rest, and the body were moving with equal velocity in
the opposite direction. And therefore the whole impulsion
of the fluid must be conceived as the measure of the whole
motion which the body would thus communicate to the
fluid. It must therefore be also considered as the measure
of the resistance which the body, moving with the same ve¬
locity, would sustain from the fluid. When, therefore, we
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
167
sistance demonstrate anything concerning the impulsion of a fluid,
Fluids, estimated in the direction of its motion, we must consider
'"v'"-'' it as demonstrated concerning the resistance of a quiescent
fluid to the motion of that body, having the same velocity
in the opposite direction. The determination of these im¬
pulsions being much easier than the determination of the
motions communicated by the body to the particles of the
fluid, this method will be followed in most of the subsequent
discussions.
The general proposition already delivered is by no means
sufficient for explaining the various important phenomena
observed in the mutual actions of solids and fluids. In par¬
ticular, it gives us no assistance in ascertaining the modifi¬
cations of this resistance or impulse, which depend on the
shape of the body and the inclination of its impelled or re¬
sisted surface to the direction of the motion. Sir Isaac
Newton found another hypothesis necessary ; namely, that
the fluid should be so extremely rare, that the distance of
the particles may be incomparably greater than their dia¬
meters. This additional condition is necessary for con¬
sidering their actions as so many separate collisions or im¬
pulsions on a solid body. Each particle must be supposed
to have abundant room to rebound, or otherwise escape,
after having made its stroke, without sensibly affecting the
situations and motions of the particles which have not yet
made their stroke; and the velocity must be so great as not
to give time for the sensible exertion of their mutual forces
of attraction and repulsion.
Keeping these conditions in mind, we may proceed to
determine the impulsions made by a fluid on surfaces of
every kind. The most convenient method of proceeding
in this determination, is to compare them all either with
the impulse which the same surface would receive from the
fluid impinging on it perpendicularly, or with the impulse
which the same stream of fluid would make when coming
perpendicularly on a surface of such extent as to occupy
the whole stream.
It will be convenient to premise the following definitions.
By a stream, we mean a quantity of fluid moving in one
direction, that is, all the particles moving in parallel lines ;
and the breadth of the stream is a line perpendicular to all
these parallels.
A filament is a portion of this stream of very small
breadth, and it consists of an indefinite number of particles
following one another in the same direction, and successive¬
ly impinging on, or gliding along, the surface of the solid
body.
The base of any surface exposed to a stream of fluid, is
that portion of a plane perpendicular to the stream, which
is covered or protected from the action of the stream by
the surface exposed to its impulse. Thus the base of a
sphere exposed to a stream of fluid is its great circle, whose
plane is perpendicular to the stream.
Direct impulse expresses the energy or action of the par¬
ticle or filament, or stream of fluid, when meeting the sur¬
face perpendicularly, or when the surface is perpendicular
to the direction of the stream.
Absolute impulse means the actual pressure on the im¬
pelled surface, arising from the action of the fluid, whether
striking the surface perpendicularly or obliquely; or it is
the force impressed on the surface, or tendency to motion
which it acquires, and which must be opposed by an equal
force in the opposite direction, in order that the surface
may be maintained in its place. It is of importance to
keep in mind, that this pressure is always perpendicular to
the surface.
Relative or effective impidse means the pressure on the
surface estimated in some particular direction.
The angle of incidence is the angle contained between
tne direction of the stream and the impelled plane.
The angle of obliquity is the angle contained between
mis
ined
the plane and the direction in which we wish to estimate Resistance
the impulse. of Fluids.
Prop. II. The direct impulse of a fluid on a plane surface,
is to its absolute oblique impulse on the same surface, as
the square of the radius to the square of the sine of the
angle of incidence.
Let a stream of fluid, moving in the direction EG (fig.
1), act on the plane BC.
Draw CA perpendicular Fig. 1.
to EG, and equal to CB,
and BD parallel to EG,
meeting AC in D. Let
the particle F, moving in
the direction EG, meet
the plane in G, and in EG
produced take GH to re¬
present the magnitude of
the direct impulse, or the
impulse which the particle
would exert on the plane
AC, by meeting it in E.
Also draw GI and HK c
perpendicular to BC, and HI perpendicular to GI.
The force GH is equivalent to the two forces GI and
GK; and GK being in the direction of the plane, has no
share in the impulse. The absolute impulse, therefore, is
represented by GI; the angle GHI is equal to FGC, the
angle of incidence ; and therefore GH is to GI as radius to
the sine of the angle of incidence: Therefore the direct
impulse of each particle or filament is to its absolute oblique
impulse as radius to the sine of the angle of incidence.
But further, the number of particles or filaments which
strike the surface AC, is to the number of those which
strike the surface BC as AC to DC: for all the filaments
between A and D go past the Oblique surface BC without
striking it. But BC : DC = rad. : sin. DBC, =r rad.: sin.
FGC, = rad. : sin. incidence. Now the whole impulse is
as the impulse of each filament, and as the number of fila¬
ments exerting equal impulses jointly ; therefore the whole
direct impulse on AC is to the whole absolute impulse on
BC, as the square of radius to the square of the sine of the
angle of incidence.
Let F represent the direct impulse,/the absolute oblique
impulse, A the area of the plane, and i the angle of inci¬
dence ; and let the tabular sines and cosines be consider¬
ed as decimal fractions of the radius 1. The proposition
gives us F :/ — 1 : sin.2 i, and therefore/ = F X sin.2 i.
Also, because impulses are in the proportion of the extent
of surface similarly impelled, we have, in general,/= FA
X sin.2 i.
The first who published this theorem was Pardies, in his
CEuvres de Mathematique, in 1673. Newton, however, had
investigated the chief proposition of the Principia before
1670.
Prop. III. The direct impulse on any surface is to the ef¬
fective oblique impulse on the same surface, as the cube
of radius to the solid, which has for its base the square of
the sine of incidence, and the sine of obliquity for its
height.
Let GO be the direction, and draw IO perpendicular to
GO. Now, when GH represents the direct impulse of a
particle, GI is the absolute oblique impulse, and GO is the
effective impulse in the direction GO: But GI is to GO
as radius to the sine of GIO, and GIO is the complement
of IGO, and is therefore equal to CGO, the angle of obli¬
quity ; whence, assuming <p to denote the effective oblique
impulse, and O = the angle of obliquity, we have
168
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
Resistance
of Fluids.
f: $ = rad. : sin. O.
But F : / = rad.2 : sin.2 i;
therefore F : p = rad.3 : sin.2 i X sin. O,
whence, since rad. = 1,
<p — F X sin.2 i X sin. O.
Cor. The direct impulse on any surface is to the effec¬
tive oblique impulse in the direction of the stream, as the
cube of radius to the cube of the sine of incidence. For in
this case GO coincides with GH, and the angle GIO be¬
comes GIL (IL being perpendicular to GH), equal to BGH
the angle of incidence, that is, we have i = O ; whence
<p — F sin.3 i.
Prop. IV. The whole direct impulse of a stream of fluid
whose breadth is given, is to its oblique effective impulse
in the direction of the stream, as the square of radius to
the square of the sine of the angle of incidence.
For the number of filaments which occupy the oblique
plane BC (fig. 1), would occupy the portion DC of a per¬
pendicular plane, and therefore we have only to compare the
perpendicular impulse on any point E with the effective im¬
pulse made by the same filament FE on the oblique plane
at G. Now GH represents the impulse which this filament
would make at E; and GL is the effective impulse of the
same filament at G, estimated in the direction GH of the
stream; and GH is to GL as GH2 to GI2, that is, as
rad.2 : sin.2 i = 1 : sin.2 i. ,
Cor. 1. The effective impulse in the direction of the
stream on any plane surface BC, is to the direct impulse
on its base CD, as the square of the sine of the angle of in¬
cidence to the square of the radius.
Cor. 2. If an isosceles wedge ACB (fig. 2) be exposed
to a stream of fluid moving in
the direction of its height CD,
the impulse on the sides is to the
direct impulse on the base as the
square of AD half the base to the
square of the side AC, or as the
square of the sine of half the angle
of the wedge to the square of the
radius. For it is evident, that in
this case the two transverse im¬
pulses balance each other, and
the only impulse which can be
observed is the sum of the two
impulses in the direction of the stream which are to be
compared with the impulses on the two halves AD, BD of
the base. Now AC : AD = rad. : sin, ACD, and ACD is
equal to the angle of incidence; therefore, by the proposition,
the direct impulse on AD is to the effective oblique im¬
pulse on AC, as AC2 : AD2, or as 1: sin.2 ACD,
Hence, if the angle ACB is a right angle, and ACD is
half a right angle, the square of AC is twice the square of
AD, and the impulse on the sides of a rectangular wedge
is half the impulse on its base.
Also, if a cube ACBE be exposed to a stream moving in
a direction perpendicular to one of its sides, and then to a
stream moving in a direction perpendicular to one of its
diagonal planes, the impulse in the first case will be to the
impulse in the second as Vz to 1. Call the perpendicular
impulse on a side F, and the perpendicular impulse on its
diagonal plane /, and the effective oblique impulse on its
side ® ; we have
F : /= AC : AB = 1 : ^/2,
f : <p = AC2: AD2= 2 : 1.
Therefore F: p = 2: : 1; or very nearly as 10 to 7.
The same reasoning wTill apply to a pyramid whose base
is a regular polygon, and whose axis is perpendicular to the
base. If such a pyramid is exposed to a stream of fluid
moving in the direction of the axis, the direct impulse onResbta*:
the base is to the effective impulse on the pyramid, as the^uie
square of the radius to the square of the sine of the angle
which the axis makes with the sides of the pyramid.
Prop. V. To compare the effective impulse on a cylinder,
or half cylinder, with the direct impulse on a transverse
plane passing through its axis.
Let BAB' (fig. 3) be a section of the half cylinder perpen¬
dicular to the axis, supposed to be struck
by the fluid in the direction AC. Take
any point P in AB, draw PQ perpendicular
to AC, and let pq be parallel to PQ at
an infinitely small distance, and Pr paral¬
lel to AC. Let AQ = #, PQ, = y, and
AP = z; then Pr = dx, pr = dy, and
Fp = dz.
By corollary 1 to last proposition, the
effective impulse in the direction of the
stream on Fp is to the direct impulse on
pr as pr2 : Fp2 — dy2 : dz2. Hence, if f
denote the direct impulse on pr, the ef-
dift
fective impulse on Fp is / Assume
whole direct impulse on the radius CB
to denote the
: a ; we have
is, as then/ :F — dy : a, whence/:
dy*
: F —, and the effective im-
a
pulse on Fp becomes F
F ^dy3
Hence the effective impulse
adz2
on the arc APB is
dz2’
Fig. 2.
This expression is general, and gives the resistance on
any curve whatever. In the present case, on joining PC, we
have pr :Fp= CQ : PC, or dy -. dz = a—x : a, whence
$! = (^ = ±^; therefore = —
-y2)dy
  _    . The
dz2 a2 a2 dz2 a2
v3
integral of this is y + C, which from y = 0 to y zz a
gives = a—i a = f a. Multiplying by F -^a, we get
impulse on AB r= § F ;
consequently the impulse on BAB' is two thirds of the di¬
rect impulse on BB’, and the impulse on the half cylinder
two thirds of the impulse on the plane passing through its
axis perpendicular to the stream.
Prop. VI. To compare the effective impulse on a solid of
revolution, in the direction of its axis, with the direct im¬
pulse on its base.
Let APB (fig. 4) be the generating curve, AC the axis, AQ
z=x,andPQ=:?/. By the last pro¬
position, the oblique impulse on Fp
in the direction of the stream, is
proportional to ^; whence, since
the circumference described by the
point P in a complete revolution
is 2^/ (t being the semi-circum¬
ference to radius 1), the oblique A
impulse on the ring formed by the
revolution of Fp about the axis AC, is proportional to
2<xy and consequently the impulse on the whole sur-
Fig. 4.
-c
face to 2v
<fy£
Ay’
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
169
distance
f Fluids.
This is the general expression for the impulse on a solid
dy2
' of revolution. On eliminating —j, by means of the equa¬
tion of the generating curve, it gives the amount of the re¬
lative impulse in each particular case.
As an example, suppose APB to be the quadrant of a
circle, the equation of which is y2 — 2ax — x*. From the
1,2 dy1 i n P dy3
dz2
last proposition we have dz? rr ~whence 2-r j*ij
=**/
a? y—y
^ dy, which, being integrated on the sup¬
position that y varies from y — 0 to y — a, becomes
2it «2 ■— i a2) ^ a ^ d?- This is the oblique impulse on
the sphere or hemisphere in the direction of the axis. The
direct impulse on a great circle is proportional to its area,
that is, to ffa2; therefore the impulse or resistance of a sphere
is one half the direct resistance of the plane of its great
circle.
As a second example, let AB be a straight line, the equa¬
tion of which \s y — x tan. <p. In this case dy2 — dxl tan.? <p,
dz1 — (1 + tan.2 <p) dx2 — sec.2 <p dx2 ; therefore j'y ^
rr sin.2 <p J'ydy — vy1 sin.2 <p, which between the limits
y — § and y zz a, gives the whole effective impulse on the
cone formed by the revolution of AP about AC proportion¬
ed to era2 sin.2 <p, that is, to the area of the base multiplied
by the square of the sine of the inclination of the sides to
the axis.
Prop. VII. To determine the frustum of a triangular prism
of a given base and altitude, which, moving in a fluid in
a direction perpendicular to its base, is resisted the least
possible.
Let BC (fig. 5) be the base, ED the altitude, of the frustum
PBCQ, of the wedge ABC, the
axis of which is AD. Draw
PM parallel to AD. By Pro¬
position II. the oblique effec¬
tive impulse on PB is equal to
the direct impulse on MB, mul¬
tiplied by the square of the sine
of BPM. But by Proposition
I. the direct impulse on MB is
proportional to MB ; therefore
the oblique impulse on PB is
proportional to MB sin.2 BPM.
And the direct impulse on PE
is proportional to PE ; therefore the whole force acting on
EP and PB (or on PQ, PB, and QC, that is to say, the
whole resistance on the frustum), is proportional to PE -4-
MB sin.2 BPM.
Let ED = a, DB — b, and the angle BPM (= BAD) = p.
We have then MB r= a tan. <p, and PE r= DB MB —
b — a tan. <p ; hence the resistance on the frustum is pro¬
portional to b — a tan. <pa tan. <p sin.2 p, that is, to
b—~a tan. p (1 —sin.2 <p) =z b — a sin. p cos. p. Now this
will be a minimum when a sin. p cos. p is a maximum. On
differentiating sin. p cos. p, and making the result = 0,
we have cos.2 p = sin.2 p, whence cos. p — sin. p, and con¬
sequently p = 45°, or PM = MB.
Prop. VIII. To determine the frustum of a cone of a given
base and altitude, which, moving in the direction of its
axis, shall be resisted the least possible.
Let PBCQ(fig.5)be the frustum, moving in the direction
or the axis DE. The resistance to the frustum is equal to
the direct impulse on PQ, together with the oblique im-
vol. XIX.
pulse on the sides PB and QC. But by Prop. I. the direct Resistance
impulse on the section PQ is proportional to PE2 ; and jf °f Fluids.
ABC be the whole cone, the resistance on the sides of the ^
frustum PBCQ is equal to that on the whole cone, dimi¬
nished by that on the cone APQ. Now, by Prop. VI. the
resistance on the cone ABC is proportional to BD2 sin.2 p,
and that on the cone APQ is proportional to PE2 sin.2 p;
therefore on the conical surface of the frustum it is propor¬
tional to (BD2 — PE2) sin.2 p, and on the whole frustum
proportional to PE2 + (BD2 — PE2) sin.2 p = PE2 cos.2 p
+ BD2 sin.2 p.
Let ED = a, and DB b. We have then BM = a tan. p,
and PE = b — a tan. p ;
whence PE2 = — 2«6tan.p -f- a2 tan.2 p, and PE2 cos.2p =
b2 cos.2 p — 2 ab sin. p cos. p + sin.2 p, and consequently
PE2 cos.2 p + BD2 sin.2 p z; — 2 ab sin. p cos. p -f. a2 sin.2 p.
In order that the resistance may be a minimum, the differen¬
tial of this expression must be 0. Differentiating, and divid¬
ing by dtp, and leaving out the common multiplier 2a, we get
0 = 6 cos.2 <p + b sin.2 p + a sin. p cos. p,
whence a sin. p cos. <p — b (cos.2 p — sin.2 p),
or ^ a sin. 2(p — b cos. 2p,
and therefore i = 1 a tan. 2 p. Let ED be bisected in F,
and join FB ; we have then BD = FD tan. BFD, ox b—
^ a tan. BFD, so that BFD = 2 p ; whence, since BFD =
FAB 4- ABF, it follows that ABF is equal to FAB, and
consequently AF = FB. This property determines the
frustum, for F is a given point.
From the same principles, Sir Isaac Newton determined
the form of the curve which would generate the solid which,
of all others of the same length and base, should have the
least resistance. The investigation, however, is not intro¬
duced here, for reasons which will soon appear.
The reader cannot fail to observe, that all that has hither¬
to been said on this subject relates to the comparison of dif¬
ferent impulses or resistances. We have always compared
the oblique impulsions with the direct, and by their inter¬
vention we compare the oblique impulsions with each other.
But it remains to give absolute measures of some indivi¬
dual impulsion, to which, as an unit, we may refer every
other. And as it is by their pressure that they become
useful or hurtful, and they must be opposed by other pres¬
sures, it becomes extremely convenient to compare them
with that pressure with which we are most familiarly ac¬
quainted, the pressure of gravity.
The manner in which the comparison is made is this. Resist-
When a body advances in a fluid with a known velocity, ances com-
it puts a known quantity of the fluid into motion (as is sup-l)ared with
posed) with this velocity; and this is done in a known
time. We have only to examine what weight will put this„ravj°y
quantity of fluid into the same motion, by acting on it dur¬
ing the same time. This weight is conceived as equal to
the resistance. Thus, let us suppose that a stream of water,
moving at the rate of eight feet per second, is perpendicu¬
larly obstructed by a square foot of solid surface held fast
in its place. Conceiving water to act in the manner of the
hypothetical fluid above described, and to be without elas¬
ticity, the whole effect is the gradual annihilation of the
motion of eight cubic feet of water moving eight feet in a
second. And this is done in a second of time. It is equi¬
valent to the gradually putting eight cubic feet of water in¬
to motion with this velocity, and doing this by acting uni¬
formly during a second. The question then arises, what
weight is able to produce this effect ? Now the weight of
eight feet of water, acting during a second on it, will, as is
well known, give it the velocity of thirty-two feet per se¬
cond ; that is, four times greater. Therefore, the weight
of the fourth part of eight cubic feet, that is, the weight of
two cubic feet, acting during a second, will do the same
thing, or the weight of a column of water whose base is a
170
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
This will not the same in every velocity; and when he deducted a cer- Resistan;
tain "part of the'total” resistance, he found the remainder, was
' “ — ' of the solid body, but it will also do it by the same degrees, very exactly proportionable to the square of t ie vt ocity.
as any one will clearly perceive, bv attending to the gradual His experiments for the purpose of ascertaining this point
acceleration of the mass of water urged by one fourth of its were made with balls a very little heavier than water, so as to
weight, and comparing this with the gradual production or descend very slowly ; and they were made with Ins usual
extinction of motion in the fluid by the progress of the re¬
sisted surface.
Now it is well known that eight cubic feet of water, by
care and accuracy, and may be depended on.
In the experiments made with bodies floating on the sur- Causes
i\ow ,t is wen Known mat eigut cuo.e .ees n, face of water, there is an addition to the resistance arisingtarp,,
falling one foot, which it will do in one fourth of a second, from the inertia of the water. I he water heaps up a little
will acquire the velocity of eight feet per second by its on the anterior surface of the floa mg body, and is depress-
weight; therefore the force which produces the same effect ed behind it. Hence arises a hydrostatics! pressure acting
in a whole second is one fourth of this. This force is there- in concert with the true resistance. A similar thing is oh-
fore equal to the weight of a column of water whose base
is a square foot and whose height is two feet; that is, tv/ice
the height necessary for acquiring the velocity of the mo¬
tion by gravity. The conclusion is the same whatever be
the surface that is resisted, whatever be the fluid that re-
[if.
sists, and whatever be the velocity of the motion. In this
inductive and familiar manner we learn, that the direct im¬
pulse or resistance of an unelastic fluid on any plane sur
in concert with the true resistance,
served in the resistance of air, which is condensed before
the body and rarefied behind it, and thus an additional re¬
sistance is produced by the unbalanced elasticity of the air,
and also because the air which is actually displaced is
denser than common air. These circumstances cause the
resistances to increase faster than the squares of the velo¬
cities ; but, even independently of this, there is an addi¬
tional resistance arising from the tendency to rarefaction
face, is equal to the weight of a column of the fluid having behind a body moving very swiftly ; because the pressure
the surface for its base, and twice the fall necessary for ac ^   'W nan nnlv thp f,ii <hp
exper
nient.
of the surrounding fluid can only make the fluid fill the
space left with a determined velocity.
We have had occasion to speak of this circumstance
more particularly under Gunnery and Pneumatics, when
considering very rapid motions. Mr Robins had remarked
that the velocity at which the observed resistance of the air
began to increase so prodigiously, was that of about 1100
or 1200 feet per second, and that this was the velocity with
which air would rush into a void. He concluded that when
quiring the velocity of the motion for its height; and it the
fluid is considered as elastic, the impulse or resistance is
twice as great. See Newt. Princip. b. ii. prop. 35 and 3b.
Compari- It now remains to compare this theory with experiment,
son of the- Numerous experiments have been made ; but it is much to
cry with be lamented that, in a matter of such importance, there is
so great a disagreement in the results. Those of Sir Isaac
Newton were chiefly made by the oscillations of pendulums
in water, and by the descent of balls both in water and in the velocity was greater than this, the ball was exposed to
air. Many were made by Mariotte {Trade de Mouvement the additional resistance arising from the unbalanced stati¬
cs’ Eaux). Gravesande has published, in his System of cal pressure of the air, and that it was necessary to add
Natural Philosophy, experiments on the resistance or im- this constant quantity to the resistance arising from the air s
pulsions on solids in the middle of a pipe or canal. They inertia in all greater velocities. This is very reasonable;
are extremely well contrived, but are on so small a scale but he imagined that in smaller velocities there was no such
that they are of very little use. Daniel Bernoulli, and his unbalanced pressure. ^ ^ ^ pacp ' fnr nl-
pupil Professor Krafft, have published, in the Comment.
Acad. Petropol., experiments on the impulse of a stream or
vein of water from an orifice or tube; these are of great
value. The Abbe Bossut has published others of the same
kind in his Hydrodynamique. Mr Robins has published, in
But this cannot be the case ; for al¬
though in smaller velocities the air will fill up the space be¬
hind the body, it will not fill it up with air of the same den¬
sity, otherwise the motion of the air into the deserted place
must be conceived to be instantaneous. There must there¬
fore be a rarefaction behind the body, and a pressure back-
his New Principles of Gunnery, many valuable experiments ward arising from unbalanced elasticity, independent of the
on the impulse and resistance of air. The Chevalier de
Borda, in the Mem. Acad. Paris, 1763 and 1767, has given
experiments on the resistance of air, and also of water, which
are very interesting. The most complete collection of ex¬
periments on the resistance of water are those made at the
public expense by a committee of the Academy of Sciences
at Paris, consisting of the Marquis Condorcet, D’Alembert,
the Abbe Bossut, and others. The Chevalier Du Buat, in his
Hydraulique, has published some most curious and valuable
experiments, where many important subjects are taken no¬
tice of, which had never been attended to before, and which
give a view of the subject totally different from what is usu-
condensation on the anterior part. The condensation and
rarefaction are owing to the same cause, viz. the limited
elasticity of the air. Were this infinitely great, the small¬
est condensation before the body would be instantly diffus¬
ed through the whole air, and so would the rarefaction, so
that no pressure of unbalanced elasticity would be observ¬
ed ; but the elasticity is such as to propagate the conden¬
sation with the velocity of sound only, i. e. the velocity ot
1142 feet per second. Therefore the additional resistance
does not commence precisely at this velocity, but is sensible
in all smaller velocities, as is very justly observed by Euler.
But we are not yet able to ascertain the law of its increase,
ally taken of it. Don George d’Ulloa, in his Examen Ma- although it is a problem which seems susceptible of a tole-
ritimo, has also given some important experiments similar rably accurate solution.
to those adduced by Bouguer in his Manoeuvre des Vais- Precisely similar to this is the resistance to the motion
seaux, but leading to very different conclusions. All these of floating bodies, arising from the accumulation or gorging
should be consulted by such as would acquire a practical up of the water on their anterior surface, and its depression
knowledge of this subject. We must content ourselves with behind them. Were the gravity of the water infinite while
giving their most general results.
1. It is in accordance with experiment that the resist¬
ances are proportional to the squares of the velocities.
When the velocities of water do not exceed a few feet per
second, no sensible deviation is observed. In very small
velocities the resistances are sensibly greater than in this
its inertia remains the same, the wave raised up at the prow
of a ship would be instantly diffused over the whole ocean,
and it would therefore be infinitely small, as also the de¬
pression behind the poop. But this wave requires time for
its diffusion ; and while it is not diffused it acts by hydro¬
static pressure. We are equally unable to ascertain the
proportion, and this excess is plainly owing to the viscidity law of variation of this part of the resistance, the mecha-
or imperfect fluidity of water. Sir Isaac Newton has shown nism of waves being but very imperfectly understood. The
that
the resistance arising from this cause is constant, or height of the wave in the experiments of the French aca-
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
171
sistancederay could not be measured with sufficient precision (being
iFluids. oniy observed en passant) for ascertaining its relation to the
velocity. Du Buat attempted it in his experiments, but
without success. This must evidently make a part of the
resistance in all velocities: and it still remains an unde¬
cided question, “ What relation it bears to the velocities ?”
When the solid body is wholly buried in the fluid this ac¬
cumulation does not take place, or at least not in the same
way; it may, however, be observed. Every person may
recollect, that in a very swift running stream a large stone
at the bottom will produce a small swell above it; unless
it lies very deep, a nice eye may still observe it. The wa¬
ter, on arriving at the obstacle, glides past it in every di¬
rection, and is deflected on all sides; and therefore what
passes over it is also deflected upwards, and causes the wa¬
ter over it to rise above its level. The nearer that the body
is to the surface, the greater will be the perpendicular rise
of the water, but it will be less diffused ; and it is uncertain
whether the whole elevation will be greater or less. By the
whole elevation we mean the area of a perpendicular sec¬
tion of the elevation by a plane perpendicular to the direc¬
tion of the stream. We are rather disposed to think that
this area will be greatest when the body is near the surface.
D’Ulloa has attempted to consider this subject theoretical¬
ly, and is of a very different opinion, which he confirms by
the single experiment to be mentioned by and by. Mean¬
time it is evident, that if the water which glides past the
body cannot fall in behind it with sufficient velocity to fill
up the space behind, there must be a void there; and thus
a hydrostatic pressure must be supei’added to the resistance
arising from the inertia of the water. All must have ob¬
served, that if the end of a stick held in the hand be drawn
slowly through the water, the water will fill the place left
by the stick, and there will be no curled wave; but if the
motion be very rapid, a hollow trough or gutter is left be¬
hind, and is not filled up till at some distance from the
stick, and the wave which forms its sides is very much bro¬
ken and curled. The waiter of this article has often looked
into the water from the poop of a second-rate man-of-war
when she was sailing eleven miles per hour, which is a ve¬
locity of sixteen feet per second nearly; and he not only
observed that the back of the rudder was naked for about
two feet below the load water-line, but also that the trough
or wake made by the ship w^as filled up with water which
was broken and foaming to a considerable depth, and to a
considerable distance from the vessel; there must there¬
fore have been a void. He never saw the wake perfectly
transparent (and therefore completely filled with water)
when the velocity exceeded nine or ten feet per second.
While this broken water is observed, there can be no doubt
that there is a void and an additional resistance. But even
when the space left by the body, or the space behind a still
body exposed to a stream, is completely filled, it may not
be filled sufficiently fast, and there may be (and certainly
is, as we shall afterwards see) a quantity of water behind
the body, which is moving more slowly away than the rest,
and therefore hangs in some shape by the body, and is
dragged by it, increasing the resistance. The quantity of
this must depend partly on the velocity of the body or
stream, and partly on the rapidity with which the surround¬
ing water comes in behind. This last must depend on the
pressure of the surrounding water. It would appear that
when this adjoining pressure is very great, as must happen
when the depth is great, the augmentation of resistance
now spoken of would be less. Accordingly this appears in
Newton’s experiments, where the balls were less retarded as
they were deeper under water.
These experiments are so simple in their nature, and Resistance
were made with such care, and by a person so able to de- fluids,
tect and appreciate every circumstance, that they deserve '
great credit, and the conclusions legitimately drawn from
them deserve to be considered as physical laws. We think
that the present deduction is unexceptionable; for in the
motion of balls which hardly descended, their preponde-
rancy being hardly sensible, the effect of depth must have
borne a very great proportion to the whole resistance, and
must have greatly influenced their motions; yet they were
observed to fall as if the resistance had in no way depend¬
ed on the depth.
The same thing appears in Borda’s experiments, where
a sphere which was deeply immersed in the water was less
resisted than one that moved with the same velocity near
the surface; and this was very constant and regular in a
course of experiments. D’Ulloa, however, affirms the con¬
trary ; he says that the resistance of a board, which was a
foot broad, immersed one foot in a stream moving two feet
per second, was 15£ lbs. and the resistance to the same
board, when immersed two feet in a stream moving foot
per second (in which case the surface was two feet), was
26^ pounds.1
We have been more minute on this subject, because it
is the leading proposition in the theory of the action of
fluids. Newton’s demonstration of it takes no notice of
the manner in which the various particles of the fluid are
put in motion, or the motion which each in particular ac¬
quires. He only shows, that if there be nothing concern¬
ed in the communication but pure inertia, the sum total of
the motions of the particles, estimated in the direction of
the motion of the body, or that of the stream, will be in the
duplicate ratio of the velocity. It was therefore of im¬
portance to show that this part of the theory was just.
2. It appears from a comparison of all the experiments,
that the impulses and resistances are very nearly in the pro¬
portion of the surfaces. They appear, however, to increase
somewhat faster than the surfaces. Borda found that the
resistance, with the same velocity, to a surface of
9 inches \ ^
16 f j 17,535 f . . , , 16
36 fwasj 42,750 ( mstea<lofi 36
81 ) ( 104,737 J (81
The deviation in these experiments from the theory in¬
creases with the surface, and is probably much greater in
the extensive surfaces of the sails of ships and wind-mills,
and the hulls of ships.
3. The resistances by no means vary in the duplicate
ratio of the sines of the angles of incidence.
As this is a circumstance of great importance, inasmuch
as the whole theory of the construction and working of
ships, and the action of water on our most important ma¬
chines, depends upon it, it merits a very particular consi¬
deration. We cannot do a greater service than by render¬
ing more generally know n the excellent experiments of the
French academy.
fifteen boxes or vessels were constructed, which wereExperi-
two feet wide, two feet deep, and four feet long. One ofments °f
them was a parallelepiped of these dimensions; the otherst^eretlch
had prows of a wedge form, the angle of the wedge varyingaca em^‘
by 12° from 12° to 180°; so that the angle of incidence
increased by 6° from one box to another. These boxes
were dragged across a very large basin of smooth water,
in which they were immersed two feet, by means of a line
passing over a wheel connected with a cylinder, from which
the moving weight was suspended. The motion soon be¬
came perfectly uniform; and the time of passing over ninety-
observ^6 'S some*:^^nS verJ unaccountable in these experiments.
The resistances are much greater than any other author has
172
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
Resistance six French feet with this uniform motion was very care-
of Fluids. fuiiy noted. The resistance was measured by the weight
' V   employed, after deducting a certain quantity (properly esti¬
mated) for friction, and for the accumulation of the water
against the anterior surface. The results of the numerous
experiments are given in the following table ; where column
I. contains the angle of the prow, column II. contains the
resistance as given by the preceding theory, column ill.
contains the resistance exhibited in the experiments, and
column IV. contains the deviation of the experiment trom
the theory.
Absolute
resistance
of water.
I.
180°
168
156
144
132
120
108
96
84
72
60
48
36
24
12
II.
10000
9890
9568
9045
8346
7500
6545
5523
4478
3455
2500
1654
955
432
109
III.
10000
9893
9578
9084
8446
7710
6925
6148
5433
4800
4404
4240
4142
4063
3999
IV.
0
+3
+ 10
+39
+ 100
+210
+380
+625
+955
+ 1345
+ 1904
+2586
+3187
+3631
+3890
The resistance to one square foot, French measure, mov¬
ing with the velocity of 2,56 feet per second, was very
nearly 7*625 pounds French.
Reducing these to English measures, we have the sur¬
face = M360 feet, the velocity of the motion equal to
2*7284 feet per second, and the resistance equal to 8*234
pounds avoirdupois. The weight of a column of fresh water
of this base, and having for its height the fall necessary for
communicating this velocity, is 8*264 pounds avoirdupois.
The resistances to other velocities were accurately propor¬
tional to the squares of the velocities.
There is great diversity in the value which different au¬
thors have deduced for the absolute resistance of water
from their experiments. In the value now given nothing
is taken into account but the inertia of the water. The ac¬
cumulation against the fore-part of the box was carefully
noted, and the statical pressure backwards, arising from this
cause, was subtracted from the whole resistance to the drag.
There had not been a sufficient variety of experiments for
discovering the share which tenacity and friction produced;
so that the number of pounds set down here may be consi¬
dered as somewhat superior to the mere effects of the iner¬
tia of the water. We think, upon the whole, that it is the
most accurate determination yet given of the resistance to
a body in motion ; but we shall afterwards see reason for
believing that the impulse of a running stream having the
same velocity is somewhat greater; and this is the form in
which most of the experiments have been made.
It is to be observed, also, that the resistance here given
is that to a vessel two feet broad and deep, and four feet
long. The resistance to a plane two feet broad and deep
would probably have exceeded this in the proportion of
15*22 to 14*54,” for reasons which we shall see afterwards.
From the experiments of Du Buat, it appears that a body
of one foot square, French measure, and two feet long,
having its centre fifteen inches under water, moving three
French feet per second, sustained a pressure of 14*54 French
pounds, or 15*63 English. This, reduced in the proportion
of 32 to (2*56)2, gives 11*43 pounds, considerably exceeding
the 8*234 mentioned above.
Bouguer, in his Manoeuvre des Vaisseaux, says that he
found the resistance of sea-water to a velocity of one foot
to be twenty-three ounces poids des marc.
Borda found the resistance of sea-water to the face of aKe^tto
cubic foot, moving against the water one foot per second, ^lu«
to be twenty-one ounces nearly. But in this experiment
the wave was not deducted.
Don George d’Ulloa found the impulse of a stream ot
sea-water, running two feet per second, on a foot square, to
be 15i English pounds. This greatly exceeds all the values
given by others. . . _ ^
From these experiments wre learn, in the first place) that
the direct resistance to the motion of a plane surface through
water, is very nearly equal to the weight of a column of
water having that surface for its base, and for its height
the fall producing the velocity of the motion. This is but
one half of the resistance determined by the preceding
theory. It agrees, however, very well with the best experi¬
ments made by other philosophers on bodies totally immersed
or surrounded by the fluid; and sufficiently shows that there
must be some fallacy in the principles or reasoning by which
this result of the theory is supposed to be deduced.
But we see that the effects of the obliquity of incidence Effects
deviate enormously from the theory, and that this devia-
tion increases rapidly as the acuteness of the prow in¬
creases. In the prow of 60° the deviation is nearly equal
to the whole resistance pointed out by the theory, and in
the prow of 12° it is nearly forty times greater than the
theoretical resistance.
The resistance of the prow of 90° should be one half the
resistance of the base. We have not such a prow ; but the
medium between the resistance of the prow of 96 and 84
is 5790 instead of 5000.
These experiments agree with those of other authors on
plane surfaces. Mr Robins found that the resistance of the
air to a pyramid of 45°, with its apex foremost, was to that of
its base as 1000 to 1411, instead of one to two. Borda
found that the resistance of a cube, moving in water in the
direction of the side, was to the oblique resistance, when it
was moved in the direction of the diagonal, in the proper-
W 0.0 mw V v>v*. IM.X    O ' * -
tion of 54 to 7 ; whereas it should have been that ot v ^
to 1, or of 10 to 7 nearly. He also found that a wedge
whose angle was 90°, moving in air, gave for the propor¬
tion of the resistances of the edge and base 7281 : 10,000,
instead of 5000 : 10,000. Also, when the angle of the wedge
was 60°, the resistances of the edge and base were 52 and
100, instead of 25 and 100.
In short, in all the cases of oblique plane surfaces, the
resistances are greater than those which were assigned by
the theory. The theoretical law agrees tolerably with ob¬
servation in large angles of incidence, that is, in incidences
not differing very far from the perpendicular; but in more
acute prows the resistances are more nearly proportional to
the sines of incidence than to their squares.
The French academicians deduced from these experi¬
ments an expression of the general value ot the resistance,
which corresponds tolerably wrell with observation. Thus
let x be the complement of the half angle of the prow, and
let P be the direct pressure or resistance, with an inci¬
dence of 90°, and p the effective oblique pressure: then
^ = P x cosine2 x + 3*153 J • This gives for a prow
of 12° an error in defect equal to about and in larger
angles it is much nearer the truth; and this is exact enough
for any practice.
This is an abundantly simple formula; but if we intro¬
duce it in our calculations of the resistances of curvilineal
prows, it renders them so complicated as to be almost use¬
less ; and what is worse, when the calculation is completed
for a curvilineal prow, the resistance which results is found
to differ widely from experiment. This shows that the
motion of the fluid is so modified by the action of the most
prominent part of the prow, that its impulse on what suc¬
ceeds is greatly affected, so that we are not allowed to
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
173
distance consider the prow as composed of a number of parts, each
Fluids. 0f which is affected as if it were detached from all the
rest.
As the very nature of naval architecture seems to re¬
quire curvilineal forms in order to give the necessary
strength, it seemed of importance to examine more parti¬
cularly the deviations of the resistances of such prows from
the resistances assigned by the theory. The academicians
therefore made vessels with prows of a cylindrical shape ;
one of these was a half cylinder, and the other was one
third of a cylinder, both having the same breadth, viz. two
feet, the same depth, also two feet, and the same length,
four feet. The resistance of the half cylinder was to the
resistance of the perpendicular prow in the proportion of
13 to 25, instead of being as 13 to 19*5. Bor da found
nearly the same ratio of the resistances of the half cylinder,
and the plane of its diameter when moved in air. He also
compared the resistances of two prisms or wedges of the
same breadth and height. The first had its sides plane,
inclined to the base in angles of 60° : the second had its
sides portions of cylinders, of which the planes were the
chords, that is, their sections were arcs of circles of 60°.
Their resistances were as 133 to 100, instead of being as
133 to 220, as required by the theory ; and as the resist¬
ance of the first was greater in proportion to that of the
base than the theory allows, the resistance of the last was
less.
Mr Robins found the resistance of a sphere moving in
air to be to the resistance of its great circle as 1 to 2*27,
whereas theory requires them to be as 1 to 2. He found,
at the same time, that the absolute resistance was greater
than the weight of a cylinder of air of the same diameter,
and having the height necessary for acquiring the velocity.
It was greater in the proportion of 49 to 40 nearly.
Borda found the resistance of the sphere moving in wa¬
ter to be to that of its great circle as 1000 to 2508, and it
was one ninth greater than the weight of the column of
water whose height was that necessary for producing the
velocity. He also found that the resistance of air to the
sphere was to its resistance to its great circle as 1 to 2-45.
It appears, therefore, on the whole, that the theory gives
the resistance of oblique plane surfaces too small, and that
of curved surfaces too great; and that it is quite unfit for
ascertaining the modifications of resistance arising from
the figure of the body. The most prominent part of the
prow changes the action of the fluid on the succeeding
parts, rendering it totally different from what it would be
were that part detached from the rest, and exposed to the
stream with the same obliquity. It is of no consequence,
therefore, to deduce any formula from the valuable expe¬
riments of the French academy. The experiments them¬
selves are of great importance, because they give us the
impulses on plane surfaces with every obliquity. They
therefore put it in our power to select the most proper
obliquity in a thousand important cases. By appealing to
them, we can tell what is the proper angle of the sail for
producing the greatest impulse in the direction of the ship’s
course; or the best inclination of the sail of a windmill,
or the best inclination of the float of a water-wheel, &c.
&c. We see also, that the deviation from the simple theory
is not very considerable till the obliquity is great; and that,
in the inclinations which other circumstances would induce
us to give to the floats of water-wheels, the sails of wind¬
mills, and the like, the results of the theory are sufficiently
in accordance with experiment, for rendering this theory
of very great use in the construction of machines. Its great
defect is in the impulsions on curved surfaces, which puts
a stop to our improvement of the science of naval architec¬
ture, and the working of ships.
Having thus pointed out the defects of the Newtonian
■ theory by a comparison with experiment, we now proceed
fects
:he
ory.
W;es of
Refects,
to consider the circumstances which cause the great discre- Resistance
pancy. It has already been stated that Newton, in order °f Fluids,
to explain the phenomena of oblique impulse, assumed the ""v*—^
distances between the particles of his hypothetical fluid to
be infinitely great in comparison of their diameters, so that
each particle might have room to escape, after making its
stroke, without affecting the motions of the other particles,
and consequently, that the actions of the particles might be
regarded as so many separate collisions. But this assump¬
tion does not represent the real state of the case. The
rare fluid introduced by Newton for the purpose now men¬
tioned, either does not exist in nature, or does not act in
the manner we have stated, namely, the particles making
their impulse, and then escaping through among the rest
without affecting their motion. We cannot indeed say wdiat
may be the proportion between the diameter and the dis¬
tance of the particles. The first may be incomparably
smaller than the second, even in mercury, the densest fluid
which we are familiarly acquainted with ; but although they
do not touch each other, they act nearly as if they did, in
consequence of their mutual attractions and repulsions.
We have seen air a thousand times rarer in some experi¬
ments than in others, and therefore the distance of the par¬
ticles at least ten times greater than their diameters ; and
yet, in this rare state, it propagates all pressures or impulses
made on any part of it to a great distance, almost in an in¬
stant. It cannot be, therefore, that fluids act on bodies by
impulse. It is very possible to conceive a fluid advancing
with a flat surface against the flat surface of a solid. The
very first and superficial particles may make an impulse ;
and if they were annihilated, the next might do the same;
and if the velocity were double, these impulses would be
double, and would be withstood by a double force, and not
a quadruple, as is observed ; and this very circumstance that
a quadruple force is necessary, should have made us con¬
clude that it was not to impulse that this force was opposed.
The first particles having made their stroke, and not being
annihilated, must escape laterally. In their escaping they
effectually prevent every farther impulse, because they come
in the way of those filaments which would have struck the
body. The whole process seems to be somewhat as fol¬
lows :
When the particles of the fluid come into contact with Action of
the plane surface AB (fig. 6), per¬
pendicular to the direction DC of
their motion, they must deflect to
both sides equally, and in equal
portions, because no reason can gys
be assigned why more should go BKS5
to either side. By this means the^l
filament EF, which would have
struck the surface in G, is de¬
flected before it arrives at the sur¬
face, and describes a curved path
EFIHK, continuing its rectilineal motion to I, where it
is intercepted by a filament immediately adjoining to EF,
on the side of the middle filament DC. The different
particles of DC may be supposed to impinge in succes¬
sion at C, and to be deflected at right angles; and, glid¬
ing along CB, to escape at B. Each filament in suc¬
cession, outwards from DC, is deflected in its turn ; and
being hindered from even touching the surface CB, it
glides off in a direction parallel to it; and thus EF is de¬
flected in I, moves parallel to CB from I to H, and is again
deflected at right angles, and describes HK parallel to DC.
The same thing may be supposed to happen on the other
side of DC. Thus it would appear, that except two fila¬
ments immediately adjoining to the line DC, which bisects
the surface at right angles, no part of the fluid makes any
impulse on the surface AB. All the other filaments are
merely pressed against it by the lateral filaments without
fluids in
motion on
fixed bo¬
dies ex¬
plained.
174
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
Resistance them, which they turn aside, and prevent from striking the P°™t, stjch as B,
of the concave side of the tube, in a di- Resistaw
Fig. 7.
of P luids. g\jrf3,c0» i r?
' y   In like manner, when the fluid strikes the edge of a prism
or wedge ACB (fig. 7), it can¬
not be said that any real im¬
pulse is made. Nothing hin¬
ders us from supposing C to be
a mathematical angle or indivi-E
sible point, not susceptible of
any impulse, and serving mere¬
ly to divide the stream. Each
filament EF is effectually pre- ..... a
vented from impinging at G in the line of its direction, and
with the obliquity of incidence EGC, by the filaments be¬
tween EF and DC, which glide along the surface CA ; and
it may be supposed to be deflected when it comes to the
line CF which bisects the angle DC A, and again deflected
and rendered parallel to DC at I. The same thing hap¬
pens on the other side of DC ; and we cannot in that case
assert that there is any impulse.
We now see plainly how the ordinary theory must be
totally unfit for furnishing principles of naval architecture,
even although a formula could be deduced from such a se¬
ries of experiments as those of the French academy. Al¬
though we should know precisely the impulse, or, to speak
now more cautiously, the action, of the fluid on a surface
GL (fig. 8) of any obliquity,
when it is alone, detached
from all others, we cannot in
the smallest degree tell what
will be the action of part of a
stream or fluid advancing to¬
wards it with the same obli¬
quity, when it is preceded by
an adjoining surface CG, hav¬
ing a different inclination ; for
Son BF perpendicular to the plane CBD, which touches ^
the tube in the point B. This pressure on the adjoining
filament, on the concave side of its path, must be withstood
bv that filament which deflects it; and it must be propa-
o-ated across that filament to the next, and thus augment
the pressure upon that next filament already pressed by the
deflection of the intermediate filament; and thus there is a
pressure towards the middle filament, and towards the body,
arising from the deflection of all the outer filaments; and
their accumulated sum must be conceived as immediately
exerted on the middle filaments and on the body, because
a perfect fluid transmits every pressure undiminished.
The pressure BF is equivalent to the two BH, BG, one
of which is perpendicular, and the other parallel, to the di¬
rection of the original motion. By the first (taken in any
point of the curvilineal motion of any filament), the two
halves of the stream are pressed together, and, in the case
of fi°-. 6 and 7, exactly balance each other. But the pres- .
sures, such as BG, must be ultimately withstood by the
surface ACB ; and it is by these accumulated pressures
that the solid body is urged down the stream, and it is
these accumulated pressures which we observe and measure
in our experiments. We shall anticipate a little, and say
that it is most easily demonstrated, that when a ball A (fig.
9) moves with undiminished velocity in a tube so incurvat-
ed that its axis at E is at right angles to its axis at A, the
accumulated action of the pressures, such as BG, taken for
every point of the path, is precisely equal to the force which
would produce or extinguish the original motion.
This being the case, it follows most obviously, that if the
two motions of the filaments are such as we have described
and represented by fig. 6, the whole pressure in the direc¬
tion of the stream, that is, the whole pressure which can be
observed on the surface, is equal to the weight of a column
of fluid having the surface for its base, and twice the fall
inclination. The previous deflections are extremely dif¬
ferent in these two cases; and the previous deflections are
the only changes which we can observe in the motions of
the fluid, and the only causes of that pressure which we ob¬
serve the body to sustain, and which we call the impulse
on it. This theory must, therefore, be quite unfit for as¬
certaining the action on a curved surface, which may be
considered as made up of an indefinite number of succes¬
sive planes.
We now see with equal evidence how it happens that the
action of fluids on solid bodies may and must be. opposed
by pressures, and may be compared with and measured by —  c,
the pressure of gravity. We are not comparing forces of between them parallel to Gt)
different kinds, percussionswith pressures, but pressures with more like what is re-
each other. Let us see whether this view of the subject
will afford us any method of comparison or absolute mea¬
surement.
Absolute When a filament of fluid, that is, a row of corpuscles, are .  
measure of turned out of their course, and forced to take another course, remains a quantity of
the pres- force is required to produce this change of direction. The fluid ADB, almost, if
sure- filament is prevented from proceeding, by other filaments
which lie between it and the body, and which deflect it in
the same manner as if it were contained in a bended tube,
make no difference whether the fluid be elastic or unelastic,
if the deflections and velocities are the same. Now it is a
fact, that no difference in this respect can be observed in
the actions of air and water; and this had always appeared
a great defect in Newton’s theory ; but it was only a defect
of the theory attributed to him. But it is also true, that
the observed action is but ontrhalf of what is just now de¬
duced from this improved view of the subject. Whence
arises this difference ? The reason is this : We have given
a very erroneous account of the motions of the filaments.
A filament EF does not move, as represented in fig. 6, with
two rectangular inflections at I and at FI, and a path IH
.... rpjie process 0f nature is
presented in fig. 10.
It is observed, that at
the anterior part of
the body AB, there
Fig. 10.
not altogether, stag
nant, of a singular J|
shape, having two cur-
tue same manner as a a weie m a ucuucu muc, , .,11
and it will press on the concave filament next to it as it ved concave sides A a D, B o D, along which the mifo:
it      ,1 n •»»1 o rw t c- rrlirlo f I'VliC 1C XT&YXT slowlv ch^mSTecl. .1.110
would press on the concave side of the tube,
a bended tube ABE (fig. 9),
and that a ball A is projected Fig
along it writh any velocity, and
moves in it without friction ; it
is demonstrated, in elementary AQ
mechanics, that the ball will
move with undiminished velo¬
city, and will press on every
Suppose such filaments glide. This fluid is very slowly changed. ^gnts
late Sir Charles Knowles, a distinguished officer of tfieg;rChi
. 9. British navy, made many beautiful experiments for ascer- j^noWl
taining the paths of the filaments of water. At a distance
up the stream, he allowed small jets of a coloured fluid,
which did not mix with water, to make part of the stream;
and the experiments were made in troughs with sides and
bottom of plate-glass. A small taper was placed at a con¬
siderable height above, by which the shadows of the colour-
RESISTANCE
sistance ed filaments were most distinctly projected on a white plane
Fluids, below the trough, so that they were accurately drawn
with a pencil. A few important particulars may be here
mentioned.
The still water ADC, fig. 10, lasted for a long while be¬
fore it was renewed; and it seemed to be gradually wasted
by abrasion, by the adhesion of the surrounding water,
which gradually licked away the outer parts from D to A
and B ; and it seemed to renew itself in the direction CD,
opposite to the motion of the stream. There was, however,
a considerable intricacy and eddy in this motion. Some
(seemingly superficial) water was continually, but slowly, flow¬
ing outward from the line DC, while other water was seen
within and below it, coming inwards and going backwards.
The coloured lateral filaments were most constant in
their form, while the body was the same, although the ve¬
locity was in some cases quadrupled. Any change which
this produced seemed confined to the superficial filaments.
As the filaments were deflected, they were also constipat¬
ed, that is, the curved parts of the filaments were nearer
each other than the parallel straight filaments up the stream ;
and this constipation was more considerable as the pi’ow
was more obtuse and the deflexion greater.
The inner filaments were ultimately more deflected than
those without them; that is, if a line be drawn touching
the curve EFIH in the point H of contrary flexure, where
the concavity begins to be on the side next the body, the
angle HKC, contained between the axis and the tangent
line, is so much the greater as the filament is nearer the
axis.
When the body exposed to the stream was a box of up¬
right sides, flat bottom, and angular prow, like a wedge,
having its edge also upright, the filaments were not all de¬
flected laterally, as theory would make us expect; but the
filaments near the bottom were also deflected downwards
as well as laterally, and glided along at some distance un¬
der the bottom, forming lines of double curvature.
The breadth of the stream that was deflected was much
greater than that of the body ; and the sensible deflection
began at a considerable distance up the stream, especially
in the outer filaments.
Lastly, the form of the curves was greatly influenced by
the proportion between the width of the trough and that of
the body. The curvature was always less when the trough
was very wide in proportion to the body.
Great varieties were also observed in the motion or velo¬
city of the filaments. In general, the filaments increased
in velocity outwards from the body to a certain small dis¬
tance, which was nearly the same in all cases, and then di¬
minished all the way outward. This was observed by in¬
equalities in the colour of the filaments, by which one could
be observed to outstrip another. The retardation of those
next the body seemed to proceed from friction ; and it was
imagined that without this the velocity there would always
have been greatest.
These observations give us considerable information re¬
specting the mechanism of these motions, and the action
of fluids upon solids. The pressure in the duplicate ratio
of the velocities comes here again into view. We found,
that although the velocities were very different, the curves
were precisely the same. Now the observed pressures arise
from the transverse forces by which each particle of a fila¬
ment is retained in its curvilineal path ; and we know that
the force by which a body is retained in any curve is di¬
rectly as the square of the velocity, and inversely as the ra¬
dius of curvature. The curvature, therefore, remaining the
same, the transverse forces, and consequently the pressure
on the body, must be as the square of the velocity; and,
on the other hand, we can see pretty clearly (indeed it is
rigorously demonstrated by D’Alembert), that whatever be
the velocities, the curves will be the same. For it is known
OF FLUIDS. 175
in hydraulics, that it requires a fourfold or ninefold pressure Resistance
to produce a double or triple velocity. And as all pres-. °f Fluids,
sures are propagated through a perfect fluid without diminu- s'—■“v-—
tion, this fourfold pressure, while it produces a double velo¬
city, produces also fourfold transverse pressures, which will
retain the particles, moving twice as fast, in the same cur¬
vilineal paths. And thus we see that the impulses, as they
are called, and resistances of fluids, have a certain relation
to the weight of a column of fluid whose height is the
height necessary for producing the velocity. How it hap¬
pens that a plane surface, immersed in an extended fluid,
sustains just half the pressure which it would have sustained
had the motions been such as are represented in fig. 6, is a
matter of more curious and difficult investigation. But we
see evidently that the pressure must be less than what is
there assigned ; for the stagnant water a-head of the body
greatly diminishes the ultimate deflections of the filaments ;
and it may be demonstrated, that when the part BE of the
canal, fig. 9, is inclined to the part AB in an angle less
than 90°, the pressures BG along the whole canal are as
the versed sine of the ultimate angle of deflection, or the
versed sine of the angle which the part BE makes with the
part AB. Therefore, since the deflections resemble more
the sketch given in fig. 10, the accumulated sum of all these
forces BG of fig. 9 must be less than the similar sum cor¬
responding to fig. 6, that is, less than the weight of the co¬
lumn of fluid having twice the productive height for its
height. How it is just one half, shall be our next inquiry.
And here we must return to the labours of Sir Isaac New- Investiga-
ton. After many beautiful observations on the nature and tions of
mechanism of continued fluids, he says, that the resistance Newton,
which they occasion is but one half of that occasioned by
the rare fluid which had been the subject of his former pro¬
position. He then enters into another, as novel and as dif¬
ficult an investigation, viz. the laws of hydraulics, and en¬
deavours to ascertain the motion of fluids through orifices
when urged by pressures of any kind. He endeavours to
ascertain the velocity with which a fluid escapes through a
horizontal orifice in the bottom of a vessel, by the action of
its weight, and the pressure which this vein of fluid will
exert on a little circle which occupies part of the orifice.
To obtain this, he employs a kind of approximation and
trial, of which it would be extremely difficult to give an
extract; and then, by increasing the diameter of the vessel
and of the hole to infinity, he accommodates his reasoning
to the case of a plane surface exposed to an indefinitely ex¬
tended stream of fluid; and, lastly, giving to the little cir¬
cular surface the motion which he had before ascribed to
the fluid, he says, that the resistance to a plane surface mov¬
ing through an unelastic continuous fluid, is equal to the
weight of a column of the fluid whose height is one half of
that necessary for acquiring the velocity ; and he says, that
the resistance of a globe is, in this case, the same with that
of a cylinder of the same diameter. The resistance, there¬
fore, of the cylinder or circle is four times less, and that of
the globe is twice less, than their resistances on a rare elas¬
tic medium.
But this determination, though founded on principles or
assumptions which are much nearer to the real state of
things, is liable to great objections. It depends on his me¬
thod for ascertaining the velocity of the issuing fluid; a
method extremely ingenious, but defective. The cataract
which he supposes, cannot exist as he supposes, descending
by the full action of gravity, and surrounded by a funnel of
stagnant fluid. For, in such circumstances, there is nothing
to balance the hydrostatical pressure of this surrounding
fluid ; because the whole pressure of the central cataract is
employed in producing its own descent. In the next place,
the pressure which he determines is beyond all doubt only
half of what is observed on a plane surface in all our expe¬
riments. And, in the third place it is repugnant to all our
176 RESISTANCE
Resistance experience, that the resistance of a globe or of a pointed
of Fluids. b0dy is ^ great as that of its circular base. He supposes
  v   the "two bodies placed in a tube or canal; and since they
are supposed of the same diameter, and therefore leave equal
spaces at their sides, he concludes, that because the water
escapes by their sides with the same velocity, they will
have the same resistance. But this is by no means a ne¬
cessary consequence. Even if the water should be allowed
to exert equal pressures on them, the pressures being per¬
pendicular to their surfaces, and these surfaces being in¬
clined to the axis, while in the case of the base of a cylin¬
der it is in the direction of the axis, there must be a differ¬
ence in the accumulated or compound pressure in the direc¬
tion of the axis. He indeed says, that in the case of the
cylinder or the circle obstructing the canal, a quantity of
water remains stagnant on its upper surface, viz. all the
water whose motion would not contribute to the most ready
passage of the fluid between the cylinder and the sides of
the canal or tube ; and that this water may be considered
as frozen. If this be the case, it is indifferent what is the
form of the body that is covered with this mass of frozen or
stagnant water. It may be a hemisphere or a cone; the
resistance will be the same. But Newton by no means as¬
signs, either with precision or with distinct evidence, the
form and magnitude of this stagnant water, so as to give
confidence in the results. He contents himself with saying,
that it is that water whose motion is not necessary, or can¬
not contribute to the most easy passage of the water.
There remains, therefore, many imperfections in this theory.
Researches In the second volume of the Comment. Petropol. 1727,
of D. Ber- Daniel Bernoulli proposes a formula for the resistance of
noutli. fluids, deduced from considerations quite different from
those on which Newton founded his solution. But he de¬
livers it with diffidence, because he found that it gave a re¬
sistance four times greater than experiment. In the same
dissertation he determines the resistance of a sphere to be
one half of that of its great circle. But in his subsequent
theory of Hydrodynamics (a work which must ever rank
among the first productions of the age, being equally re¬
markable for refined and elegant mathematics, and ingenious
and original thoughts in dynamics), he calls this determina¬
tion in question. It is indeed founded on the same hypo¬
thetical principles which have been unskilfully detached
from the rest of Newton’s physics, and made the ground¬
work of all the subsequent theories on this subject.
Impulse of In 1741, Daniel Bernoulli published another dissertation
a fluid vein (in the eighth volume of the Com. Petropol.) on the action
on a plane anq resistance of fluids, limited to a very particular case;
surface. namefy to the impulse of a vein of fluid falling perpendi¬
cularly on an infinitely extended plane surface. This he
demonstrates to be equal to the weight of a column of the
fluid whose base is the area of the vein, and whose height
is twice the fall producing the velocity. This demonstra¬
tion is drawn from the true principles of mechanics and the
acknowledged laws of hydraulics, and may be received as
a strict physical demonstration. As it is the only proposi¬
tion in the whole theory that has as yet received a demon¬
stration accessible to readers not versant in all the refine¬
ments of modern analysis, and as the principles on which it
proceeds will undoubtedly lead to a solution of every pro¬
blem which can be proposed, when our mathematical know¬
ledge shall enable us to apply them, we think it our duty
to give the demonstration in this place, although we must
acknowledge that it will hardly bear an application to any
case in which the conditions are even slightly varied. There
do occur cases however in practice, where it may be applied
to very great advantage.
Bernoulli first determines the whole action exerted in
the efflux of the vein of fluid. Suppose the velocity of ef¬
flux v is that which would be acquired by falling through
the height h. It is well known that a body moving during
OF FLUIDS.
the time of this fall with the velocity v would describe a Besistaij
space = 2h. The effect, therefore, of the hydraulic action of HueI
is, that in the time t of the fall h, there issues a cylinder ors v-
prism of water whose base is the cross section s or area of
the vein, and whose length is 2h. And this quantity of
matter is now moving with the velocity v. The quantity
of motion, therefore, which is thus produced in the time t,
is 2shv. And this is the accumulated effect of all the ex¬
pelling forces estimated in the direction of the efflux. Now,
to compare this with the exertion of some pressure with
which we are familiarly acquainted, let us suppose this pil¬
lar 2sh to be frozen, and, being held in the hand, to be
dropped. It is well known, that in the time t it will fall
through the height h, and will acquire the velocity v, and
now possesses the quantity of motion 2shv ; and all this is
the effect of its weight. The weight, therefore, of the pillar
2sh produces the same effect, and in the same time, and
(as may easily be seen) in the same gradual manner, with
the expelling forces of the fluid in the vessel, which expel¬
ling forces arise from the pressure of all the fluid in the
vessel. Therefore the accumulated hydraulic pressure by
which a vein of a heavy fluid is forced out through an ori¬
fice in the bottom or side of a vessel, is equal (when esti¬
mated in the direction of the efflux) to the weight of a co¬
lumn of the fluid having for its base the section of the vein,
and twice the fall productive of the velocity of efflux for its
height.
Now let ABDC be a quadrangular vessel with upright
plane sides, in one of which is an orifice EF. From every
point of the circumference of this orifice,
suppose horizontal lines Ee, Ff, &c. which Fig. 11.
will mark a similar surface on the opposite
side of the vessel. Suppose the orifice EF to
be shut. There can be no doubt but that
the surfaces EF and ef will be equally press¬
ed in opposite directions. Now open the ^
orifice EF ; the water will rush out, and y
the pressure on EF is now removed. There
will therefore be a tendency in the vessel
to move back in the direction Ee. And
this tendency must be precisely equal and opposite to the
whole effort of the expelling forces. This is a conclusion
as evident as any proposition in mechanics. It is thus that
a gun recoils and a rocket rises in the air; and on this is
founded the operation of Barker’s mill, described in all trea¬
tises of mechanics.
Now let this stream of water be received on a circular
plane MN, perpendicular to its axis, and let this circular
plane be of such extent that the vein escapes from its sides
in an infinitely thin sheet, the water flowing off in a direc¬
tion parallel to the plane. The vein by this means will ex¬
pand into a trumpet-shaped figure, or conoid, having curv¬
ed sides, EKG, FLH. We abstract at present the action
of gravity which would cause the vein to bend downwards,
and occasion a greater velocity at H than at G; and we
suppose the velocity equal in every point of the circumfe¬
rence. It is plain that if the action of gravity be neglected
after the water has issued through the orifice EF, the velo¬
city in every point of the circumference of the plane MN
will be that of the efflux through EF.
Now, because EKG is the figure assumed by the vein,
it is plain that if the whole vein were covered by a tube or
funnel, fitted to its shape, and perfectly polished, so that
the water shall glide along it without any friction (a thing
which we may always suppose), the water will exert no
pressure whatever on this tube. Lastly, let us suppose that
the plane MN is attached to the tube by some bits of wire,
so as to allow the water to escape all round by the narrow"
chink between the tube and the plane. We have now a
vessel consisting of the upright part ABDC, the conoid
GKEFLH, and the plane MN; and the water is escaping
C D
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
sistancefrom every point of the circumference of the chink GHNM
Fluids. with the velocity v. If any part of this chink were shut up,
there would be a pressure on that part equivalent to the
force of efflux from the opposite part. Therefore, when all
is open, these efforts of efflux balance each other all round.
There is not therefore any tendency in this compound ves¬
sel to move to any side. But take away the plane MN, and
there would immediately arise a pressure in the direction
Ee equal to the weight of the column 2sA. This is there¬
fore balanced by the pressure on the circular plane MN,
which is therefore equal to this weight, and the proposition
is demonstrated.
A number of experiments were made by Professor Krafft
at St Petersburg, by receiving the vein on a plane which
was fastened to the arm of a balance, having a scale hang¬
ing on the opposite arm. The resistance or pressure on
the plane was measured by weights put into the scale ; and
the velocity of the jet was measured by means of the dis¬
tance to which it spouted on a horizontal plane.
The results of these experiments were as conformable to
the theory as could be wished. The resistance was always
a little less than what the formula required, but greatly ex¬
ceeded its half; the result of the generally received theo¬
ries. This defect should be expected ; for the demonstra¬
tion supposes the plane MN to be infinitely extended, so
that the film of water which issues through the chink may
be accurately parallel to the plane, which never can be
completely effected. Also it was supposed that the velo¬
city was justly measured by the amplitude of the parabola
described when the plane was removed. But it is well
known that the very putting the plane MN in the way of
the jet, though at the distance of an inch from the orifice,
will diminish the velocity of the efflux through this orifice.
iilseon Bernoulli hoped to render this proposition more exten-
^uque s[ve an(j appiicabig to oblique impulses, when the axis AC
of the vein (fig. 12) is inclined to the
plane in an angle ACN. But here Fig. 12.
all the simplicity of the case is gone,
and we are now obliged to ascertain
the motion of each filament. It might
not perhaps be impossible to deter-
mine what must happen in the plane L '
of the figure, that is, in a plane pass-
ing through the axis of the vein, and perpendicular to the
plane MN. But even in this case it would be extremely
dim cult to determine how much of the fluid will go in the
direction EKG, and what will go in the path FLH, and to
ascertain the form of each filament, and the velocity in its
ddferent points. In the real state of the case, the water
will dissipate from the centre C on every side ; and we can¬
not tell in what proportions. Let us, however, consider a
little what happens in the plane of the figure, and suppose
that all the water goes either in the course EKG or in the
amrse ILH. Let the quantities of water which take
these two courses have the proportions of m to n, and let
n n=7 ^ Let A = tile velocity at A, v — the velocitv-
at G, and u - the velocity at H; and let ffl = the supple¬
ment of the angle ACM. Now, since to + « = 1, and since
the quantity of fluid which passes through A in a given time
is proportional to the velocity, the momentum or quantity
of motion at A. in the direction AC is toA2, and the quantity
ot motion at G in the same direction is too2 cos. <p, so that
t v cos. p) is the quantity of motion destroyed by
e plane CM, which is obviously equal to the resistance
P Ufa °r e1ual t0 tIie Pressure of the sheet of fluid
ijilbACM. In the same manner it is shown that the quan¬
tity ot motion destroyed by the plane CN, or the pressure
of the sheet of fluid HLFACN, is n (W + w2 cos. p) (re-
177
membering that in this case cos. p is negative) ; therefore Resistance
the sum of these two pressures, or the whole pressure on Fluids.
the plane MN, in the direction AC, is to (/<2 —v2 cos. <p) ' 
+ w (£2 + u- cos. <p), which being multiplied by the sine
of ACM, or sin. <p, gives the pressure perpendicular to
MN equal to { to (£2 — v1 cos. p) + n (JP + m2 cos. p) } sin. p.1
But there remains a pressure in the direction perpendi¬
cular to the axis of the vein, which is not balanced, as in
the former case, by the equality on opposite sides of the
axis. The pressure arising from the water which escapes
at G has an effect opposite to that produced by the water
which escapes at H. When this is taken into account, w^e
shall find that their joint efforts perpendicular to AC are
(to — n)k% sin. p, which, being multiplied by the cosine of
ACM, gives the action perpendicular to the plane MN =
(to — ri) k" cos. p sin. p.
The sum or joint effort of all these pressures is
m(k2 — v2 cos. p) sin. p + ra (A2 — u2 cos. p) sin. p 4-
(to — n) k2 cos. p sin. p.
Thus, from this case, which is much simpler than can
happen in nature, seeing that there wall always be a lateral
efflux, the determination of the impulse is as uncertain and
vague as it was sure and precise in the former case.
It is therefore without proper authority that the absolute
impulse of a vein of fluid on a plane which receives it wholly,
is asserted to be proportional to the sine of incidence. If
indeed we suppose the velocities in G and H to be equal to
that at A, then k — v~u, and the whole impulse is K1 sin. p,
as is commonly supposed. But this cannot be. Both the
velocity and quantity at H are less than those at G. Nay,
frequently there is no efflux on the side H when the obli¬
quity is very great. We made conclude, in general, that
the oblique impulse will always bear to the direct impulse
a greatei proportion than that of the sine of incidence to
radius. If the whole water escapes at G, and none goes off
laterally, the pressure will be (A2 + A2 cos. p — v2 cos. p)
sin. p. The experiments of the Abbe Bossut show, in the
plainest manner, that the pressure of a vein, striking ob¬
liquely on a plane which receives it wholly, diminishes
faster than in the ratio of the square of the sine of incidence;
whereas, when the oblique plane is wholly immersed in the
stream, the impulse is much greater than in this proportion,
and in great obliquities is nearly as the sine.
Nor will this proposition determine the impulse of a fluid
on a plane wholly immersed in it, even when the impulse
is perpendicular to the plane. The circumstance is now
wanting on which we can establish a calculation, namely,
the angle ot final deflection. Could this be ascertained for
each filament, and the velocity of the filament, the princi¬
ples are completely adequate to an accurate solution of the
problem. In the experiments which we mentioned to have
been made under the inspection of Sir Charles Knowles, a
cylinder of six inches diameter was exposed to the action
of a stream moving precisely one foot per second; and
when certain deductions were made for the water which
was held adhering to the posterior base (as will be noticed
afterwards), the impulse was found equal to 3tj ounces avoir-
dupois. 1 here were thirty-six coloured filaments distribut¬
ed on the stream, in such situations as to give the most use¬
ful indications of their curvature. It was found necessary
to have some which passed under the body and some above
it; for the form of these filaments, at the same distance
from the axis of the cylinder, was considerably different;
and those filaments which were situated in planes neither
horizontal nor vertical took a double curvature. In short,
the curves were all traced with great care, and the de¬
flecting forces were computed for each, and reduced to the
VOL. XIX.
I oi a general solution ot this problem, see the Traite. de MCcan quc of Poisson, tome ii. p. 778*
z
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
inaeeu preserve ^—    - ~
fluid strikes the plane, all that does not pass through is de-
fleeted on all sides; and by these deflections forces are ex*
cited, by which the filaments which surround the cylinder
immediately fronting the hole are made to press this cylin¬
der on all sides, and as it were squeeze it between them;
and thus the particles at the hole must of necessity be ac¬
celerated, and the velocity of the jet must be greater than
that of the stream. We are disposed to think that, in a
fluid perfectly incompressible, the velocity will be double,
or at least increased in the proportion of 1 to \/%. If the
fluid is in the smallest degree compressible even in the very
small degree that water is, the velocity at the first impulse
mav be much greater. Daniel Bernoulli found that a co¬
lumn of water moving five feet per second, in a tube some
1 "7Q  
'L ' ° , . . . i _ -p • the other is urged out by the pres- Resistai
Resistance direction of the axis ; and they were summed up in sue a i^P cavity. The effects are equal, and the modifying
of Fluids. manner as to give the impulse of the whole stream, ihe s"re ^ f the same. The causes are therefore
    deflections were marked as far a-head of the cylinder as t ey ^ and the pressure occasioned by the impulse of a
could be observed with certainty. By this method the J1 ’ of fluid, moving with any velocity, is equal to the
pulse was computed to be ounces, differing from 3 w t of a column of fluid whose height is productive of
servation fc of an ounce’ or abou1t. tV ot thp whoe , °velocit &c> He then determines the oblique impulse
difference which may most reasonably be ascribed to t resolution of motion, and deduces the common rules
adhesion of the water, which must be most sensible in such bY 0
small velocities. These experiments may t ere ore ^ But aU thi’s is without just grounds. Not a shadow of ar-
sidered as giving all the confirmation that can b nt is given for the leading principle in this theory, viz.
of the justness of the principles. This indeed ha y § the veiocitv cf the jet is the same with the velocity of
mits of a doubt; but the method gives us bu sma ■> ^ stream. None can be given, but saying that the pres-
ance, in as far as it leaves us in every case the task of ob ^ s eam ks Eduction ; and this is assuming
serving the form of the curves and the veloci ies in them ^is eqm ^ ^ to prove> The matter of fact is,
different points. To derive advantage fiom . that the velocity of the jet is greater than that of the stream,
Daniel Bernoulli, we must discover some means of deter ^ V^0C J10St ^ any prop0rtion ; which curi-
mining, a prion, what will be the motion ofth^ here we ous circumstSce was discovered and ingeniously explained
course is obstructed by a body of any f01™* , , Daniel Bernoulli in his Hydrodynamica. It is
cannot omit taking notice of the casual otaervatmns of Sn “^t that the velocity must be greater. Were a stream
Isaac Newton when attempting to determine « « 1 1 t0 come agai„st the plane, what goes through would
It StatnT", &Elfte indeed preserve its velocity unchanged t but^a .a,
resisting surface, is of less consequence, because there is al¬
ways a quantity of water stagnant upon it, and which may
therefore be considered as frozen ; and he therefore con¬
siders that water only whose motion is necessary for t e
most expeditious discharge of the water in the vessel. We
are disposed to think, that in this casual observation bir
Isaac Newton has pointed out the only method of arriving
at a solution of the problem ; and that, if we could dis¬
cover what motions are not necessary for the most expedi¬
tious passage of the water, and could thus determine the
form and magnitude of the stagnant water which adheres
to the body, we should much more easily ascertain the rea
motions which occasion the observed resistance.
™locity of 136 feet pCT se-
lace, wholly immer^d in *e fluid, U equal ‘o the weight of cond - ^mome^ ^ ^ ^ ^ of E ler, it
the column having ‘he surface for its base, and P ^ „otice of its total insufficiency for ex-
TOs t\he medium fesnU8rf all experiments made in plaining oblique impulses and the resistance of curvihneal
If ft“b‘e! open £ both ends, and bent into a right angle consequence ot the “".hneal motums “f P“tSdes.
near one of its extremities, be held in an upright position, D’Alembert thought that these pressures were not tne co
and the open mouth of the bent end be exposed directly to sequences, but the causes, these curvihneal motions,
a stream of fluid issuing from a reservoir or vessel, the fluid internal motion can happen in a fluid but in conseque
is observed to stand in the upright tube precisely on a level of an unbalanced pressure; and
with the fluid in the reservoir. Here is a most unexcep- duce an inequality of pressure, which w
tionable experiment, in which the impulse of the stream is succeeding motions. He therefore endeavoured to reduce
actually opposed to the hydrostatical pressure of the fluid all to the discovery of those disturbing pressures, an >
in the tube. Pressure is in this case opposed to pressure, to the laws of hydrostatics. Assisted by t la gen P
because the issuing fluid is deflected by what remains in the ciple of dynamics which he had previously es a is e >
mouTof dTtuto, in the same way in which it would be which had enabled him to solve many of the most difficult
deflected by a firm surface. We shall have occasion by and problems concerning the motions cf bodies, such as t
by to mention some most valuable and instructive experi- centre of oscillation, of spontaneous comersionjicp
ments made with this instrument, which is known by the sion of the equinoxes, &c. &c. with great facility and e -
name of Pitot’s tube. gance, he demonstrates, in a manner equally new and
It was this which suggested to Euler another theory of simple, those propositions which Newton had so cautious y
the impulse and resistance of fluids, which must not be deduced from his hypothetical fluid, showing that they wer
omitted, as it is applied in his elaborate performance on the not limited to this hypothesis, viz. that the motions p
Theory of the Construction and Working of Ships. He ced by similar bodies, similarly projected in them, w on
supposes a stream of fluid, moving with any velocity, to strike similar ; that whatever were the pressures, the curves -
the plane BD perpendicularly, and that part of it goes scribed by the particles would be the same, an
through a hole, forming a jet. Euler says, that the velocity resistances would be proportional to the squares ot .
of this jet will be the same with the velocity of the stream, locities. He then comes to consider the fluid as ha g
Now compare this with an equal stream issuing from a motions constrained by the form of the canal or Dy so i
hole in the side of a vessel with the same velocity. The stacks interposed. v, , , , c. .lp
one stream is urged out by the pressure occasioned by the He supposes, in the first place, a solid body or oDsm
Euler’s
theory.
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
179
her
;s ne*
rv.
to be kept fixed by some exterior cause, in a fluid which
strikes against it. The filaments, on encountering the ob¬
stacle, bend themselves in different directions, and the por¬
tion of fluid which covers the anterior part of the body re¬
mains stagnant to a certain distance. Now the pressure
sustained by the obstacle, or the resistance which it opposes
to the fluid, is produced by the loss of velocity which the
particles undergo; for one body acts on another only by
communicating, or tending to communicate, to it a part
of its own motion. He then shows that the question redu¬
ces itself to find the velocity of the particles which glide
past the surface of the body (which he determines in two
different ways) ; and this velocity being found, we have the
rigorous formulae for the pressure. It then only remains,
theoretically speaking, to compute the formulae in order to
obtain results applicable in practice. But this is what we
can scarcely hope to accomplish without restricting their
generality, and neglecting some of the conditions which es¬
sentially belong to the question. So inadequate are our
mathematical theories to cope with the difficulty, that even
D’Alembert has not been able to exemplify the application
of the equation to the simplest case which can be proposed,
namely, the direct impulse on a plane surface wholly im¬
mersed in the fluid. All that he is enabled to do, is to ap¬
ply it (by some modifications and substitutions which take
it out of its state of extreme generality) to the direct im¬
pulse of a vein of fluid on a plane which deflects it wholly,
and thus to show its conformity to the solution given by
Daniel Bernoulli, and to observation and experience. He
shows, that this impulse (independent of the deficiency aris¬
ing from the plane not being of infinite extent) is some¬
what less than the weight of a column whose base is the
section of the vein, and whose height is twice the fall ne¬
cessary for communicating the velocity. This great philo¬
sopher and geometer concludes by saying, that he does not
believe that any method can be found for solving this pro¬
blem that is more direct and simple ; and imagines, that if
the deductions from it shall be found not to agree with ex¬
periment, we must give up all hopes of determining the re¬
sistance of fluids by theory.1
In the present state of the theory of hydrodynamics, it
would be of great importance to multiply experiments on the
resistance of bodies. Those of the French academy are un¬
doubtedly of much value, and will always be appealed to; but
there are circumstances in those experiments which render
them more complicated than is proper for a general theory,
and which therefore limit the conclusions which we wish to
draw from them. The bodies were floating on the surface.
This greatly modifies the deflections of the filaments of wa¬
ter, causing some to deflect laterally which would other¬
wise have remained in one vertical plane; and this circum¬
stance also necessarily produced what the academicians
called the remov, or accumulation on the anterior part of
the body, and depression behind it. This produced an ad¬
ditional resistance, which was measured with great difficul¬
ty and uncertainty. The effect of adhesion must also have
been very considerable, and very different in the different
cases ; and it is of difficult calculation. It cannot perhaps
be totally removed in any experiment, and it is necessary
to consider it as making part of the resistance in the most
important practical cases, viz. the motion of ships. Here
we see that its effect is very great. Every seaman knows
that the speed even of a copper-sheathed ship is Resistance
increased by greasing her bottom. The difference is too Fluids,
remarkable to admit of a doubt: nor should we be surpris-
ed at this, when we attend to the diminution of the motion
of water in long pipes. A smooth pipe four and a half
inches diameter and 500 yards long yields but one fifth of
the quantity which it ought to do independently of friction.
But adhesion produces a great effect, which cannot be com¬
pared with friction. We see that water flowing through a
hole in a thin plate will be increased in quantity fully one
third by adding a little tube whose length is about twice
the diameter of the hole. The adhesion therefore will
greatly modify the action of the filaments both on the solid
body and on each other, and will change both the forms of
the curves and the velocities in different points.
The form of these experiments of the academy is ill
suited to the examination of the resistance of bodies wholly
immersed in the fluid. The form of experiment adopted
by Robins for the resistance of air, and afterwards by the
Chevalier Borda for water, is free from these inconve¬
niences, and is susceptible of equal accuracy. The great
advantage of both is the exact knowledge which they give
us of the velocity of the motion ; a circumstance essentially
necessary, and but imperfectly known in the experiments
of Mariotte and others, who examined quiescent bodies ex¬
posed to the action of a stream. It is extremely difficult
to measure the velocity of a stream, which is also very dif¬
ferent in its different parts. It is swiftest of all in the middle
superficial filament, and diminishes as we recede from this
towards the sides or bottom, and the rate of diminution is
not precisely known.
It were greatly to be wished that some more palpable
argument could be found for the existence of a quantity of
stagnant fluid at the anterior and posterior parts of the
body. The one already given, derived from the considera¬
tion that no motion changes either its velocity or direction
by finite quantities in an instant, is unexceptionable, but
gives us little information. But surely there are circum¬
stances which rigorously determine the extent of this stag¬
nant fluid. And it appears, without doubt, that if there
were no cohesion or friction, this space will have a deter¬
mined ratio to the size of the body (the figures of the bo¬
dies being supposed similar). Suppose a plane surface AB,
as in fig. 10, there can be no doubt but that the figure
AaD&B will in every case be similar. But if we suppose
an adhesion or tenacity which is constant, this may make
a change both in its extent and its form : for its constancy
of form depends on the disturbing forces being always as
the squares of the velocity; and this ratio of the disturbing
forces is preserved, while the inertia of the fluid is the only
agent and patient in the process. But when we add to this
the constant (that is, invariable) disturbing force of tena¬
city, a change of form and dimensions must happen. In
like manner, the friction, or something analogous to fric¬
tion, which produces an effect proportional to the velocity,
must alter this necessary ratio of the whole disturbing forces.
We may conclude, that the effect of both these circum¬
stances will be to diminish the quantity of this stagnant
fluid, by licking it away externally ; and to this we must
ascribe the fact, that the part ADB is never perfectly stag¬
nant, but is generally disturbed with a whirling motion.
W e may also conclude, that this stagnant fluid will be more
d'nne AW//I T/— 1 ; f)uds,’ whether incompressible or elastic, were first given by D’Alembert in his Essai
are exirP^ n rV * ' l752 ’ but the analytical theory was greatly simplified, and the formula.', which
tinns nPf mnL b\e(luatlons ofFartia1 (hflerences, rendered completely general, by Euler (Berlin Memoirs, 1755). The general equa-
determine comnIpS6 b-een Stl lurtbe)r simphf5ed by Lagrange, and if it were possible to integrate them, we should be enabled to
fionltv of pftu .r tu'’ ?n, evelT case’ a tbf cirvumstances of the action of a fluid put in motion by any forces whatever. But the dif-
tion of the simnW ^ in.te£ratlons bas hitherto proved insuperable, and mathematicians have hitherto been obliged, even in the solu-
Dissertation sect 2Pr0b emS’ t0 liaVe recour£e to particular methods, grounded on restricted hypotheses. See Fourth Preliminary
180
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
llesistance incurvated between F and H than it would have been, in-
of Fluids, dependent of tenacity and friction. And, lastly, we may
'   conclude, that there will be something opposite to pressure,
or something which we may call abstraction, exerted on
the posterior part of the body which moves m a tenacious
fluid, or is exposed to the stream of such a fluid; tor tne
stagnant fluid adheres to the posterior surface, and tie
passing fluid tends to draw it away both by its tenacity and
by its friction. This must augment the apparent impulse
of the stream on such a body; and it must greatly aug¬
ment the resistance, that is, the motion lost by this body in
its progress through the tenacious fluid ; for the bo y mus
drag along with it this stagnant fluid, and drag it m oppo¬
sition to the tenacity and friction of the surrounding fluid.
The effect of this is most remarkably seen in the resis¬
tances to the motion of pendulums; and the Chevalier du
Buat, in his examination of Newton’s experiments, clearly
shows that this constitutes the greatest part of the resistance.
Du Buat’s We cannot conclude this dissertation better, than by giv-
«perr ing an account of some experiments of the Chevalier du
meats. j}uatj which seem of immense consequence, and tena to
give us entirely new views of the subject. Du Buat o
served the motion of water issuing from a glass cylinder
through a narrow ring formed by a bottom of smaller dia¬
meter ; that is, the cylinder was open at both ends, and
there was placed at its lower end a circle of smaller diame¬
ter, by way of bottom, which left a ring all around. He
threw some powdered sealing-wax into the watei, an o -
served with great attention the motion of its small par¬
ticles. He saw those which happened to be in the very
axis of the cylinder descend along the axis with a motion
pretty uniform, till they came very near the bottom ; from
this they continued to descend very slowly, till they were
almost in contact with the bottom; they then deviated
from the centre, and approached the orifice in straight lines
and with an accelerated motion, and at last darted into the
orifice with great rapidity. He had observed a thing simi¬
lar to this in a horizontal canal, in which he had set up a
small board like a dam or bar, over which the water flow¬
ed. He had thrown a gooseberry into the water, in order
to measure the velocity at the bottom, the gooseberiy be¬
ing a small matter heavier than water. It approached the
dam uniformly till about three inches from it. Here it al¬
most stood still, but it continued to advance till almost in
contact. It then rose from the bottom along the inside of
the dam with an accelerated motion, and quickly escaped
over the top.
Hence he concluded that the water which covers the an¬
terior part of the body exposed to the stream is not per¬
fectly stagnant, and that the filaments recede from the axis
in curves, which converge to the surface of the body as dif¬
ferent hyperbolas converge to the same assymptote, and that
they move with a velocity continually increasing till they
escape round the sides of the body.
He had established a proposition concerning the pres¬
sure which water in motion exerts on the surface along
which it glides, viz. that the pressure is equal to that which
it would exert if at rest, minus the weight of the column whose
height would 'produce the velocity of the passing stream.
Consequently the pressure which the stream exerts on the
surface perpendicularly exposed to it will depend on the
velocity with which it glides along it, and will diminish
from the centre to the circumference. This, says he, may
be the reason why the impulse on a plane wholly immersed
is but one half of that on a plane which deflects the whole
stream.
He contrived a very ingenious instrument for examining
this theory. A square brass plate ABGF (fig. 13) was
pierced with a great number of holes, and fixed in the
front of a shallow box HK, represented edgewise. The
back of this box was pierced with a hole C, in which was
inserted the tube of glass CDE, bent Fig. 13.
square at D. This instrument was ex¬
posed to a stream of water, which beat
on the brass plate. The water having
filled the box through the holes, stood
at an equal height in the glass tube when
the surrounding water was stagnant; but
when it was in motion it always stood in
the tube above the level of the smooth
water without, and thus indicated the ^ ^ ^
pressure occasioned by the action of the
When the instrument was not wholly immersed, there
was always a considerable accumulation against the front of
the box, and a depression behind it. The water before it
was by no means stagnant; indeed it should not be, as Du
Buat observes ; for it consists of the water which was escap¬
ing on all sides, and therefore upwards from the axis of the
stream, which meets the plate perpendicularly in C consi¬
derably under the surface. It escapes upwards ; and if the
body were sufficiently immersed, it would escape in this di¬
rection almost as easily as laterally. But in the present
circumstances it heaps up, till the elevation occasions it to
fall off sidewise as fast as it is renewed. When the instru¬
ment was immersed more than its semi-diameter under the
surface, the water still rose above the level, and there was
a great depression immediately behind this elevation. In
consequence of this difficulty of escaping upwards, the water
flows off laterally; and if the horizontal dimensions of the
surface are great, this lateral efflux becomes more difficult,
and requires a greater accumulation. From this it happens,
that the resistance of broad surfaces equally immersed is
greater than in the proportion of the breadth. A plane of
two feet wide and one foot deep, when it is not completely
immersed, will be more resisted than a plane two feet deep
and one foot wide; for there wdl be an accumulation against
both ; and even if these were equal in height, the additional
surface will be greatest in the widest body ; and the ele¬
vation will be greater, because the lateral escape is more
difficult. ,
The circumstances chiefly to be attended to are these.
The pressure on the centre was much greater than towards
the border, and, in general, the height of the water in the
tube DE was more than § of the height necessary for
producing the velocity when only the centre hole was open.
When various holes were opened at different distances from
the centre, the height of the water in DE continually dimi¬
nished as the hole was nearer the border. At a certain
distance from the border the water at E was level with the
surrounding water, so that no pressure w7as exerted on that
hole. But the most unexpected and remarkable circum¬
stance was, that in great velocities, the holes at the very
border, and even to a small distance from it, not only sus¬
tained no pressure, but even gave out water; for the water
in the tube was lower than the surrounding water. Du
Buat calls this a non-pressure. In a case in which the ve¬
locity of the stream was three feet, and the pressure on the
central hole caused the water in the vertical tube to stan
33 lines or of an inch above the level of the surround¬
ing smooth water, the action on a hole at the lower corner
of the square caused it to stand 12 lines lower than the sur¬
rounding water. Now the velocity of the stream in this
experiment was 36 inches per second. I his requires 21$
lines for its productive fall, whereas the pressure on the
central hole was 33. This approaches to the pressure on a
surface which deflects it wholly. The intermediate holes
gave every variation of pressure, and the diminution was
more rapid as the holes were nearer the edge; but the law
of diminution could not be observed.
This is quite a new and most unexpected circumstance
in the action of fluids on solid bodies, and renders the sub-
Itesistn
of Fluii
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
181
j stance
lu
: it’s
FJ.
istance ject more intricate than ever; yet it is by no means incon-
Fiuids. gistent with the genuine principles of hydrostatics or hy¬
draulics. In as far as Du Buat’s proposition concerning the
pressure of moving fluids is true, it is very reasonable to
say, that when the lateral velocity with which the fluid
tends to escape exceeds the velocity of percussion, the
height necessary for producing this velocity must exceed
that which would produce the other, and a non-pressure
must be observed. And if we consider the forms of the
lateral filaments near the edge of the body, we see that the
concavity of the curve is turned towards the. body, and that
the centrifugal forces tend to diminish their pressure on the
body. If the middle alone were struck with a considerable
velocity, the water might even rebound, as is frequently
observed. This actual rebounding is here prevented by
the surrounding water, which is moving with the same ve¬
locity ; but the pressure may be almost annihilated by the
tendency to rebound of the inner filaments.
Part (and perhaps a considerable part) of this apparent
non-pressure is undoubtedly produced by the tenacity of
the water, which licks off with it the water lying in the hole.
But at any rate this is an important fact, and gives great
value to these experiments. It furnishes a key to many
curious phenomena in the resistance of fluids ; and the
theory of Du Buat deserves a very serious consideration.
It is all contained in the two following propositions.
1. a Jf, by any cause whatever, a column of fluid, whe¬
ther making part of an indefinite fluid, or contained in solid
canals, come to move with a given velocity, the pressure which
it exerted laterally before its motion, either on the adjoining
fluid or on the sides of the canal, is diminished by the iveight
of a column having the height necessary for communicating
the velocity of the motion.
2. “ The pressure on the centre of a plane surface perpen¬
dicular to the stream, and wholly immersed in it, is ^ of the
weight of a column having the height necessary for commu¬
nicating the velocity. For 33 is | of 211, ”
He attempted to ascertain the medium pressure on the
whole surface, by opening 625 holes dispersed all over it.
With the same velocity of current, he found the height in
the tube to be 29 lines, or more than the height neces¬
sary for producing the velocity. But he justly concluded
this to be too great a measure, because the holes were £
of an inch from the edge ; had there been holes at the very
edge, they would have sustained a non-pressure, which would
have diminished the height in the tube very considerably.
He exposed to the same stream a conical funnel, which
raised the water to 34 lines. But this could not be consi¬
dered as a measure of the pressure on a plane solid surface ;
for the central water was undoubtedly scooped out, as it
were, and the filaments much more deflected than they
vrould have been by a plane surface. Perhaps something
of this happened even in every small hole in the former ex¬
periments. And this suggests some doubt as to the accu¬
racy of the measurement of the pressure and of the velo¬
city of a current by Pitot’s tube. It surely renders some
corrections absolutely necessary. It is a fact, that when ex¬
posed to a vein of fluid coming through a short passage, the
water in the tube stands on a level with that in the reser¬
voir. Now we know that the velocity of this stream does
not exceed what would be produced by a fall equal to
of the head of water in the reservoir.
Du Buat, by a scrupulous attention to all the circum¬
stances, concludes that the medium of pressure on the
25*5
whole surface is equal to of the weight of a column
having the surface for its base and the productive fall for
its height. But we think that there is an uncertainty in
this conclusion ; because the height of the water in the ver¬
tical tube was undoubtedly augmented by an hydrostatical
pressure arising from the accumulation of water above the Resistance
body which was exposed to the stream. °f Fluids.
Since the pressures are as the squares of the velocities, '
or as the heights h which produce the velocities, we may
25.5
express this pressure by ——or M86 h, or mh, the va¬
lue of m being P186. This exceeds considerably the re¬
sult of the experiments of the French academy. In these
it does not appear that m sensibly exceeds unity. It is to
be observed, that in these experiments the body was moved
through still water ; here it is exposed to a stream. These
are generally supposed to be equivalent, on the authority
of the third law of motion, which makes every action de¬
pend on the relative motions. We shall by and by see
some causes of difference.
The writers on this subject seem to think their task com-Action on
pleted when they have considered the action of the fluid on the hinder
the anterior part of the body, or that part of it which is be- Part ot‘the
fore the broadest section, and have paid little or no atten- bod>r-
tion to the hinder part. Yet those who are most interested
in the subject, the naval architects, seem convinced that it
is of no less importance to attend to the form of the hinder
part of a ship. And the universal practice of all nations
has been to make the hinder part more acute than the fore
part. This has undoubtedly been deduced from experi¬
ence ; for it is in direct opposition to any notions which a
person would naturally form on this subject. Du Buat
therefore thought it very necessary to examine the action
of the water on the hinder part of the body by the same
method. And, previous to this examination, in order to ac¬
quire some scientific notions of the subject, he made the
following very curious and instructive experiment.
Two little conical pipes A and B (fig. 14) were inserted
into the upright side of a prismatic
vessel. They were an inch long,
and their diameters at the inner and
outer ends were five and four lines.
A was fifty-seven lines under the
surface, and B was seventy-three.
A glass syphon was made of the
shape represented in the figure, and
its internal diameter was line.
It was placed with its mouth in the
axis, and even w ith the base of the
conical pipe. The pipes being shut,
the vessel was filled with water, and
it was made to stand on a level in
the tw o legs of the syphon, the up¬
per part being full’ of air. When
this syphon was applied to the pipe A, and the water run¬
ning freely, it rose thirty- two lines in the short leg, and
sunk as much in the other. When it was applied to the
pipe B, the water rose forty-one lines in the one leg of the
syphon, and sunk as much in the other.
He reasons in this manner from the experiment. The
ring comprehended between the end of the syphon and the
sides of the conical tube being the narrowest part of the
orifice, the water issued with the velocity corresponding to
the height of the water in the vessel above the orifice, di¬
minished for the contraction. If therefore the cylinder of
water immediately before the mouth of the syphon issued
with the same velocity, the tube would be emptied through
a height equal to this head of water {charge'). If, on the
contrary, this cylinder of water, immediately before the
mouth of the syphon, were stagnant, the w-ater in it would
exert its full pressure on the mouth of the syphon, and the
water in the syphon would be level with the water in the
vessel. Between these extremes we must find the real
state of the case, and we must measure the force of non¬
pressure by the rise of the water in the syphon.
We see that in both experiments it bears an accurate
182
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
Resistance proportion to the depth under the surface. For 57 : /3
of Fluids. —32:41 very nearly. He therefore estimates the non-
   ' pressure to be -fmi of tlie height of the water above the
orifice. . ,
We are disposed to think that the ingenious author has
not reasoned accurately from the experiment. In the first
place, the force indicated by the experiment, whatever be
its origin, is certainly double of what he supposes; for it
must be measured by the sum of the rise of the water in
one leg, and its depression in the other, the weight ot the
air in the bend of the syphon being neglected. It is pre¬
cisely analogous to the force acting on the water oscillat¬
ing in a syphon, which is acknowledged to be the sum ot
the elevation and depression. The torce indicated b\ the
experiment therefore is of the height ot the water abo\ e
the orifice. The force exhibited in this experiment bears
a still greater proportion to the productive height; for it
is certain that the water did not issue with the velocity ac¬
quired by the fall from the surface, and probably did not
exceed two thirds of it. The effect of contraction must
have been considerable and uncertain. The velocity should
have been measured both by the amplitude of the jet and
by the quantity of water discharged. In the next place,
we apprehend that much of the effect is produced by the
tenacity of the water, which drags along with it the water
which would have slowly issued from the syphon had the
other end not dipped into the water of the vessel. ^ e
know that if the horizontal part of the syphon had been
continued far enough, and if no retardation were occasion¬
ed by friction, the column of water in the upright leg would
have accelerated like any heavy body ; and when the last
of it had arrived at the bottom of that leg, the whole in the
horizontal part would be moving with the velocity acquired
by falling from the surface. The water of the vessel which
issues through the surrounding ring very quickly acquires
a much greater velocity than what the water descending in
the syphon would acquire in the same time, and it drags
this last water along with it both by tenacity and friction,
and it drags it out till its action is opposed by the want ot
equilibrium produced in the syphon by the elevation in
the one leg and the depression in the other. e imagine
that little can be concluded from the experiment with re¬
spect to the real non-pressure. Nay, if the sides of the
syphon be supposed infinitely thin, so that there would be
no curvature of the filaments of the surrounding water at
the mouth of the syphon, we do not very distinctly see any
source of non-pressure : for we are not altogether satisfied
with the proof which Du Buat offers for this measure ot
the pressure of a stream of fluid gliding along a surface,
and obstructed by friction or any other cause. W e imagine
that passing water in the present experiment would be a
little retarded by accelerating continually the water de¬
scending in the syphon, and renewed a-top, supposing the
upper end open ; because this water would not of itself ac¬
quire more than half this velocity. It however drags it
out, till it not only resists with a force equal to the weight
of the whole vertical column, but even exceeds it by -^^y.
This it is able to do, because the whole pressure by which
the water issues from an orifice has been shown by Daniel
Bernoulli to be equal to twice this weight. We therefore
consider this beautiful experiment as chiefly valuable, by
giving us a measure of the tenacity of the water; and we
wish that it were repeated in a variety of depths, in order
to discover what relation the force exerted bears to the
depth. It would seem that the tenacity, being a certain
determinate thing, the proportion of 100 to 112 would not
be constant; and that the observed ratio would be made
up of two parts, one of them constant, and the other pro¬
portional to the depth under the surface.
But still tliis experiment is intimately connected with
the matter in hand ; and this apparent non-pressure on the
hinder part of a body exposed to a stream, from whatever Resist^
causes it proceeds, does operate in the action of water on
this hinder part, and must be taken into the account.
We must therefore follow Du Buat in his discussions onFurtb
this subject. A prismatic body, having its prow and poop
equal and parallel surfaces, and plunged horizontally into aDu Bj
fluid, will require a force to keep it firm in the direction
of its axis precisely equal to the difference between the
real pressures exerted on its prow and poop. If the fluid
is at rest, this difference will be nothing, because the op¬
posite dead pressures of the fluid will be equal; but in a
stream, there is superadded to the dead pressure on the
prow the active pressure arising from the deflections of the
filaments of this fluid. _ ,
If the dead pressure on the poop remained in its lull in¬
tensity by the perfect stagnation of the water behind it,
the whole sensible pressure on the body would be the ac¬
tive pressure only on the prow, represented by m h. If,
on the other hand, we could suppose that the water behind
the body moved continually away from it (being renewed
laterally) with the velocity of the stream, the dead pres¬
sure would be entirely removed from its poop, and the
whole sensible pressure, or what must be opposed by some
external force, would be ni h-\-h. Neither of these can
happen; and the real state of the case must be between
these extremes*
The following experiments were tried. The perforated
box with its vertical tube was exposed to the stream, the
brass plate being turned down the stream. The velocity
was again 36 inches per second.
The central hole A alone being opened, gave a non¬
pressure of 13 lines;
a hole B, of an inch from the edge, gave... 15
a hole C, near the surface 15-7
a hole D, at the lower angle 15'3
Here it appears that there is a very considerable non¬
pressure, increasing from the centre to the border. This
increase undoubtedly proceeds from the greater lateral ve¬
locity with which the water is gliding in from the sides.
The’ water behind was by no means stagnant, although
moving off with a much smaller velocity than that of the
passing stream, and it was visibly removed from the sides,
and gradually licked away at its further extremity.
Another box, having a great number of holes, all open,
indicated a medium of non-pressure equal to 13£ lines.
Another of larger dimensions, but having fewer holes,
indicated a non-pressure of I2£.
But the most remarkable and the most important phe¬
nomena were the following.
The first box was fixed to the side of another box, so
that when all was made smooth it made a perfect cube, of
which the perforated brass plate made the poop.
The apparatus being now exposed on the stream, with
the perforated plate looking down the stream,
The hole A indicated a non-pressure 
  8
  6
Here was a great diminution of the non-pressures, pro¬
duced by the distance between the prow and the poop.
This box was then fitted in the same manner, so as to
make the poop of a box three feet long. In this situation
the non-pressures were as follows.
The non-pressures were still farther diminished by this
increase of length.
The box was then exposed with all the holes open m
three different situations.
1st, Single, giving a non-pressure 13T
2d, Making the poop of a cube 
3d, Making the poop of a box three feet long 
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
| ?sistance
i Fluids.
use of
; resist-
Another large box.
1st, Single 12-2
2d, Poop of a cube  5
3d, Poop of the long box  3-2
These are most valuable experiments. They plainly
show how important it is to consider the action on the
hinder part of the body. For the whole impulse or resist¬
ance, which must be withstood or overcome by the exter¬
nal force, is the sum of the active pressure on the fore
part, and of the non-pressure on the hinder part; and they
show that this does not depend solely on the form of the
prow and poop, but also, and perhaps chiefly, on the length
of the body. We see that the non-pressure on the hinder
•part was prodigiously diminished (reduced to one fourth) by
making the length of the body triple of the breadth. And
hence it appears, that merely lengthening a ship, without
making any change in the form either of her prow or her
poop, will greatly diminish the resistance to her motion
through the water; and this increase of length may be
made by continuing the form of the midship frame in seve¬
ral timbers along the keel, by which the capacity of the
ship, and her power of carrying sail, will be greatly in¬
creased, and her other qualities improved, while her speed
is augmented.
It is of importance to consider a little the physical cause
of this change. The motions are extremely complicated,
■e being an[j we must be contented if we can but perceive a few
Tnrrp’as- ^eac^nS circumstances.
The w-ater is turned aside by the anterior part of the
gth of body, and the velocity of the filaments is increased, and
ressel. they acquire.a divergent motion, by which they also push
aside the surrounding water. On each side of the body,
therefore, they are moving in a divergent direction, and
with an increased velocity. But as they are on all sides
pressed by the fluid without them, their motions gradually
approach parallelism, and their velocities to an equality
with that of the stream. The progressive velocity, or that
in the direction of the stream, is checked, at least at first.
But since we observe the filaments condensed round the
body, and that they are not deflected at right angles to
their former direction, it is plain that the real velocity of a
filament in its oblique path is augmented. We always
observe, that a stone lying in the sand, and exposed to the
wash of the sea, is laid bare at the bottom, and the sand is
generally washed away to some distance all round. This is
owing to the increased velocity of the water which comes
into contact with the stone. It takes up more sand than it
can keep floating, and it deposits it at a little distance all
around, forming a little bank, which surrounds the stone
at a small distance. When the filaments of w7ater have
passed the body, they are pressed by the ambient fluid into
the place which it has quitted, and they glide round its
stern, and fill up the space behind. The more divergent
and the more rapid they are, when about to fall in behind,
the more of the circumambient pressure must be employed
to turn them into the trough behind the body, and less of
it will remain to press them to the body itself. The ex¬
treme of this must obtain when the stream is obstructed
by a thin plane only. But wThen there is some distance
between the prow and the poop, the divergency of the fila¬
ments which had been turned aside by the prow is dimi¬
nished by the time that they have come abreast of the
stern, and should turn in behind it. They are therefore
more readily made to converge behind the body, and a
more considerable part of the surrounding pressure remains
unexpended, and therefore presses the water against the
stern; and it is evident that this advantage must be so
much the greater as the body is longer. But the advan¬
tage will soon be susceptible of no very considerable in¬
crease ; for the lateral, and divergent, and accelerated fila¬
ments, will soon become so nearly parallel and equally
183
rapid with the rest of the stream, that a great increase £>f Resistance
length will not make any considerable change in these par- cf Fluids,
ticulars; and it must be accompanied with an increase of
friction.
These are very obvious reflections. And if we attend
minutely to the w ay in which the almost stagnant fluid be¬
hind the body is expended and renewed, we shall see all
these effects confirmed and augmented. But as we can¬
not say anything on this subject that is precise, or that can
be made the subject of computation, it is needless to enter
into a more minute discussion. The diminution of the non¬
pressure towards the centre most probably arises from the
smaller force which is necessary to be expended in the in¬
flection of the lateral filaments, already inflected in some
degree, and having their velocity diminished. But it is a
subject highly deserving the attention of mathematicians;
and we presume to invite them to the study of the motions
of these lateral filaments passing the body, and pressed in¬
to its wrake by forces which are susceptible of no difficult
investigation. It seems highly probable, that if a prismatic
box, with a square stern, were fitted with an addition pre¬
cisely shaped like the water which would (abstracting tena¬
city and friction) have been stagnant behind it, the quanti¬
ty of non-pressure would be the smallest possible. The
mathematician would surely discover circumstances which
would furnish some maxims of construction for the hinder
part as well as for the prow. And as his speculations on
this last have not been wholly fruitless, we may expect ad¬
vantages from his attention to this part, so much neglected.
In the mean time, let us attend to the deductions which
Du Buat has made from his few7 experiments.
When the velocity is three feet per second, requiring theDeclucticns
productive height 21-5 lines, the height corresponding to from the
the non-pressure on the poop of a thin plane is 14-41 lines experi-
(taking in several circumstances of correction, which vvements-
have not mentioned), that of a foot cube is o-83, and that
of a prism of triple length is 3-31.
Let q express the variable ratio of these heights to the
height producing the velocity, so that qh may express the
non-pressure in every case ; w7e have,
For a thin plane q — 0-67
a cube 0*271
a prism = 3 cubes 0*153
It is evident that the value of q has a dependence on the
proportion of the length, and the transverse section of the
body. A series of experiments on prismatic bodies showed
Du Buat that the deviation of the filaments w-as similar in
similar bodies, and that this obtained even in dissimilar
prisms, w hen the lengths were as the square roots of the
transverse sections. Although therefore the experiments
were not sufficiently numerous for deducing the precise law,
it seemed not impossible to derive from them a very useful
approximation. By a dexterous comparison he found, that
if l expresses the length of the prism, and s the area of the
transverse section, the non-pressure will be expressed pretty
accurately by the formula ^ — log. ^1*42 -j- But
this formula is applicable only to prismatic bodies.
Hence arises an important remark, that when the height
corresponding to the non-pressure is greater than y's, and
the body is little immersed in the fluid, there will be a void
behind it. Thus a surface of a square inch, just immersed
in a current of three feet per second, will have a void be¬
hind it. A foot square will be in a similar condition when
the velocity is twelve feet.
We must be careful to distinguish this non-pressure from
the other causes of resistance, which are always necessarily
combined with it. It is superadditive to the active impres¬
sion on the prow, to the statical pressure of the accumula-
184
Resistance
of Fluids.
Compari¬
son of the
pressure
on a bodyin
a stream,
and on a
body mov
ing in a
quiescent
fluid.
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
tion a-head of the body, the statical pressure arising from
the depression behind it, the effects of friction, and the ef-
fects of tenacity. It is indeed next to impossible to esti¬
mate them separately, and many of them are actual y com¬
bined in the measures now given. Nothing can determi
the pure non-pressures till we can ascertain the motions of
th Du^uat here takes occasion to controvert the univer¬
sally adopted maxim, that the pressure occasioned by a
stream of fluid on a fixed body is the same with that on a
body moving with equal velocity in a quiescent fluid, i
repeated alUhese experiments with the perforated box m
Still water. The general distinction was, that both the
pressures and the non-pressure in this case were less, and
that the differences were chiefly observed near the edges
the surface. The general factor of the pressure of a strea
on the anterior surface was m — IT 86 ; but that a "
ing body through a still fluid is only m = 1. He observed
no non-pressure even at the very edge of the prow, but eve
a sensible pressure. The pressure, therefore, or resistance,
is more equally diffused over the surface of the prow than
the impulse is! He also found that the resistances dimi¬
nished in a less ratio than the squares of the velocities, es¬
pecially in small velocities.
The non-pressures increased in a greater ratio than the
squares of the velocities. The ratio of the velocities to a
small velocity of 2} inches per second increased geome¬
trically, the value of q increased arithmetically; and we
may determine q for any velocity v by this formula, q _
1_ w. ; that is, let the common logarithm of the ve-
J.U 9.9 ’
2*8
locity in inches, divided by 2}, be considered as a common
number; divide this common number by 2A, the quotient
is <7, which must be multiplied by the productive height.
The product is the pressure.
When Pitot’s tube was exposed to the stream, we nad
m = 1 ; but when it is carried through still water,™ is
_ p22. When it was turned from the stream, we had q
= 0T57 ; but when carried through still water, ?is = 0T38.
A remarkable experiment.
When the tube was moved laterally through the water,
so that the motion was in the direction of the plane of its
mouth, the non-pressure was = 1. This is one of his chief
arguments for his theory of non-pressure. He does not give
the detail of the experiment, and only inserts the result in
his table. , „ ., ,
As a body exposed to a stream deflects the nuici, neaps
it up, and increases its velocity ; so a body moved through
a still fluid turns it aside, causes it to swell up before it, and
aives it a real motion alongside of it in the opposite direc¬
tion. And as the body exposed to a stream has a quanti¬
ty of fluid almost stagnant both before and behind; so a
body moved through a still fluid carries before it and drags
after it a quantity of fluid, which accompanies it with nearly
an equal velocity. This addition to the quantity of matter
in motion must make a diminution of its velocity ; and this
forms a very considerable part of the observed resistance.
We cannot, however, help remarking, that it would re¬
quire very distinct and strong proof indeed to overturn the
common opinion, which is founded on our most certain and
simple conceptions of motion, and on a law of nature to
which we have never observed an exception. Du Buat’s
experiments, though most judiciously contrived, and exe¬
cuted with scrupulous care, are by no means ot this kind.
They were, of absolute necessity, very complicated; and
many circumstances, impossible to avoid or to appreciate,
rendered the observation, or at least the comparison, of the
velocities, very uncertain.
We can see but two circumstances which do not admit
of an easy or immediate comparison in the two states of the
problem. When a body is exposed to a stream in our ex- Resnta
Zms, in order to have an impulse made on it, there is om«
fforce tending to move the body backwards, independent'—v*
of the real impulse or pressure occasioned by the deflection
of the stream. We cannot have a stream except in conse¬
quence ofT sloping surface. Suppose a body floating on
this stream. It will not only sail down along with the
stream, but it will sail down the stream, and will therefore
go faster along the canal than the stream does; for it is
floating on an inclined plane; and if we examine it by the
laws of hydrostatics, we shall find, that besides its own ten¬
dency to slide down this inclined plane, there is an odds of
hydrostatical pressure, which pushes \t down this plane. It
will therefore go along the canal faster than the stream.
For this acceleration depends on the difference ot pressme
at the two ends, and will be more remarkable as the body
is larger, and especially as it is longer. This may be dis¬
tinctly observed. All floating bodies go into the stream ot
the river, because there they find the smallest obstruction
to the acquisition of this motion along the inclined plane;
and when a number of bodies are thus floating down the
stream, the largest and longest outstrip the rest. og o
wood floating down in this manner may be observed to make
its way very fast among the chips and saw-dust which float
alongside of it. . t , , .
Now when, in the course of our experiments, a body is
supported against the action of the stream, and the impulse
is measured by the force employed to support it, it is plain
that part of this force is employed to act against that ten¬
dency which the body has to outstrip the stream. This does
not appear in our experiment, when we move a body with
the velocity of this stream through still water having a ho¬
rizontal surface. ......
The other distinguishing circumstance is, that the retar¬
dations of a stream arising from friction are found to be
nearly as the velocities. When, therefore, a stream mov¬
ing in a limited canal is checked by a body put m its way,
the diminution of velocity occasioned by the friction ot
the stream having already produced its effect, the impulse
is not affected by it; but when the body puts the still wa¬
ter in motion, the friction of the bottom produces some ef¬
fect, by retarding the recess of the water. This, however,
must be next to nothing. ... ,
The chief difference will arise from its being almost im¬
possible to make an exact comparison of the velocities; tor
when a body is moved against the stream, the relative ve¬
locity is the same in all the filaments. But when we ex¬
pose a body to a stream, the velocity of the different fila¬
ments is not the same, because it decreases from the mid¬
dle of the stream to the sides. _ .
Du Buat found the total sensible resistance ot a plate
twelve inches square, and measured, not by the heig t 0
water in the tube of the perforated box, but by weights ac -
ing on the arm of a balance, having its centre fifteen inches
under the surface of a stream moving three feet per second,
to be 19-46 lbs.; that of a cube of the same dimensions
was 15-22 lbs.; that of a prism three feet long was 13-87
lbs.; and that of a prism six feet long was 14-L7 lbs.
The first three agree extremely well with the determina¬
tion of m and q, by the experiments with the perforated
box. The total resistance of the last was undoubtedly much
increased by friction, and by the retrograde force of so ong
a prism floating in an inclined stream. This last by com¬
putation is 0-223 lbs.; this added to h {m + q), which is
13-39 lbs., gives 13-81 lbs., leaving 0-46 lb. tor the effect 0
friction.
If the same resistances be computed on the supposition
that the body moves in still water, in which case we have
m — 1, and for a thin plate q = ^ log. whence,
supposing- the velocity to be thirty-six inches per second,
RESISTANCE OF FLUIDS.
.uantity
'fluid
hich ad-
;res to
:e me
>dy.
.cgiatancegr rr 0433; and if from this we find values of q for the
f Fluids. Cube and three-feet prism (assuming q to vary inversely as
log. ^1’42 +—according to what was above shown),
we shall have for the cube, q — 0-172, and for the prism,
q = 0-102. Hence, if R denote the resistance due both to
the pressure and non-pressure of the body when moving in
quiescent water, the three values of R will be 1-433, 1-172,
and 1-102, which correspond to the weights 14-94 lbs., 12-22
lbs., and 11-49 lbs.
Hence Du Buat concludes, that the resistances in these
two states are nearly in the ratio of 13 . to 10. This, he
thinks, will account for the difterence observed in the ex¬
periments of different authors.
Du Buat next endeavours to ascertain the quantity of
water which is made to adhere in some degree to a body
which is carried along through still water, or which remains
e movingnear,y stagnant in midst of a stream. He takes the sum
1(1y sof the motions in the direction of the stream, viz. the sum
of the actual motions of all those particles which have lost
part of their motion, and he divides this sum by the gene¬
ral velocity of the stream. The quotient is equivalent to
a certain quantity of water perfectly stagnant round the
body. Without being able to determine this with precision,
he observes, that it augments as the resistance diminishes ;
for in the case of a longer body, the filaments are observed
to converge to a greater distance behind the body. The
stagnant mass a-head of the body is more constant; for the
deflection and resistance at the prow are observed not to
be affected at the length of the body. By a very nice ana¬
lysis of many circumstances, he comes to this conclusion,
that the whole quantity of fluid, which in this manner ac¬
companies the solid body, remains the same, whatever is
the velocity. He might have deduced it at once, from the
consideration that the curves described by the filaments are
the same in all velocities.
He then relates a number of experiments made to ascer¬
tain the absolute quantity thus made to accompany the
body. These were made by causing pendulums to oscil¬
late in fluids. Newton had determined the resistances to
such oscillation by the diminution of the arches of vibra¬
tion. Du Buat determines the quantity of dragged fluid
by the increase of their duration; for the stagnation or
dragging is in fact adding a quantity of matter to be moved,
without any addition to the moving force. It was ingeni¬
ously observed by Newton, that the time of oscillation was
not sensibly affected by the resistance of the fluid, a com¬
pensation almost complete being made by the diminution
of the arches of vibration ; and experiment confirmed this.
If, therefore, a great augmentation of the time of vibration
be observed, it must be ascribed to the additional quantity
of matter which is thus dragged into motion, and it may be
employed for its measurement. Thus, let a be the length
of a pendulum swinging seconds in vacuo, and l the length
of a seconds pendulum swinging in a fluid. Let p be the
weight of the body in the fluid, and P the weight of the
body displaced by it; P + p will express its weight in va-
185
, P + ^  Resistance
cuo, and will be the ratio of these weights. We of Fluids.
shall therefore have
a p
p 1 v ,v* * p+F
Let n express the sum of the fluid displaced, and the
fluid dragged along, n being a greater number than unity,
to be determined by experiment. The mass in motion is
no longer P + />, but P + np, while its weight in the
fluid is still p. Hence l = —, and n — — lV
nr + p P\y )
A prodigious number of experiments made by Du Buat
on spheres vibrating in water gave values of n which were
nearly constant, namely, from L5 to 1-7 ; and by consider¬
ing the circumstances which accompanied the variations of
n (which he found to arise chiefly from the curvature of
the path described by the ball), he states the mean value
of the number n at 1-585. So that a sphere in motion drags
along with it about °fits own °f with a ve¬
locity equal to its own.
Similar experiments with prisms, pyramids, and other bo¬
dies, afforded a complete confirmation of his assertion, that
prisms of equal lengths and sections, though dissimilar,
dragged equal quantities of fluid ; that similar prisms, and
prisms not similar, but whose lengths were as the square
root of their sections, dragged quantities proportional to
their bulks.
He found a general value of n for prismatic bodies, which
alone may be considered as a valuable result, namely,
n = 0-705 + M3.
From all these circumstances, we see an intimate con¬
nection between the pressures, non-pressures, and the fluid
dragged along with the body. Indeed this is immediately
deducible from first principles; for what Du Buat calls the
dragged fluid is in fact a certain portion of the whole change
of motion produced in the direction of the body’s motion.
It was found, that with respect to thin planes, spheres,
and pyramidal bodies of equal bases, the resistances were
inversely as the quantities of fluid dragged along.1
The reader will readily observe, that these views of the
Chevalier du Buat are not so much discoveries of new
principles as they are classifications of consequences which
may all be deduced from the general principles employed
by D’Alembert and other mathematicians. But they greatly
assist us in forming notions of different parts of the pro¬
cedure of nature in the mutual action of fluids and solids
on each other. This must be very acceptable in a subject
which it is by no means probable that we shall be able to
investigate with mathematical precision.
The only circumstance which we have not noticed in Change of
detail, is the change of resistance produced by the void, or resistance
tendency to a void, which obtains behind the body ; and produced
we omitted a particular discussion, merely because we could void
say nothing sufficiently precise on the subject. Persons J^j‘n a
not accustomed to the discussions in the physico-mathema-
It is a remarkable circumstance, that these very important conclusions of the Chevalier du Buat, which were first published in the
SfCpn • eaiflon,, ' well-known work in 1786, and which twice formed the subject of the prize proposed by the Academy of Sciences
°f S ll\u “ aave heeri so little attended to by succeeding experimenters, that in the numerous attempts to determine the length
o e seconds pendulum, no one thought of applying the additional correction for the reduction to a vacuum, which they so clearly
ma 'e necessary, until the subject was again brought into notice by Bessel, in a memoir on the length of the seconds pemfulum, pub¬
is led in 1828 (Memoirs of the Berlin Academy for 1826), in which the effect of the adhesive air was shown by decisive experiments,
an given as an original discovery. Bessel determined the quantity denoted in the text by n in two different ways;—by swinging in
air wo spheres of equal diameter, but of different specific gravity {brass and ivory), and by swinging the same sphere alternately in
air an water. Ihe first mode gave n — 1-946, a value which he afterwards increased to 1-956 (Schumacher’s Astronomische Na-
c iicUen, Ao. 223); and the second gave n = 1-625, which is within the limits assigned by L)u Buat. Mr Baily, who investigated
is subject with great care by means of a vacuum apparatus, gives, as the mean result of his experiments, n = 1-846 ; and he ob¬
serves t sat the experiments seem to show that in pendulums of equal length and of similar construction, the factor n depends on the
jam ami magnitude of the moving body, and is not affected by its weight or specific gravity. (Baily on the Correction of a Pendulum
’or the Reduction to a Vacuum, Phil. Trans, for 1832.) *
VOL. XIX. 2 A
1Q„ resistance of fluids.
Itoktametical sciences are apt to entertain ']0'll,ts °r ^ran-^Fl™
«f Fluids, connected with this circumstance, which we shall attempt t observation. It is only in great velocities where
For an account of the experiments of Coulomb, Hutton,
and Vince, the reader is referred to Hydrodynamics, chap¬
ter iii. (vol. xii. p. 76). We may also refer to a very ex¬
tensive and valuable series of experiments made m the years
connected with this circumstance, wmcn we suan —to observation. It is only in great velocities wnere H
to remove. ti1p rlpnth has any material influence, and the influence is
If a fluid were perfectly incompressible, and were con- t g0 considerable as we should, at first sight sup-
tained in a vessel incapable of extension ^ .s nnpossA e fo in estimating the effect of immersion, which has
that any void could be formed behind the body , and in p ^ difference of pressure, we must always take
this case it is not very easy to see hoW -oUon could be ^atl0ressure of the atmosphere ; and thus the pressure
performed in it. A sphere moved ,n such a medium cmiia &t thirtl three feet deep is not thirty-three times the pressure
not advance the smallest distance, unless at one foot deep, but only double, or twice as great. Ihe
the fluid, in filling up the space left by it, move(J " atmospheric pressure is omitted only when the resisted plane
velocity next to infinite. Some atX very" surface. (b- b. b.)
however small, seems necessary. If tins be msensmie,
may be rigidly demonstrated, that an external force of com¬
pression will make no sensible change in the internal mo¬
tions or in the resistances. This indeed is not obvious
but Is an immediate consequence of the tensive anu vmum^c    . ^
pressure of fluids. As much as the pressure is augment d b the ]ate Co]onel Beaufoy, in the Greenland Colone
by the external compressions in one side of a body, so mu^ ^ Deptford, the details of which have been recently Beauto
is it augmented on the other side , and tl e - published in a large and sumptuous quarto volume, by h>s ^
said of every particle. Nothing more is necessary for se- > ^ 'and munificently distributed""6"1"
curing the same motions by the same partial an among scientific institutions and individuals. The tollow-
forces; and this is fully verified by experiment. ^ tl]e principal results:—
remains equally fluid under any compressions. ln som® h} The iower of- tiie velocity to which the resistance is
Sir Isaac Newton’s experiments, balls of inches - ig a little above the duplicate ratio or square of
meter were made so light as to preponderate ^ water o y when the velocity is two miles per hour; but
three grains. These balls descended in the same ma . j ratio ^dually decreases as the velocity increases, and
as they would have descended in a fluid whe flie resist- the latm , ^ ^g than the duplicate ratio at the velocity
theliottom of^ ves^l nhie^feeVdeep, the compression round «.f eight m^ pra In,,,, ^ ^ or
Srs ^^0 head end of the bod, is a little above the
times. q The power of the velocity of the minus pressure, or
But in a fluid sensibly compressible, or which is not c - ' * * tbe stern end, is in general less than the dupli-
fined, a void may be left behind the body, jotion may F^^^^f^nishes as the^elocity increases,
be so swift that the surrounding pressure may not su^ ^ y cube ig lesg resistRCl than a square iron plate equal
in dimensions with the side of the cube ; and a cylinder less
than a round plane of which the area is equal to the end of
the cylinder. „ . . ,
5. The resistance of a cylinder one foot in length, and
the area of the section = 1 square foot, with a semi-globe
at each end, when moving with a velocity of eight miles
per hour, was 46-29 lbs. avoirdupois; and the resistance of a
1 1 •  *   i. .-V Ortwin \7olorMt\7 W
for filling up the deserted space ; and, in this case, a sta
tical pressure will be added to the resistance. Ibis may
be the case in a vessel or pond of w^ater having an open
surface exposed to the finite or limited pressure of the at¬
mosphere. The question now is, whether the resistance
will be increased by an increase of external pressure r sup¬
posing a sphere moving near the surface of water, and an-
p^^-fbe^ uin ^ ^of
there is no void in either case, then, because the quadruple < to o
depth would cause the water to flow in with only a double
velocity, it would seem that the resistance would be great¬
er ; and indeed the water flowing in laterally with a double
velocity produces a quadruple non-pressure. But, on the
other hand, the pressure at a small depth may be insuffi¬
cient for preventing a void, while that below effectually
prevents it; and this was observed in some experiments of
6. As a general result, it was found that bodies whose
head ends are formed of curve surfaces were less resisted
than bodies of the same dimensions formed of plane surfaces.
7. The resistance is a minimum when the greatest
breadth of the body is at the distance of about two fifths
of the length from the head end. ,
8. Similar bodies appear to be more resisted immediately
1 Nautical and Hydraulic Experiments, with numerous Scientific Miscellanies ; byColonel x ^
volumes, with plates. Vol. i. London ; printed at the private press of Henry Beaufoy, 1.1L S., South Lambeth, bu y,
second and third volumes have not yet appeared.
it; ana tms was ooserveu in sume ^ 1j
Borda. The effect, therefore, of greater immersion, or of under the surface than at the ep of Edinburgh
greater compression, in an elastic fluid, does not follow a In the Iransactions of the Royal Society of hdmbu
precise ratio of the pressure, but depends partly on abso- (vol. xiv. par i.), there is a paper b? Mr J-
bite quantities. It cannot therefore be stated by any very an account of a series of experiments on the resista ct
simple formula what increase or diminution of resistance canal boats, made by him in the yeai < nWrved
will result from a greater depth ; and it is chiefly on this bring to light some phenomena J^P^Xersed and
account that experiments made with models of ships and relative to the resistances on bodies paitl} immersed ami
mills are not conclusive with respect to the performance of moving in narrow channels, and are important ^n account
a laro-e machine of the same proportions, without correc- of their practical bearing on canal navigation. Ihe pi i
tions^sometimes pretty intricate. We assert, however, with pal phenomena developed by the experiments were the fol-
nreat confidiMmef tludthis is of all methods the most exact, lowing r-ltf, That the resistance does not follow the ra o
and infinitely more certain than anything that can be de- of the squares of the velocities, excepting when the veloc
duced from the most elaborate calculation from theory. If is small, and the depth of the fluid considera e, , < t
In three
The
RES
ijolution the increments of the resistance are greater than those due
li to the squares of the velocities as the velocity approaches
f^n(l°n a certa'n hmit, which depends upon the depth of the fluid ;
v,in(' y 3c?, that immediately after passing this limit, the resistance
suffers a sudden diminution, and becomes much less than
that due to the square of the velocity, after which it continues
to receive increments, of which the ratio is less than that
due to the increment of the square of the velocity. As
these phenomena appeared inconsistent with the received
theories of hydrodynamics, it wras important to investigate
their causes. The deviation from the law of the squares,
at the greater velocities, might be ascribed in part to a par¬
tial emersion of the floating body; for the resistance being
taken in the ratio of the square of the velocity upon that
part only of the body which remains immersed, the aggre¬
gate resistance will increase less rapidly at the higher velo¬
cities, and may even diminish as the velocity is increased.
But the principal and most remarkable part of the pheno¬
mena, namely, the rapid increase of resistance as the velo¬
city approaches a certain limit, and its sudden diminution
when the velocity passed that limit, was found to depend
on the generation of waves, which alter the form of the sur¬
face of the fluid, and consequently the position of the float¬
ing body.
When a solid body is dragged along the surface of a fluid,
a wave is generated which moves in the direction of the
motion of the body, with a velocity nearly uniform. The
velocity of the wave is independent of the form or velocity
of the moving body, and depends only on the depth of the
fluid, being in fact equal to the velocity acquired by a body
falling in vacuo through a space equal to half the depth of
the fluid, as was demonstrated by Lagrange. The existence
and mode of propagation of the wave being established, it
is easy to see that the resistance will be greatly modified
by the position of the moving body relatively to the w’ave.
A vessel coming behind or following the wave is very dif¬
ferently circumstanced from one drawn in a horizontal po¬
sition along the level surface of a quiescent fluid. The prow
is pressed into the anterior wave, and consequently the bow
more deeply immersed ; the keel also assumes an inclined
position, whence the vertical section of the immersed part
of the body is increased, and on both these accounts a greater
body of fluid is displaced. In addition to this, the increased
immersion of the bow augments the anterior wave, and the
augmented height gives rise to more rapid currents along
the sides. Thus all the elements of resistance are increased;
and it is obvious, that the more closely the vessel follows
on the wave, the more powerful will be the effect of the
retarding forces. Hence there is a very rapid increase of
resistance in approximating gradually to the velocity of the
wave. But if we suppose the vessel to be lifted up on the
top of the wave, all the retarding forces are at once an¬
nihilated, the vessel recovers its horizontal position, and,
RES
187
Rest.
by reason of the curvature of the wave, the immersion of Resort
the ends becomes a minimum. When the velocity of the
vessel exceeds that of the wave, the displaced fluid is v
pushed aside by the prow of the vessel, and is accumulated
on both sides of it in the form of a continuous wave, which
remains to fill up the void when the vessel has passed
through, so that the equilibrium of the hydrostatic pressure
is very little disturbed, and immediately restored. Hence
it is always found, that the commotion of the fluid is much
greater when the velocity of the body is less than that of
the wave, than in the contrary case.
The following experiment^ will give an idea of the man¬
ner in which the resistance is affected by the velocity. The
depth of the canal was about five feet and a half, and the
velocity of the wave from eleven to twelve feet per second,
or about eight miles per hour. The weight of the vessel
and load was 10,239 lbs.
"Velocity in Miles
per hour.
4*72
5- 92
6- 19
904
10-48
Moving Force,
in lbs.
112
261
275
250
268-5.
Thus it appears, that at six miles per hour behind the
wave, the resistance was greater than at nine miles per hour
upon the wave ; and at ten miles and a half per hour it was
very little greater than at 5-9. The breadth of the canal
materially affects the resistance. A narrow canal, by pre¬
venting the diffusion of the wave, increases its height,
whence the resistance is increased when the velocity of the
vessel is less than that of the wave; but when the velocity
is greater than that of the wave, the contrary effect takes
place. In both cases the narrowness of the canal augments
the effect of the wave. The practical importance of these
results is obvious.
Some experiments have also been recently made for the
purpose of determining the amount and law of atmospheric
resistance on railway-carriages. The experiments were
made by starting a train of carriages with a given velocity
down an inclined plane, and determining the velocity when
the train ceased to be accelerated. The inclination of the
plane and the weight of the carriages and load being known,
the accelerating force of gravity is easily computed ; and as
this is equal, when the velocity becomes uniform, to the
jjggrcgate resistance, if we subtract the part due to friction,
the part attributable to the resistance of the atmosphere
becomes known. The results seemed to show that the at¬
mospheric resistance increases in a considerably more ra¬
pid ratio than the squares of the velocity, but, on account
of the great uncertainty which at present exists respecting
the amount of the friction of carriage-wheels constrained to
move on rails, they are not deserving of much confidence.
RESOLUTION, in Music. To resolve a discord or dis¬
sonance, says Rousseau, is to carry it according to rule into
a consonance in the subsequent chord. There is for that
purpose a procedure prescribed, both for the fundamental
bass of the dissonant chord, and for the part by which the
dissonance is formed.
Resolution Buy, a bay on the west coast of Christina,
one of the Marquesas Islands, in the South Pacific Ocean.
It is so called from Captain Cook’s ship the Resolution
having anchored in it in the year 1774. Long. 130. 8. W.
Lat. 9. 55. S.
Resolution Island, one of the Society Islands, in the
South Pacific Ocean, about four miles long. It is very
flat, and is covered with wood. Lons. 141. 39. W. Lat.
17. 24. S.
RESORT, a French word, sometimes used by English
authors to signify the jurisdiction of a court, and particu¬
larly one from which there is no appeal. Thus it is said,
that the House of Lords judge en dernier ressort, or in the
last resort.
RESOULABAD, a town of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Agra, district of Etaweh, seventy-two miles west
by south from Lucknow. Resoul signifies messenger, a
title which belongs to Mahommed ; and a number of small
places in the East are called after him.
RESPONDENT, in the schools, one who maintains a
thesis in any art or science; who is thus called from his
being required to answer all the objections proposed by the
opponent.
REST, the continuance of a body in the same place, or
188
Rest
II
Reticula.
RET
its continual application or contiguity to the same parts of
the ambient or contiguous bodies. It is therefore opposed
to motion. . . ..
Rest, in Poetry, is a short pause of the voice in reading,
beino- the same with the caesura, which, in Alexandrine
verses, falls on the sixth syllable, but in verses of ten or
eleven syllables, on the fourth. ,
REST-HARROW, or Cammock, the Ononis Arvensis.
A decoction of this plant has been much recommended for
horses labouring under a stoppage of urine. It is the pest
of some corn-fields; but in its younger state, hmm'e: t. e
plant has acquired thorns, it is a most acceptable food tor
sllGCP*
RESTAURATION, the act of re-establishing or setting
a thing or person in its former state.
RESTITUTION, in a moral and legal sense, is restor¬
ing a person to his right, or returning something unjustly
taken or detained from him. , .
Restitution of Medals, or Restored Medals, is a term
used by antiquaries for such medals as were struck by the
emperors, to retrieve the memory of their predecessors.
Hence, in several medals, we find the letters rest. This
practice was first begun by Claudius, who struck afresh se¬
veral medals of Augustus. Nero did the same ; and Titus,
imitating his father’s example, struck restitutions of most ot
his predecessors. Gallienus struck a general restitution o
all the preceding emperors on two medals ; the one bearing
an altar, the other an eagle without the letters rest.
RESTIVE, in the manege, a stubborn, unruly, ill-bro¬
ken horse, that stops, or runs back, instead of advancing
forward. , „ .c
RESTORATION, a small island in the South Pacific
Ocean, on the east coast of New Holland, discovered by
Captain Bligh in 1789. Oysters are plentiful on the shore,
and there is also abundance of water.
RESURRECTION, in Theology, is a rising again from
the state of the dead; in other words, is that event, the be¬
lief of which constitutes one of the principal articles in the
Christian creed. See Theology.
RESUSCITATION, the same with resurrection and re¬
vivification. The term resuscitation, however, is more par¬
ticularly used by chemists for the reproducing a mixed body
from its ashes ; an art to which many have pretended, as to
reproduce plants, &c. from their ashes.
RETFORD, East, a market-town of the county of
Nottingham, in the hundred of Bassetlaw, 145 miles from
London. It is situated on the river Idle, which runs into the
Trent, is well built, has a town-hall, and good market-place
well attended every Saturday. It is a corporate town, go¬
verned by two bailiffs and twelve aldermen. It returns
two members to the House of Commons; but, on account
of prevalent bribery, the right of voting for the borough
has been extended to all the freeholders of the county in
which it stands. In the neighbourhood are many hop plan¬
tations. The chief trade is what arises from the great road.
The population amounted in 1801 to 1948, in 1811 to 2030,
in 1821 to 2461, and in 1831 to 2491.
RETHEL, an arrondissement of the department of the
Ardennes, in France, extending over 481 square miles. It
comprehends six cantons, composed of 124 communes, and
contains 59,840 inhabitants. The capital is a city of the
same name, situated on the right bank of the Aisne. It
contains 900 houses, and 4960 inhabitants, chiefly employ¬
ed in making coarse woollen goods. Long. 3. 20. E. Lat.
40. 35. N.
RETICULA, or Reticule, in Astronomy, a contrivance
for measuring very nicely the quantity of eclipses. This
instrument, which was introduced by the Academy of
Sciences at Paris, is a little frame composed of thirteen
fine silken threads, parallel to and at equal distances from
each other, placed in the focus of object-glasses of tele-
RET
scopes; that is, in the place where the image of the lumi- RetiaiJ
nary is painted in its full extent. The diameter of the sun tic.
or moon is consequently thus seen divided into twelve equal
parts or digits ; so that, in order to ascertain the quantity
of the eclipse, there is nothing more to do than to number
the parts that are dark, or that are luminous. As a square
reticule is only proper for the diameter of the luminary, not
for the circumference of it, it is sometimes made circular,
by drawing six concentric, equidistant circles,, which per¬
fectly represent the phases of the eclipse. But it is obvious,
that whether the reticule be square or circular, it should be
perfectly equal to the diameter or circumference of the sun
or star, such as it appears in the focus of the glass, other¬
wise the division cannot be just. Another imperfection in
the reticule is, that its magnitude is determined by that of
the image in the focus, and of course it will only fit one par¬
ticular magnitude. But a remedy for these inconveniences
was discovered by M. de la Hire, who contrived that the
same reticule might serve for all telescopes, and all magni¬
tudes of the luminary in the same eclipse. If two object-
glasses be applied against each other, having a common
focus, and forming an image of a certain magnitude, this
image will increase in proportion as the distance between
the two glasses is increased, at least to a certain limit. If
therefore a reticule be taken of such a magnitude as just
to comprehend the greatest diameter the sun or moon can
ever have in the common focus of two object-glasses ap¬
plied to each other, it is only necessary to remove them
from each other, as the star becomes less, in order to have
the image still exactly comprehended in the same reticule.
As the silken threads are apt to deviate from the parallelism,
by the different temperature of the air, another improve¬
ment is, to make the reticule of a thin looking-glass, by
drawing lines or circles upon it with the fine point of a
diamond.
RETICULATION. Of all the devices which man has
invented wherewithal to secure to himself the “ dominion
over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the air, and
over the cattle,” few can plead greater antiquity than reti¬
culation ; none has retained its place as an essential item
in the catalogue of useful engines so permanently, through
all ages and changes, as the net. Other weapons and in¬
struments have either fallen into total disuse before the
gigantic strides of improvement, or now only minister to
our recreation ; but the net, to this hour, forms an indispen¬
sable part of the apparatus used by many of the industrious
classes of society. As a means of supplying us with a va¬
riety of wholesome food, and of enabling us to carry on an
extensive commerce with other nations, net-making be¬
comes an art of some importance; and, as an agreeable
occupation to the amateur, it may be reckoned among the
chief in point of domestic utility; and therefore is not in
either case to be placed “ next to mere idleness in the
scale of insignificance.” Fishing-net making is decidedly
now the most extensive branch of reticulation, how service¬
able soever it may be for other purposes. To say nothing ot
the shapes of the various engines of this kind used in our fish¬
eries, their texture is the best that human ingenuity has been
able to conceive ; for, when wet, they are easily dried, when
torn, easily mended; they offer little resistance when drawn
out of the water, whereby the labour of hauling them is
greatly diminished; the risk of their being overthrown or
carried away by tides, currents, or storms, is lessened; and
the more shy fish are not so easily scared away as they
otherwise would be by toils more densely wrought; the
sand, the mud, the young fry and spawn, the small insects
and other animals inhabiting the waters, find a free passage
through the meshes, and thus much wanton destruction ol
animal life is prevented, whilst a larger abundance and a
more regular supply of fish is obtained than by any other
mode. Such are some of the advantages which principally
RETICULATION.
result from the delicacy of texture and rarity which, com¬
paratively speaking, all nets exhibit, when fairly used, and
'no contrivances adopted for abusively increasing the take.
The forms of nets vary according to the manner in which
they are intended to act, and this is either by entangling
the fish in their complicated folds, as in the trammel, receiv¬
ing them into pockets, as in the trawl, suspending them by
the body in the meshes, as in the mackerel-net, imprisoning
them within their labyrinth-like chambers, as in the stake-
net, or drawing them to shore, as in the seine. It is some¬
what extraordinary that it was not until the year 1685 that
nets were introduced into Norway, by one Claus Niels Sti-
ningen. The fishermen set up a general outcry against
so pernicious an innovation, and, after much disputing, the
question was decided by an appeal to the law, and expe¬
rience has confirmed the verdict, that nets are not only
not prejudicial, but highly conducive to the prosperity of
the fishing trade. Of the antiquity of the art of net-mak¬
ing it will not be necessary to enter into any detail; that
nets were invented at a very early period, and have been
universally adopted all over the world, and were, and have
been ever since, put to an infinite variety of uses, requires
no farther proof than can be afforded by a reference to the
works of the most ancient authors, both sacred and pro¬
fane, by whom constant allusion is made to network ; and
modern travellers have found it to be in vogue amongst the
most rude as well as the most polished nations. For much
curious information on this head we must refer the reader
to Beckmann} One use of the net, however, though known
to the ancients, and long since adopted in Italy and other
hot climates, has only quite recently, and hitherto but par¬
tially, been recognised in this country. It deserves notice,
not solely on account of its exhibiting a curious phenome¬
non in the habits of certain insects highly interesting to the
naturalist, but, for the sake of humanity, it is worthy also
of the attention of the philanthropist. It has been found
by careful experiments that a net made of the finest thread,
of any colour, and with meshes of one inch and a quarter
square, effectually keeps out the house-fly from the apart¬
ments across the open windows of which it is spread.2 We
must leave it to others to speculate upon the causes which
operate on the imagination of the gnat and house-fly, so as
to prevent them venturing through the “ capacious breadth
k urn 86 c^v^ons,,, It has been suggested with much pro-
babilitjf, that an optical delusion in the eyes of these insects
produces this wonderful effect. The fact having been so
well ascertained, what is there, except prejudice, to prevent
our taking advantage of it, as affording, at a very trifling
expense, and with very little trouble, a material comfort,
not only to “ the whole,” but to “ the sick ?” How refresh¬
ing will it prove to many a poor helpless sufferer to feel
that he can enjoy in hot weather the luxury of fresh air,
reetrom the irksome attacks of these persevering, buzzing,
iting disturbers of his peace, at a time when he most needs
repose, and every palliative that art can suggest! But our
limits warn us to commence our practical directions relat¬
ing to our subject. 1. Tools and terms used by net-makers:  
Accrues, false meshes, or quarterings, are loops inserted in
any given row, by which the number of meshes is in¬
creased. To bread or breathe a net, is to make a net. Dead
netting is a piece without either accrues, or stole (stolen)
mes ics, vv uch last means that a mesh is taken away by
netting into two meshes of the preceding row at once,
thereby diminishing the net at any part. The Wof a net
tne upper margin, along which the corks are strun°- up¬
on a rope called the head-rope. The foot of a net i°s the
opposite or lower margin, which carries the foot-rope, on
189
w’hich, in many cases, leaden plummets are made fast. Over Reticula-
means wide, as a day-net is three fathoms long, and one over tion.
or wide. The lever is the first row of a net. Meshes are
the squares composing the net. A needle is the instrument
used for holding and netting the material to be netted; it is
made with an eye E, a tongue T, and a. fork F, fig. 1, Plate
CGGCXXXV. The twine is wound on it by being pass¬
ed alternately between the fork and round the tongue, so
that the turns of the string lie parallel to the length of
the needle, and are kept on by the tongue and fork. A
short needle, about four inches long, should be set apart
for mending. A spool or mesh-pin is a round (fig. 2) or a
flat (fig. 3) piece of w ood, on which the loops are formed ;
the circumference of the spool determining the size of the
loops. Each loop contains two sides of the square mesh;
therefore, supposing that it be required to make a mesh one
inch square, that jg, measuring one inch from knot to knot,
a spool two inches circumference must be used. Large
meshes may be formed by giving the twine two or more turns
round the spool, as occasion may require, or the spool may
be made flat, and of a sufficient width, having a portion cut
away to admit the finger and thumb to grasp it conveniently
(fig. 3). A pair of round-pointed scissors, so as to be car¬
ried conveniently in the pocket, and a knife, are likewise
indispensable. To return on your work is, when, in bread-
ing a cylindrical net, you stop at any given point, turn your
work and net back again, instead of going on round and
round, as in forming the regard of the hoop net; which is
a slit made in that engine, through which the fisherman in¬
troduces his hand to extract the fish caught therein, when
he goes to look (regarder, French) what success he has had.
Taught, tight; the twine is pulled taught when a knot is
made. 2. How to make the loop or stitch in netting. Being
so generally understood that any neighbour can in a few
minutes teach the uninitiated, w^e shall not describe the pro¬
cess ; a little careful observation will show more than any
written description can, however minute. 3. The same
may be said of making accrues. It will be easily under¬
stood how a very simple manoeuvre, when put in practice,
becomes apparently complicated when described in words.
It would be idle were we, under the plea of rendering this
article complete, to encumber it with laboured explana¬
tions, if they can be called such, which leave the reader
more in the dark than he was before. 4. The bend-knot
is constantly required for uniting two ends of twine toge¬
ther, &c., and is thus performed. See fig. 4, in which A
and B are to be joined. 5. The art of mending is of great
impor tance; for, if the fisherman cannot mend an occa¬
sional rent, he will soon be obliged to have a new net. Two
or three damaged meshes will, if neglected, speedily be¬
come a yawning hole ; whereas the engine will last a long
time by taking care to replace injured parts properly, and
without delay. By amateur netters and gamekeepers this
part of the art of reticulation is generally unheeded, and a
bungling confusion of threads, drawn together any how,
serving rather to increase the mischief, is substituted for a
neat and efficient repair. In order to explain, as clearly as
may be, the method to be pursued, we must request the
reader to suppose that a net (fig. 5) has an injury in the
middle of the space indicated by the dotted lines. We
must begin by cutting the net, that is, the hole must be
enlarged, not only by removing that portion which is ac¬
tually torn, but by cutting into the sound parts. This ope¬
ration is represented in fig. 5. The parts to be cut away
are marked by the transverse lines b aaa, ebaaa d, below
the knots of the original net. It will be observed that,
whereas at a a a c, a a a d, two sides of the meshes are cut.
tknidnn s IHsUirv of Inventions, &r\,. Netting. See also Adams's Roman Antiquities, “ Retiarius.*
see the l ransactions of the Entomological Society of London, vol. in
190
RETICULATION.
Reticula- one only is removed at bb. In performing this manoeuvre
tion. tiie workman must be careful to have his net hung before
him in its proper position, viz. in the order in which the
rows were netted, as in fig. 5. This requires attention, be¬
cause, if either of the sides cord were uppermost, the mis¬
chief would be increased when he came to cut away ac¬
cording to the above instructions. The next thing to be
done is to unpick the knots of the old meshes, a, a, a, a, a, a ;
but the lateral knots c, d, must not be unpicked, for that
would destroy the adjoining sound meshes; for the same
reason, only one side of the meshes b, b is cut. We must
suppose, then, that the meshes represented by the dotted
lines are entirely removed; the next thing to be done is to
replace them. It is evident that this cannot be properly
accomplished unless the inserted meshes resemble as ac¬
curately as possible those that have been removed. A
practised hand will effect this without § spool, but some
skilful workmen think that it is infinitely less troublesome,
and that the required regularity of the meshes is better in¬
sured, if a spool be used suitable to the meshes of the old
net. Having filled a small needle with twine, make fast
the end above the knot at K (fig. 5), hold the spool and
needle in the usual way, and take up the loops L, M, JN, as
in common netting; when at N, lay aside the spool, and
make the side NO. This is done by means of the bend-
knot, the angle P being the bend or loop of the knot. I he
second row is now to be netted in the same way as the first,
and so on with the rest, the single side at the end of each
row being managed as at NO, and leading down to the
row beneath. We have supposed the workman to have
begun and ended this first row, netting from left to right;
to work back the second row, he has simply to get on the
other side of his net, or to turn the latter over, as may be
most convenient, and thus to net on as usual from left to
right, changing at the end of each row either the position
of his net or of his own person. We shall next suppose
that the required number of rows, save one, is completed ;
we must insert & junction row between the row HRS 1,
and that of the old net VWXY. ihis is done without a
spool, by making the side TV fast at V with a bend-knot
round the loop of the old net at V ; then the side Vo
with a bend-knot at S, round the loop of the new piece at
S; then the sides SW, WR, RX, XQ, QY, in the same
manner. Care must be taken that these sides be of the
same length as the sides of the other meshes. At the be¬
ginning K and the end Y of your work, leave ends e e, to
prevent the knot slipping. In fig. 5 three rows have been
removed, and it will be seen that those loops which have
only one side removed, are diagonally opposite to each
other, and thus it is when an uneven number of rows is to
be cut awray ; but when an even number is removed, those
loops of which only one side is cut are at opposite angles
of the orifice, but on the same side of the square. 6. Ob¬
long and square netting. If it be required to have the net
with meshes setting in squares with their sides, accurately
at right angles with each other, like the squares in a sash-
window-frame, the following method is to be pursued. Net
one loop for the first row, draw the spool out and net two
loops for the second row, the additional loop being obtain¬
ed by taking up that one loop which formed your first row
twice, or, as it is technically termed, by setting in a false
mesh. Your second row will thus consist of two loops. Re¬
move the spool, begin the third row, which is to consist of
three loops, the additional one being gained as before.
Continue thus adding a loop at the end of each row until
you have made your half square as large as you require ;
the two selvages on each side of your netting forming two
sides of your square ; then, before you begin to form the
other two sides of your square, net one row of dead netting,
i. e. do not increase or diminish anywhere; but at the end
of the following rows set in a stole mesh, i. e. take up the
two last loops of the row together. Your net will at last be Retica,
reduced to one loop again, and will, when stretched out ^
form a complete square, and all the meshes will stand ~
square with each other. But, supposing you want your net
to be longer than it is wide, and yet the meshes composing
it to be square, as in the other, you are to proceed as fol¬
lows : Form half a square as before, the length of one side
of which will determine the width of the oblong to be
made. When this is done, you must set in a. false mesh at
the end of one row, and a st le mesh at the end of the other
row. Continue thus adding and diminishing alternately, un¬
til your oblong is of the required length, and this is ascer¬
tained by measuring the long side of the netting from o to
b (fig. b), from the corner at a to the last knot at b. finish
off so as to net the part expressed by dotted lines in fig. 6,
as you did in the case of the square net, viz. by taking two
loops up at once at the end of each row. In the oblong you
need not net a row of plain loops before you begin to finish
off, as was done in the square net. Oblong and square nets,
when worked as now directed, will, when finished, appear
in the shape of a lozenge, and so will all the meshes of
which they are composed; but when stretched out with the
sides at right angles, each to the other, the whole net will
assume its proper shape. It adds to the finished appear¬
ance of the net, if, in making the last single loop of the net,
the spool be withdrawn before the knot is taught, and then
draw the twine up; the last loop is thus, as it were, ab¬
sorbed, instead of remaining there to spoil the neatness of
the work. The single loop, too, with which the net was
begun, may have its knot sufficiently loosened to enable
the workman to tighten up the loop and make it vanish, as
he did at the other end. A little practice will demonstrate
this clearly. . , . .
Many net-makers consider it a great saving noth of time
and twine to make their hay-noVs, and the like, after this
manner ; besides which, the selvage thus formed along each
side of the net affords sufficient strength without any addi¬
tional cord to border it. 7. How to net a round or cylin¬
drical net without having to join. Net any given number
of loops, and, w hen you come to the end of the row, in¬
stead of turning the net over to net a second, keep the
spool in the last loop, and with the needle pick up theirs*
loop of the row just finished, and net into it in the usual
manner; thus the row will be united. Continue to take up
each loop on your right hand in succession, as in ordinary
netting, and thus go on netting round and round until you
have obtained the required length. The rows will resemble
the turns of a spiral spring descending from the top to the
bottom. 8. How to make a ‘,ig-netfrom a square. Net a
piece of dead netting containing any given number of loops
in the row, observing always an odd number, as 3, 5, 7, 9,
11, according to the proposed size of the bag ; net double
the number of rows that there are loops in the row save
one, as 5, 9, 13, 17, 21. This done, draw the foundation
string, viz. the string on which you netted the lever, and
fix it in the middle of your square, then net round and
round it. The corner loops must be carefully worked tor
the first few rounds, to make them set even. It is always
in the workman’s power to increase the circumference of
his bag as he proceeds from the bottom to the mouth, by
setting in false meshes. In doing this, however, he must
observe regularity, and take care to insert his quart i ings
at equal distances, else the net wall be lop sided, and dis¬
torted. 9. Of joining two nets together. Apply one net on
the other, supposing each to contain the same number o
meshes in the rows to be united, and that the meshes are
of the same size; then, with a spool a full quarter less in
size than that on which the nets were breaded, net one row
along the margins to be joined, taking up tw o loops on the
needle, i. e. one mesh of each net together; or, if the ob¬
ject be to join the first with the last row of the same net,
RETICULATION.
i I'ticula- the two rows must be accurately placed one upon the other,
Lion, by folding the net over on itself; then proceed as before.
' '*vw Sea-nets, such as those for herrings and mackerel, which
are made in rands or breadths, are joined rand to rand
lengthways, or along the selvages. The former are com¬
posed of three breadths, each thirty-two yards long by fifty
loops deep, on a spool three inches in circumference. At
the close of each year the lowest rand, which goes deepest
into the sea, is removed, and a new one joined on at the
top of the net; so that the rand which was uppermost now
becomes second, and that wdiich was second is now the
lowest. This latter is removed at the end of the next sea¬
son, when the same rule is observed in replacing it, and
so on every year ; thus the whole of the original net is re¬
newed every three years. This operation is called by net-
makers, giving the net a nero jacket. Another mode of
joining, and when performed carefully it is the neatest, is
by uniting the two nets, or the two margins of one net, in
the same way as the last row of the new piece is joined to
the meshes of the old net in mending. The first-made side
of the inserted or joining work must be twice as long as
the rest, as also the last side of the suture; for they, in
fact, are equivalent to two sides of a mesh. The following
description of specific nets will serve to furnish examples of
the foregoing rules, and of the mode of mounting nets,
w’hich yet remains to be noticed.
The casting-net (fig. 7) is netted round and round (see
No. 7 in this article); the number of the loops for the
lever vary, as wTell as their size, according as it is in¬
tended for gudgeons, S:c. or minnows; in either case, it
would be a great loss of labour if the whole net were made
on one spool so small as it is necessary the lower part of
this engine should be. Spools therefore of different cir¬
cumferences are used, diminishing gradually from the largest
for the top, to the smallest for the tuck. The following
will form a good sized net for gudgeons and larger fish. Fill
the needle with double twine, net four rounds with a spool
two inches and a half circumference, on a lever of thirty-six
loops; then use single twine, and in the fifth row set in
twelve/a/se meshes ; net two rounds dead netting, and then
set m false meshes in the same line with the others, having
taken care to set in the quarterings of the fifth row so as to
divide the circle into equal parts. Net two feet down on
the first spool, then one foot down on each of seven other
spools, each spool being an eighth of an inch less than the
preceding one. Continue to set in quarterings in their pro¬
per places, and at the commencement of the eighth foot set
in four additional false meshes equidistantly between the
original quarterings, and continue putting in the accrues
until you have netted a foot and a half more, having taken
to your eighth spool at the beginning of the ninth foot;
then net four rows dead netting in double twine ; take your
ninth spool, and net two feet six inches of dead, netting for
the tuck, the last two rounds in double twine. Have a
stout line with leaden bullets threaded on it, and sew this
me, with running stitches, through each mesh, along the
lowest row of the net, the interval between each lead being
two inches. This weighted margin is then turned upwards
and inwards, and made fast to the double twine-work above
the tuck, at about every foot of the circumference, by means
of ratlines three inches long. The lead-line should be
about a foot less in length than the row of the tuck to which
it is sewn. The leads are made fast to the line by being
tied at each end to prevent slipping, and the holes should
be bored as near the size of the line as possible. In fig. 7,
the lines a, a, a, show the seams formed by the accrues run¬
ning down the net; d, d, d, d, are the ratlines by which
the tuck is suspended from the rows of double meshes,
marked by dots; be, be, indicate the tuck which forms a
senes of pockets, or rather one continuous pocket, inside
the net, into which the fish fall. Fig. 7* shows a portion
191
of the lead line l, /, sewn on to the last row of the tuck ; L lieticula-
is the bullet; s, s, s, s, s, s, s, the course of the twine, sim- d00-
ply run through the meshes and round the lead-line ; t, t,
the tie which holds the mesh on each side the bullet L fast;
v, v, v, the twine which sews the line to the meshes, pass¬
ing over the bullet, being threaded through the loops which
extend along the length of the bullet. The trammel con¬
sists of three separate layers of nettings, and derives its
name from its conformation {trois mailles, French), because
it ensnares by threefold meshes. The three parts consist of
two out wallings and the lint; this latter is suspended
loosely between the two former, it being made twice their
length and twice their depth. The two out-wallings are
to be of the same size.
The length and depth of this engine varies according to
the service it is intended to perform, either in fishing or
fowling ; the same may be said of the size of the meshes ;
those of the out-wallings, however, are generally five times
larger from knot to knot than those of the lint. All the
parts should be netted four square (as oblong and square
netting is sometimes called, see No. 6 in this article),
the lint in twine as fine as may be consistent with the re¬
quired strength, and the out-wallings with much stouter ma¬
terial in proportion. These, when finished, are to be mounted.
Fix each of the four corners of one out-ivalling to four
pegs driven into the ground, which should be cleared of
rubbish, &c. The out-walling is to be stretched tight.
Pass all round the lint, through each mesh, a stout line of
twine, as thick as that of which the out-wallings are made.
This line, and likewise the lint at its four corners, is made
fast to the four pegs ; the former is drawm tight from peg
to peg, but the latter, being longer and wider, hangs loose¬
ly. The meshes of the lint should be as equally distributed
along the line as is possible. Over the lint is applied the
other out ivalling, the four corners of which are to be fas¬
tened to the four pegs. If the engine is intended for fish¬
ing, a stout cord must be threaded with round flat corks
two inches diameter, and half an inch thick, more or less.
This cord is to be fixed along the head of the net by means
of pieces of twine whipped two or three times round, and
embracing the line of the lint, the margins of each out-
ivalling, and the cord itself. The twine is tied into a firm
knot at those points where the cord meets the angles of
the out-walling's meshes. The floats are placed about six
inches apart, and are pierced, so as to embrace the head-
rope firmly. This last is made fast down each side of the net,
at the angles of the meshes of the out-wallings ; but it has
here no floats ; it is extended along the bottom of the net,
where it is called the foot-rope, and is weighted with small
plates of lead rolled and beaten round it with a hammer, as
a tag is fixed round a boot-lace, at about every three inches.
The cord that thus surrounds the net must be bent into a
loop at each end of the top of the net, for to these is to
be made fast a draw-rope when the net is shot. Some net-
makers also tie the three layers of net together at each
angle of the meshes of the out-wallings throughout the area
of the net, to give additional strength, and to prevent the
lint getting huddled together at the bottom when suspend¬
ed in the water or drawn along the ground. This engine
acts thus: The fish or fowl passes through the large mesh
of the out-walling, strikes against the lint, which, hanging
loosely, yields, and protrudes through the corresponding
mesh of the other out-walling, and thus forms a ceecurn,
into which the animal falls, and is entangled. The hoop-
net consists of two parts ; the body, and the valve, funnel,
or gullet, which are united in the manner hereafter to be
described. Begin with the body at its lower or pointed end
(see fig. 8), and work up to its entrance, thus: Net thirty-
seven loops round on a spool four inches circumference,
one row. Take a spool two inches circumference and net
twenty rows of dead netting. In the next row set in five
192
RETICULATION.
Reticula, false meshes equidistantly, then twenty rows tf dead netting,
tion. then a row with five false meshes ; repeat this manoeuvre ,
'—■—then net thirty-six rows of dead netting, and the next row in
double twine ; thus you have an upper and a lower row, as
shown in fig. 5, the dotted lines representing the lower row.
Cut off the thread which has worked the upper row, leaving
an end; empty your needle, and wind on it the thread that
proceeds from the lower row, and work on with the single
twine as follows, taking care, however, to pick up only the
loops of the lower row as you go round. Net on the same
spool fourteen rows of dead netting, then at equal distances
in the circumference of the fifteenth row set in eight stole
meshes, then net two rows of dead netting, in the next row
eisrht stole meshes in a line with the others; repeat this
action three times more. After you have for the fifth time
set in vour stole meshes, net a row of plain netting; lay
aside the two-inch spool, and take a twelve-inch and net
one row. The valve is now finished, and must be reflected
inwards to gain its right position. You now take your
needle, charged with single twine, and join on to that end
which was left at the upper row where the valve issued from
the body of the engine; with the two-inch spool net eleven
rows of dead netting. In the next row set m five false
meshes at equal distances each from the other, and conti¬
nue to set in these at every third row eleven times in the
same line. This done, make seven rows of dead netting,
then one row on a four-inch spool in double twine. 1 hroug
this last row a pliant stick is passed, about six feet long, an
bent into a bow (BBB, fig. 8); a piece of cord keeps the
extremities in place, answering to the string of the archer s
bow; the lower meshes of the net’s mouth are strung on
this cord, see fig. 8. A weight is generally attached to the
bow at its extremities, somewhere towards BB. hour hoops
are lashed round the net at HHHH, to prevent its collaps¬
ing ; these are larger as they proceed from the point to the
mouth, and are made of slighter wood than the bow, the
smallest being about one foot three inches diameter, and
the largest two feet.
Some hoop-nets have more tnan one valve. In that case
the hoops must always be placed at the entrance of the
valves, and many netters make a row of double twine at
those parts, to give additional strength where there is most
strain on the netting. The large loops at the bottom of
the funnel are tied together, in fasces of equal number of
loops, to four lines, and these are made fast to another line
which is threaded through the last row of meshes belong¬
ing to the point of the body, and which, being drawn tight,
closes up the entrance at that part. All the lines are then
tied to a support at P, and thus the net is kept extended.
The principle of this engine is analogous to that of the com¬
mon mouse-trap. When there is only one valve (as in fig.
8, V), the fisherman withdraws the fish by loosing the line
that closes the body of the engine at P; but when there
are more than one valve, he makes a regard in the body
between each hoop. A regard is thus made: Net round
and round, and when arrived at the part wherein you wish
to put a regard, return on rjour work ; and when you again
come to the place where you altered your mode of netting,
return again; and thus continue until you have made the
regard of sufficient length, then work round and round as
before.
A tunnel for partridges is made like the hoop-net, but
without valves.
The trawl is a very large and rapacious net, and much
discussion has been held as to whether it should be per¬
mitted, It would seem, however, upon a careful exami¬
nation of evidence, that, under proper restrictions, it is not
detrimental to the fisheries. This engine is composed of
two separate pieces, called the upper and the lower leaf;
the meshes are about two inches square. For the under
leaf or blade, net 160 loops in double twine, two rows, then
with single twine net a plain row; in the next, set in a stole R<?ticul
mesh at about the sixth mesh from the beginning, and ano- “on.
ther at about the sixth mesh from the end of the row; net
three rows of dead netting, then set in stole meshes as be¬
fore; repeat this once again, afterwards go on setting in
stole meshes less frequently, t. e. leave five rows of dead net-
tin0, between, until the width of the blade is reduced to
thirty-six meshes, then net about five feet for the hose or
tail H, fip-. 9. The wings are now to be set on to this leaf.
For this purpose you must begin working at the other ex¬
tremity, or top of the leaf, as at T or t; net fifty-six loops
and stop; return on your work; net again to the end of
your row (the third), and here, quite at the extremity, set
in a false mesh; but when, in the course of netting row
after row, you come to the false meshes, do not take them
up, but let them hang, as is shown in fig. 9 at B and B
of the wings W and W. At the commencement of every
row which alternates with those to which you add a false
mesh, at about three loops from the beginning, set in a stole
mesh ; thus the false meshes will always be on one side, and
the stole meshes on the other side of the wing, which will
thus be diminished at last to eighteen meshes. When this
is effected, net two rows in double twine, not adding or di¬
minishing. Thus one wing is done ; net the other in the
same way, and take care that the one is exactly the same
as the other. The under leaf being now finished, we pass on
to the structure of the upper blade, fig. 10. Net 180 loops
in double twine, two rows ; then with single twine forty rows
of dead netting; diminish evenly and gradually from 180
to 160 meshes, taking notice that this reduction must be
made before you come to a level with the double rows
whence the wings rose in the other blade. Diminish from
160 to thirty-six, as you did when working down the lower
leaf, making the hose as before. The blades being now fi¬
nished, must be joined together down their sides, as the sides
of a sack are ; and a rope, acting as a binding along the
seams, is sewn on, in the same way as the head-rope of the
trammel. Round the top of the upper blade a rope is
strung through the meshes, and carried round the bosom
BBB, fig. 9, being sewn to, and not threaded through, the
hanging false loops of the wings W, W. The two blades are
then sewn together at certain parts to form pockets, in the
direction of A, A, A, A, A, A ; oooooo, being the ori¬
fice of the pockets. At L, L, loops of rope are bent, to
which lines are hitched for hauling the net out of the sea
into the boat. The two blades or leaves must be exactly
of the same length; for, when joined, the top row of the
wings must be even with the top row of the back of the
net or upper blade, and the hose should meet no less accu¬
rately at the bottom. When the trawl is in the sea, a long
beam of about thirty feet in length and seven inches in cir¬
cumference is lashed to the top of the net, keeping the
wings and back extended from point to point. I his beam
is let into irons, called traivl-heads, at each extremity, which
serve to sink it. A heavy rope, usually made of old netting,
tightly twisted and bound round with strong twine, is lash¬
ed along the bosom of the net. Thus mounted, the engine
is lowered into the sea, being trailed or trawled along the
bottom by means of a rope attached to the boat’s mast, and
communicating with each end of the beam by a bridle. The
bosom touches the ground, and the upper blade and beam
floats over it; the bosoms rope disturbs the fish at the bot¬
tom ; they are, however, stopped from escaping, by striking
against the upper blade, which extends over the bosom, so
they swim down the trawl to the hose; but this is tied up,
so they next attempt to return towards the mouth of the
net; but in their way they fall into the pockets, which only
open inwards towards the hose, and thus are secured. -<
day-net is used for catching larks from Hth September to
14th November; after that, until 25th February, the tram¬
mel. The reason of this is, that during the latter division of
leticula
tion.
RET
the season the weather usually is cloudy, and the doring-
glass of the day-net cannot act. The structure of this net
is very simple, and is represented in fig. 11. The thread
should be very fine, as also that used for the trammels; the
meshes three quarters of an inch from knot to knot; two
pieces of oblong netting, measuring three fathoms by one,
are extended to their full width, by being lashed to light
staves of the required length, one at each end (see fig. 11,
A, A). These two leaves are to be laid on the ground ex¬
actly opposite each other, so accurately, that when they are
drawn over, the two margins w, m shall touch each other.
Each leaf is to be staked down with pegs at the lower corners,
at G, G, G, G. A line Bi; and is to be stretched from the
top of the stakes B, B, and fastened firmly to the ground
by the pegs #, (?. Another line is to be stretched from the
head of the stakes b and b, in the direction of 6C, 6C, and
fixed to the ground by a peg C and C. Another line F and
F is to proceed from the head of each stake b, b, and is to
be joined at H to the main line, which draws the leaves
over; F, F should each be at least a fathom long. In the
centre D is to be placed the doring-glass, whence proceeds
a line E. The fowler retires to his ambuscade, and with
his left hand he plays the doring-glass with the line E, and
holds the main line H in his right; when the birds are seen
playing around the glass, and within reach of the net, he
pulls the leaves over with a quick jerk, and thus secures
them. The doring-glass is thus made: Take a piece of
wood (AC, fig. 12) nine inches long and one and a half
thick, cut out in the shape of an arch, and the edges at the
top bevelled off so as to make it a six-sided figure. This bow
is to be painted red, and covered with pieces of looking-
glass along the sides and at each end ; a wooden peg B, six
inches long and three fourths of an inch in circumference,
a little pointed at the end, with a hole at I, through which
the line E (fig. 11) is threaded, must be fixed to the under
surface of the arch, at the centre. Take another piece of
wood six inches thick and one foot long (fig. 13), sharpened
at the end in order to fix it in the ground ; cut out a mortise
in it two inches high, and one inch and three fourths deep ;
bore a hole at N and O, large enough to receive the peg
B (fig. 12). This device is made to act by winding up the
string round the peg several turns, and then pulling it;
then letting it wind itself up again, and then jerking it again ;
thus making the glass revolve briskly, as children do their
toy windmills.
• object w’e have had in view is that of embodying,
in plain and simple language, a few practical hints on the
subject of net-making, so that they may be conveniently
consulted by all classes requiring that kind of information.
The various engines described may be modified, altered,
and combined, as occasion requires. It would be endless
to enter into these minutiae, or to give a catalogue of the
ifrerent nets used, with the technical name for each in dif¬
ferent parts of the kingdom. We shall therefore conclude
with a ievf general observations. 1. In all cases use twine as
ne as circumstances will permit, and make your meshes as
large as is consistent with the object in view; for the nets
wil be thereby more easily dried, lighter, and more efficient.
In filling your needle double, draw the twine from se¬
parate balls. 3. Take great care to dry your nets thoroughly,
and hang them up away from walls, where rats and mice
cannot get at them. 4. Mend them immediately. 5. Keep
them well tanned, or immersed in Kyan’s Patent as often as
may be necessary; but never use tar and oil. This mixture
has been proved to be inefficient as a preservative, and to
oe so offensive to the fish as to drive many away from the
nets thus prepared, and to impart an unpleasant flavour to
those that are caught in them. 6. If you wish to due your
ne s green, russet, yellow, &c. for fowling or other purposes,
sen t cm to the nearest dyer or tanner, as the cheapest
and best mode of treatment. tn
VOL. XIX. •" ‘ ^
R E U
193
Jteus-
Plauen.
RETICULUM is a Latin word, signifying a little we/Reticulum
or casting net. It was applied by the Romans to a parti¬
cular mode of constructing their buildings. In the city of
Salino may still be seen remains of some walls, evidently of,
Roman origin, from the reticulum. This structure con¬
sists of small pieces of baked earth, cut lozenge-wise, and
disposed with great regularity on the angles, so as to ex¬
hibit to the eye the appearance of cut diamonds; and it was
called reticular, from its resemblance to fishing-nets. The
Romans always concealed it under a regular coating of other
matter ; and Mr Houel informs us, that this was the only
specimen of it which he saw in his travels through Sicily,
Malta, and the Lapari Islands. It appears to be the re¬
mains of some baths, which had been built for the conve¬
nience of sea-bathing.
RETIRADE, in Fortification, a kind of retrenchment
made in the body of a bastion or other work, which is to be
disputed, inch by inch, after the defences are dismantled.
It usually consists of two faces, which form a re-entering
angle. When a breach is made in a bastion, the enemy
may also make retirade or new fortification behind it.
RE ITREMENT means a private way of life, or a secret
habitation. “ Few,” says an elegant writer, “ are able to
bear solitude ; and though retirement is the ostensible ob¬
ject of the greater part, yet, when they are enabled by suc¬
cess to retire, they feel themselves unhappy. Peculiar powers
and elegance of mind are necessary to enable us to draw all
our resources from ourselves. In a remote and solitary vil¬
lage the mind must be internally active in a great degree,
or it will be miserable for want of employment. But in
great and populous cities, even while it is passive, it will be
constantly amused. It is impossible to walk the streets
without finding the attention powerfully solicited on every
side. N° exertion is necessary. Objects pour themselves
into the senses, and it would be difficult to prevent their
admittance. But, in retirement, there must be a spirit of
philosophy and a store of learning, or else the fancied
scenes ot bliss will vanish like the colours of the rainbow.
Poor Cowley might be said to be melancholy mad. He
languished for solitude, and wished to hide himself in the
wilds of America. But he was not able to support the soli¬
tude of a country village within a few miles of the metro¬
polis. With a virtuous and cheerful family, with a few
faithful and good-humoured friends, with a well-selected
collection of elegant books, and with a competency, one
may enjoy comforts even in the deserted village, which the
city, with all its diversions, cannot supply.”
RETORT, in Chemistry, an oblong or globular vessel
of glass or porcelain, with its neck bent, proper for distilla¬
tion.
RETPOORAH, a town of Hindustan, in the nizam’s
territories, province of Berar. It is seventeen miles south¬
east from Ellichpoor. Long. 78. 21. E. Lat. 21. 19. N.
RE TRACTS, amongst horsemen, pricks in a horse’s
feet, arising from the fault of the farrier in driving nails
that are weak, or in driving them ill pointed or otherwise
amiss.
RETROMINGENTS, in Natural History, a class or di¬
vision of animals, whose characteristic is, that they stale or
make water backwards, both male and female.
RETZ, Cardinal de. See Gondi.
REUS-PLAUEN, two sovereign principalities in Ger¬
many, one belonging to the elder and one to the younger
branch of that family. The dominions of the elder branch
are divided into two portions, of which the northernmost
called the Lordship of Gera, is surrounded by the Prussian
province of Saxony, by the duchies of Saxe-Gotha and of
Weimar ; and the southernmost by Prussia, Weimar, the
kingdom of Saxony, Bavaria, and Saxe-Cobourg. It extends
over 612 square miles, and contains the capital, Gera, and
ten other cities and towns, with 79,370 inhabitants, all of
2 B
194
REV
REV
lieutlin- whom are Protestants, except about 200 Jews. It is an
gen agricultural district, and the character of its soil and pro-
11 . auctions resembles that of the other parts of Saxony. The
Reversion. d inions 0f the younger branch consist of several de-
tached lordships, extending over 472 square miles, and con¬
tain 52,205 inhabitants, all adhering to the Lutheran pro¬
fession. The income of these states amounts together to
L.54 000. The soil and productions of both are similai.
The military contingent required by the German confede¬
ration for both the states is 742 men. ,
REUTLINGEN, a city of the kingdom of Wirtemberg,
in the province of the Black Forest, the capital of the bai¬
liwick of the same name. It is situated on the river Echaz,
and is surrounded with walls and ditches. It contains four
Lutheran churches, one of which, that of Maria, is remar -
able for its tower, 340 feet in height. It contains 1250
houses, mostly built in the style of the middle ages, and the
inhabitants amount to 9200. It is celebrated ^ it, lea-
ther manufactories; and paper, cutlery, hardware, and mai y
smaller articles, are produced. In the vicinity good wine is
made. Long. 9. 3. 15. E. Lat. 48. 29. 15. N.
REVE, Reeve, or Greve, the bailiff of a franchise or
manor, and so called, especially in the west of England.
Hence shire-reeve, sheriff, port-greve, and the like.
REVEILLE, a beat of drum about break of day, to give
notice that it is time for the soldiers to rise, and that the
sentries are to forbear challenging. ,. •
REVELATION, the act of revealing, or making a tning
public that was before unknown ; it is also used to sigm y
the discoveries made by God to his prophets, and by them
to the world; and more particularly includes the books of
the Old and New Testament. See Theology.
REVELS, entertainments of dancing, masking, acting
comedies, farces, and the like, anciently very frequent in
the inns of court and in noblemen’s houses, but now much
disused. The officer who had the direction of the revels at
court was called the Master of the Bevels.
REVENGE means the return of injury for injury, and
differs materially from that sudden resentment which rises
in the mind immediately on being injured; which, so far
from being culpable when restrained within due bounds, is
absolutely necessary for self-preservation. Revenge, on
the contrary, is a cool and deliberate wickedness, and is
often executed years after the offence had been given; and
the desire of it is generally the effect of littleness, weak¬
ness, and vice, whilst to do right, and to suffer wrong, is a
mark of a great soul, that scorns to stoop to suggested re-
VerREVENUE. See the articles England, Funding
System, Political Economy, and Taxation.
REVERBERATION, in Physics, the act of a body re¬
pelling or reflecting another after its impinging thereon.
Reverberation, in Chemistry, denotes a kind of circu¬
lation of the flame by means of a reverberatory furnace.
REVEREND, a title of respect given to ecclesiastics.
The religious abroad are called reverend fathers, and ab¬
besses, prioresses, and others reverend mothers. In Eng¬
land, bishops are right reverend, and archbishops most re¬
verend. In France, before the Revolution, the bishops,
archbishops, and abbots, were all alike most leverend. In
Scotland, the clergy individually are reverend, a synod is
very reverend, and the general assembly is veneiable.
REVERIE, the same with delirium, raving, or distrac¬
tion. It is used also for any ridiculous, extravagant imagi¬
nation, action, or proposition ; a chimera, or vision. But
the most ordinary use of the word amongst English writers
is for a deep disorderly musing or meditation.
REVERSION, in the law of England, has two signifi¬
cations ; the one of which is, an estate left, which continues
during a particular state in being; and the other is the re¬
turning of the land, after the particular estate is ended ;
Revolu.
tion.
and it is further said to be an interest in lands, when the BerM™
r Sf Jan°eS ^a Panicu-
lar estate granted away ceases, continuing in the granter o
■ The difference between a remainder and a reversion con¬
sists in this, that the remainder may belong to any man ex¬
cept the granter; whereas the reversion returns to him who
conveyed the lands.
Reversion, in annuities. See Annuities.
REVIVIFICATION, in Chemistry, a term generally
applied to the distillation of quicksilver from cinnabar.
Revivification, in Physiology, the recalling to life of
animals apparently dead. There are many kinds of insects
which may be revivified, after all the powers of animation
have been suspended for a considerable time. Common
flies, small beetles, spiders, moths, bugs, &c. after being
drowned in spirit of wine, and continuing apparently dead
for upwards of fifteen minutes, have been restored to life
merely by being thrown amongst wood-ashes slightly warm.
Whilst Dr Franklin was in France, he received a
tity of Madeira wine from America, which had been bottled
in Virginia. He found a few dead flies in some of the
bottles, which he exposed to the sun in the month of July ;
and in less than three hours these seemingly dead animals
recovered life which had been so long suspended. . At first
they appeared as if convulsed ; they then raised themselves
on their legs, washed their eyes with their fore feet, dressed
their wings with those behind, and in a short time began to
fly about. .
But the most remarkable instance of revivification we
have heard of is the following. In the warmer parts of
France there is an insect very pernicious to the rye, appa¬
rently beginning its operations at the foot of the plant, and
gradually proceeding towards the ear. If the plant be tho¬
roughly dried whilst the insect is in the root or stem, the
animal is irrecoverably killed ; but after it has reached the
grain, the case is very different. There have been instances
of these insects being brought to life in fifteen minutes, by
a little warm water, after the grains in which they were
lodged had been kept dry for thirty years.
What is the metaphysician to think of these phenomena,
or what conclusion is he to draw from them respecting the
mind ? If he be a sober man he will draw no conclusion,
and for this reason, that he knows nothing of the sentient
principle of insects, or of any animal but man. He is con¬
scious that it is the same individual being that, in hirnse ,
thinks, and wills, and feels; he knows that part of his
thought is not in one place, and part of it in another, an
therefore he concludes that this thinking being is not ma
ter, whilst experience teaches him that it quits the ma e
rial system when that becomes unfit to discharge its unc
tions, and cannot be recalled. Experience teaches nm,
on the other hand, that the sentient principle of these in¬
sects does not quit the system when unfit for its functions ;
and hence he ought to infer, that the minds of men ana
of insects are very different, and that the bond which unites
the material and immaterial parts of an insect is certain y
different from that which unites the mind and body of man.
This is the only inference which can be fairly drawn from
these phenomena. ,
REVIEW, a term applied to literary journals, whicn
give a periodical view of the state of literature. _
REVOLUTION, in politics, signifies a change in the
constitution of a state, and is a word of different iniport
from revolt, with which it is sometimes confounded. vY hen
a people withdraw their obedience from their governors
for any particular reason, without overturning the govern¬
ment, or waging an offensive war against it, they are in a
K, E Y
levolu- state of revolt; when they overturn the government, and
tion form a new one for themselves, they effect a revolution.
II That which is termed the revolution in Britain is the change
which, in 1688, took place in consequence of the forced
'^v abdication of James II. when the Protestant succession
was established, and the constitution restored to its primi¬
tive purity.
Revolution, in Geometry, the motion of rotation of a
line about a fixed point or centre, or of any figure about a
fixed axis, or upon any line or surface. Thus, the revolu¬
tion of a given line about a fixed centre generates a circle ;
and that of a right-angled triangle about one side, as an
axis, generates a cone ; and that of a semicircle about its
diameter generates a sphere or globe.
, Revolution, in Astronomy, is the period of a star,
planet, or comet, or its course from any point of its orbit,
till it return to the same again.
REW AH, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Gundwana, district of Boghela. The suburbs are large.
Under the fort runs the Bichanaddy, which has its source
twenty miles to the east. It contains a good citadel, built
of stone, and the country in the vicinity is well cultivated.
Long. 81. 25. E. Lat. 24. 27. N.
RE WART, a town of Hindustan, province of Delhi,
forty miles south-west from the city of Delhi. It is pos¬
sessed by a native chief, one of the numerous British tri¬
butaries. Long. 76. 42. E. Lat. 28. 13. N.
REYNEAU, Charles Rene, commonly known by the
name of Father Reyneau, a celebrated mathematician of
France, was born in the year 1656, at Brissac, in the pro¬
vince of A.njou. When twenty years of age, he connect¬
ed himself with the Oratorians, a sort of religious order,
the members of which lived in community without binding
themselves to the observance of any vows, and turned their
chief attention to the instruction of youth. He afterwards
taught philosophy at Pezenos, and next at Toulon, which
requiring some degree of geometrical knowledge, he be¬
came extremely fond of that science, and cultivated and
improved it to a great extent. He was, in consequence of
his knowledge, invited to fill the mathematical chair at
Angers in 1683, and he was also elected a member of the
academy in 1694.
He undertook to reduce into a body, for the benefit of
his pupils, the chief theories which were scattered through¬
out the works of Newton, Descartes, Leibnitz, Bernoulli,
the Leipsic Acts, the Memoirs of the Academy of Paris,
and several other works, to which he gave the name of
Analyse Demontree, or Analysis Demonstrated, and which
was published in 1708, in two vols. quarto.
He gave to this work the name of Analysis Demonstrat¬
ed, because he therein demonstrates various methods which
had not been demonstrated by their authors, or, at least,
not with sufficient accuracy and perspicuity. This work
of Reyneau was very much applauded, and it became a
general maxim in France, that to follow him was the best,
if not the only w ay, to make any extraordinary progress in
the study of mathematics.
Such was his ambition to be useful, that in 1714 he pub-
ished his Science du Calcul des Grandeurs, intended for
the benefit of such as were wholly unacquainted with the
science of geometry. Of this work a very able judge was
pleased to observe, that “ though several books had already
appeared upon the same subject, such a treatise as that be¬
fore him was still wanting, as in it everything was handled
in ,a manner sufficiently extensive, and at the same time
with all possible exactness and perspicuity.” Although
many branches of the mathematics had been well discussed
prior to his time, no good elements were to be met with,
even of practical geometry.
When the Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris gave ad¬
mission to other learned and eminent men, Father Rey-
R E Y
195
neau was received into the number. The works already Reynolds,
mentioned are all he ever published, or perhaps ever com-
posed, with the exception of a little piece upon logic ; and
materials for a second volume of his Science da Calcul were
left behind him in manuscript. Towards the close of life
he was too much afflicted with sickness to give much ap¬
plication to study; and he died in 1728, at seventy-two
years of age. His many virtues and extensive erudition
made this event much regretted by all who had the plea¬
sure of being acquainted with him. It was regarded as
an honour and a happiness by the first men in France to
number him amongst their friends, such as the chancellor
of the kingdom, and Malebranche, of the latter of whom
Reyneau was a faithful and zealous disciple.
REYNOLDS, Sir Joshua, the celebrated painter, was
born at Plympton, a small town in Devonshire, on the
16th July 1723. His father was minister of the parish, and
also master of the grammar school; and being a man of
learning and philanthropy, he was beloved and respected
by all to whom he was known. Such a man, it will natu¬
rally be supposed, was assiduous in the cultivation of the
minds of his children, amongst whom his son Joshua shone
conspicuous, by displaying at a very early period a supe¬
riority of genius and the rudiments of a correct taste.
Unlike other boys, who generally content themselves with
giving a literal explanation of their author, regardless of
his beauties or his faults, young Reynolds attended to both
these, displaying a happy knowledge of what he read, and
entering with ardour into the spirit of his author. He dis¬
covered likewise talents for composition, and a natural pro¬
pensity for drawing, in which his friends and intimates
thought him qualified to excel. Emulation was a distin¬
guishing feature in his mind, which his father perceived
with the delight natural to a parent; and designing him
for the church, in which he hoped that his talents might
raise him to eminence, he sent him to one of the universi¬
ties.
Soon after this period he grew passionately fond of paint¬
ing ; and, by the perusal of Richardson’s theory of that
art, was determined to make it his profession through life.
At his own earnest request, therefore, he was removed to
London ; and about the year 1742 became a pupil to Mr
Hudson, who, though not himself an eminent painter, was
preceptor to several who afterwards excelled in the art.
One of the first advices which he gave to Mr Reynolds
was to copy carefully Guercino’s drawings. This was done
with such skill, that many of the copies are said to be now
preserved in the cabinets of the curious as the originals of
that very great master.
About the year 1749, Mr Reynolds went to Italy under
the auspices and in the company of Lord, then Commo¬
dore, Keppel, who was appointed to the command of the
British squadron in the Mediterranean. In this garden of
the world, this magical seat of the arts, he failed not to visit
the schools of the great masters, to study the productions
of different ages, and to contemplate w ith unw’earied atten¬
tion the various beauties which are characteristic of each.
His labour here, as has been observed of another painter,
was “ the labour of love, not the task of the hireling;” and
how much he profited by it is known to all Europe.
Having remained about two years in Italy, and studied
the language as well as the arts of the country with great
success, he returned to England, improved by travel and
refined by education. On the road to London from the port
wfflere he landed, he accidentally found in the inn where he
lodged Johnson’s life of Savage ; and was so taken with the
charms of composition and the masterly delineation of cha¬
racter displayed in that performance, that, having begun to
read it whilst leaning with his arm on the chimney-piece,
he continued in that attitude insensible of pain till he was
hardly able to raise his hand to his head. The admiration
196
hey
KEY
lleynolds. 0f the work naturally led him to seek the acquaintance of
v'—-v—its author, who continued one of his most sincere admirers
and warmest friends till 1784, when they were separated
by the stroke of death.
The first thing that distinguished him after his return to
his native country, was a full-length portrait of Commodore
Keppel; which in the polite circles was spoken of in terms
of the highest encomium, and testified to what a degree o
eminence he had arrived in his profession. 1 his was to -
lowed by a portrait of Lord Edgecumbe, and a few otliers,
which at once introduced him to the first business in por¬
trait-painting ; and that branch of the art he cultivated with
such success as will for ever establish his fame with all cie-
scriptions of refined society. Having painted some of the
first-rate beauties of the age, the polite world flocked to see
the graces and the charms of his pencil; and he soon be¬
came the most fashionable painter, not only in England, but
in all Europe. He has indeed preserved the resemolance
of so many illustrious characters, that we feel the less regret
for his having left behind him so few historical paintings ;
though what he has done in that way shows hirn to have
been qualified to excel in both departments.1 ihe only
landscape, perhaps, which he ever painted, except those
beautiful and chaste ones which compose the back grounds
of many of his portraits, is a View on the Thames from
Richmond, which in 1784 was exhibited by the Society for
Promoting Painting and Design in Liverpool.
In 1764 Mr Reynolds had the merit of being the first
promoter of that club which, having long existed without
a name, became at last distinguished by the appellation of
the Literary Club. Upon the foundation of the Royal Aca¬
demy of Painting, Sculpture, and Architecture, he was ap¬
pointed president; and his acknowledged excellence in his
profession made the appointment acceptable to all the lovers
of art. To add to the dignity of this new institution, his ma¬
jesty conferred on the president the honour of knighthood;
and Sir Joshua delivered his first discourse at the open¬
ing of the academy on the 2d of January 1769. The merit
of that discourse has been universally admitted among paint¬
ers ; but it contains some directions respecting the proper
mode of prosecuting their studies, to which every student
of every art would do well to pay attention. ‘ I would
chiefly recommend,” says he, “ that an implicit obedience
to the rules of art, as established by the practice of the great
masters, should be exacted from the young students. That
those models which have passed through the approbation
of ages should be considered by them as perfect and infal-
lible guides ; as subjects for their imitation, not their criti¬
cism. I am confident, that this is the only efficacious me¬
thod of making a progress in the arts ; and that he who sets
out with doubting, will find life finished before he becomes
master of the rudiments. For it may be laid down as a
maxim, that he who begins by presuming on his own sense,
has ended his studies as soon as he has commenced them.
Every opportunity, therefore, should be taken to discoun¬
tenance that false and vulgar opinion, that rules are the fet¬
ters of genius. They are fetters only to men of no genius; Reynoi;
as that armour which, upon the strong, becomes an oina- ^ v*
ment and a defence, upon the w’eak and mishapen turns into
a load, and cripples the body which it was made to protect.”
Each succeeding year, on the distribution of the prizes,
Sir Joshua delivered to the students a discourse of equal
merit with this : and perhaps we do not hazard too much
when we say, that, from the whole collected, the lover of
belles lettres and the fine arts will acquire juster notions of
what is meant by taste in general, and better rules for ac¬
quiring a correct taste, than from multitudes of those vo¬
lumes which have been professedly written on the subject.
In the autumn of 1785 he went to Brussels, where he
expended about L.1000 on the purchase of paintings, which,
having been taken from the different monasteries and reli¬
gious houses in Flanders and Germany, were then exposed
to sale by the command of the Emperor Joseph. Gains¬
borough and he had engaged to paint each other’s portrait;
and the canvass for both being actually stretched, Sir Jo¬
shua gave one sitting to his distinguished rival; but, to the
regret of every admirer of the art, the unexpected death of
the latter prevented all further progress.
In 1790 he was anxiously desirous to procure the vacant
professorship of perspective in the academy for Mr Bononi,
an Italian architect; but that artist not having been yet
elected an associate, was of course no academician, and it
became necessary to raise him to these situations, in order
to qualify him for being a professor. Mr Gilpin being his
competitor for the associateship, the numbers on the ballot
proved equal, when the president by his casting vote de¬
cided the election in favour of his friend, who was thereby
advanced so far towards the professorship. Soon after this,
an academic seat being vacant, Sir Joshua exerted all his
influence to obtain it for Mr Bononi; but finding himself
outvoted by a majority of two to one, he quitted the chair
with great dissatisfaction, and next day sent to the secre¬
tary of the academy a formal resignation of the office, which
for twenty-one years he had filled with honour to himself
and his country. His indignation, however, subsiding, he
suffered himself to be prevailed upon to return to the chair,
which within a year and a half he was again desirous to quit
for a better reason.
Finding a disease of languor, occasioned by an enlarge¬
ment of the liver, to which he had for some time been sub¬
ject, increase upon him, and daily expecting the total loss
of sight, he wrote a letter to the academy, intimating his
intention to resign the office of president on account of bo¬
dily infirmities, which disabled him from executing the du¬
ties of it to his own satisfaction. The academicians receiv¬
ed this intelligence w ith the respectful concern due to the
talents and virtues of their president; and either then did
enter, or designed to enter, into a resolution, honourable to
all parties, namely, that a deputation from the whole h°dy
of the academy should wait upon him, and inform him of
their wish, that the authority and privileges of the office of
president might be his during his life ; declaring their w il-
nursing
Cupid ■ Cupid in the Cloud, j Cupids painting; Boy laughing; Master Herbert tn the eharacter of Bacchus; Hebe; Mess i
CupiQ , 1 „ ,, ,   „ uL.j . rhir. TUorti-mi.iTri \ I orcnrv , ii 11 tt 1 p Ho W Samuel t nra vm s'i an old ]Man leading, .Love
»h«th.»»..fB«.tj< «ke.q«Mr«^
Kitely; Garrick
SnTraS/’anTSil™ 3S ’chaS« of"^d?; ‘a a3;™ie^y Guardian Angels ; Miss Beau-
Here in the ,3,.racier of Spenser’s Una ; Resigna^ “' S
S oSuiio T Mrsr shKr?ii«3^^us^=Ai^rr^ $ Su &&
and Faith Hope and Charity, for the window of New College Chapel, Oxford; the Studious Boy; a Bacchante, a auh1 .
Lord W Gordo^as an Angel;’the Holy Family ; the Cottagers, from Thomson ; the Vestal; the Careful Shepherdess; a G psy
telling Fortunes ; the infant Hercules strangling the Serpent; the Mouse-trap Girl; Venus ; Cornelia and her ^ldren liban ;
Melancholy; Mrs Siddons in Tragedy; Head of Lear; Mrs Talmash in the character of Miranda, with Prospeio and Cal
Robin GoodfeUow; Death of Cardinal Beaufort; Macbeth, with the Caldron of the >> itches.
R E Z
3zat. lingness to permit the performance of any of its duties which
might be irksome to him by a deputy.
From this period Sir Joshua never painted more. The
last effort of his pencil was the portrait of Charles James
Fox, which was executed in his best style, and shows that
his fancy, his imagination, and his other great powers in the
art which he professed, remained unabated to the end of
his life. When the last touches were given to this picture,
The hand of Reynolds fell, to rise no more.
On Thursday the 23d of February 1792, the world was de¬
prived of this amiable man and excellent artist, at the age
of sixty-eight years; a man than whom no one, according
to Johnson, had passed through life with more observation
of men and manners. The following character of him is
said to be the production of Mr Burke.
“ His illness was long, but borne with a mild and cheer¬
ful fortitude, without the least mixture of anything irritable
or querulous, agreeably to the placid and even tenor of his
whole life. He had from the beginning of his malady a dis¬
tinct view of his dissolution, which he contemplated with
that entire composure which nothing but the innocence, in¬
tegrity, and usefulness of his life, and an unaffected sub¬
mission to the will of Providence, could bestow. In this
situation he had every consolation from family tenderness,
which his tenderness to his family had always merited.
“ Sir Joshua Reynolds was, on very many accounts, one
of the most memorable men of his time ; he was the first
Englishman who added the praise of the elegant arts to the
other glories of his country. In taste, in grace, jn facility,
in happy invention, and in the richness and harmony of co¬
louring, he was equal to the great masters of the renowned
ages. In portrait he went beyond them; for he commu¬
nicated to that description of the art in which English ar¬
tists are the most engaged, a variety, a fancy, and a dignity,
derived from the higher branches, which even those who
professed them in a superior manner did not always pre¬
serve when they delineated individual nature. His portraits
remind the spectator of the invention of history and the
amenity of landscape. In painting portraits he appears not
to be raised upon that platform, but to descend to it from a
higher sphere. His paintings illustrate his lessons, and his
lessons seem to be derived from his paintings.
“ He possessed the theory as perfectly as the practice of
his art. To be such a painter, he was a profound and pene¬
trating philosopher.
“ In full happiness of foreign and domestic fame, admir¬
ed by the expert in art, and by the learned in science,
courted by the great, caressed by sovereign powers, and
celebrated by distinguished poets, his native humility, mo¬
desty, and candour never forsook him, even on surprise or
provocation ; nor was the least degree of arrogance or as¬
sumption visible to the scrutinizing eye in any part of his
conduct or discourse.
“ His talents of every kind, powerful from nature, and
not meanly cultivated in letters, his social virtues in all the
relations and all the habitudes of life, rendered him the
centre of a very great and unparalleled variety of agreeable
societies, which will be dissipated by his death. He had
too much merit not to excite some jealousy, too much in¬
nocence to provoke any enmity. The loss of no man of his
time can be felt with more sincere, general, and unmixed
sorrow.” See Painting.
REZAT, a circle of the kingdom of Bavaria, formed out
of the ancient Southern Franconia, in the principality of Ans-
pach, out of Bavarian Unterland, and the territories of the
former free states of Nuremberg, Rottenburg, Windsheim,
and Weissenbourg. It extends over 3052 square miles, and
is bounded on the north-wrest by the circle of the Lower
Maine, and on the north-east by that of the Upper Maine,
on the east by that of the Regen, on the south by that of
R H A 197
the Upper Maine, and on the west by the territory of the Rhabdo-
kingdom of Wirtemberg. The circle is divided into forty- l°gy
one bailiwicks, which comprehend forty-tw'o cities or towns II
once wralled, fifty-five market-towns, and 2004 villages, wuth . ^ma' -
530,726 inhabitants, of whom the far greater part are Luthe¬
rans, and most of the rest still adhere to the Catholic church.
It is generally a level or undulating district, whose waters
are partly conveyed by the smaller rivers to the Danube,
but the greater portion by the Maine to the Rhine. It is
the best cultivated, the most populous, and the most pro¬
ductive division of the kingdom. It yields abundance of
corn and cattle, some wine, and all the various kinds of com¬
mon fruits. Its manufactures also are extensive, especially
near Nuremberg, but having little water communication,
the chief commodities are conveyed by land-carriage.
RHABDOLOGY, or Rabdology, in arithmetic, a name
given by Napier of Merchiston, the inventor of logarithms,
to a method of performing some of the more difficult opera¬
tions of numbers by means of square little rods. Upon these
are inscribed the simple numbers; then, by shifting them
according to certain rules, those operations are performed
by simply adding or subtracting the numbers as they stand
upon the rods.
RHADAMANTHUS, a severe judge, and king of Ly¬
dia. The poets make him one of the three judges of hell.
RHADEN, a town of the Prussian province of West¬
phalia, in the government of Minden, and the capital of the
circle of the same name, which extends over 180 square
miles, inhabited by 30,000 persons. The town is on the
new canal, and contains 390 houses, with 2680 inhabitants,
w ho make large quantities of linen and of woollen yarn.
RHAMA, or Rama, an incarnate deity of the first rank,
in Indian mythology. Sir William Jones believes he was
the Dionysos of the Greeks, whom they named Bromius,
without know ing why ; and Bugenes when they repre¬
sented him horned, as well as Lyaois and Eleutherios the
deliverer, and Tryambos or Dithyrambos the triumphant.
“ Most of those titles,” says Sir William, “ were adopted by
the Romans, by whom he was called Bruma, Tauriformis,
Liber, and Triumphus; and both nations had records or
traditionary accounts of his giving laws to men and decid¬
ing their contests, of his improving navigation and com¬
merce, and, what may appear yet more observable, of his
conquering India and other countries with an army of satyrs,
commanded by no less a personage than Pan; whom Lil-
lius Gyraldus, on what authority I know not, asserts to have
resided in Iberia, ‘ when he had returned,’ says the learned
mythologist, ‘ from the Indian war, in which he accompanied
Bacchus.’ It were superfluous in a mere essay to run any
length in the parallel between this European god and the
sovereign of Ayodhya, whom the Hindus believe to have
been an appearance on earth of the preserving power; to
have been a conqueror of the highest renown, and the de¬
liverer of nations from tyrants, as well as of his consort Sita
from the giant Ravan king of Lanca; and to have com¬
manded in chief a numerous and intrepid race of those
large monkeys, which our naturalists, or some of them, have
denominated Indian satyrs. This general, the prince of
satyrs, was named Hanumat, or ‘ with high cheek-bones
and with workmen of such agility, he soon raised a bridge
of rocks over the sea, part of which, say the Hindus, yet re¬
mains ; and it is probably the series of rocks to which the
Mussulmans or Portuguese have given the foolish name of
Adam's, or, as it should be called, Rama's Bridge. Might
not this army of satyrs have been only a race of mountain¬
eers, whom Rama, if such a monarch ever existed, had
civilized ? However that may be, the large breed of In¬
dian apes is at this moment held in high veneration by the
Hindus, and fed with devotion by the Brahmins, who seem
in two or three places on the banks of the Ganges to have
a regular endowment for the support of them : they live in
198
R H A
R H E
Rhapsodi tribes of three or four hundred, are wonderfully gentle (I
II speak as an eye-witness), and appear to have some kind of
Rhapsody. order and subordination in their little sylvan polity.” The
'   ' festival of llhama is held on the 9th day of the new moon
of Chaitra, on which the war of Lanca is dramatically re¬
presented, concluding with an exhibition of the fire-ordeal,
by which the victor’s wife Sita gave proof of her connubial
fidelity. Amongst the Hindus there is a variety of very
fine dramas of great antiquity on the story of Rhama.
There are three Rhamas mentioned in the Indian my¬
thology, who, together with Krishna, the darling god of the
Indian wTomen, are described as youths of perfect^ beauty.
The third Rhama is Krishna’s elder brother, and is consi¬
dered as the eighth Avatar, invested with an emanation of
his divine radiance. Like all the Avatars, Rhama is paint¬
ed with gemmed Ethiopian or Parthian coronets ; with rays
encircling his head, jewels in his ears, two necklaces, one
straight and one pendant on his bosom, with dropping gems;
garlands of well-disposed many-coloured flowers, or collars
of pearls, hanging down below his waist; loose mantles of
golden tissue or dyed silk, embroidered on the hems with
flowers, elegantly thrown over one shoulder, and folded like
ribbands across the breast; with bracelets, two on one arm
and on each wrist. All the Avatars are naked to the waist,
and uniformly with dark azure flesh, in allusion probably to
the tint of that primordial fluid on which Narayan moved
in the beginning of time ; but their skirts are bright yel¬
low, the colour of the curious pericarpium in the centre of
the water-lily.
RHAPSODI, Rhapsodists, in Antiquity, persons who
made a business of singing pieces of Homer’s poems. It
has been said that the rhapsodi were clothed in red when
they sung the Iliad, and in blue when they sung the Odys¬
sey. They performed on the theatres, and sometimes strove
for prizes in contests of poetry and singing. After the two
antagonists had finished their parts, the two pieces or pa¬
pers they were written in were soon joined together again,
and hence the name, from gccTrrw, suo, and w§»j, canticum.
But there seem to have been other rhapsodi of more anti¬
quity than these people, who composed heroic poems or
songs in praise of heroes and great men, and sung their own
compositions from town to town for a livelihood ; of which
profession Homer himself is said to have been a member.
See Homer.
RHAPSODOMANCY, an ancient kind of divination
performed by pitching on a passage of a poet at hazard, and
reckoning on it as a prediction of what was to come to pass.
There were various ways of practising this rhapsodomancy.
Sometimes they wrote several papers or sentences of a poet
on so many pieces of wood, paper, or the like, shook them
together in an urn, and drew out one, which was accounted
the lot. Sometimes they cast dice on a table whereon
verses were [written, and that upon which the die lodged
contained the prediction. A third manner was by opening
a book, and pitching on some verse at first sight. This
method they particularly called the sortes Prcenestince; and
afterwards, according to the poet, made use of sortes Ho¬
meric#, sortes Virgilianae, &c.
RHAPSODY, in Antiquity, a discourse in verse, sung
or rehearsed by a rhapsodist. Others conceive rhapsody
to signify a collection of verses, especially those of Homer,
which having been a long time dispersed in pieces and frag- Rhein;
ments, were at length by Pisistratus’s order digested into II If
books called rhapsodies, from gairrw, suo, and wSjj, canticum.Kheton
Hence, amongst moderns, rhapsody is also used for an as-
semblage of passages, thoughts, and authorities, raked to-
o-ether from divers authors, to compose some new piece.
S RHEIMS, an arrondissement of the department of the
Marne, in France, 623 square miles in extent. It compre¬
hends ten cantons, divided into 181 communes, and in
1836 contained 123,919 inhabitants. The capital is the[city
of the same name. It stands in a pleasing district on the
river Bisle. It is surrounded with walls, not for defence, but
converted into agreeable promenades. It is a city of well-
built and large houses, some open places, but in general of
narrow streets, well paved. The chief object of attention
is the fine Gothic cathedral, in which the kings of France
during many generations were crowned. It is 450 feet in
length, ninety-five in breadth, and 110 in height. The
portico is beautiful, and the interior presents a magnifi¬
cence in its architecture, which is so combined with sim¬
plicity as to produce a wonderful impression on the specta¬
tor. It suffered injury during the revolution, but the da¬
mages have in some degree been repaired. The palace of
the archbishop and some other ecclesiastical buildings are very
fine. This city has a lyceum, three hospitals, and 38,359
inhabitants, w ho carry on considerable manufactures of wool¬
len goods of various kinds, and in shawls of mixed sub¬
stances. It is also a place of commerce, and is the prin¬
cipal mart for champagne wine. Long. 3. 56. 3. E. Lat. 49.
15. 16. N.
RHEINBACH, a town of the Prussian government of
Cologne, the capital of a circle of the same name, which
extends over seventy square miles, and contains 23,500 in¬
habitants. The town is situated on the river Erft, is ill
built, with 250 houses, and 1500 inhabitants.
RHEINBERG, a town of the Prussian government of
Cleves, the capital of a circle of the same name, which ex¬
tends over 210 square miles, comprehending nine cities and
towns, and thirty-six villages, with 38,200 inhabitants. The
town is situated on a brook about one mile from the Rhine,
was once fortified, but its defences have been neglected.
It contains 430 houses, with 2250 inhabitants, partly em¬
ployed in making cloths, and partly in the fishery on the
Rhine. Long. 6. 29. 26. E. Lat. 51. 33. 17. N.
RHETORES, amongst the Athenians, were ten in num¬
ber, elected by lot to plead public causes in the senate-
house or assembly. For every cause in which they were
retained they received a drachm out of the public money.
They were sometimes called Suvriyogoi, and their fee ro
Suvriyoo/xcv. No man was admitted to this office until he
was forty years of age, though others say thirty. Valour
in war, filial piety to parents, prudence in their affairs, fru¬
gality and temperance, were necessary qualifications for
this office, and every candidate underwent an examination
concerning these virtues previous to the election. The
orators at Rome were not unlike the Athenian rhetores.
RHETORIANS, a sect of heretics in Egypt, so deno¬
minated from Rhetorius, their leader. The distinguishing
tenet of this heresiarch, as represented by Philastrius, was,
that he approved of all the heresies before him, and taught
that they were all in the right.
199
RHETORIC.
I toric. The founder of modern philosophy describes the subject
^ •'of our present inquiry as being “ that science which we call
Rhetoric or Art of Eloquence; a science excellent, and ex¬
cellently well laboured.” But Bacon’s praise of the science
itself, and of its ancient cultivators, has been far from com¬
manding universal assent. The prejudice with which rhe¬
torical studies are regarded by so many, has, it must be
confessed, been fostered, if not generated, by the fault of
some of its students and expositors. Rhetoricians, like
teachers of the kindred science logic, have too often claim¬
ed for their art the possession of powers which do not be¬
long to it: their systems of precepts have become most
ponderous, and their pretensions most extravagant, in times
when eloquence was sunk in the deepest decay; and in the
rhetorical writings of the lower empire and the dark ages,
it seems to be implicitly assumed that every man who sub¬
mits to learn and practise certain prescribed rules, will at¬
tain skill in speech and writing, as certainly as he would,
by an industrious apprenticeship, acquire the mastery of a
mechanical trade. Accordingly, in more than one period,
and in none perhaps more decidedly than in our own, the
very name of Rhetoric has been put under the ban of the
empire of literature ; and the sentence has been justified by
misrepresentations both of the purposes of the art, and of
the works which result from it. Its rules have been describ¬
ed as a scheme of petty sophistical artifices, designed to aid
in smuggling falsehood into the mind under the disguise
of logical quibbles or oratorical ornaments ; and, the worst
declamations of the worst declaimers being exhibited as
adequate specimens, rhetorical composition has been de¬
fined to be, that which possesses the forms of eloquence
without its spirit. We hear truth, good taste, and elo¬
quence, severally spoken of as the antitheses of rhetoric.
Words, to use Mirabeau’s paradox, are things; and the
subject which we are now to consider is not the only
one, nor by any means the most important, in which in¬
finite mischief has been done by the attaching of con¬
temptible associations to terms of neutral meaning, and by
the affixing of odious names to objects in themselves inno¬
cent or useful.
The truth is, that the uses of rhetoric, as well as of all
the other arts or sciences which, in different departments,
aim at the training of the human mind for exertions in
which it is itself its own instrument, are principally nega¬
tive. Neither in reasoning nor in oratory can any scheme
of rules, logical or rhetorical, nor any study of models how¬
ever profound, nor any practice however long and intelli¬
gent, enable the intellect to perform, even moderately well,
a task for which it has an inherent incapacity; and if ex¬
cellence be the end in view, it will assuredly never be
leached, either with the observance of rules or independ¬
ently of them, unless genius be present to give the pri-
mary impulse, and to sustain the mind in its course. Logic,
suictly speaking, does not teach us how to reason, but only
how to avoid violations of those essential principles on which
all reasoning is founded. In like manner, a legitimate sys¬
tem of rhetoric would teach, not what eloquence is, but
what it is not; it would disclaim all purpose of qualifying its
students to compound an eloquent discourse by rule, as a
medicine is compounded after a prescription ; and it would
occupy itself mainly in discovering, by the immediate study
0 the mind itself, and by critical examination of the works
o genius, those guiding and universal laws of human intel-
ect which the student of eloquence must not disobey, if he
was es to attain, in any shape, the end which he pursues.
It must be that such principles exist: if we apprehend Rhetoric.
rightly what eloquence is, we may reasonably hope to dis-' v—l'
cover at least some of them ; and even if we could discover
them all,—which no sound thinker has ever yet pretended
to do,—the speaker or writer would still retain ample space
for the exertion of his natural powers, which indeed would
act with redoubled ease and vigour from his distinct know¬
ledge of the limits of their domain. A chart does not teach
the mariner how to navigate his vessel; but it may fare
hardly with him if he wants one in a narrow sea, with whose
soundings he is imperfectly acquainted.
It is designed, in this paper, not to present a dissertation The design
having any claim to be considered as a complete exposition of this trea-
of the subject in any of its sections, but simply to sketch ^se*
in outline a plan of rhetorical studies, which the student
may not find altogether useless as a clue when he attempts
to master the details under the guidance of more ambitious
works; and it may be well to state at the outset the view
which, in common with those who have thought most deep¬
ly on the matter, we entertain as to the means by which
rhetoric is qualified to execute the very important task
which it undertakes.
In the first place, then, we hold that the systematic view Systematic
of the principles and rules of eloquence which rhetorical rhetoric au
treatises usually offer, must peremptorily be embraced, as essential
an essential part, in the studies of every one who would °f rJie"
become really eloquent in speech or in writing. But this^f4' 't'1'
proposition must be understood with two cautions. First, *
in regard to many particulars indispensable towards the
attainment of eloquence, every sound scheme of rhetorical
precepts, abandoning all claim to primary discovery, con¬
tents itself with informing or reminding the student, that
he must seek for knowledge elsewhere, from reflection on
the phenomena of his own mind, from the best works in
philosophy, and from an observation of the world and of
human nature. This is true, not merely as to the matter
on which eloquence may employ itself, as to which, how¬
ever, it is true universally; but also as to most of the in¬
struments which the art uses. Secondly, and more par¬
ticularly, the real usefulness of rhetoric rests, not on its
special rules, but on its general principles. As soon as a
rule diverts the student’s attention from the principle, it
for him ceases to be an aid, and becomes a positive hin¬
drance. As soon as a treatise on rhetoric has impressed
on the student’s mind distinctly and indelibly the great
principles on which eloquence is founded, it has given him
a talisman to guard him against all seductions into error, and
even against the very mistakes which may be inculcated in
the book itself. Systems of rhetoric aid effectually in the
attainment of eloquence, only so far as they teach the stu¬
dent to reflect on its principles.
But, further, we have called systematic rhetoric a part The study
only of the studies leading towards eloquence. It is in°fmodels
truth a part which, by itself, is insufficient for the attainment^8” e8sen“
of the end ; for we must add to it a critical acquaintance ia *
with the best models of literature, extending over as many
of its departments as possible, but especially minute in
that which the student chiefly designs to cultivate. What
is here meant is a study of literary works, not for the
knowledge which they contain, but as models ; a study di¬
rected towards an analysis of the mode in which they com¬
municate knowledge, and of the conformity or disagreement
of that mode with the laws of eloquence. Such a study
may be said to bear towards the systematic portion of rhe-
200
RHETORIC.
Rhetoric, toric a relation similar to that which, in physical science,
' y ' an examination of the experiments made by the best phi¬
losophers bears towards the series of fundamental proposi¬
tions in which the result of the experiments is embodied ;
but the study of the experiments is incalculably more im¬
perative in rhetoric than in natural science, from the in¬
completeness of the systematic result in the one case com¬
pared with that which is reached in the other. Treatises on
eloquence which aim at expounding its principles, can sel¬
dom, in regard to the critical branch, do more than recom¬
mend its prosecution, or practically countenance it by inci¬
dental illustrations; but it possesses such importance as to
merit a more prominent place than it occupies in most sys¬
tematic works on the subject.
Practice es- Lastly, long practice must be added to all these studies be-
sentiai. fore the end can even be approached. This requisite, hov\ -
ever, a treatise on rhetoric can do little more than acknow¬
ledge and urge.
The three In pursuance of the opinions now expressed, these pages
divisions of endeavour to illustrate the subject in I hree Divisions,
thistreatise. qq)e p;rst w{\\ embrace general observations, intended to
elicit the true principles of Eloquence, and to exhibit them
in various points of view. From our strong impression^as
to the predominant importance of the general principles
over the special rules, we shall be tempted to linger on this
branch longer than may be approved by those who are
attached to the minutiae of the study; and for the same
reason we will not allow ourselves to be deterred by the fear
of being charged with truisms, from stating considerations
which seem calculated to lead us nearer to the goal. The
Second Division will contain a brief summary of the most
important principles which have been expounded in the best
systems of rhetoric; our principal guides, however, being
the treatises of Aristotle, Dr Campbell, and Archbishop
Whately. The Third Division will attempt to furnish the
student with some aids towards his critical acquaintance
with models.
moral knowledge,—and a harangue which, convincing our Rhete
understanding of what is, or seems to be, an important truth,
summoning before our fancy vivid images of its conse¬
quences, and, kindling into flame the most powerful emo¬
tions of our nature, hurries us irresistibly to resolution and
to action, each of these exertions of intellect may, in its
own sphere, be fully deserving of the appel lation of eloquent,
because each may possess all the qualities which fit it for
producing its end. But we shall still be in danger of mis¬
apprehending the real essence of eloquence, unless we state
to ourselves substantively, and bring prominently to light,
certain principles which the analysis involves, but which it
passes over slightly.
It is rightly said, that each of the purposes of eloquence The fm
rises out of, and is necessarily founded on, those which pre-mental 3
cede it. In other words, the information or conviction ofj™^
the understanding does, in the first place, lie at the root of science,
all eloquence ; no composition is eloquent which does not
effect this end. The state of mind which eloquence in all
circumstances necessarily produces, is that of Belief. This
is the fundamental proposition of the Rhetorical Art, and on
it depends every well-founded rule which Rhetoric can de¬
duce from its principles. We cannot have the proposition
too strongly impressed on our minds ; and we may be as¬
sured that, the farther we diverge from its central point, the
more we shall find ourselves removed from the ability to
apprehend or reduce to practice the principles of Eloquent
Composition.
The most common definition of Rhetoric describes it as Obsem
the Art of Persuasion, a view derived from some of the™"™
ancient writers, whose instructions -were almost wholly ad-^01™0.
" definiti?
I.
Analysis of “ The word Eloquence,” says Campbell, adopting the an-
the ends of cient definitions, “ in its greatest latitude, denotes ‘ that art
eloquence. or talent by which a discourse is adapted to its end.’ All
the ends of speaking are reducible to four; every speech
being intended to enlighten the understanding, to please
the imagination, to move the passions, or to influence the
will.” The observations by which the same most acute
writer immediately afterwards illustrates this his leading pro¬
position, have much truth and great value. It is said, first,
that “ any one discourse admits only one of these ends as
the principal,” to which the others, so far as they are ad¬
missible at all, must be rendered conducive ; secondly, that
“ each preceding species, in the order above exhibited, is
preparatory to the subsequent;” thirdly, that, in addressing
the understanding, the speaker proposes either to explain
to his hearers something unknown or not distinctly compre¬
hended, or to prove something disbelieved or doubted; so
that, “ in the one case, his aim is their information, in the
other their conviction;” fourthly, that the address to the
imagination is common to oratory with poetry, to which in¬
deed it may be added, that the address to the passions must
also be considered common to these two arts; and, lastly,
that the height of success in persuasion, the fourth end of
the orator, is attained by effecting all these ends in the same
discourse.
The widest The analysis, to the extent to which it goes, is strictly
applications accurate; and there is no just reason for refusing to pre-
of the term, dicate eloquence of every composition written or spoken,
which fulfils its conditions. A simple and perspicuous nar¬
rative of facts,—an unimpassioned but convincing argument
in proof of a controverted proposition in any department of
dressed to the case of public speaking in courts of law and 0f
popular assemblies. The definition, although it involves the
true principle, is slightly faulty, both by excess and by de¬
fect. It says more than is true, in stating influence on the
wall as essential to eloquence ; and, on the other hand, it is
apt to lead us away from the principle, by tempting us to
forget that, as is well said by Whately, the latest and one
of the very ablest of the rhetorical writers, “ the convic¬
tion of the understanding is an essential part of persua¬
sion.” If we must describe Rhetoric by a reference to its
purpose, we shall perhaps incur the least risk of mistake by
stating simply, that it aims, through the instrumentality of
language, at the Production of Belief; and we may perhaps
venture to suggest, that this seems to be the true meaning,
both of the introductory definition, and of the numerous
incidental illustrations, which we find in a treatise at once
the oldest and the best upon the subject, namely, the Rhe¬
toric of Aristotle.
But since rhetoric, so far as it can be treated as a science The re
(which to a certain extent it may), is called on to lnvef‘
tigate principles which a writer or speaker must obey, inotjief,
order to command belief, and since, too, its inquiries must tajscje,
embrace, not only the laws which regulate the conviction
of the understanding, but also those which rule in the ex¬
citement of the imagination and the feelings,— it may be
asked whether its province does not in several quarters ex¬
tend over ground belonging properly to other departments
of the mental philosophy. The answer to this question is
twofold. There are certain principles which rhetoric does
not establish for itself, but assumes as proved by common
observation, and by the researches instituted in other
branches of mental science ; but it also possesses princi¬
ples which are peculiar to itself, and bring it into no collision
even with those other walks of philosophy with which it may
be suspected of being identical. By endeavouring at this
stage to illustrate both of these propositions, we shall be
enabled to bring into a strong light some considerations
which might be overlooked if introduced incidentally 38
bearing on specific rules.
RHETORIC.
201
I ’rinci-
j which
rlioric
hi TOWS
flin psy-
c logy,
Wc, and
e< cs.
k ..
itH
S'* ’
in
lit
)t
v
be
s-
its
is
etoric. ' First, then, Rhetoric is not a primary science. Its first
principles are the phenomena and laws of the human mind,
which it assumes as known to us from consciousness and
observation, and as taught in rational systems of psycho¬
logy, logic, and ethics. Aristotle, among the many in¬
stances in which he protested against errors that had
arisen before his time, and have survived in spite of his re¬
monstrances, was especially careful in determining the point
at which rhetoric should commence its investigations. He
lays it down as a fundamental principle, that the student of
eloquence must prepare himself by an adequate acquaint¬
ance with three primary branches of knowledge which rhe¬
toric cannot teach him; the science of dialectics, the phi¬
losophy of human character and morals, and the philosophy
of the passions. The Stagyrite’s requirement of skill in lo¬
gic for one who desires to acquire skill in oratory, will seem
unreasonable, not only to those who disdain the assistance
of rules in every department of mental exertion, but to some
who are disposed in certain matters to avail themselves of
the aids which philosophy offers. If, however, we merely
advise them to make themselves familiar, so far as they are
not so already, with the principles and practice of reasoning,
they cannot fairly consider the counsel as useless; and if
they admit the necessity of this study, we can only remind
them further, that they must either be content to receive
the syllogistic logic of Aristotle, as expounding justly the
principles on which all reasoning is founded, or engage in
that attempt at discovering a new system, which has baffled
the human intellect for two thousand years. “ I cannot but
consider him,” says Whately, “ as undertaking a task of un¬
necessary difficulty, who endeavours, without studying logic,
to become a thoroughly good argumentative writer.” That
Aristotle’s other demands on the student are well founded,
will be more readily admitted, how far soever men may dis¬
agree as to the mode in which these branches of knowledge
may be best acquired. For those who aim principally at ap¬
plying their acquaintance with human nature to the purpose
here in view, the world is doubtless a better school than the
closet ofthe metaphysician; especially as metaphysical writers
have, almost without exception, devoted themselves chiefly
to those sections of their science which are least closely al¬
lied to active life. But the philosopher’s attention is ntver-
theless directed to many important points which the un¬
systematic observer is in danger of overlooking; and no
one will find cause to regret the time bestowed on a course
of metaphysical study, when he proceeds to the task of con¬
vincing and persuading his fellow-men. Unfortunately,
however, the falsity and extravagance of several very famous
systems of ethics, make caution indispensable in regard to
such studies. A disciple of Hobbes, who, in addressing
himself to any body of men by speech or writing, should
frame all his appeals to their feelings, on the assumption that
a degrading selfishness was the ruling passion in every
breast, would, if he should be within the reach of convic¬
tion, discover the best practical refutation of his master’s
dogmas in his own utter failure; and one whose mind is
thoroughly attuned to the low key of Paley’s philosophy,
would probably, although his heresy in morals is less dan¬
gerous, find the application of his creed to the purposes of
eloquence scarcely less ineffectual.
But, secondly, there are certain other principles of rhe¬
toric, constituting indeed its essence, which, though they
touch the frontier of other mental sciences, are yet sub»
stantially distinct and peculiar. The two subjects of in¬
quiry vyith which the Philosophy of Eloquence comes most
nearly into contact are, on the one hand, Logic, and, on the
other, the Philosophy of Poetry. We shall be easily able
to distinguish the points at which it branches off from both,
if we keep firmly in view the main proposition, that the pur¬
pose of eloquence is the production of belief,
VOL. XIX.
II.
Pje vhich
tllst juish
rbe
froi logic
anciie
Phi Jophy
ofTtry.
And, first, as to logic. In the first place, this science is Rhetoric,
conversant about the three discursive operations of the
mind, apprehension, judgment, and reasoning, and takes no }• (L).Fx-
cognizance of any others. Secondly, logic is strictly “ a
formal science.” In regard to reasoning, which is its prin- 0f rhetoric
cipal object, it guarantees, to use the words of a very distin-founded on
guished living metaphysician, “ neither the premises nor the the discur-
conclusion, but merely the consequence of the latter from sive facul-
the former.” Of the truth or falsehood ofthe propositionstxes*
which form the logician’s premises, his science teaches him
absolutely nothing. Here, then, are two barriers, by both
of which logic, omnipotent within its own domain, has that
domain limited; and beyond each of them lies a wide class
of principles essentially affecting human belief. Let us
even suppose that the human mind were biassed, in arriv¬
ing at its conclusions, by no extra-logical operations of its
own. Even on this supposition, logical rules would not
teach us how to produce belief of any given proposition.
For though they would enable us to discover premises from
which the required conclusion might be logically inferred,
they possess no machinery which would qualify us for judg¬
ing whether those premises would command the belief of
those whom we wished to convince. Logic could neither
inform us whether our premises are absolutely true, nor
(which is here the real subject of inquiry) whether they
are likely to seem true to others. Therefore, even for pro¬
ducing conviction by pure reasoning, the discovery of ar¬
guments is a task, and one of unquestionable importance,
which logic cannot perform; and if rhetoric, or any other
science, undertakes to lay down principles facilitating its
execution, we shall do well to examine, at least candidly, its
capacity for fulfilling its professions.
But, in the next place, the mind of man is not so simply 1. (2.) Ex-
constituted, and his position in the system of nature has, as Ha-logical
it were, fenced round his rational faculties with those powers Principles
which issue in action. The emotions pervade every ope- I *C -
ration of the mind, as the life-blood circulates through the the^ctive'1'
body: within us and without, in the corporeal world and powers,
in the spiritual, in the past, the present, and the future, there
is no object of thought which they do not touch, fewq very
few, which they do not colour and transmute. The argu¬
ment which, if it could be presented pure to the reasoning
faculties, would be fairly weighed, and calmly received or
rejected, is sometimes disguised by passion, as completely
as a landscape is by clouds, whose stormy piles we mistake
for the distant mountains; and in almost every case the
conclusion or its proof, or both the one and the other, are
seen through a medium more or less hazy, in which they
present themselves as the objects of our bodily appetites,
or our mental fears and desires, as instruments or hindrances
of our affections, kind or malevolent, towards our fellow-
men, or as falling under the jurisdiction of that supreme
judge and monarch, the moral faculty, which sits enthroned
in the inmost recesses of the heart, always able, when ac¬
curately informed, to confirm the decisions of reason, but,
like other despots, often allowing its power to slumber, and
often misled by faithless ministers. If we would command
the belief of minds thus variously affected, it is manifest
that other principles, besides those of logic, must aid us both
in the discovery of arguments, and in their form and ar¬
rangement. 1. As to the discovery of arguments, we must
always, both for protecting our own minds against error,
and for qualifying us to deal with men of cold and unima¬
ginative temper, aim at making ourselves masters of such
premises as would probably command the belief of those
on whose minds pure reasoning could fall directly, without
being turned aside by intervening obstacles. We may al¬
ways encounter some men whose minds, when directed to
certain objects, are more or less nearly in this position. 2.
In regard to the same department of our business of con¬
viction, we must endeavour to perform the far more diffi-
2 c '
202
RHETORIC.
Rhetoric, cult task, of discovering what propositions are likely to be
' received as truths, by minds affected by all the incongruous
influences of imagination, passion, self-love, and ill-instruct-
ed conscience. The proof of a proposition from considera¬
tions of moral duty may appear weak to a man in whom some
strong passion rebels against the principle ; but it may yet
be possible for us to combat his scepticism by arguments ot
other kinds, drawing their topics, perhaps, from self-ove,
or from other passions to which we know him to be subject.
3. The necessity of watching the operations of the active
powers of the mind, before we determine on the form and
arrangement of arguments, may be sufficiently illustrated
for the purpose here in view, by tracing the example last
given for one step farther. Our proof of a proposition from
ethical principles, although, in the case supposed, it would
probably be met by incredulity or ridicule if stated at the
outset, may gain a very different reception after we have
cut a path for it by arguments addressed to the persona
feelings of the auditor. When we have convinced him, that
the truth on which we.insist is conducive to his interest, and
that, if it opposes one of his strongest passions, it is favour¬
able to another, we have prepared his understanding for re¬
ceiving attentively, and without prejudice, that argument
from morality on which the proof of the proposition truly
2. Dissimi- reSThose applications of the principles of eloquence which
laxity of have been last before us, lead to the consideration ot the
the ends ofsecon(j question that was proposed as to the connection
eloquence ^ tkjs branch of philosophy with others:—what is the rela-
and poetry. ^ eloquence bears to poetry ? Both endeavour to
arouse the imagination and the feelings ; the latter indeed
always aiming at this effect, but the former too striving to
attain it on those occasions when it puts forth all its strength.
what, then, is it that distinguishes the one art from the other.
The answer is not hard to find. Both arts, in attempting
to excite the fancy and the feelings, are only using means,
which each applies to its own peculiar end ; and the ends
which the two propose to reach are essentially dissimilar.
The dissertation on poetry in this work has correctly stated
the end of that art to be “ the creation of intellectual plea¬
sure we have here considered the end of eloquence to be
the production of belief.” Poetry, like the other fine arts,
appeals to the taste; its compositions attain their proper
and final result in the pleasure of contemplation ; and the
truth or falsehood of their representations, and, in short, their
agreement or disagreement with all the laws of the mental
system, are qualities which enter into our conception of the
essence of poetry only so far as they are subservient to that
one peculiar result. The mathematician who complained
that the Paradise Lost proved nothing, stated accurately
the principle which separates poetry from eloquence and
science.
Practical Indeed the principle of distinction, when thus broadly
uses of this enunciated, is something very like a palpable truism ; but
distinction. is one of those truths, unfortunately common in the affairs
of real life as well as in the field of speculation, which are
in theory universally acknowledged, and in practice very
frequently forgotten : and no age can more pressingly need
to be reminded of this truth than one like our own, in which
what is called poetical prose has gained such general favour.
We are in constant danger of being led astray by the fact,
that eloquence, in addressing itself to cultivated minds (which
is the only application of its powers that entitles it to be
called an art, or to be investigated either philosophically or
critically), does always include the gratification of taste as
one of its purposes. We forget that this purpose is alto¬
gether a subordinate one, and that, if it ever comes in com¬
petition with the proper and principal purpose of the art, it
ought to be unhesitatingly sacrificed. The authority of
Aristotle will once more support our view, to which indeed
his reasoning has conducted us. It is one of the earliest
and most valuable propositions in his treatise, that the ar- Rhetoric,
guments and other instruments tending to produce beliefV"-
constitute the essence of eloquence, and that everything
else is merely accessory.
Our review leads us, in the next place, to consider two The two
objections, which are very often urged against the study ofP ^
the subject. The first of these is chiefly directed against
the practical application of eloquence, the second against cai stu(jjes
the science or art which undertakes to expound its laws.
First, it is said that rhetoric is a dishonest art, which, Objection..,
T irst, it- is SciiLi iiidL . , . t That thp
so far as it is supposed to have any practical uses, 18 de-^.^.'
so lai it ' J \ . r i u i artist
signed to qualify its students for inculcating falsehood ashonest
readily as truth. In answering this cavil, we must, it we
would not altogether lose sight of the real principle, face
boldly the difficulty which it suggests. We cheerfully ad¬
mit that rhetoric directs the student to search, not for such
propositions as are absolutely true, but merely for such as are
likely to seem true to those whom he wishes to convince or
persuade. But, in the first place, it does not follow that it
directs him to search for falsehoods, or that these are the pro¬
positions which will best serve his purpose. The very re¬
verse is the fact. The highest of all authorities on the sub¬
ject lays it dow-n most justly, as at once an essential principle
of human nature, and a warning to the aspirant after elo¬
quence, that mankind have a natural love and predisposition
towards truth, and seldom fail in finding it out. Eloquence
may doubtless be abused by being applied to wrong pur¬
poses ; but so may every science, mental and physical, which
admits of any practical application at all, with the single ex¬
ception of the science of morals, which, unlike all other
branches of inquiry, has moral good for its object, and,
if it has discovered the truths which it seeks, has there¬
by secured itself against all misuse of its investigations.
Eloquence may be used for disseminating falsehood or he¬
resy, as it may be for teaching truth and recommending
genuine religion ; and the most important discoveries in
physics may be turned to purposes of destruction, or made
to promote the comfort and happiness of mankind. But, it
must be once again repeated, he who attempts to apply this
art, er any other which uses for its materials the principles
of moral belief, to ends adverse to the cause of truth and
morality, will speedily discover that he is misusing his in¬
strument, by the imperfection of the results which he will
usually produce. In the second place, however, rhetoric,
assuming it to be capable of fulfilling the promise which it
holds out, is not merely harmless, but positively beneficial,
and is in fact necessary for the protection of truth and good¬
ness. The argumentative writer or speaker, in the legiti¬
mate exercise of his art, addressing himself with the view
of expounding or proving valuable truths to men in gene¬
ral, who possess but fragmentary knowledge, and are unac¬
customed to discussions in scientific form, knows that he
cannot convince the understanding, unless he at the same
time engages the attention and conciliates the affections;
and also that he possesses no media of proof by which he
can arouse the discursive faculties of those whom he ad¬
dresses, except the knowledge and opinions which are al¬
ready fixed in their minds. A felicitous image present¬
ed to the fancy, a gentle dealing with angry passions, an
avoidance of collision with a rooted prejudice, may, with¬
out the slightest violation of truth or moral rectitude, open
the minds of an assembly or a nation to receive with honest
conviction a system of knowledge, religious, ethical, or po¬
litical, which philosophical reasoning or uncompromising
dogmatism might have striven for ages to force upon them,
and striven in vain. But skill in rhetoric admits of another
application. It may and will enable one to detect and ex¬
pose sophistry and empty declamation. The art does un¬
questionably aid those who wish to mislead ; but it is on
RHETORIC.
toric. that account the more necessary that an instrument so pow-
v"—'' erful should not be abandoned to dangerous hands. A mis¬
chievous boy in a steam-vessel may, by the simple pressure
of his foot, cause an explosion that shall destroy the ship’s
whole company; but the danger should induce us, instead
of undervaluing or discarding this wonderful combination of
machinery, to study means which make it difficult or impos¬
sible to effect the mischief. This is really the result which
such risks of abuse have produced in all the powerful applica¬
tions of mechanical science; and it is the result which ought
to be produced in those far more important cases where the
materials of the art are seated in the mind, and the evils which
may be derived from them extend over the moral world.
O^ction The second objection frequently taken to the art of rhe-
I! iThat toric is, that it is useless. The objectors of this class are
tl ’art is n0t by any means agreed as to the ground on which their
u*ss. allegation is to be defended ; but the only section of them
whose argument is plausible enough to deserve refutation,
are those who, while they admit that practice and the study
of models are necessary for the production of eloquent
compositions, deny the utility of attempts to investigate
the principles of eloquence systematically and philosophi¬
cally. In this shape the opinion is very far from being un¬
common ; and, like all other common prejudices, it appears
on analysis to contain a mixture of truth along with its
errors. The discussion of it will bring us yet nearer to the
point which, in all these general observations, it is our wish
to reach.
Allvver 1. In the first place, then, the objection, in whatever shape
T prm- it js putj assumes the fact, of which also the objectors make
rHoric aremuc^ use ’n maintaining their argument, that the laws of
uitergal eloquence are inherent in every intelligent mind, and are
pilpiples put in daily practice by those who are quite guiltless of rhe-
of iman torical studies. Now this is the fact which lies at the root
,lf ;e- of all philosophical discussions on the subject, and of all
rules which can be fairly deduced from the investigations.
“ All men,” says Aristotle, “ in some sort practise both dia¬
lectics and rhetoric ; for all to a certain extent endeavour
both to discover arguments and to maintain them, to accuse
and to defend. Accordingly, of people in general, some, in
the performance of these tasks, obey merely the impulses
of their own minds, without having present to their thoughts
any rule or general principle; while others avail themselves
of all the principles and precepts which they have been able
to gather from experience and practice. Now, since the end
which men thus speaking have in view, can be reached both
in the one way and in the other, it is manifest that both
classes must act upon the same principles, and that these,
since they at the same time form legitimate subjects of
speculation, and are capable of being put to practical uses,
may be combined so as to form a system of rules which
will be universally admitted to deserve the name of an art.”
Those, if there are any such, who go so far as to maintain
that the natural powrers are sufficient for the production of
eloquence without training of any sort, are contradicted by
notorious and invariable facts. And those who maintain or
conceive that practice and the study of models are in them¬
selves sufficient aids, must be reminded that, so far as their
success exceeds that of the unlearned speaker, it is gained
for them by this circumstance, that, whether they are con¬
scious of it or not, they obey more closely than he does
those principles which are common to them with him. If
we suppose that the practised speaker who decries rhetoric
is a perfect orator, he may be safely assured that no sound
system of rhetoric which he may condescend to study, will
expound to him a single principle which he has not already
reduced to practice ; and even if we suppose him more mo¬
derately skilled in the art, he may be told with equal truth,
that the system will not contradict any principle which he
has used in practice, and found effectual for his end.
203
If, then, a student of eloquence, who declines to listen Rhetoric,
to a rhetorical exposition of the principles of his art, at-
tempts to justify his refusal by maintaining, as an universal
proposition, that, in every art, a systematic acquaintance tjie
with the principles is useless or injurious to one who wishes tion.
to practise it, his assertion, contradicted by common sense
and immemorial experience, deserves no serious answer.
But if he maintains that this particular art forms an excep¬
tion to the general rule, and that in regard to it his propo¬
sition is true, he will find that the arguments by which his
position may be most plausibly supported are two. He may
allege, either, first, that the experience of modern Europe
has shown rhetorical studies to be useless for the end at
which they profess to aim, or, secondly, that rhetoric has
failed in furnishing such a systematic view of principles as
can be considered either complete or useful. These argu¬
ments lead us to consider a difference, to which we have
not yet adverted, between the ancient and the modern me¬
thods of studying eloquence.
We have already fully admitted, or rather we have laid Answer 2.
it formally down as an element in the view which wre take T*36 a'&u-
of the subject treated in these pages, that the philosophical
principles, or (which in certain respects is the same thing) faqs-
the preceptive rules, of rhetoric, are not by themselves suf¬
ficient even for that negative purpose which, as we have
also said, all schemes of mental training have most promi¬
nently in view. A critical examination of models in ora¬
tory, and the other branches of literature, is an indispen¬
sable part of the task which the rhetorical student is bound
to perform. Now, of these two divisions, or modes of
studying eloquence, the former is emphatically the ancient,
and the latter the modern method.
Aristotle’s treatise is strictly and wholly didactic: his The cha-
criticisms are short, infrequent, and closely limited to theracter °f
immediate purpose of explaining his argument; and al-J^gtor'k^
though he strenuously recommends the study of the histo¬
rical and other branches of literature as a means of collect¬
ing the materials of eloquence, we cannot with certainty
gather from any part of his work a distinct advice to the
prosecution of these studies, as furnishing models of com¬
position. From the temper of the great philosopher’s
mind, it may not be rash to suspect that, even if he had
been unfettered in his method of dealing with his subject,
he might perhaps have placed a higher value than most
men will do on the systematic precepts of the art, and have
too much neglected its critical portion ; but there are cer¬
tain reasons which deprive us of the right to infer positive¬
ly that this was really his view of the matter. His main
purpose was the formation of a system of precepts for
spoken eloquence, written composition being adverted to
but occasionally, and by way of digression; but, down to
his time, the only high specimens of spoken oratory were
the harangues of his Attic contemporaries ; and for him,
the tutor of Alexander, and the pensioner of Philip, the
orations of Demosthenes (if the best of these were com¬
posed before the treatise on rhetoric, which is a doubtful
point) were no safe themes of criticism or commendation.
After Aristotle’s time, it is true, criticism became more pro¬
minent in the manuals of eloquence : the best works which
remain to us of some of its most renowned teachers, such
as Dionysius of Halicarnassus, are purely critical ; and in
the writings of some others, which are principally precep¬
tive, by far the most valuable portions are critical analyses
of literary works, examples of this latter sort being the
spirited and refined dissertations of Cicero, the judicious
and liberal remarks of Quinctilian, and the severe but often
very instructive criticisms of the boy-philosopher Hermo-
genes. But although criticism grew as the models of ex¬
cellence accumulated, the tendency to theorize and syste¬
matize kept equal pace wuth its increase ; and in the latest
and worst days of ancient rhetoric, criticism, which, if not
201
Rhetoric.
II H E T 0 II I C.
Modern
views of
rhetoric.
Specific
answers to
the argu¬
ment from
experience,
so difficult as philosophical generalization, demands a wider
union of powers and knowledge, died entirely away, leaving
the rhetorical systems as bare of the highest kind of illus¬
tration as Aristotle’s work, while they w’ere a thousand times
more complicated in the rules which they expounded.
Since the revival of learning, men seem in general to
have derived their opinions as to the real nature and value
of the ancient rhetoric, not so much from the works of
Aristotle, or even those of Cicero, Quinctilian, and Hermo-
genes, as from treatises like the curious rhetorical dialogue
of Alcuin with Charlemagne, a production which, with its
burdensome, wearisome, and useless subdivisions, its odd,
impossible, and unpractical examples, and its confident
claims to infallibility, is a fair specimen, but by no means
one of the worst, of those treatises which fill the collection
of the Rhetores Latini, and the separate volumes of such
men as Theon, Aphthonius, and the other Greek rhetori¬
cians of the declining ages. We have consequently, in
modern times, run into the opposite extreme; and, as we
have already admitted, the prevalent tendency has long
been to deny that the systematic rules are of any use what¬
ever. The writings of a few very able men have been in¬
sufficient to stem the current, although the list of rhetorical
writers includes Bacon in our own country, and Fenelon
in France.
But we must return to the two arguments against rhe¬
torical studies, from which we have diverged in order to
collect materials for answering them ; and, first, as to the
. objection from the supposed experience of modern times.
In the first place, it will surely be confessed that there is
an antecedent presumption against the supposition that the
study of principles is unnecessary; and, in the next place,
any appeal to the success of modern oratory or prose lite¬
rature in general, in proof that certain methods are useless
which the ancients practised and the moderns do not, would
require to be accompanied by an assertion,—which, if we are
competently informed, we shall scarcely venture to make,—
that in excellence of composition, taken in its highest
sense, modern oratory and prose literature are not inferior
to those of the ancients. But, further, we must also recol¬
lect that the study of models is in itself a study of princi¬
ples, if it be conducted with intelligence, or so as to serve
any good purpose whatever; for he who adopts this mode
of study to the exclusion of the other, is just playing the
part of a traveller, who, undertaking a journey on foot
through a difficult country, begins by throwing his map
into the fire, and resolves to trust to the guidance of chance
passengers. We are, indeed, strongly inclined to hold one
doctrine, which, if it be sound, would compel us to believe
that the immediate study of the principles is far more ne¬
cessary in modern times than it ever could have been in
the ancient world. We believe that, for the attainment of
a certain degree of success, this study may be much more
safely dispensed with by the public speaker than by the
author who gives his thoughts to the world in books. The
former is, in the delivery of his harangues, instituting per
force a series of experiments, from which, doubtless at the
expense of many a mortifying failure, he must, if he pos¬
sesses natural powers capable of producing eloquence in
any circumstances, at length learn, or approach to learn¬
ing, both the principles of eloquence, and its most useful
practical rules. The author almost wholly wants this aid.
His experiments, if they are to be called so, are usually
few, and he has but the most imperfect means of judging
what has been their issue; for the success or failure of a
book is dependent on so many circumstances, that it can
seldom enable the writer to determine how far it has been
owing to his success or failure in the great end of compo¬
sition. But, lastly on this head, a late writer, Whately,
has thrown out a hint which has in it much truth as well
as ingenuity. He remarks that, after all, the modern dis¬
avowal of rhetorical studies may not be strictly consistent Rfetorii
with truth. The suspicion of rhetorical artifice, he sa\ s, ^
creates such distrust that every one is eager to disclaim it,
and none more so than those who have availed themselves
of it most widely and successfully. The ancients w^ere freed
from the necessity of this venial duplicity by the peculiar
nature of their education, in which, under the name of rhe¬
torical training, were included all the branches of learning
requisite for the accomplishment of a man qualified to shine
in political life. The Greek rhetorician taught his pupil
the principles of politics, legislation, and every department
of general knowledge ; and the pupil, when he had taken
his place in the nation as a public man, was called an orator
(jjr,ra£) and not, as we should now call him, a statesman.
No man required to conceal his having studied the subsi¬
diary sciences; or rather every one wished to have it be¬
lieved that he was familiar with them ; and his skill in rhe¬
toric proper escaped notice in the general muster. The
dissimilar position of the ancients is further illustrated by a
second consideration, which is commented on for a different
purpose by another writer of high authority, namely, that
the Greek orators seem always to have had in view the
communication of an sesthetical pleasure to their hearers,
as an end scarcely subordinate even to the principal one
of moving their minds to belief and action. An assembly
which did not listen to Demosthenes with the less admira¬
tion, nor with the less disposition to be convinced by his
argument, for knowing that he had devoted months to the
preparation of his speech, and who recognised in some of
its most impassioned appeals whole paragraphs which they
had heard him pronounce before, were not likely to be
staggered by reflecting that the speaker had long studied
oratory under Isocrates.!
But the second objection, levelled against the preceptive Answer 3.
section of rhetoric, asserts that every system of the kind is The argu-
incomplete, and therefore useless. The allegation of in-!"”"1
completeness is perfectly true; but it does not warrant thepjetenesJ
inference. No rational inquirer into rhetorical principles
has ever pretended to have fully explored all the regions
of mind over which eloquence holds its empire ; indeed, in
entering on such investigations, as far as they involve simply
matters of fact and experience, he is encroaching on the
province of other branches of the mental philosophy, and
abandoning that of rhetoric, which, receiving its facts from
without, busies itself properly in determining the relation
which the facts bear to a certain end. Neither from ordi¬
nary and unscientific observation, nor from the systematic
inquiries of philosophy, do we yet know nearly all that may
be learned as to the principles of the mental economy;
and, moreover, when psychology and its kindred sciences
shall have reached their utmost development, they will still
find their province to be surrounded on all sides by a dark¬
ness which created intellect cannot penetrate. But those
who have studied the philosophy of mind most practically
and most profoundly, are also those who can bear the most
decided testimony to the fact, that the incompleteness of
its results does not deprive it either of interest or useful¬
ness. The same thing is even more palpably true of this
particular branch of inquiry, in which every experiment is
instituted with a direct view to a certain practical end.
The avowed incompleteness, however, not merely of all The essen-
existing, but of all possible, rhetorical systems, not only dal c^ariic
forms no valid ground for denying their usefulness, but may
suggest very strong positive arguments in their favour. precept9l
Those rhetorical rules which are really sound and useful
do not mark out, like guide-posts inscribed with the pe¬
nalties of a turnpike statute, one fixed road in which they
tell the student of eloquence that he must travel, al¬
though there are other roads which will equally well lead
him to his journey’s end ; the most important and certain
%%
RHETORIC.
205
R, oric. of them, indeed, are not even directions which indicate to
' him the best road in which to travel; but they are peremp¬
tory warnings, set up at certain places to inform him, that
the cross-roads which at these points diverge from the
highway, will lead him quite astray if he shall be tempted
to strike into them. Now, it so happens that rhetoric
would completely attain this its purpose of protecting us
against error, if, discarding all special rules, it were simply
to hold up to view, at all points suspected of being the
commencement of bewildering paths, a statement of its own
fundamental and ruling principle, and of two or three of
the most obvious corollaries which the principle involves.
If the student of eloquence has been enabled, no matter
by what means, firmly to apprehend and retain these es¬
sential truths, he has made an acquisition which is more
valuable than any other connected with his art.
cip p, and
pn tical
eoi Luries
Re.aitvda- To the apprehension of those truths we have here en-
tioj'f prin- (]eaVoUred to aid in leading him. The aim of all composi¬
tion not poetical being the Production of Belief, the great
task of the speaker or writer should be the study of the
character of those whom he addresses, or, in other words,
the study of human nature, in all its regions, if possible,
but at any rate in those with whose peculiarities his pur¬
pose is most likely to bring him into collision. This study
must be prosecuted both in the closet and in the world, by
reflection as well as by study and observation. In those
departments of it which bear reference to human nature in
the abstract, the hints of some writers on eloquence may
aid a little, and metaphysical studies greatly more ; but
even in this field the investigation of the recluse will often
be barren ; and for the infinitely more varied and interest¬
ing study of individual character, the aspirant after literary
or oratorical fame must repair to the crowded scenes of ac¬
tive life. But the knowledge with which study so conduct¬
ed will store and fortify the mind, must be applied by the
mind, in its constant meditations, to the special purpose of
enabling us to accommodate our discourse both to the in¬
tellect, the imagination, and the feelings, the temper and
prejudices, the state and amount of knowledge, and, in short,
to the whole character, of our readers or hearers. There
are some minds endowed with vigorous understanding, ac¬
tive imagination, and deep and varied sensibilities, in which
much of this knowledge seems to be almost instinctive;
the possessors of such minds are men of genius, and elo¬
quent almost as soon as experience has enabled them to
overcome preliminary and practical difficulties; and it is
only from minds thus naturally full and strong that elo¬
quence of the highest class will ever issue. Even genius,
however, is a light that too often leads astray; and the
highest genius has always been the most warm in its grati¬
tude to philosophy for stretching out her hand to lead it
back to truth and nature. But there are innumerable and
endless degrees and kinds of intellect, all below the highest,
all imperfectly fitted for the tasks of conviction and persua¬
sion, all requiring aid from without, all capable of receiving
and profiting by such aid, and all more or less deficient in
a distinct apprehension of the true aim of eloquence. In
eloquence, as in morality, every class of minds is liable in
its own way to forget and abandon the right path. The
man of strong intellect and firm will degenerates into dog¬
matism, and reasons with his fellow-men in the same spirit
in which the Jews built the second temple, where every
man worked with one hand, and with the other hand held
a weapon. If, in the common intercourse of society, we re¬
fuse to humour the characters of those around us, we shall
receive our reward in the loss of confidence and love ; if,
when we reason with or endeavour to instruct them, we re¬
fuse to make a similar allowance for those principles in their
minds on which we seek to operate, the result will be that
we shall leave them careless, uninformed, and unconvinced.
On the other hand, the man of fancy and warm feelings Rhetoric,
soars into the fairy-land of poetry; amidst clouds of imagery
and tempests of passion his hearers catch but the faintest
glimpse of the truth which he designed to unfold; and a
weighing of proofs or a comprehension of explanations are
things altogether out of the question. The poet and the
dogmatist are equally distant from genuine eloquence; and
both equally forget, that he who wishes to convince others
of a truth should aim principally at discovering, not in what
aspect the assertion and its proofs present themselves to his
own mind, but in what light they are likely to be viewed by
those to whom he is about to communicate them.
II.
Rhetoric, though etymologically referring only to spoken Rhetoric
eloquence, was, even by the ancients, considered as fairly here taken
and necessarily embracing written composition likewise;a?
and in modern times, in which the press discharges so many
of the functions which the public speaker of old exercised tive com-
in his own person, the extension is quite indispensable. In position,
the widest acceptation, then, Rhetoric is the art of Compo-an<1 no
sition in Prose. However, even in treatises far more de-otllei clas?*
tailed than the present, it has been found convenient to li¬
mit the subject to Argumentative Composition; and accord¬
ingly this view will be taken in the illustrations now to be
offered. One who has accurately studied the philosophy and
practice of Rhetorical Argument, will have little to learn
when he turns to other branches of composition.
It will be advisable to adopt, with only an immaterial Threefold
deviation from the order, the division of the subject which division of
is laid down in the treatise of Aristotle; according to which t^e su^.ect
the rules of Rhetoric will be treated in three sections ; the ll!’"
first embracing the principles on which Belief must be pro¬
duced by rhetorical composition ; the second treating very
briefly of the Disposition or Arrangement of the Parts of an
argumentative discourse ; and the third entering on the ex¬
amination of the principles of Style.
It is laid down by Aristotle, as the foundation of the rhe-Part First;
torical art, that the Belief which it is the purpose of elo- Aristotle’s
quence to produce, flows, so far as it is produced by the t^iree
discourse, from one or another of three causes, and from 1)0 rhetorical
others. Either, first, the conclusion has been proved, or belief,
seems, to those to whom it is addressed, to have been prov¬
ed, by arguments directly appealing to the understanding ;
or, secondly, the discourse has created a bias in favour
of the writer or speaker, which makes the conclusion be
received on the authority of his assertion; or, thirdly,
the discourse has excited in the minds of the hearers or
readers other feelings (besides those favourable to the
speaker or writer), by which the understanding is in the
same way biassed. These in their order will now engage
our attention.
Under the first head we are invited to examine the prin-1. The pro-
ciples which should direct us in the Discovery of Arguments, d action of
and in their Arrangement. belief by
° arguments.
And, first, as to the Discovery of Arguments. For assist- The two
ing the writer or speaker in this task, the ancient rhetori-ancient
cians offered means of two kinds. The one was a Classifi- 0
cation of Arguments into their different kinds, with illustra- 0f argU.
tive hints as to the proper uses of each. The second was ments.
the amassing of a collection of Topics or Common-places, of
which some were arguments that admitted of being applied
in any question of moral reasoning; while others, although
not so widely available, were so for all questions embraced
under the particular department of oratory in which they
were classed.
206
R H E T
Rhetoric. In modern times the use of common-places has been uni-
versally decried, as a mere device for qualifying a man to
1. The an- speak or write fluently on subjects of which he is utterly
nent com- j„norant. anq if all objections to the art were as well
moti-p aces. ^oun(je(j ag it would be truly a waste of time to study
it. The invention was well suited for enabling a subtile and
flowery declaimer, like the sophist Gorgias, to justify his fa¬
mous boast, that he could speak extempore on any given
question ; but the systematic use of these storehouses of
universal topics was utterly preposterous in the business of
real life. “ Such discourse,” says Blair, with great truth,
“ could be no other than trivial. What is truly solid and
persuasive must be drawn ex visceribus causa, from a tho¬
rough knowledge of the subject, and profound meditation
on it. They who would direct students of oratory to any
other sources of argumentation, only delude them ; and, by
attempting to render rhetoric too perfect an art, they ren¬
der it in truth a trifling and childish study.” If we thought
the ancient Topics really worthy of defence, we would not
be deterred from defending them, either by this grave rea¬
soning, or by the recollection of Corporal Trim’s extempo¬
raneous oration on the white bear; but the rebuke of the
critic, and the ridicule of the wit, are both well deserved.
And yet in this, as in most other errors, we detect merely
the misapplication of a truth. For the invention of the
Topics is founded on a consideration of the common prin¬
ciples and relations of matters of reasoning in general, and
of those matters which are embraced under each particular
division of knowledge ; and it is manifest that reflection on
such general truths as these, although it should not be ap¬
plied as those ancient sophists applied it, is in itself not
merely an unobjectionable, but a positively useful and ne¬
cessary duty, for those who wish either to write well or to
think rightly. Even as to the practical use of common¬
places, no one who has been accustomed to hear practised
public speakers can have failed to remark, that most of them
fall more or less into the repetition of set phrases and ideas,
which are as truly common-places as if they had been learn¬
ed by rote from Boethius or Fortunatianus : and in the ora¬
tory of the bar, where extemporaneous fluency is indispen¬
sable, the systematic use of common-places is to some ex¬
tent both advantageous and ordinary. For written compo¬
sitions common-places are unnecessary and absurd ; and we
are not much encouraged to their adoption by the example
of Cicero, who, having sent to Atticus a treatise prefaced
by an eloquent introduction, was reminded by his friend
that he had already used the passage as the prooemium of
another work.
Aristotle’s Knowledge of the subject of the composition, and medi-
views re- tation on its facts and principles, must, as our authority just
garding- the cited has told us, be substituted for treasuries of common-
common- p}aces ; an(J no one has insisted on the necessity of such
i, KL ’ studies more strenuously than Aristotle, who, although he
wrote with the view of aiding public speakers, and there¬
fore, both in his Rhetoric and his Topics, collected those
common-places which he considered most useful, yet broad¬
ly and repeatedly lays down the doctrine of their total in¬
sufficiency as the principal source of the orator’s materials.
One chapter of the Rhetoric contains as much practical sense
on this subject as might satisfy the most determined of mo¬
dern utilitarians ; and we cannot do better than dismiss the
topics by stating its substance, which, although addressed
immediately to the case of public speaking, possesses much
value even with regard to purely literary compositions. It
has been observed, says he, that, for plebeian assemblies, un¬
learned men are by far the most persuasive orators. And
why is this ? Simply because they state the particular facts
from which they themselves have drawn their inferences,
and which the audience know and are qualified to compre¬
hend ; while instructed men, addressing the same hearers,
puzzle and repel them by enunciating universal truths. This
O R I C.
remark is followed by four advices to the orator. First, he Rhetoric,
is warmly urged to the anxious study of his subject, as in
_   !   4-i<-.1 Ixr tno ar»\n
ikton*
**r-
every view essential to his success. Secondly, the advice
is enforced by reminding him, that the more facts he knows
as to the matter to be handled, the better chance has he of
discovering among them some argument which will prove
convincing. Thirdly, he is warned that the general rule of
oratory which directs the speaker to study and condescend
to the characters of his hearers, must be specially applied,
so far as his means of knowledge allow him, to the parti¬
cular persons whom he happens to address. Fourthly, he is
cautioned not to shun the statement of common and well-
known facts, but rather to consider these as the great maga¬
zine of his arguments.
The second sort of aid which the ancient rhetoricians2. Thedas E
held out for the Discovery of Arguments, namely, that which sification o i
results from a Classification of their Kinds, is as truly sound a^umen;s 1 ti
and valuable as the other sort is the reverse. It has, how- eir
ever, met with little more favour in the eyes of the mo¬
derns ; but in our own times, one of the ablest writers on
rhetoric has adopted Aristotle’s division of arguments, ana¬
lysing it satisfactorily, and increasing its utility by several
excellent supplements of his own. All that follows on this
part of the subject may be considered as either suggested by
Aristotle and Whately, or in substance directly borrowed
from them, except a few incidental remarks and illustra¬
tions.
It must be premised, however, that in every thing to be
said on this head, reference is made solely to moral truths,
as the conclusions sought to be established in argument.
All reasoning is of course ultimately founded on admitted
truths, and such reasoning as will serve the orator’s purpose
must be founded on truths admitted by those whom he ad¬
dresses. Necessary truths, constituting the first principles
of the mathematical sciences, can scarcely ever enter into
rhetorical consideration in any shape, and may be safely left
out of view altogether. Contingent truths, composing the
other great class of ultimate principles, and embracing truths
moral and physical, compose the great quarry of materials for
human thought and reasoning; the latter class, however, oc¬
cupying, in most applications of rhetorical principles, a place
comparatively subordinate.
With regard to the Division of Arguments, then, it is to The three
be observed, in the first place, that the division which aids kinds ot>- (
the rhetorical student, is one neither founded on differ-Sumens‘
ences in the mode of stating them (as syllogistic, unsyllogis-
tic, or the like), nor on difl'erences in their subject (as mo¬
ral or necessary), nor on differences in the purpose of using
them (as direct or indirect, probative or refutative argu¬
ments). That which is here useful is a division of argu¬
ments as such. Upon this principle Aristotle may be un¬
derstood as dividing all arguments in moral reasoning into
three kinds; what he calls the t'lxhg (literally, Proof of Pro¬
bability); the Sign or Symptom (tf?j/As/bv); and the Example
(-aoaouy[Aa'). Whately first divides all arguments into Two
Classes, the first consisting of “ such as might have been
employed to account for the fact or principle maintained,
supposing its truth grantedthe second, of “ such as
could not be so employed.” The former class he considers
to be the s/xora of Aristotle, and terms them Arguments a
priori, or Arguments from Antecedent Probability. Those
of the second class he considers as all referable to Aris¬
totle’s two classes of Signs and Examples.
The s/xoj, or Argument a priori, is an argument from(l.) The
cause to effect, these wrords being understood in the popu-argument ^
lar and ordinary sense. The conviction which it bears evi- ^
dently admits of innumerable degrees of strength, from the ^jiitjr.
faintest shadow of likelihood to complete moral certainty.
The shades of distinction cannot be marked by appropriate
terms, either in the language of common life or in that of
RHETORIC.
Rh Tic,
(2.) Tl.
argijg t
frum
S'IS,
philosophy; both because they run into each other imper¬
ceptibly at every point of the progression, and because the
same proof, perhaps, does not appear to any two minds as
involving exactly the same strength of evidence. Never¬
theless there are in popular language some distinguish¬
ing words, of which rhetoric may advantageously avail it¬
self. The two most ordinary and useful of these are, Plau¬
sibility and Probability, both of them wide words, but each
marked in common use by its own essential and distinctive
character. Probability, indeed, in the philosophical and pro¬
per sense, embraces all the degrees of moral evidence ; but in
the popular meaning here adverted to, it imports a degree
of evidence higher than that of plausibility. Plausibility is
a faint degree of likelihood, whose essence Campbell, quite
accurately as it should seem, has analysed thus. The hearer
considers an argument as plausible which does not contradict
his own experience, or that system of general truths which,
more or less extensive in different minds, has been collected
by every mind from particular facts remembered. If the ar¬
gument goes farther than this point, it loses the character of
plausibility, and acquires a higher rank, passing, in ordinary
language, into the class of probabilities ; if it falls short, by
contradicting any of our habitual conclusions, it is less than
plausible, and utterly worthless towards effecting conviction.
The only objection to the term plausibility arises from this ;
that, on account of ordinary associations, it suggests to most
minds an unfavourable impression, which does not neces¬
sarily or properly belong to the species of evidence it is here
used to designate ; for, although a plausible proof must never
be taken for more than it is worth, it may often do infinite
service in preparing the way for others more convincing.
Campbell has proposed to substitute for it the word verisimi¬
litude, but his advice has not been followed. It has been ob¬
served by the same writer, that this quality of a non-contra¬
diction of experience, is the essential condition of what in
poetical invention is called truth to nature. We pronounce
the characters in a poem to be well sustained if the acts as¬
cribed to them are similar to those which we have seen such
men perform in such circumstances ; and as the poet un¬
dertakes to prove nothing, we rest in the intellectual plea¬
sure which the invention affords us. If a similar picture of
character in action is laid before us, as a step towards con¬
vincing us that a certain act has really been done, we try
the representation by the former test; but then, if the ar¬
gument holds good to the extent to which it professes to
go, we retain our conviction of this faint antecedent pro¬
bability, as an element to aid us in judging of the sufficiency
of other proofs, if such shall afterwards be adduced. Ar¬
guments a priori which deserve the name of probable, go
farther than this, and rise gradually till they operate com¬
plete conviction. “ As far as any cause, popularly speak¬
ing, has a tendency to produce a certain effect, so far its ex¬
istence is an argument for that of the effect. If the cause be
fully sufficient, and no impediments intervene, the effect in
question follows certainly ; and the nearer we approach to
this, the stronger the argument.”
The class of Signs forms a very large numerical propor¬
tion of our materials in argumentative composition. It is
satisfactorily analysed by Whately, whom we here follow
closely in all our observations on it, venturing only on one
point a silent dissent. “ As far as any circumstance is what
may be called a condition of the existence of a certain effect
or phenomenon, so far it may be inferred from the existence
of that effect; if it be a condition absolutely essential, the
argument is of course demonstrative; and the probability
is the stronger in proportion as we approach to that case.
Of this kind are the following arguments. A man is sus-
pected as the perpetrator of a murder, from the circumstance
or his clothes being bloody; the murder being considered
as, in a certain degree, a probable condition of that appear¬
ance; that is, it is presumed that his clothes would not
207
otherwise have been bloody. Again, from the appearance Rhetoric,
of ice, we infer decidedly the existence of a temperature ''—"V'-—^
below the freezing point; that temperature being an essen¬
tial condition of the crystallization of water.”
Arguments which infer effect from cause having been Subdivision
ranked as our first branch, and examples, the third branch, the argu-
being, as we shall immediately discover, incapable by them- n.lent from
selves of leading to absolute moral conviction,—the class 0fslgIls’
signs must include both those proofs which from an admit¬
ted phenomenon infer its cause, and those which from the
same datum infer a condition which is not the cause. And,
first, as to those arguments which prove the existence of
causes by that of their effects, it must be specially observed,
that the cause “ is never so proved so far forth as it is a
cause, but so far forth as it is a condition, or necessary cir¬
cumstance.” This is far from being so shadowy a distinc¬
tion as might be supposed ; it enters radically into the mode
in which the mind is affected by the different methods of
using causes and effects to prove each other. The propo¬
sition as it is here maintained, without involving, or tempt¬
ing us to institute, any inroad into the debateable land of the
philosophy of causation, is simply this: that my conviction of
the existence of a fact, from my knowledge of another fact
which is its effect, is exactly the same kind of conviction as I
should derive of the same truth from my knowledge of any
fact which was not an effect, but a simple condition, or other
concomitant; any difference in the strength of evidence in
particular cases depends solely on the circumstances, and, as
these vary, the one kind of proof may now be the stronger,
and now the other. From the fact that Moscow was burn¬
ed in the month of September 1812, we infer the existence
of the city in the preceding month, because that previous
existence, although no cause of the conflagration, in any
sense of the word, is a condition, but for which the catas¬
trophe could not have taken place ; and as the previous ex¬
istence is a necessary condition, the conviction which the
inference gives amounts to complete moral certainty; but,
fiom the same fact, as it is now stated, we can draw, as to
the causes of it, no inferences whatever that amount to more
than the weakest of all plausibilities, being just an enumera¬
tion of causes, by any of which it is possible the event may
have been produced, though, with regard to most of them,
we cannot pronounce any one to be more probable than the
lest. On the other hand, if, when wTe have perused the
writings of an author, our feelings and our critical judgment
agree in declaring them to possess high and genuine elo¬
quence, we infer at once the genius of the writer (the cause,
or one of the concurring causes, of the excellence), and our
infeience is one of positive certainty, because we know ge¬
nius to be a necessary condition, without which the work
could not have possessed the merit it does: while, in the
same case, on this naked enunciation of it, our inferences
as to many of those conditions of the excellence, which are
not in any sense causes, must be founded on plausibilities
as weak as those described under the last example.
Of Signs, then, many are not causes. It is needless to il- The argu-
lustrate this species of signs further by individual examples ;ment from
but it is important to observe, that some general classes of*es|in}0’,'V
arguments fall under this second division of signs. Of thisJJe daes of
sort is the Argument from Testimony, to which, if we weresigns.
to embrace in our view any besides moral truths, we should
have to add the argument from Calculation of Chances, on
which so much rests in the science of natural theology.
Both of these arguments are signs from which we infer
conditions that are not causes. The argument from testi¬
mony has been thus analysed. “ The premise is the ex¬
istence of the testimony ; the conclusion, the truth of what is
attested ; which is considered as a condition of the testimony
having been given ; since it is evident, that so far only as
this is allowed [i. e. so far only as it is allowed that the
testimony would not have been given had it not been true)
208
RHETORIC.
Rhetoric, can this argument have any force.” The testimony of the
' v   inspired writers is before us, declaring the truth of the Bible
history; we believe in the truth thus testified, because,—
assuming that we have examined the antecedent steps of
the argument, and have reached the point at which the ar¬
gument from testimony comes in unmixed,—we believe the
witnesses, or, in other words, we are convinced that, but for
the truth of their testimony (its condition), it would not
have been given. On this head we must content ourselves
with simply urging the study of one of the most deeply im¬
portant inquiries connected with the argument, namely, the
genuine test of concurrent testimonies. The subject is ably
treated both by Campbell and Whately, and the former
writer thus states the principle. “ In a number of concur¬
rent testimonies (in cases wherein there could have been
no previous concert), there is a probability distinct from that
which may be termed the sum of the probabilities resulting
from the testimonies of the witnesses,—a probability which
would remain, even though the witnesses were of such a
character as to merit no faith at all. This probability arises
purely the concurrence itself. That such a concurrence
should spring from chance, is as one to infinitude ; that is,
in other words, morally impossible. If, therefore, concert
be excluded, there remains no other supposition but the
reality of the fact.”
We now pass to the third and last kind of Arguments,
those from Example, which Whately analyses thus. In all
the arguments designated by this name, “ we consider one
or more known individual objects, or instances of a certain
class, as fair specimens, in respect of some point or other,
of that class; and consequently draw an inference from
them respecting either the whole class, or other less known
individuals of it. In arguments of this kind, then, it will
be found, that, universally, we assume as a major premise,
that what is true (in regard to the point in question) of
the individual or individuals which we bring forward and
appeal to, is true of the whole class to which they belong:
the minor premise next asserts something of that individual;
and the same is then inferred respecting the whole class;
whether we stop at that general conclusion, or descend
from thence to another unknown individual; in which last
case, which is the most usually called the argument from
example, we generally omit, for the sake of brevity, the in¬
termediate step, and pass at once, in the expression of the
arguments, from the known to the unknown individual.”
Its various These principles apply not only to the common argument
kinds. from Example, but to those from Induction, Experience,
Analogy, and the like.
Logical The easiest way of discovering the real force of this class
tests apply- of arguments for direct conviction, is (for those at least
ing to the are not wilfully resolved on creating difficulties for
(3.) The
argument
from exam¬
ples.
class.
themselves) to examine its relation to the principles of lo¬
gic. Both the Argument from Antecedent Probability and
the Argument from Signs are strictly logical; or, in other
words, they can be so stated that their form will of itself
show whether the conclusion is legitimate or not; for, in or¬
der to reduce arguments of these kinds to formal syllogisms,
we have only to restore the premise suppressed in ordinary
discourse, and to limit in such a way the expression of both
premises, that the degree of probability may distinctly ap¬
pear in each, and may thence pass regiilarly into the con¬
clusion. If the premises are certain, the conclusion will be
so likewise; if that element is wanting, the conclusion will
only reach one or another of the infinite degrees of proba¬
bility. Now, on the other hand, the Argument from Ex¬
ample, in all its varied shapes, is always one which will not
stand the test of transformation into a logical shape. We
may comprehend this most readily in the case of a rheto¬
rical Induction, which, assuming Whately’s analysis as our
guide, is an argument stopping short at the general conclu¬
sion from the premises, without going on to the last step,
which infers as to the unknown individual. The process Rhetor
thus performed corresponds with what most logicians call
an Imperfect Induction, which is truly no logical induction
at all, but merely something wearing the appearance of it.
The logical induction (to borrow again from a high meta¬
physical authority already cited) is governed by the rule,
“ That what belongs (or does not belong) to all the con¬
stituent parts, belongs (or does not belong) to the constitut¬
ed whole.” The imperfect or rhetorical induction assumes,
that what belongs (or does not belong) to some of the con¬
stituent parts, belongs (or does not belong) to the consti¬
tuted whole. This conclusion may or may not be true in
the particular case, but it is always illogical. _
There is a pressing reason for urging the importance oflmpon
this view of the subject. In matters of moral reasoning, of the-
the argument from example is oftener misused than any£lcalt:
other, and is altogether a very dangerous one in unskilful
hands, the mischief sometimes falling on him who uses it,
and sometimes on those to whom it is addressed. We are
apt to be widely misled by the analogies of physical science,
which give the name of induction to arguments in which
an inference is drawn respecting a whole class from expe¬
riments on a few individuals, or even from one solitary ex¬
periment. If this experiment has been cautiously and un-
objectionably made, so as to insure the essential point, that
the individual is truly an adequate specimen of the class,
the inference is sound and the induction valid. The pro¬
cess of reasoning, in short, sets out from a number of silent
assumptions, and it is worthless if any one of these has been
unwarranted. The history of the material sciences abounds
with instances of the most grievous errors which have arisen
from such assumptions of false data; and this notwithstand¬
ing the facilities generally existing there for decisive expe¬
riments, by which the philosopher may place the subjects
of his inquiries almost in any circumstances he will. In
moral science we can scarcely ever experiment at all: we
are confined to the task of watching the phenomena which
the course of nature evolves, and of drawing our conclu¬
sions from facts as to which we are often exceedingly in
doubt whether we may not have misapprehended their real
nature and causes. “ The experimentum crucis,” says Play¬
fair, in his Preliminary Dissertation to this work, “ is of such
weight in matters of induction, that in all those branches
of science where it cannot easily be resorted to (the cir¬
cumstances of an experiment being out of our power, and
incapable of being varied at pleasure), there is often a great
want of conclusive evidence Men deceive themselves
continually, and think they are reasoning from fact and ex¬
perience, when in reality they are only reasoning from a
mixture of truth and falsehood.” I learn from a few expe¬
riments that certain acids act on certain other bodies as
solvents ; and the inferences are correct, not because they
are logically drawn, but because all the assumptions on
which they proceed have been tested by observation, and
discovered to be well founded. Afterwards, turning to sub¬
jects of moral reasoning, I infer that all political revolutions
are accompanied by wars and bloodshed, because I know
that such evils attended the French Revolution of the
eighteenth century, and that which took place in England
in the first half of the seventeenth. The conclusion, as
every one will tell me, is false; but it is also logically in¬
consequent ; for the reasoning has silently assumed as true
an infinite number of principles, all of which are essential
to its validity, and many of which are utterly destitute of
truth and probability.
The principles to which it has been here attempted to
invite the student’s notice, are convincingly illustrated byr.encei
Campbell, in his analysis of arguments from experience. aI1!liogj'
The evidence of Analogy, as the same writer observes, “ is eluded
but a more indirect experience, founded on some remote the claj
similitude ;” and its force is always small, requiring indeed
:
RHETORIC.
etoric. a very unusual accumulation of comparisons before it can
•'y--be relied on for any further purpose in argument than that
which it has often served so well, namely, the repelling of
captious refutations. In this kind of argument, quite as
strictly as in any other instance of example, the things com¬
pared are assumed, in regard to the point of comparison, to
belong to the same genus; but there is evidently here a
still greater risk than that which prevails in other reason¬
ings of the same class, of either over-estimating or under¬
estimating the weight of the evidence. The generic and
specific names in common use alternately involve us in mis¬
takes and help to extricate us from them. All of these
are accurate for their own purposes ; but the purpose for
which we use the example may, though quite legitimate,
be extremely different from that which has dictated the
common divisions. If, taking any number of men, who
form a class in respect of social or civil relations,—a nation,
a civic community, or even a large household,—we discover
a certain physical peculiarity in one individual, and thence,
without examination, infer it of another,—we are arguing,
not from similarity, but from one of the remotest and most
worthless of all analogies ; an analogy founded, not on any
of those qualities of the individuals which came into view
in their classification, but on one which merely happens
to belong to one of them, and possibly or probably may
not be found in any other, being, in short, what logicians
would call an inseparable accident. On the other hand, di¬
rect and close similarities may be continually discovered
between individuals which have in ordinary language no
common name, and which could not be classed together
for any of the practical purposes of life. Amidst the count¬
less variety of natures and ends which divides the universe
into such an interminable number of classes, genera, and
species, all the individuals are united by at least one com¬
mon relation, that which the created bear to the Creator;
and when we endeavour to contemplate the world in its
position towards God, we discover near and essential resem¬
blances between the highest sentient beings and the most
insignificant atoms of matter,—between the spirit of the
i archangel and the trodden grain of sand.
*e bpe- In estimating the force of Arguments from Example, our
roe, &(n £reat task should always be, to discover the principle of the
c.xu. !ie. division which the reasoning assumes. If we clearly appre¬
hend the principle, and keep it steadily in view, we shall
be able to steer safely through all the perplexities of in¬
dividual cases. When the alleged point of similarity makes
up the whole essence of the genus, the proof, supposing
the genus really to exist, is morally certain : when it ap¬
pears on analysis to be only a separable accident of an in¬
dividual, the proof is a worthless analogy. Between these
two extreme points lies the wide channel through whose
shoals the principle will always be able to pilot us.
209
m 3. 1
ill <'om[
)■ tive
dene
:: propi
* rang«
IE ofar;
,] >nent
i T) (
In regard to the Comparative Efficiency and the Proper
Order of the several kinds of arguments, as indeed in re¬
gard to every other point essential to the rhetorical art,
Aristotle will furnish us with the germ of all the principles,
and with many of their elucidations; but Whately’s work is
extremely valuable in this section, and will aid us scarcely
ess than it has aided us in the inquiry which we have just
left. All that is most important on this subject may be
comnrehended under the answers to three questions.
First, what is the Comparative Efficiency of the several
sorts of arguments, considered with reference to the nature
of the conclusions sought to be established by them ? Our
n. £u,1. , answei’s as follows. “ Matters of opinion, as they are
/each 16 fa (t^at is> where we are not said properly to know,
^ Vns-£ut t° judge), are established chiefly by Antecedent Pro¬
bability (arguments of the first class, from cause to effect),
though the Testimony of wise men is also admissible; past
vox,, xix. ' 1
ificiejiy
,,.ri reft ace
facts, chiefly by Signs of various kinds (that term, it must Rhetonc.
be remembered, including Testimony); and future events,
by Antecedent Probabilities and Examples.” Cases may
often occur which form exceptions to these principles; but
reflection will easily convince every one that the outline of
them here given is substantially accurate; and any doubts
which may arise on an abstract consideration of the ques¬
tion may be certainly removed by an examination of the
most, convincing argumentative compositions. In few in¬
stances where argument is applied to practical uses, does
any of the several sorts of conclusions constitute the whole
of the end which the discourse proposes ; but, in every dis¬
course, one or another of the kinds holds the most promi¬
nent place. Compositions chiefly designed for instruction
or exhortation, such as ethical and most religious discourses,
being principally conversant about conclusions of the first
class, appeal mainly to the argument from cause to effect,
strengthening this argument by authorities fairly and judi¬
ciously selected, and also making frequent use of examples,
seldomer however as proofs than as illustrations, which are
not introduced for the purpose of proving anything, but
merely in order to place imperfectly-apprehended proposi¬
tions in a stronger light. Judicial oratory, when employed on
those questions which fall within the province of juries, has
mainly reference to the second class of conclusions, so that
signs compose the chief weapons of the legal speaker’s ar¬
moury. Harangues addressed to deliberative assemblies
embrace the whole field of conclusions, but in most cases
are chiefly directed towards those of the third class.
Secondly, what is the Comparative Efficiency of the seve- (2.) Com-
ral sorts of argument, considered with reference to our posi- parative
tion towards the party whom we desire to convince ? Which efficiency
sort is best calculated for direct Conviction ? and which forin ref,ereiice
Refutation ? We again borrow an answer. “ It should be^q^Jf !j°'
considered whether the principal object of the discourse be, the°parties.
to give satisfaction to a candid mind and convey instruc¬
tion to those who are ready to receive it, or to compel the
assent or silence the objections of an opponent. The for¬
mer of these pm-poses is in general principally to be ac¬
complished by the former of those two great classes into
which arguments were divided (viz. by those from cause to
effect), the other by the latter. J o whatever class, how¬
ever, the arguments we resort to may belong, the general
tenor of the reasoning will in many respects be affected by
the present consideration. The distinction in question is
nevertheless in general little attended to. It is usual to call
an argument simply strong or tueak, without reference to
the purpose for which it was designed ; whereas the argu¬
ments which afford the most satisfaction to a candid mind,
are often such as would have less weight in controversy
than many others, which, again, would be less suitable for
the former purpose. For example ; the internal evidence
of Christianity in general proves the most satisfactory to a
believer’s mind, but is not that which makes the most show'
in the refutation of infidels. The arguments from analogy,
on the other hand, which are the most unanswerable, are
not so pleasing and consolatory.”
Thirdly, where we are in possession of arguments of all (3.) The
the kinds, all bearing on the conclusion which we wish toPni,ciples
reach, what Arrangement of these is most effectual for pro- a,n(*1 u*es
ducing conviction ? This question is one of the most im-'uf
portant in rhetoric: indeed there is scarcely any other"uineats?^
which goes so closely to the foundation of all eloquence.0
A just Arrangement of Arguments is indispensable towards
success in conviction or persuasion ; and the leading prin¬
ciples of eloquence carry us by a very short journey to ge¬
neral rules on the subject, which may be considered as in¬
fallible. Aristotle has not enlarged on this point further than
to press the necessity of using probative examples in the
very last place; but Whately has very justly observed that
the principle should be extended much more widely. The
2 D
210
Rhetoric, three kinds of argument,—supposing that in the particular
^—/—■'case each is accessible, applicable, and necessary,—should
be used in the order in which they were explained m pre¬
ceding paragraphs ; the Argument from Antecedent Proba¬
bilities coming first, that from Signs second, and that from
Examples last of all. If we violate the principle of this
rule, we cripple every branch of our proof, as we may rea¬
dily convince ourselves by trying the experiment on any
case in which all the classes of argument must have place.
Let us take the instance of a judicial address, intended to
convince a jury that a certain man has committed a mur¬
der, supposing also the state of the proof to be such that
the speaker rightly considers it necessary to use all the
three kinds of argument; and let us adduce the arguments
in the order opposite to that which the rule sugges s. y
commencing with analogical arguments, or other proo s
from example, we instantly prepossess our hearers against
the conclusion which we wish to establish. All men tee ,
more or less, the weakness of this sort of proof when taken
by itself, whether they clearly perceive the cause ot the
weakness or not; and the defect will strike them forcibly
and painfully in a case like that supposed, in which they
are naturally reluctant to come to the conclusion which is
urged on them: a single example is in such a place even
worse than worthless; accumulated examples perplex the
mind, and excite it to an effort of memory which withdraws
it from its proper task; and, lastly, the argument, it ad¬
duced at this stage, is a building reared without a foun¬
dation ; for, as we have proved no circumstances ot the
special fact, our hearers have no materials for determining
whether our analogy holds or not. Let us next proceed
to the argument from signs : we still want something, t or,
even although we had been able to convince our hearers
by the first branch of our argument, that our allegation
has in it nothing which common experience ha* shown to
be impossible, or very highly improbable, we have as yet
not advanced a single step towards proving a prion, that
the fact is positively likely to be true, and our audience are
still indisposed to believe that it is so. On the supposition
made, the proof from signs is stated as in itself not con¬
clusive (for, if it were so, there would be no use for ei¬
ther of the other two kinds ot proof); and, the case being
so,—the fact being, by its accompanying circumstances,
made more or less probable, but not certain, and nothing
having been established which, like a strong motive, or
such probable cause, would lead our hearers to anticipate
the fact as likely, before they become acquainted with the
corroborating symptoms,—we shall still have failed in gain¬
ing our end, and perhaps have come little nearer to it than
the point at which we stood in the beginning. In order
to complete our evidence, we must, therefore, proceed to
the third series of arguments, tending to establish antece¬
dent probability, which now come forward with every pos¬
sible disadvantage. Our hearers have to apply the argu¬
ment to the preceding facts, by a toilsome exertion of me¬
mory, which prevents the discursive faculties from acting
freely, and, if the proof is complicated, may, after all, be
completely unsuccessful; or, if we endeavour to remove
this risk, we must do so by a recapitulation, which will be
wearisome, inefficient, and in itself an adequate reason for
believing that our arrangement has been radically wrong.
Let us reverse the arrangement, and everything will find
quick and easy access to the mind. We first establish that
our conclusion has antecedent presumptions in its favour,
and the hearers are thus prepared for receiving with atten¬
tion, candour, and even prepossession, all specific proofs in
support of it. We next adduce those concurrent circum¬
stances which we maintain would not have happened had
not the fact taken place which we wish to prove. And,
lastly, after we have conducted thus far those whom we
address, examples or analogies complete the chain of proba-
RHETORIC.
bilities. “ After the other proofs have been adduced,” says Ithetori
• i i  qc mnr'h rnrno
unities. i  . . . "ur
Aristotle, “ a single example comes in with as much torce
as the testimony of a single honest witness. The appli¬
cation of the same principles to the refutation of an ad¬
dress like that now analysed, is too obvious to require illus¬
tration.
In any treatise which should aim at following out the Tests o
principles of rhetoric to their detailed consequences (a de-rhetoric!
sign far beyond the limits of these pages), it would be of^ ^
the highest advantage to devote a separate section to a seemjn„
systematic consideration of the most usual Rhetorical ral-
lacies. Under this head would be analysed, not only those
artifices by which falsehood may in argument be most easily
made to pass current for truth, but also those others, by
means of which conclusions may be represented as fallacies
without really being so. It is not more important to expose
the foundations of real fallacies, than to exhibit the unsound¬
ness of those objections which represent as fallacies argu¬
ments truly sound. Although this double task belongs, in
most of its applications, to logical science, there are many
cases in which it is from the principles of rhetoric, not from
those of dialectics, that the refutation of the error must be
drawn; From Aristotle’s two admirable chapters on Falla¬
cies, and on the Refutation of Arguments and of Objections,
only one observation shall here be cited, on account of the
practical importance of the truth which it contains.^ W here,
remarks the philosopher, the aim of an argument is merely
to establish a probability, contrary facts may always be truly
alleged. But the existence of such facts does not prove the
argument to be fallacious; for a probability is not disproved
till we have proved that the fact does usually happen con¬
trariwise. The cavil which this remark exposes, lies at the
root of very much of the sophistry which has been put in
use against truth, both in religion and in politics.
I Hi
iiiitf
It®
it of.
Our next subject of inquiry is Aristotle s Second Rheton- •
cal ground of Belief; namely, that which arises frorn the fa-rf ^
vourable impression created by the discourse as to the Lha-^^j
racter of the Writer or Speaker. The impression here meant ter ot tk
is one arising wholly from the discourse; for, so far as it is speakert
produced by previous knowledge possessed by those whowrl er'
are addressed, it is no subject of rhetorical consideration.
This is a ground of belief, which, although it is sometimes
very effective in written discourses, and although in such
discourses the violation of its principle often occasions la¬
mentable failures, has yet its principal field in spoken ora¬
tory. A speaker who is skilled in producing conviction in
this vray, has often applied to him, in common language, the
epithet of plausible. Aristotle places high reliance on this
ground of belief; observing of it, in two different places,
that it is most effectual indeed when the audience are very
imperfectly informed on the matter ot the discourse, but
that, taken all in all, it is probably the most extensively
powerful of all means of persuasion ; and that, in delibera¬
tive assemblies, it very often triumphs over all other orato¬
rical artifices. The speaker’s Character must be favourably
developed in three particulars ; the hearers must be led to
have faith in his Moral Worth, in his Understanding, and in
his Good Dispositions towards them. It is scarcely possible
to overrate the power of the first point. Indeed the art o
persuading the audience into a belief of his high moral prin¬
ciple, or of his perfect honesty and fairness, is one of the
most valuable an orator can acquire. Its attainment s iou <
be a leading aim ; but it is not equally attainable in every
kind of oratory ; and, in particular, the acquisition ot this
kind of plausibility is one of the most difficult tasks of a ar
rister who struggles for success in addressing juries. |s
difficulties are of two kinds ; the one arising from his audi¬
ence, mainly founded on their knowledge of his professiona
position, and their consequent tendency to distrust; the
H Pis at
it
N
R II E T O R I C.
EH ortc. other inherent in himself, founded on the abstract nature
v—- ^"''and the over-cautious, captious spirit, of the legal argu¬
ments which in most courts form the greater part of the or¬
dinary practice, and which, as we see in everyday experi¬
ence, disqualify most lawyers, by various defects (and most
of all by want of apparent candour), from success as popu¬
lar speakers. For success in pulpit-oratory, this instrument
of persuasion is absolutely and without exception indispen¬
sable. The hearer’s confidence in the speaker’s understand¬
ing requires scarcely any illustrative remark but this ; that
it must not be a confidence in his oratorical skill, which has
an inevitable tendency to check belief: but it may advan¬
tageously extend to an unlimited admiration of his general
intelligence, and of the profundity of his acquaintance with
the matter of the address; with this restriction, however,
that the display of these qualities will lose all their force, if,
by exhibiting a want of modesty, they draw the speaker into
a violation of the first section of the rule. The hearer’s
confidence in the speaker’s good-will is as essential as the
rest, and the want of this confidence is the main obstacle
which makes a speaker on political questions almost inevi¬
tably unable to make an impression on men belonging to an
opposite faction.
Ill The We have now reached the Third Ground of Belief; that
E efT which the writer or speaker produces by exciting, in the
theLcite- m^n^s °f those whom he addresses, such an Emotion, or
mei of series of Emotions, as for a time excludes the application
emcon. of their discursive faculties to the arguments regarding the
question discussed. The operation which Eloquence here
effects on the mind is, it must be observed, complex. The
faculty primarily excited is the Imagination ; but the agency
of this faculty is merely instrumental; for the office which
it is made to discharge is, that of calling up images which
are adequate objects of the Emotions, and are calculated to
arouse them. But, further, these objects of the imagina¬
tion and the feelings, so far as they are useful towards the
Production of Belief, are either themselves conclusions pre¬
sented to the Reason to be pronounced by it true or false,
I or they are at least steps leading towards such conclusions.
Phis appeal to the Reason, however, is the very last stage
of the process: and if the discourse has effected its end, the
operation of judgment is instantaneous, and as it were in¬
stinctive : the conclusion is admitted by the mind, not as
i the result of a train of argument, but as an element, so to
speak, of the mind’s owrn experience or consciousness.
^ ^e true analysis of all animated and passionate
'mete f" elcKluence 5 an^ yet, when so represented, this process, in
i mo n° which the art gains its highest triumphs, and without which
it would be quite powerless as an instrument for persuading
the mass of mankind, may at first sight appear more open to
the charge of unfairness than any other means which litera¬
ture and oratory employ. But the objection is unsound.
I his, like every other element of eloquence, is a neutral
power, which may be made to ally itself either with good
or evil, being, however, always most willing to serve truth
and rectitude. We shall be enabled to discern its real po-
! sition, by examining two of its most usual applications.
Jim6 ,f • The firSt case is that in which the aim of’ the discourse
Juasi ''er' Kt0 determine the hearers or readers to a certain course
of action, of whose abstract justice and propriety they are
convinced by a simple statement of its principles, but to¬
wards which neither the abstract statement, nor their pre¬
vious feelings on the subject, tend strongly enough to prompt
them; in other words, a case in which persuasion (in the
strict sense of the word), not conviction, is the proper aim.
The mere conviction would clearly not lead to the result
required; because men act not from convictions, but from
motives ; not from simple belief of truth, reposing ultimately
in the understanding, nor even from a belief superinduced
on this, that the truth is also an object adequate to the gra¬
211
tification of one or more of the active powers of the mind,— Rhetoric,
but from the suggestions of these active faculties themselves,
aroused to energy, and directed to the truths in question
as their fittest or only objects. Eloquence strives to com¬
municate the impulse thus needed. The most important
truth stated abstractly and barely, and the same truth set
forth with the adornment of eloquence, often bear to each
other, in respect of their comparative value for mankind,
the same relation which the skeleton-hull in the building-
yard bears to the gallant ship at sea, armed, manned, and
in full sail.
We next take a case which brings us nearer to the dis-Cases
putable ground ; being one in which we attempt, by the ex- where pre-
citement of emotion, to lead men to a conclusion in which judices are
they would not have acquiesced but for such excitement.?'0 he com-
There is nothing to prevent us from assuming, that thebated*
conclusion which we maintain in the case supposed is true,
although it may seem to those whom we address to be
either positively false, or exceedingly problematical. New
this belief or doubt of theirs, adverse at once to the truth
and to the end of the discourse, may arise in their minds in
a variety of ways, all of these, however, being reducible to
two; for it must either be founded on an antecedent pro¬
cess of pure reasoning which has gone on in their minds, or
it must rest on some other antecedent mental process, in
which the discursive faculties are either not at all, or not
alone, active. I he former class of wrong conclusions arise
much seldomer from any defect in the process of reasoning
which has conducted to them, than from the assumption of
erroneous premises ; and this makes it the more difficult to
combat them directly by argument. The latter class, how¬
ever, is that to which belong the great mass of common
prejudices; opinions often resulting from an inextricable
combination of shallow reflection, hasty observation, ruling
passion, imperfect views of moral duty, and personal or local
affections and dislikes ; prepossessions on which arguments
can take no hold, but which are often quickly displaced by
other notions suggested without argument: just as, in a
siege, the shot and shells rebound without effect from the
masonry of a casemated bastion, which a storming party, if
they can once enter the trenches, will carry at the first as¬
sault. If we undertake to instruct or convince minds en¬
grossed by false opinions of either class, we have only two
alternatives : either a direct attack on the reason by argu¬
ment, which will meet with an inevitable and signal re¬
pulse, or a well-directed appeal to other principles of the
mind, which will often insure a gratifying success. No
doubt it would be better if truth could be protected and
disseminated without the use of these indirect methods: no
doubt we can conceive, and ardently desire to witness, an
advancement of human knowledge, a purification of human
desires and affections, an elevation of the standard of con¬
science as well as intellect, which should make a simple
presentation of truth to the reason always adequate for the
dislodgement of error: but our mortal nature does not
stand on this height, and will never rise so high till it has put
on immortality ; and the aspirant after eloquence, like the
philosopher and the man of business, must, in his endeavours
to act on the minds of others, be contented to take their
condition as he finds it. This is all that Aristotle has said,
or intended to say, in a passage which has been strangely
cited as expressing an opinion, that all the appeals of elo¬
quence to the passions are wrong and illegitimate; we say
strangely, when the assertion is made as to a writer who
placed so much weight on this instrument of the art, that
he devoted a large proportion of his rhetorical work to an
analysis of the most common passions, although, according
to his own view of the province of rhetoric, the subject lies
beyond its limits.
The Aristotle of modern times has at once beautifuliv
illustrated and convincingly defended the operation of elo-
212
RHETORIC.
lihetoric. quence on the imagination and the feelings, “ If the af-
lections in themselves,” says Bacon, “ were pliant and obe-
Bacon’s il- dient to reasonj it were true there should be no great use
KJSt^atl?n_ of persuasions and insinuations to the will, more than of
quenceof naked proposition and proofs. But in regard of the con-
einotion. tinual mutinies and seditions of the affections, reason would
become captive and servile if eloquence of persuasions did
not practise and win the imagination from the affections’ part,
and contract a confederacy between the reason and imagi¬
nation against the affections. For the affections themselves
carry ever an appetite to good, as reason doth: the difference
is, that the affection beholdeth merely the present; reason
beholdeth the future and sum of time. And therefore, the
present filling the imagination more, reason is commonly
vanquished: but after that the force of eloquence and per¬
suasion hath made things future and remote appear as pre¬
sent, then upon the revolt of the imagination reason pre-
vaileth.” _
The elo- But this is a department in which rhetoric can aid the
quence of student less than many other. As it is the field in which
emotion es-^erdus gatjiers its fairest harvest, so it is also that which she
dependent is called on chiefly to cultivate from her own resources,
on*the na- No rules, and no study or experience, will quality one for
tural pow- attaining this loftiest stage of eloquence, unless the mind
ers. glows spontaneously with that warmth and depth of feeling^
which its exertions aim at communicating to the breasts of
others. To the active and searching intellect, whose sug¬
gestions, operating on the stores of knowledge possessed by
the writer or speaker, lead him to the sources and instru¬
ments of conviction in the argumentative part of his task,
and whose acuteness and energy can be incalculably aided
by philosophical and critical study, and by experimental
practice,—to this foundation and groundwork of success
must be added, for the acquisition of excellence in impas¬
sioned eloquence, natural powers to which external aids can
minister but weakly. A very few observations, therefore,
may suffice on this head.
The class Xhe philosophy of those regions of the human mind on
ot mental which eloquence here seeks to work, must be learned, not
wlhchTj01™ from rhetoric, but from consciousness, observation, and the
lustrate it. systematic study of the mental philosophy. It is most usual
to consider the class of mental phenomena which are here
brought into play as embracing only the active principles
of human nature ; but the student will unquestionably gain
many incidental hints which would otherwise have escaped
his notice, and will probably find his general view over this
province of the art made at once clearer and wider, if he
investigates with reference to it the whole of that class of
phenomena which Thomas Brown ranks together in his
analysis of the emotions, in their three genera of the imme¬
diate, retrospective, and prospective, and their subdivision
(still more valuable for the present purpose) into those
which do, and those which do not, involve the feelings that
form the criterion of the objects of the moral faculty.
Some of All advices which rhetoric can give on the subject are
the rheto- immediate corollaries from one part of the proposition laid
rical pre- down as our definition ; namely, that the emotion sought to
cepts dedu- j)e produced excludes the action of the discursive faculties.
itsrind-1 ,J^ie moment an argument, or a hint towards one, is sug-
■ 15 Plllia gested by the impassioned portions of a discourse, the emo¬
tion begins to be chilled, and the effect is lost. The emo
tion is generated through the excitement of the imagina¬
tion ; and this fact, with the exclusion of argument, is near¬
ly all that art can here teach. “ The first and most im¬
portant point to be observed in every address to any pas¬
sion, sentiment, feeling, &c. is, that it should not be intro-
muse not <Iuced as such, and plainly avowed.” This rule follows both
he avowed, from the principles just laid down, and from another consi¬
deration : if the feeling sought to be excited is wrong, the
avowal of the intention is manifestly destructive: if it is
right and honourable, the self-love of those whom we ad¬
dress is offended by having it hinted that they are deficient Rheturii:
in it. Another rule, following from the instrumentality of^“v^*«
the imagination, teaches us that conciseness, which in argu- le
ment is a virtue if it does not degenerate into obscurity, ls should ^
in the impassioned parts of a discourse always a positivecjrcum_
fault. The imagination is operated on, not by general stantial.
views, but by special circumstances, by pictures held up
to it and brought close that they may be distinctly seen.
On this, as on other questions connected with the impas¬
sioned parts of a discourse, Cicero, himself one of the great¬
est proficients in this branch, peculiarly attached to its study,
and inclined to undervalue other sections of the art, has
thrown out, in his attractively desultory fashion, hints that
are extremely instructive. A third rule, neaily akin to the^,)
last, which may indeed be considered as a portion of it,circum-
prescribes an examination and knowledge of all those cir-stances
cumstances which are chiefly instrumental in affecting the'
mil
feelinss Pand* Campbell has' ably illustrated this precept, poweri“l
& 7 . , /-• i •  j_    ^ ^« *1-, ^
’ over the
pies.
(1.) The
wish to
move the
feelings
must not
classing the most obvious of such circumstances under thefeelings
seven heads of “ probability, plausibility (which he con-should i
siders as different from probability in kind, not in degree), studied.
“ importance, proximity of time, connection of place, rela¬
tion of the actors or sufferers to the hearers or speaker, and
interest of the hearers or speaker in the consequences.
But, fourthly, such an examination will discover to us many (4.) Tedi-
circumstances which tend to check the flow of feeling, andousness
against which consequently we must guard. Among these,
a prominent place is occupied by tediousness, a fault intob 11
which the second rule just propounded may entice those
who want a complete apprehension ot its principle. No¬
thing,” says an ancient critic, “ dries up more quickly than
a tearand what is thus true of the softer feelings, is equal¬
ly so of the more vehement: none of them can be adequate¬
ly supported by eloquence for more than a certain period,
the length of which an impassioned orator must learn from
his own consciousness and observation, being always, how¬
ever, in danger ot extending its limits too far, rather than of
unduly restricting them. Appeals to the sense of the ludi¬
crous by means of w it or humour may, it well supported, be
responded to for a much longer time than the serious emo¬
tions, even although they should be conducted with little
variety and intermission; but no class ot feelings is more
completely inconsistent with the exercise ot the reasoning
faculties; and a discourse which rests its strength solely
or mainly on the use of ridicule, thereby shows that, what¬
ever the author’s motives may be for the choice, he is at
any rate disinclined to attempt reaching his end by any
thing like pure conviction. Some of the instruments oi
the ludicrous, too, are apt to fail in their purpose with many
people, from being misunderstood ; and against irony in par¬
ticular, the sharpest of all the weapons ot wit, dulness of
heart or fancy cases very many in armour ot proof. I his
truth has been remarkably experienced by Swift, who is
perhaps the greatest master of irony in any language, but
whose polemical dissertations, often clothed in an iionical
dress from beginning to end, are thus, in many cases, as
little appreciable by a large majority of his readers as it
they had been written in an unknown language. As in¬
stances of this fault, we may cite two of his most severe sa¬
tires ; the one his “ Argument against abolishing Christia¬
nity,” aimed both at the irreligion and the false religion ot
the times; and the other, still more celebrated, the “ Mo¬
dest proposal for preventing the children ot poor people in
Ireland from being a burden to their parents or country,
and for making them beneficial to the public,” being the
bitterest of all sarcastic invectives against the misgoyern-
ment of that unhappy island, whose miseries Swift professes
to see no possible means of alleviating, except by devoting
the superabundant population to the shambles. Ihe only
other questions connected with the inquiry winch we shall
allude to, are those which address themselves to the case
JfKI
RHETORIC.
etoric. in which those whom we address are already under the in-
vi ^ fluence of some emotion, which we must endeavour to al-
f * ^"llay, or to divert from its original object. The main prin-
213
1 * bfor ciple applicable to this head is, that a passion may generally
lied
JUjutr be destroyed most easily, not by the excitement of another
a divert-which may be considered as its opposite, but by that of
ir unfa- passions which do not lie so far distant from it. Anger to-
v i-abie wards a person, for example, may be removed, not only by
e tions. exciting good-will towards him, but by holding him up as
a proper object of fear. “ Compassion, likewise, may be
counteracted either by disapprobation, by jealousy, by fear,
or by disgust; and horror and envy either by good-will or
by contempt.” Aristotle, in his minute analysis of the pas¬
sions most usually appealed to in oratory, which is well wor¬
thy of being deeply studied, has several very valuable ob¬
servations on this head ; as Whately and Campbell have on
the whole subject of impassioned eloquence: and Cicero
and Quinctilian are much more useful here than they are in
relation to the philosophy of arguments.
Tl prin-
cij on
wl t,i all
ed.
T r Se- Our general plan of the Systematic portion of Rhetoric
c. ;n: The now presents to us its Second Division, which treats of what
Hi Ipoai- the ancients called Disposition, or the Arrangement of the
ti', or the several Parts of a Discourse. This department of the inquiry,
ailige- a favourite one with the classical rhetoricians, especially
m;; of the those of the later ages, has, in modern systems of the art,
pa sofa seldom received a place as a distinct branch, and has, in-
di; urse. deed, been generally overlooked altogether; but the con¬
sideration of it suggests illustrations of the laws of elo¬
quence, which claim for it some attention at least, although
we shall not be tempted to dwell long upon it.
In reference to the animation of a discourse, and to every
appeal which it makes to any principles of the mind besides
. ,dle reasoning powers, Cicero has well said, that an eloquent
to is ion' comPos'!ta)n should be constructed on the principle of the
mnd- <^’raax’ rising gradually in its demands on the fancy and
feelings of those to whom it is addressed, in the same ratio
in which it has succeeded in opening the way for their ra¬
tional conviction. This rule is in truth a very simple ap¬
plication of the fundamental proposition of rhetoric ; and
all special directions regarding arrangement will, so far as
they are sound, be immediately deducible from it. Aris¬
totle, desirous, as he always is, to expel the prevailing er¬
rors of his time, by maintaining the due prevalence of the
argumentative element of eloquence, observes that, in de¬
spite of that complication of divisions which already reigned
in the schools, the essential parts common to all argumen¬
tative compositions are two only ; the proposition or state¬
ment of the question, and the proof or argument in support
of it. And tnis is quite true ; for every other portion is
introduced solely for the sake of these two, and has no va¬
lue, unless in so far as it promotes their purpose. In most
cases, however, an argument cannot with advantage be
maintained thus barely ; but a complete discourse may al¬
ways be with little difficulty analysed by a division into four
parts; the Exordium or Introduction, the Proposition or
Statement of the Question, the Proof or Argument, and the
Peroration.
Thekor.
diuni;
The Exordium, when it finds a place, is designed for con¬
ciliating the minds of the persons addressed ; and Quinctilian
reduces to three the dispositions which it should aim at pro-
ducing- Good-will, Attention, and Docility. The materials
of the introduction should be drawn as closely as possible
from the subject of the discourse, and as little as possible
from common-places ; and it therefore follows, that the an¬
cient oratorical practice of keeping a stock of exordia pre¬
pared beforehand, which Cicero generally followed, and which
emosthenes has exemplified by a collection of more than
j y specimens, one or two of them introduced in his extant
harangues, was unsatisfactory and dangerous even for public
speakers, unless used with great judgment, and was quite
preposterous in the case of all other writers. Both for the Rhetoric,
writer and the speaker, but more especially for the latter,
the chief difficulty is, the passing naturally and safely from
the theme suggested in the introduction, to that which is
to be propounded in the next part of the composition.
If we say that the Proposition requires little illustration The propo-
and few precepts, we shall find that Aristotle is with us, sition.
Quinctilian neutral, and the later rhetoricians, both Greek
and Latin, decidedly against us. Even if we professed to
deliver a complete system, we should not be easily induced
to try the student’s patience, by following Severianus, or
the pseudo-Augustin, far through the mazes of the Status
Qucestionis ; but the principles which should guide us in
laying down our proposition, and in choosing it when that
is in our power, are far too little studied (if gross violation
of the principle be a proof that it has not been studied or
understood) by many argumentative writers, and by a still
greater number of argumentative speakers. Preachers are
in this respect decidedly the most faulty class ; and ora¬
tors of other kinds are protected against the error less by
their own familiarity with the principles than by their lia¬
bility to those checks by contradiction which the preacher
wants. The most important rule, and one which is but too
often broken, is to frame in our own minds a clear notion
of the proposition, which involves among other contained
rules that of ascertaining, that what we are about to argue
is truly a proposition, and not a mere term. “ In an ethi •
cal work,” says Whately, “ one may be treating of virtue,
while discussing all or any of these questions—wherein vir¬
tue consists ? whence our notions of it arise ? whence it
derives its obligation ? &c.; but if these questions were con¬
fusedly blended together, or if all of them were treated of
within a short compass, the most just remarks and forcible
arguments would lose their interest and their utility.”
Of the Argumentative, or third portion of the composition, The arg j.
which has been already discussed at such length, little seems nient.
necessary to be added. It must, of course, include the Re¬
futation of an opponent’s argument, as well as the statement
of those by which our own proposition is directly support¬
ed. I he proper places for such refutative arguments, and
the best arrangement of arguments in general, in cases where
the rules drawn from the kind of the argument do not ap¬
ply, have given rise to much discussion, and to many con¬
tradictory rules, from which it is not easy to-extract gene¬
ral laws, or any very positive inference beyond the advice,
to study the aspect of the evidence, and the disposition of
those who are to judge of it. The rule most commonlv
received, which directs that the strongest arguments be
placed first and last, and the weakest in the middle, is sub¬
ject to constantly recurring exceptions, of which we only
cite one from Quinctilian, namely, the case where a harangue
preceding ours has created in the minds of the hearers on
certain points an impression strongly unfavourable to us,
which we must at all hazards endeavour immediately to re¬
move. Under this head, in respect both of their nature
and their place, fall most of those passages occasionally in¬
troduced in argumentative composition, which, under the
names of Narration, Digression, and the like, rhetoricians
have often classed separately as integral parts of a discourse;
and here also there frequently occur fitting occasions for the
introduction of appeals to the feelings.
But the Conclusion or Peroration is the place for pressing The pero-
such appeals to the utmost, to which office it adds that ofration.
bringing together into one view, by a Recapitulation, when
one is thought necessary, the heads of the argument, or at
least the results to which the speaker wishes it to be believed
that they conduct. The Recapitulation is, for those who
are maintaining a weak cause, a favourite and advantageous
place for varnishing over the defects of the proof, by as¬
sumptions of things as proved which have not been proved, 
by exaggeration of the favourable points in our own cause, -
RHETORIC.
214
lihetoric. by the explaining away of such points in the argument op-
—x ' posed to us,—and by other artifices belonging to the nu¬
merous class of Rhetorical Fallacies. In its passionate parts
the peroration has, both in ancient and in modern times,
prompted some of the noblest flights of human eloquence.
Taut If Eloquence depended solely on Style, those lofty pre-
Third : tensions of rhetoricians which were alluded to in the first
The Pr*?‘ paragraph of this paper would be not merely excusable or
tuples of piausibie? but to a considerable extent justified by their re¬
sults. The highest qualities of style indeed are emanations
from the mind; but many of its excellences may be attain¬
ed by industrious practice, conducted in obedience to sys¬
tematic rules. The expression may be feeble, because
words, phrases, and sentences cannot be strong, unless the
thoughts which they represent be strong likewise ; it may
be wanting in precision, because this is another quality
flowing essentially from the nature of the author’s concep¬
tions ; and if ornament be introduced, it may be destitute
of originality and liveliness, because no rules can confer
either the power of felicitous invention or that of extensive
and acute observation. But even in these very particulars,
art, although weak, is not altogether powerless ; accuracy,
or even strength of thinking, and closeness of observation,
may be increased by sound precepts and active exercise,
which, by thus improving the faculties of the intellect, will
necessarily facilitate the expression of its thoughts by lan¬
guage. And, again, if a man can only be taught to appre¬
hend distinctly the limits of the province within which his
mind may act with advantage, and to adapt the chaiacter of
his style to that of his natural powers, the rules of compo¬
sition may suffice to render his style, if not positively good,
at least negatively faultless.
The true But Style, instead of solely constituting eloquence, might,
place of if we chose to court contradiction by stating a truth in the
Style as a shape 0f a paradox, be even said to be no essential part of it.
rhetorical an unaVoidable inference from the principles which we
—"^ave laid down, that all eloquence is relative. The ha¬
rangues which a chief in the centre of Africa delivers to
his fellow-savages, or by which a demagogue in religion or
politics excites an uneducated mob, such as unfortunately
may still be found in our country as well as in others, may
be truly and powerfully eloquent, because fitted beyond all
other discourses for convincing and impelling to action the
persons on whose understanding and will they are designed
to operate ; and yet, not only may these orations contain
constant violations of all rules of style, except those few
which are directly inferable to the thought, but they may
owe to such violations no mean part of their persuasive
efficacy. This view, however, is stated solely for the pur¬
pose of guarding against error in our notions as to the
place which style really holds as an element of eloquence.
In all the applications of preceptive systems of the art in
civilized and cultivated society, or, in other words, in all
cases in which such preceptive systems can arise, the rules
of style must be obeyed more or less closely, and the acqui¬
sition of them is indispensable for every student of rhetoric.
Reference But the details of the subject cannot here be taught,
to works Our plan is that of a mere outline, and in filling it up we
on style, confine ourselves to an attempt to illustrate some of those
points which bear most strongly on the mental laws of rhe¬
torical belief. Those useful rules which affect style chiefly
or essentially as such, may be satisfactorily learned from
many works of different kinds, both in our own language,
and in others, both ancient and modern. The principles of
style in the classical tongues are not truths foreign to our
own, but only truths which, always analogically useful, do in
many instances hold as to all languages, while in some they
cannot be applied to the tongues of modern Europe, without
cautions and modifications : we may learn much from Aris¬
totle, Quinctilian, Dionysius of Halicarnassus, and even from
the later rhetoricians and critics, Greek as well as Latin. Rhetoric. ^
On English style we have many good works : Campbell,s—^
Blair, Karnes, and Whately, abound with valuable illustra¬
tions of the subject in its relation to rhetorical principles;
and of those treatises which are designed chiefly as manuals
of style, without aiming at a general exposition of the phi¬
losophical principles of eloquence, more than one might be
safely recommended. Of those works which have attained
reputation in this latter class, none will be found so useful
as one of the latest, Irving’s unpretending and excellent
Elements of English Composition.
We may here confine ourselves almost to a simple enu-The three
meration of those Qualities of Style which are strictly Rhe-rhetorical
torical, and which, availing ourselves of Whately’s exten-qualities o
sion of the analysis proposed by Campbell, we may reduce •ve'
to three : Perspicuity, Vivacity, and Beauty.
The first quality is of course an indispensable requisite in i. Perspi.
compositions of every kind ; and the principles of rhetoric cuity.
remind us, that, while style, in order to be perspicuous at
all, must obey certain general laws, the quality is also in a
very important sense relative to the knowledge and intellect
of those whom the language is intended to instruct, con¬
vince, or persuade. The same statement which is abun¬
dantly perspicuous to one audience, may be quite unintel¬
ligible to another less informed. In the adaptation of
style in this respect to different classes of readers and hear¬
ers, the student cannot be so much aided by any rules as
by his own judgment and observation ; but in order to
avoid, on the one hand, the obscurity which may arise from
conciseness, and, on the other, the wearisomeness which
inevitably attends prolixity, it has been recommended to
repeat the thought and argument in several different forms.
“ each in itself brief, but all together affording such an
expansion of the sense to be conveyed, and so detaining
the mind upon it, as the case may require.” “ Cicero
among the ancients, and Burke among the modern writers,
afford perhaps the most abundant practical exemplifications
of this rule.” But, as we shall speedily discover that an
overflow of figurative language is inconsistent with perspi¬
cuity in all circumstances, we must not be thus tempted to
believe that the style which is least figurative is the most
perspicuous. Illiterate audiences, in particular, are not onlj
pleased with figurative language, but may often by means
of it be made to comprehend a principle, which would have
remained perfectly dark to them if conveyed in abstract and
unimaginative terms.
Vivacity of style is the quality by which it makes its ap-2. Vivaci-
peal to the imagination, or, through that faculty, to the pas- ty-
sions and other active powers. Independently of those con¬
siderations as to the number and arrangement of words,
upon which we cannot here enter, Vivacity is chiefly pro¬
duced by the use of figurative language, which critical and
rhetorical writers have divided into two kinds. Tropes and
Figures. It has been said by some writers of authority, that
the distinction implied in these terms is of little importance,
because, it is added, “ nothing can be built upon it in prac¬
tice, nor can it always be clearly observed.” The language
of the imagination and passions, however, does naturally
fall into two classes, the characteristics of which correspond
substantially with those assigned by the rhetoricians to their
two divisions; and the student of the principles of elo¬
quence may find it worth while to recollect the distinction.
In the former class, which one may consider as properly
Tropes, taking the metaphor as an example, a word is used
in a sense different from its usual and appropriate one. In
the other class, composing the Figures, a word or sentence,
without being either employed in a different sense from
its usual one, or put into any unusual form, derives its figu¬
rative or exciting power merely from the fact, that the form
of expression is not that which an unimpassioned mind
would have used in the place where it occurs, but that
RHETORIC.
Hi iric. which would have suggested itself to one whose feelings or
imagination were at the time highly active : the Interroga¬
tion, the Apostrophe, the Exclamation, and similar rhetorical
figures, may be cited as instances. There is at least one
practical inference deducible from the distinction ; namely,
that the Trope proper may sometimes be safely used by rule,
while the Figure proper will always be ridiculous unless
prompted by genuine emotion. The former may have place
in all the degrees of style, from the calmest to the most
animated; the latter is appropriate to eloquence of a highly
passionate or imaginative cast, and is indeed much more
rarely admissible in written prose composition than in poetry
or in spoken oratory.
3. Kauty. Perspicuity and Vivacity are qualities of style, which mi¬
nister directly to the great purpose of eloquence, and which,
indeed, language must possess before it can reach its rhe¬
torical end by both of its two leading paths; the former
being essential for the conviction of the understanding, and
the latter for the awakening of the fancy and the feelings.
The same thing cannot be said, at least not without quali¬
fication, as to the third quality of style, namely, Beauty or
Elegance, whose immediate purpose is the gratification of
taste. Either in this place, or at a former stage of the in¬
quiry, there might have been room for some curious specu¬
lations as to the functions which taste really exercises as an
oratorical instrument of belief; but the practical inferences,
on which alone it is proper to enter, are very plain, and may
be very briefly stated. If it is found that the gratification
of the taste of those whom we address is likely to impede
our progress towards impressing on their minds the truth
which we wish to teach, we should at once abandon all at¬
tempts to furnish such gratification, and pursue our princi¬
pal end by means of clearness and animation. But if it is
found, as it most usually will be, that our purpose may be
promoted by gratifying the sense of beauty in our hearers,
either through the general elegance of our composition, or
even through longer and more sustained addresses to the
imagination, not issuing in the excitement of passion, but
resting ultimately in the mere pleasure of contemplation,—
we shall be bound to use, so far as we are able, this lawful
means of persuasion ; taking care however to recollect, that,
as soon as we have reason to believe the minds of the
hearers in danger of being tempted towards such a lively
attention to those incidental ornaments of our discourse as
will exclude from their thoughts the main subject of it, we
have thus evidence that it is time to discard the assistant,
which, like a spoiled domestic servant, has begun to play
the nart of the master.
III.
The last division of the three, in which we undertook to
treat the subject of this paper, embraces what may be call¬
ed the Criticism of Rhetoric.
This branch, as it must present itself to the student,
should engage him in an examination of the most cele¬
brated efforts of eloquence which have been given to the
world, either by speech or by writing, in ancient as well as
in modern times; the philosophical principles of the art be¬
ing assumed throughout as the standard, and the analysis
of the works being instituted for the purpose of discovering
the extent and particulars of their obedience to those funda¬
mental laws, or their departure from them. In reflecting,
however, on the limits within which the plan of this work
necessarily and properly restricts our contribution to it, we
have more than once, convinced of the inadequacy of all
that could be here performed, towards aiding the student
in this interesting and valuable department of his train¬
ing, felt strongly inclined to content ourselves with a brief
though earnest exhortation to this branch of rhetorical stu ¬
dies, as indispensable for all who would derive full advan-
215
tage from a systematic acquaintance with the principles. Rhetoric.
But there is one consideration which imperatively forbids
this. We would not willingly, it is true, be suspected of
hoping that wre shall be able to convert to the orthodox
doctrine any wdio remain incredulous after perusing the
higher and more elaborate works on rhetoric ; but our out¬
line may fall into the hands of some who either have not
studied the subject at all, or have not derived their notions
of it from the best sources. To such readers, indeed, our
illustrations are particularly addressed; and we shall have
failed altogether in our purpose, if our mode of treating the
subject should lead to a radical misapprehension of the re¬
lative importance belonging to the several branches into
which the study of rhetoric divides itself; a result which
would be not unlikely to happen, if one essential depart¬
ment were dismissed with a simple recommendation, how¬
ever warm.
But the plan adopted in our systematic section, resemb- Critical
ling that of a map, in which the chief cities of an empire 0.bserva-
are laid down in their relative bearings, is inapplicable to be
the present division, in which, as we assume the office offine(] to j>0.
topographers, we must select one or two narrow districts litical ora-
as the scene of our labours. The province from which our ton-,
very few specimens will be exclusively selected, is that of
Political Oratory, which offers to the student of eloquence
peculiar advantages, arising chiefly from the universally-
acknowledged excellence pf the ancient masterpieces, from
the high merit, as well as interest, of many works of the
kind in our own country, and from the immense variety
which the compositions display, both in matter and in form.
In many of the qualities essential to eloquent composi-1. Anciknt
tion, the historical writings of the moderns, and some off>RATORY-
their philosophical works, will, at least, suffer no dishonour !ts ®uPe-
by comparison with those of the ancients; although on
close and comprehensive parallel they cannot, with respect tiern times,
to the mere manner of delivery, be fairly said to equal the
philosophy and history of the heathen world. But, in Public
Speaking, the Eloquence of the Ancients has left modern
oratory at an immeasureable distance ; and in this field the
Greeks are even farther superior to the Romans, than these ,
are to the nations of Christian Europe.
The great age of the Grecian Orators embraces scarcely The great
three generations, and the most celebrated names are to beageofGre-
found about the middle of the period, all within the petty c'an oratu-
district of Attica. The critics of the Alexandrian school,1-^
when they issued in a later time that sovereign decree, wffiich
declared certain authors and no others, in every department
of literature, to be classical and worthy of study, admitted The ten
into their approved list ten Attic orators, of each of w hom,Attic ora-
excepting Hyperides, we possess some remains. Antiphon,tors-
Andocides, Lycurgus, and Dinarchus, must not here detain
us; and Lysias, Isocrates, and Isaeus, can scarcely receive Lysias,
more attention, although their works are far from being un- Isaeus, and
deserving of study as models of eloquence, and are singu- lswcl';ltes-
larly instructive as illustrating, in many varied cases of pri¬
vate litigation, points which bear upon the merits and charac¬
ter of the two great orators, and which present themselves less
prominently in the political, and even the judicial harangues,
which have been bequeathed to us by these latter. Lysias,
one of the simplest and purest of Attic writers, is especially
commended by the ancient critics for his skill in the intro¬
ductory and narrative parts of his orations; and Dionysius
of Halicarnassus considers Isaeus as closely resembling him,
Avith less real eloquence and less nature. Isocrates, who
merely composed discourses to be delivered by others, and
was the teacher of all the most celebrated orators who suc¬
ceeded him, is one of the greatest masters of style whom
Grecian literature possesses; while he unites this quality
216
R H E
T
O R I C.
Khetoric. with others of a higher class in some of his discourses, such
v~—V—^ as the oration written in the name of Archidamus, which,
with another composition of the same author, is our on y
example of ancient political pamphlets, or argumentative
discussions on temporary topics, avowedly composed tor
circulation, not for oral delivery.
The two
great Attic
orators,
Demos¬
thenes and
yEschines.
The cha¬
racter ot
the genius
of Demos¬
thenes.
But the most exalted place, not among the Athenian ora¬
tors only, but among those of ancient times in general, be¬
longs to the two celebrated contemporaries and rivals, De¬
mosthenes and iEschines, of both of whom we possess ade¬
quate specimens. .
The fame of Demosthenes has suffered less question from
modern critics, than that of any other ancient author what¬
ever ; and no one who studies the works of the mighty Athe¬
nian with intelligence, sensibility, and becoming information,
will dream of dissenting from the universal judgment. 1 he
secret of his success lay unquestionably in that predominant
quality which, difficult or impossible of analysis, but instinc¬
tively felt by his readers, while they are carried along on his
irresistible current of thought and feeling, the ancients called
his vehemence (ds/vonjs),—that strong firmness of soul uutn
which he threw himself upon his subject, grasping its details
in all their relations, forcing them to support him as he hur¬
ried towards the end which lay before him, and kindling them,
by the flashes of his imagination and passion, into lights
which illuminated his headlong course. Dionysius, one of
his best critics,—who analyses his style into a combination
of all those which had preceded, uniting, in particular, the
austerity of the early orators and historians with the polish
of the hater,—describes the effects of his orations upon the
feelings, when compared with that which is produced by such
compositions as those of Isocrates, by saying that the latter
leave us in the same contemplative mood as if we had been
listening to strains of exquisite music, while the former in¬
spire us by turns with all the passions incident to humanity,
and with an agitation as fierce as that which raged among
the initiated during the celebration of the mystic rites of
Cybele. And yet the man who, by stamping upon his sub¬
ject the impress of his own vigorous and impassioned mind,
has made himself thus eloquent in the very loftiest sense
which the word can bear, attained this high excellence and
unchallenged fame by a course of self-training the most
severe that is on record, and, after all his exertions, wanted
altogether many of those lesser attractions, both of matter
and of style, which have of themselves been sufficient to
establish the fame of meaner orators. A writer in the Edin¬
burgh Review in 1820, whose hand is easily recognisable
as the same which annexed the Dissertation on the Elo¬
quence of the Ancients to the collected edition of Lord
Brougham’s speeches, has not one whit overstated the amount
of Demosthenes’s deficiencies, in describing him as having
gained his ascendancy “ without any ostentation of profound
reflection or philosophical remark—with few attempts at
generalization—without the glare and attraction of promi¬
nent ornaments—with extremely few, and those not very
successful, instances of the tender and pathetic—with a
considerable degree of coarseness, and what we should call
vulgarity—and absolutely without any pretension to wit or
humour!” “ Could the manner of Demosthenes be copied,”
says David Hume, with an unusual warmth of commendation,
“ its success would be infallible over a modern assembly.
It is rapid harmony exactly adjusted to the sense; it is vehe¬
ment reasoning, without any appearance of art; it is disdain,
anger, boldness, freedom, involved in a continued stream of
argument; and, of all human productions, the orations of
Demosthenes present to us the models which approach the
nearest to perfection.”
It would be easy, if our limits allowed us, to indicate, in
every one of the political orations of Demosthenes, instances
illustrating his favourite and characteristic methods of influ-
encino- his hearers his striking and lively narratives of in- Hhefn- In¬
teresting facts, like the scene at Athens on the taking offn
Elatea, painted in the oration for the Crown ;-the happy J
illustrations from familiar life which abound everywherelustr^ .
the metaphors few and brief, and effective in proportion toofthem fe%
their briefness and rarity, like the example in the first Philip-ner of i* J
pic, where Philip is represented as a hunter, and the Athe-mosth®| f
nians as his prey lying quietly within the toils; tliose tremen¬
dous invectives launched by turns against Philip and his Athe¬
nian partisans those apparently unpremeditated bursts of
feeling, in which every strong emotion, personal or politi¬
cal, in the minds of the audience, is awakened by an honest, ,
indignant, conversational remonstrance,—a class of appeals t
exemplified in the celebrated reproach to the Athenians for
their newsmonging indolence, while events the most ex¬
traordinary were summoning them loudly to action (intro- j,
duced originally in the first Philippic, and again more briefly , j
in the speech on Philip’s Letter)and those grandest and
most sustained flights of all, in which the nationality ot
Greece, and of Attica, the proudest tribe of Grecians, is at
once aroused and flattered by the most dramatic exhibitions
of their ancient glory and greatness. For those who wteh
to see most of the orator’s characteristics developed within
a moderate compass, none of the orations perhaps is better
suited than the third Philippic. His favourite paradoxical
argument, that the utter wretchedness of the Athenian af¬
fairs at that juncture, caused, as it had been, by their own
shameful inactivity, gave them truly the best reason to
hope for success on a change of measures,—is followed by
an argument, notunlike Canning’s in 1826 for the war with
Spain5, in which the speaker maintains that peace is unattain¬
able from the position and character of the enemy, whose
treachery is exemplified in a style of the most powerful
irony: the arbitrary government of Philip, and its results, are
set in strong contrast to the nature and consequences of the
liberal supremacy which Athens, Sparta, and Ihebes, had
by turns exercised over the free states of Greece : a bitteily
contemptuous simile, the celebrated one of the heir and the
slave, introduces a noble parallel between ancient honesty
and modern corruption : the story of Euphraeus adds in¬
dividual interest to the general picture of the misusage of
the Greeks by Philip, which receives its finishing touches
in the indignantly sarcastic description of the fate which
had befallen Philip’s submissive victims, the men ot Oreum
and Eretria: and the brief practical summary of advices
which closes the speech is ushered in by a declaration which
the speaker thunders in the ears of the Athenian people,
with the majesty of a king commanding his subjects—-that
if all mankind should consent to be slaves, the struggle for
liberty must still be maintained by them, wrho of old had
been "so proudly illustrious and free.
But both Demosthenes and iEschines may be studied toDemW
most advantage in the extant orations delivered by each o. ^.
them on tw7o occasions, in which their personal character and
fortunes were at stake. The former of the two was that Cantor
which Demosthenes impeached his rival for corruption andti0nss
misconduct in the famous Embassy to Philip. His speech gau^t'
in support of the accusation is as characteristic as any ofotne.
his which we possess, and, while it abounds with his other
excellencies, is particularly happy in its wealth of pictu¬
resque and pointed incident; Philip’s oath in the tavern,
the anecdote of Satyrus, the supper of Phaidimos, and the
melancholy group of the Olynthian prisoners, being singu¬
larly beautiful examples of this kind. I he answer of /Eschi-
nes is yet finer, being, indeed, the acknowledged master¬
piece of that most skilful and eloquent orator, whose fame,
but, for the overshadowing neighbourhood of his immortal
rival, would have grown up higher and more widely than
that of any other public speaker of the ancient world. But
these two orations on the <n-aea<ir^s<s^iia, as they are usually
called, are not so well fitted to become rhetorical exercises
RHETORIC.
21'
Rl oric. as the other two, being the Orations on the Crown, or the
‘ v-.—-' accusation and defence of Ctesiphon. Upon these we must
enter more minutely, the latter being by far the most ad¬
mirable of Demosthenes’s works.
ITfU While the Athenians were engaged in their struggle
e oral ns on against Philip, Ctesiphon had moved and carried in the
Its the own. asseriibly of the people a decree for honouring Demos¬
thenes with a civic crown, as a benefactor of his country.
After the battle of Chmronaea had made Greece truly a
province of Macedon, Philip and his son, by a very sound
policy, allowed the Greek citizens to fight out their old
political quarrels; and Athens continued to be torn in
pieces by her two factions, as incessantly as when the one,
headed by Demosthenes, had opposed Philip to the death,
and the other, actuated by very various motives, and led by
yEschines in alliance with the virtuous Phocion and others
of the aristocratic party, had urged early submission to the
conqueror. The latter faction eagerly seized Ctesiphon’s
decree as a, means of crushing Demosthenes. It was grossly
and undeniably illegal in two respects; having been issued
before Demosthenes had given in his accounts for certain
public offices which he then held, and having directed the
proclamation of the honour to be made in the theatre, not
in one of the national assemblies; both of which acts were
forbidden by subsisting laws. If, then, the sole end had
been to procure a conviction against Ctesiphon, and if the
a | court appointed to try him had been well informed and im¬
partial, the issue could not have been for a moment doubt¬
ful. The court, however, possessed neither of these qualifi¬
cations ; and, moreover, although Ctesiphon was nominally
v the person impeached, yet the sentence against him was
avowedly intended to be used as a vote of censure on the
ii! whole political conduct of Demosthenes, and the proceed-
re ings would not, to the slightest extent, have answered the
purpose of their promoters unless this should be their un¬
derstood result. On this ground both parties prepared to
lj | %ht ^e battle ; and the contest, prompted by party spi¬
ke ; nt and personal animosity, involving in its decision no great
it)’ political question, and debased in its progress by number-
j less instances of calumny and malevolence on both sides,
of has nevertheless given us two such specimens of eloquence
,es as neither judicial nor political oratory has equalled before
cli ,, j or since.
11 al.’ ^ of 1 hose who recollect that this was the real state of the
:es Tsli0.n qUeSti°n’ wiU admire the ski11 and judgment exhibited by
idi T™-tlL‘s /Eschines in conducting his argument in support of the
ile, 'owe accusation; in which, if we are to believe that the parties
hat understood Ctesiphon to be the real and only defendant, he
for s | cannot be absolved from the charge of having made a most
lad injudicious, and indeed partially irrelevant choice of topics,
and of having by his line of remark wilfully drawn upon
himself the triumphant reply of his adversary.
The exordium is simple, but very fine: it contains a
complaint of factious and unlawful exertions made by the
opposite party, and of an inveterate disuse of certain old
regulations, which disuse had enabled demagogues to car-
ry laws destructive of the constitution: it declares the
right of impeaching, the proposers of such measures to be
the only remaining safeguard of the state; and it concludes
with an animated address, calling on the judges to deal fear¬
lessly with the cause, as the sworn administrators of justice
and as citizens intrusted with the protection of the laws
and of freedom, like soldiers placed in the front of the battle.
I he speaker instantly passes to the strong part of his
case,—-a clear exposition of the several laws which Ctesi¬
phon’s decree was alleged to have transgressed, a proof from
the public records that the decree had in fact violated those
enactments, and a statement and refutation of every so¬
phism by which the adversary could be conceived likely to
support the plea that the laws did not apply to the notorious
tacts. His argument, in all its parts, is completely unan-
vol. xix. J
:df
tepi:(0.
:lii' i„n ji ]
tei- ;umi t.
swerable; but it occupies barely a sixth part of the ora- Rhetoric,
tion; and the words of the decree, assigning as reasons for ''“’"'v'—""'
the honour conferred on Demosthenes, his virtue, his cou¬
rage, and his constant pursuit of the true weal of the state,
give the cue for the commencement of the attack upon him,
the real object of the prosecution. The nominal defendant
is dropped as an incumbrance, and the orator girds himself
manfully for the serious part of the onset. We cannot fol¬
low him through the details of his enemy’s political con¬
duct, piivate life, doubtful pedigree, and faulty oratory, all
of which are described with a plausible minuteness, and
with the keenest sarcasm. Political folly is the slightest of
the charges : Demosthenes is accused, at every step, of po¬
litical dishonesty,—of peculation and corruption,—of favour
to the I ersian king, and co-operation with his views, a
charge which was quite true and quite creditable to the ac¬
cused, but was as skilfully chosen for rousing Athenian pre¬
judices as a charge of combination with France would have
been for exciting an English mob in 1793,—and (which
sounds rather oddly) he is roundly taxed with a secret at¬
tachment to the Macedonian interest, and with the secret
acceptance of bribes from Philip. There were tw'o points
in which J2schines had a strong hold on his antagonist, and
with which he therefore taunts him incessantly: the un¬
happy issue of the war with Philip, which, it is again and
again asserted, had been wholly caused by the policy of
Demosthenes; and that orator’s unfortunate deficiency in
personal courage, which had prompted him to a disgraceful
flight at the battle of Chaeronaea. There are many fine pas¬
sages in the earlier parts of this long review; but the orator
does not begin to rise steadily till, in closing the main sec¬
tion of his argument under this head, he recalls the glory
of the Persian times, and contrasts the simple honours which
rewarded the patriotism of Miltiades, Aristides, and the sol¬
diers who conquered in the battle of the Strymon, with the
profuse decorations now every day lavished on the chiefs of
petty factions.
He then reminds the judges that, after all, from the terms
of those articles of impeachment which they sat there to
try, even his failure in convincing them that Demosthenes
was a bad man and a bad citizen would not entitle Ctesi¬
phon to an acquittal, since his decree, as proved in the first
part of the argument, was at any rate manifestly illegal: he
urges them to insist on Ctesiphon or his advocate keeping
closely to the point; and he exhorts them yet more strenu”
ously to compel his adherence to the division of the argu¬
ment which JSschines had laid down, and still more parti¬
cularly to the order of the topics adopted in that division.
He now proceeds with increased rapidity and vehemence.
He anticipates Demosthenes’s passionate style of address,
cautions the judges against its effects, and endeavours to
render it ridiculous by mimicry. He answers by anticipa¬
tion, and with much manliness and candour, though with
severe recrimination, the personal abuse which he profess¬
ed to be certain that Demosthenes would heap upon him.
He then, entering on his peroration, passes to a sum- The pero-
mary of the whole argument, amounting to this, that the ration,
decree was illegal, and that, although it had been perfectly
regular, Demosthenes was utterly unworthy of the honours
which it conferred. He thence rises into one of the noblest
and most effective exhortations which the records of oratory
have to exhibit; opening with skilfully chosen instances of
the severity with which the existing laws had recently
punished citizens who deserted their country, as Demos¬
thenes had deserted his place in battle and his duty as an
adviser of the state ; reminding the judges of those feelings
of shame with which the Athenians would appear in the
presence of Greece at the approaching national convocation,
if they should have failed to brand with infamy the destroyer
of their country ; and closing with what is perhaps the very
grandest extant example of solemn imaginative eloquence.
2 e
218
RHETORIC.
Rhetoric. He calls on the judges to conceive the wise and good of old
^ , ' as rising and surrounding the tribunal,—Solon entreating
the judges to respect their oaths and the laws,—Aristides
in anguish deploring the perversion of justice. “ L hink ye
not,” exclaims he in conclusion, “ think ye not that 1 he-
mistocles, and they who died at Marathon and at Plataea,
ay, and the very graves of your forefathers,—will utter
groans, if he who avows that he conspired with the barba¬
rians against the Greeks shall be publicly honoured by
vour decree ?” It is provoking to be compelled to add, that
this admirable close does not conclude the oration. A tew
common-place words of application would have wound up
the discourse in the usual way ; and these according y s
chines does not fail to insert; but not till, with the sound
of his own magnificent exorcism still ringing in his ears, he
has marred everything by a tragic invocation of toe earth
and the sun, and virtue, and intelligence, and instruction,
conceived in the very worst taste of Euripides, all but non¬
sensical in itself, misplaced in any oration, and in this a most
humiliating spectacle of incorrect judgment degrading and
disarming genius. , . „ . . .
Every one knows what was the issue of the contest.
Ctesiphon was acquitted ; and his accuser, having fai ed in
gaining the number of votes which would have protected the
charge from being considered frivolous and malicious, was
fined, and compelled to go into exile. We do not possess
such materials as enable us to judge of the relative strengt i
of the two factions among the numerous judges who pro¬
nounced this decision ; but the splendid oration of Demos¬
thenes for the defence, now perused by us under every pos¬
sible disadvantage, would tempt us to believe that, m an
audience so volatile and susceptible as the Athenians, w 10
were confessedly on many occasions impelled hither and
thither by the orators at their will, even party-spirit may
for once have been compelled to deny its own nature, and
to become silent and impartial.
Analysis of The oration of Demosthenes, admirable though it be, will
the oration not call for a more minute analysis than that of iEschmes;
of Demos- ^1, because it is better known and more generally acces-
tnenes on gjb}ej and because its strain may in part be anticipated from
the outline which has just been given. Many of its most
striking beauties we must pass unnoticed, and we can but
indicate one or two others; such as the skill of insinuation
throughout, with which the orator endeavours at once to
kindle the feelings of his own party, and to conciliate those
of the other ; the frequent felicity of illustration, as where
he compares iEschines to a physician, who, after having
watched his patient through a long sickness, propounds his
remedies for the first time on the day of the funeral; the
fine sketches of character, like that noble one of Philip,
crippled in every member of his body, but unsubdued in
mind, and burning with the love of power and honour.
The Exordium is exceedingly skilful. After briefly claim¬
ing credit for good will, the speaker protests, with a very
well acted indignation, against the attempt of his adversary
to bind him to a particular order of topics, which, he as¬
serts, the judges cannot countenance without violating their
oath and every principle of justice : he then, after adverting
to his own disadvantages, declares with artful earnestness,
that the turn which iEschines had given to the accusation
had, as he now found, put the character of Demosthenes
himself distinctly in issue, forcing him, whether he would or
not, to defend the whole tenor of his public life: he asserts
peremptorily, that if iEschines had confined himself to the
matters really suggested by the articles of impeachment, he,
in the defence, would have entered at once on the question
of the legality of the decree, but that he was now obliged
to follow a different course in order to dispel unfounded
prejudices: and he closes his introduction by insinuations
against the accuser, both for his long delay in bringing the
charge, and for the form in which it was at length presented.
the crown.
The exor¬
dium.
He commences the body of the oration by intimating his Rhetoric
intention to answer specifically each article of the charge,
after he shall have premised a general view of the state of P
affairs when he first entered on political life. We cannot fol- J
low him through the details by which he redeems, or seems
to redeem, this promise ; but two or three points may be se¬
lected as prominently instructive. Indignant denials of un¬
proved charges are thrown out at the very commencement,
and accompanied by that overwhelming strength of recrimi¬
nation which is exerted in almost every page of the whole
speech : again and again, from the very opening of the argu¬
ment, he protests that his line of reasoning had been forced
on him by his adversary ; and not till after he had endeavour¬
ed to destroy the whole credit of the accuser, by repeated and
detailed charges of gross dishonesty and corruption, does he
venture to approach the articles of impeachment themselves.
At length he recites them, and enters on his answer; but, pro¬
testing once more against the accuser’s tactics, he professes
himself compelled to defend, in the first place, that part of
the decree which sets forth his own character, which he vin¬
dicates by a long and animated history. He then, with a
contemptuous negligence of expression, intimates that there
seems to be no other task left him, than to prove the strict
legality of the decree, in favour of which he delivers an ar¬
gument extending to about one twentieth part of the whole
discourse. On this point, which was the one formally at
issue, his defence is as lame as can well be conceived:
Aeschines, indeed, by his arguments in anticipation, had
beaten away from beneath his feet all the ground on which
he could have hoped to stand : one such plea, however, from
the existence of a contradictory law, he does plausibly
support; and one unanticipated ground which he urges,
intended as a denial of the fact, proves, on close examina¬
tion, to amount nearly to this, that although he had not ac¬
counted when the decree was passed, he had done so before
the accusation was brought, and his accounts had not been
challenged.
But the great orator, strong as was his faith in the legal
inaptitude and factious prepossessions of the judges, dared
not to close his case on such sophisms as this; and ac¬
cordingly, when he leaves the question as to the legality
of the decree, never again to mention it, the oration is not
quite half over. He immediately resumes his former de¬
tail of facts, grappling, however, more and more closely
with ASschines, and following up every proof of his own
patriotism and sagacity with a stinging contrast between
his conduct and that of his enemy. Of the two points
on which his argument wTas weakest, the one, his own per¬
sonal courage, does not draw from him a single word; but
the other, the undeniable failure of the policy which he
had advised, it behoved him to touch; and as it was a mat¬
ter in which, till some answer should be attempted, there
might prevail in the minds of the audience a lurking con¬
viction ruinous to Demosthenes and his cause, he sum¬
mons up all his energies to dislodge the impression, in¬
troducing the subject boldly almost immediately after he
had dismissed the legal argument, and disposing of itind”16
of his noblest appeals'to national pride and the sense or ho¬
nour. This magnificent passage of the speech is composed
in the same lofty key in which we heard the orator closing
the third Philippic : it rolls on in a mingled flood of rapid
illustration, of proudly patriotic spirit, and of declarations
of that love of freedom which must burn in Athens thoug
all the world besides rvere dark; and it is terminated by
the tremendous oath, in which the brave who had died m
battle for their country are called as witnesses to the trut
of the principles which the speaker maintained. 1 his n10*
eloquent and celebrated passage is not an argument: it wi
bear no analysis as such; but it is one of the most strong y
felt and admirably wrought of all addresses to the feelings
of national honour, pride, and independence. The alterna-
t
R II E T O R I C.
HI iric-
Tin ero-
ratii.
Thf rre-
cian io-
quei v of
the wer
Em] e.
The?3-
queife of
Roir md
ofC'ro.
tions of argumentative with narrative matter which make up
' the staple of the oration are next resumed, and close at last
in a remonstrance against the unfairness of the comparison
proposed by Jischines, between the honours of the ancient
times and those now conferred.
A short peroration follows, in which Demosthenes, with¬
out attempting any summary, claims for himself, and de¬
nies to his rival, credit for possessing what he maintains to
be the two principal qualifications of a good citizen; namely,
unchangeable love for his country, and a constant inclina¬
tion to prompt his countrymen to noble and ambitious deeds.
The foreign faction are then painted with a few bold and
hurried strokes ; and the oration closes with a prayer to the
gods to convert them if they will be converted, and if they
will not, to cut them off from among the people, destroying
a few men that the nation may be saved.
We had designed to attempt exhibiting the eloquence
of the great Attic masters in a yet stronger light, by con¬
trasting it with specimens from the lowest ages of Greek
oratory; and for that purpose we had selected one or two
disputations of the learned and skilful sophist Libanius, the
panegyrist of Julian the Apostate. Want of space, how¬
ever, compels us to abandon this intention; and as the
same cause prevents us from entering minutely on the Ora¬
tions of Cicero, we prefer leaving these altogether untouch¬
ed, to passing them with a few vague generalities. The
characteristics of Cicero’s admirable eloquence, and the dif¬
ferences between it and that of Demosthenes, are matters
familiar to every one ; and the study of the Latin orator is
more common than that of the Greek, nearly in the inverse
proportion of the real merits of the two.
219
mens of oratory; and indeed, for those who have purity of Rhetoric.
taste enough to relish the severer graces of a manly and prac-
tical eloquence, always drawing its materials from a vigorous
and richly stored understanding, always animated by at least
a calm and lofty feeling of truth and freedom, and sometimes
inspired by a genuine and rapid enthusiasm, but never
stooping to be graceful, nor pausing to gather ornaments
on its way,—for minds which can appreciate eloquence like
this, the speeches of box will form a treasure of models, in
which they will not only find successful exemplifications of
most of the principles of eloquence, but much that will remind
them of the calmer moods of Demosthenes. But several The speecii-
others of our British statesmen, especially of those whoes ofGrat-
flourished in the end of last century and the earliest years tan,^rs^ine»
of this, deserve from the student of eloquence more indus-^ml Sheri'
trious study than those two great men. Among these, we^'
can do no more than name Grattan, Erskine, and Sheridan ;
and we pause at the threshold of the present age, namin«-
no man who is still alive.
But of the political orators who have preceded the present The three
time both in the last century and this, by far the most re-great ora-
markable, in a merely rhetorical point of view, were these tors-
three ; Chatham, Burke, and Canning.
II. M ERN
OrA'J ,V,
The
meter
politic
orator n
(heat
lain.
•n-
'be spilh
5 Of p
id Eo
Aristotle, in his Rhetoric, makes an observation which
has been sometimes treated as an extravagant paradox. He
says that courts of law are the great field for the display of
impassioned eloquence; and that, on the other hand, deli¬
berative assemblies, being convened for the purpose of de¬
termining on their own affairs, will always force a speaker
to keep to the point, and are of all audiences the most in¬
tolerant of declamation. Now, with regard to the judicial
tribunals of Greece in the philosopher’s own time, the first
part of his assertion was unfortunately quite true ; and as
to the latter part, if the proceedings in the Ecclesise of
Athens did not justify it, which they probably did, those in
our own British houses of parliament, which may still be
considered as the only great modern schools of political
eloquence, have most signally demonstrated its truth. The
eloquence of our statesmen is remarkable for its tone of
practical sense, the closeness of its adherence to the busi¬
ness immediately in hand, and its general avoidance of ora¬
torical excitement and display, even on occasions when
these are justly called for. The character of our great
speakers as statesmen likewise has been inextricably mixed
up with the consideration of their strictly oratorical merits;
and hence more than one of them hold in universal estima¬
tion a rank as orators, which they owe in no mean degree
to their talent and success as political leaders. Altogether,
while there has generally prevailed among us, and more es¬
pecially till the beginning of the present century, a ten¬
dency to depreciate unduly the eloquence of our statesmen,
there are yet very few of them indeed whose works could
be recommended, unless with much qualification and explana¬
tion, as models for the rhetorical student. The speeches of
the younger Pitt, eminently characteristic both in grasp of
intellect and haughty stubbornness of will, often admirable
and masterly as details of facts or expositions of principles,
and frequently most highly successful in the speaker’s fa-
younte tone of contemptuous recriminative sarcasm, are but
indifferently adapted for the end which we at present have in
view. Those of Fox are entitled to rank far higher as speci¬
Very many of Chatham’s speeches are unreported ; many The elo-
of the earlier ones have reached us with much distortion; quence of
and there are but a very few in which we can believe our- Lord Chat-
selves to be listening throughout to the exact words of the113"1*
speaker. But enough remains to convince us that Chatham
was the most powerful and striking political orator whom our
country has ever produced. His celebrated youthful retort
to the elder Horace W alpole bears unequivocal marks of
being, in the shape in which we possess it, the manufacture
of Samuel Johnson ; and we have scarcely any speech com-
pletely and genuinely reported, which was delivered before
his fiftieth year. In the orations succeeding that time, our
recollection of the speaker’s age and lofty position in the
state prepares our minds to harmonize with the tone of ad¬
dress, and to consider that as noble boldness, which in a
younger and meaner man might have received another
name. The tone is never varied ; it is always uncompro¬
mising, stern, and admonitory: the speaker is not an advo¬
cate devising means to conciliate and persuade, but a preach¬
er of truth and right, denouncing judgments on political trans¬
gression. Chatham’s mind never grew old; to the last hour
of his public life the feelings glowed as passionately, and
prompted images as vivid, and alternately checked, and im¬
pelled, and transformed the language, in figures as abrupt
and varied, as in the morning of his youth and dawning am¬
bition ; the sickness and decay of the body were overcome
by the resistless energy of the fiery souland the British
House of Lords trembled before the cripple who stood up
feebly in the midst of them, to grow strong as he spoke
by the impulse of his own fervent imagination. The idol
of Chatham s mind wras the baronial constitution of Eng¬
land as confirmed in Magna Charta, which, indeed, with
the Petition and Bill of Rights, he himself called the Eng¬
lishman’s political bible: all the strong and diversified
powers of his intellect, in observation, judgment, and rapidly
convincing argument, and all the array of his chivalrously
generous feelings, did continual homage at the one sacred
shrine: attempts from below to widen the area of the poli¬
tical edifice, that the mass of the people might come in, the
aristocratic Whig would have laughed to scorn: insidious
endeavours from above and within to shake the pillars of the
temple, roused him repeatedly to overwhelming indignation.
His eloquence found its most favourable field of display in
two questions of his time : the famous elections of Wilkes for
Middlesex, which were made the occasion of fierce debates
as to the constitutional rights of the subject; and the more
, u
Luc
N
220
Rhetoric.
The elo¬
quence (
Eurke.
It II E T 0 R I C.
important discussions on the American war. The formei of
these themes, in which Chatham stood forth as the cham¬
pion of the people against the supposed usurpation ot the
House of Commons, drew from him some of his most elec¬
tric flashes of passion and imagery. One is the speech in
1770, on the Marquis of Rockingham’s motion for an inquiry
into the state of the nation; in which occurs the splendid
passage beginning with the bold prayer for the prevalence
of discord, if freedom could not otherwise be preserve ,
thence passing to the parallel between the scriptural records
and the charters of the English constitution, and ending
with the stern allusion to the value which the Revolution
of 1688 possessed as a warning to succeeding British mo-
narchs. But it is to the American question that we owe
his finest speeches; and on this subject we have a series of
change of party, had another and stronger disadvantage in Rhetoric,
his own mind; namely, that of defending and representing as
paramount a series of principles m politics and legislation
which, if he had not substantively denied their truth, he had
at least, in common with his party, always represented as
subordinate to other principles which it was now his task to
decry But the man of genius did not shrink from the un¬
dertaking, and the powers of his remarkable mind bore him
triumphantly through it; for no discourse could have been
more skilfully conducted, or better calculated to make a
strong impression. He even labours again and again to
enlist in his new cause those feelings in favour of constitu¬
tional freedom, which he had so long been accustomed to
rally round him ; but he rests his hopes of success mainly
on the excitement of other ideas and feelings, which he
his finest speeches; and on this subject we have as . . t fancv in colours as bright as any in which his
harangues, exhibiting in admirable union the intellectual, P ^ ^ J The horr"r 0f bloodshed, attach-
the imaginative, and the passionate elements of mat y, I ^ and fear of anarchy, now hold in the writer’s
self-correction, timent of chivalrous devotion to kings and ladies is aroused
and anxious and solemn repetition finpst nf a11 18 un
sudden self-correction, timent ot chivalrous aevouon iu
The finest of all is un- by that beautifully and pathetically romantic picture of the
Queen of France as the morning star : the departure ot the
ancient days of knightly strength and honour is seriously
and warmly deplored; their very vices, it is declared, have
o-iven place to others worse, and their religious superstition is
boldly preferred to the philosophical superstition ot the mo¬
dern sceptics. Among Burke’s speeches, the masterpieces
are admittedly those on the impeachment of W arren Hast¬
ings, which compose a field too wide to be here surveyed.
Of the minor speeches there is scarcely one that is not both
characteristic and highly instructive. None of them pos¬
sesses greater variety than the speech of 1775 for Concilia¬
tion with America ; the beauties of which it is not easy to
select: the vision of the guardian angel, who, drawing
aside a curtain, displays the glories of Britain in sunshine,
darkened but by one faint and distant spot (an image
Burke’s speeches and political pamphlets compose by far which, like many oflrers onhe^e je^er hovers
the most valuable body of lessons in eloquence which our ^ v^.f ^
doubtedly the speech on the address to the throne in No¬
vember 1777. But no parliamentary speech whatever is more
interesting, or more honourable to the speaker, than the ex¬
temporaneous address elicited from the old man in the same
year, by the ministerial defence of the employment ot the
Indians in America. In the imperfectly reported speech
which he delivered on that memorable evening, his last in
public life, when he fell down in convulsions, on rising to
reply to the attacks of the Duke of Richmond, he related
the whole history of the w'ar with America; he repeated the
predictions which he had himself day after day pronounce
as warnings to the state ; and, like a dying prophet reproach-
in0’ an unbelieving generation, he followed his recital ot
every prediction by the words, “ And so it proved.
language possesses. They instruct us sometimes by those
failures into which the orator was betrayed by his teeming,
imaginative, and exciteable genius; but they teach us at
least as often by examples of the most signal and splendid
success. As Burke, more than any other of our statesmen,
nourished the ambition of rivalling ancient eloquence, so his
works, in the variety of their oratorical qualities, and in the
finish which they frequently exhibit, do unquestionably come
nearer than any others to the ancient character. 1 hey are,
it is true, in their prevailing manner, more like to the ornate
and redundant elocution of Cicero, than to the severe sim¬
plicity of the great Athenian; but some of their happiest
images and thoughts are derived from Demosthenes, and
some equally happy are not unworthy of him. Burke’s style,
while it is highly argumentative, is distinguished, beyond
in the House of Commons) ; the picturesque description of
the kingdom of the backwoodsmen; the animated appeals
to English freedom and free habits, like that in which he
tells his hearers, that if they preach unconstitutional doc¬
trines to the Americans, their English speech will betray
them ; the bold figures by which he introduces the resolu¬
tions which he was to move ; and the classical image o
the temple of peace, with which the oration closes. I he
speech of 1780, on Economical Reform, is at once manly,
practical, and well reasoned, and full of the most happily-
conceived ridicule. The celebrated speech at Bristol, and
that on Fox’s East India Bill, although possessing high ora¬
torical merit, and abounding with fine passages, are yet less
valuable to the student than to the politician. The speech
on the Nabob of Arcot’s Debts exhibits Burke at once in his
while it is highly argumentative, is mscinguisiieu, ueyunu un me —— ~ , ia f.,11 0f
that of any other political writer or speaker, for the conti- full strength, and with much of ns w > oicturesque
nual distrust which it exhibits in the hearers’ ability or wil- pertinent inferences from granted facts , c p 1
.. r. ii . •    t™iiviaiTori; • m-irl nrlnrnpfl bv a nrotusion ot oratorical
lingness to follow trains of pure argument: the imagina¬
tion is constantly excited by illustration and imagery: and,
to use our rhetorical terminology, the favourite argument
is the example, instances real and fictitious being crowded
upon each other, as if the speaker were resolutely deter¬
mined to appropriate one to every individual who listened
to him ; and the argument being at length usually closed by
a strongly worded aphorism, sometimes true and as often
erroneous, very seldom logically proved by the arguments
which have preceded it, but always strikingly illustrated by
them, and exhibited in the most conciliating and attrac¬
tive light. Perhaps Burke’s oratorical skill and genius are w.      .
not anywhere displayed so remarkably as in his Reflections could be complete which should not analyse, by way 0 _
on the Revolution of France, in which the writer, besides parison, the oratory of one or more of his^nvals w io
the prejudice to which he exposed himself by his sudden not yet quitted the scene. In Canning s speecne ,
peruneiit iiueituiuca iiuiii  j. / ,
oriental imagery ; and adorned by a profusion ot oratonca
figures, varying in character and success from the grand
image of Hyder Ali and the cloud (after Demosthenes),
down to the familiar one which represents the minister as
sowing corruption broadcast, and the disgusting one in
which one of the orator’s most disliked adversaries is com
pared to the most unclean of animals.
Of Canning we mean to say very little, besides recom-The^
mending his speeches to the student as exceedingly instruc
tive lessons. They are in the hands, and familiar to t e
recollection, of everv one ; and no estimate of their merits
- -..-al-l-I 1 1  — —/"WlWIi*
R H I
ne. orator seldom rises into strong passion himself, and never
““''elevates the audience along with him: the loftiest atmo¬
sphere in which he ever moves is that of noble and gene¬
rous feeling, expressed with warmth enough to kindle its
glow in the breasts of others, but never so warmly as to de¬
prive either them or the speaker of perfect self-possession.
ihe direct and ultimate appeal to the imagination is practis¬
ed much oftener and more boldly, and, in many beautiful
and poetical pictures, is conducted with singular taste and
success: a keen and playful wit, now veiled in irony, now
half disguised in bitter sarcasm, and now shedding a fiery
shower of open invective, is everywhere present, and almost
everywhere holds a prominent place; and the oration, con-
R H I 221
sidered as an address to the understanding, is always clear Rhine,
and well reasoned, generally close and pointed, and often, in —v-—^
dealing with difficult materials, distinguished by consummate
rhetorical skill. Of Canning’s ingenuity in debating a deli¬
cate and hazardous question, we can desire no better instance
than his eloquent and most skilful argument against Parlia¬
mentary Reform, delivered at the election dinner at Liver¬
pool in 1818. The most passionate specimens of his elo¬
quence are contained in some of his speeches on Catholic
Emancipation ; and his genius probably nowhere displayed
its powers so commandingly as in two of its latest efforts,
the speech and reply on the projected invasion of Portugal
by Spain, delivered in December 1826. (b. l.T
RHINE, one of the circles of which the present king¬
dom of Bavaria is composed, and what till the treaty of
Vienna in 1815 formed the French department of Mont
Tonnere, and parts of the departments of the Lower Rhine
and the Saar. It is situated on the left bank of the river
from which it takes the name, and is bounded on the north¬
west by the Prussian territory; on the north by Hesse Darm¬
stadt ; on the east by the river Rhine, which divides it from
Baden, and by France ; and on the west bv the Prussian
province of Saarbruche. It extends over 3080 square miles,
and contains 410,156 inhabitants, living in forty-four cities
and towns, and in 665 villages. The number of the Ca¬
tholics and Protestants is nearly equal. The province is
divided, according to the former system introduced by
France, into four departments or districts, and these are sub¬
divided into cantons and communes. The face of the coun¬
try is generally mountainous, with valleys between of con¬
siderable fertility ; but none of the elevations exceeds 2200
feet. A large portion of the circle is covered with woods.
Sufficient corn for the consumption is produced. Much
wine is made ; but little care being devoted to that article,
it is almost wholly applied to internal consumption. There
are some large mining operations in iron, and coals are
found in abundance. Some mines of silver are now at
work on a small scale ; and several of quicksilver, copper,
lead, and cobalt. Pot and pearl ashes are made extensive¬
ly ; and there are numerous saw-mills in operation. There
are considerable manufactures of woollen, and also of hard¬
ware ; and linen and cotton are manufactured to a small
extent.
Rhine, Lower, a department of France, formed out of
the German dominion of Alsace, and the territories of the
ormei princes who wTere sovereigns of the several subdivi¬
sions. It is situated between 48. 12. and 49. 8. of north la¬
titude, and between 6. 49. and 8. 9. of east longitude. It
is bounded on the north by the department of the Moselle,
and by the Bavarian province of the Rhine, from which it
is separated by the river Lauter. On the east the Rhine
is the boundary which divides it from the duchy of Baden.
On the south it joins the department of the Upper Rhine,
and on the w est that of the Vosges and of the Meurthe.
t extends over 1,045, < 60 acres, equal to 1634 square miles;
and it contains 561,859 inhabitants of German origin, and
the greater part of whom speak only that language. Though
the majority adhere to the Catholic Church, the two sects
ot 1 rotestants are numerous; the Lutherans being esti¬
mated at 160,000, and the Calvinists at 28,000. The east-
ern part is a rich level plain extending along the side of
tne Rhine, and watered by small streams issuing from the
hills m the western part, and emptying themselves into that
stream, after fertilizing the soil. The state of culture is
goo , and the land, cultivated like a garden, produces most
a undant crops. In proceeding westward from the river,
the ground rises gradually from hills 300 feet in height to
mountains between 2500 and 4000 feet of elevation. In this
mountainous district the soil is stony or sandy, and of un¬
grateful kind ; but it abounds with extensive and valuable
woods, whilst in the valleys some rich pasture-land is found.
In the lower districts the chief bread-corn grown is wheat
or winter barley, on the hilly parts rye and oats; but the
whole department has a surplus of grain to aid the districts
around them w ith one twelfth of its produce. On the le¬
vels great crops are raised of hemp, flax, tobacco, mustard,
aniseed, hops, coriander seeds, poppy and other oil plants,
and abundance of madder scarcely inferior to that of Hol¬
land. The hills afford fuel and timber, and their sides are
covered with vineyards yielding abundance of wine of va¬
rious kinds, and some very highly esteemed. Apples, pears,
and plums, are abundant everywhere. Wine and fruit are
considerable branches of the export trade. The mineral
productions are insignificant, and confined to small portions
of iron and some coals. There are various manufactories
carried on in other parts of the district, but the chief are
in and about Strasburg. They are ironmongery and fire¬
arms (including cannon), linen-weaving, spinning and weav¬
ing cottons, tanning leather, making paper, and some por¬
celain, and several minuter commodities. The Rhine fa¬
cilitates commerce with Germany, with Holland, and with
Switzerland, all of which branches are on the increase. The
department elects four deputies to the legislative chamber.
It contains four arrondissements, thirty-three cantons, and
554 communes. Strasburg is the capital, with a population
of 57,885 inhabitants.
Rhine, Upper, a department in the south-east of France,
formed out of Upper Alsace, the Sundgau, and the terri¬
tory of Mulhausen. It is situated between 47. 27. and 48.
14. of north latitude, and between 6. 41. and 7. 27. of east
longitude. It extends over 1584 square miles, and com¬
prehends three arrondissements, twenty-nine cantons, and
489 communes. The population amounts to 447,019.
They are generally of the German race, and speak a cor¬
rupt dialect of that language, very little differing from that
spoken in Switzerland. They are for the most part of the
Romish religion ; but there are 40,000 Calvinists, 16,000
Lutherans, 3000 Menonites, and about 10,000 Jews, all
equally recognised by the government. It is bounded on
the north by the department of the Lower Rhine, on the
east that river divides it from Baden, on the south it
touches on Switzerland and on the Doubs, and the de¬
partments of the Upper Saone and of the Vosges bound
it on the west. It is generally a hilly, in some parts a
mountainous district, especially on the western side, where
the range of the Vosges enters and approaches the Jura
Mountains. The chief rivers are the Rhine and the Ule,
both of which are navigable. There are several small in¬
ternal lakes, some of them in very elevated situations, es¬
pecially the Black and the White Lakes, the former of which
is three miles in circuit, and the latter said to be 1000 feet
222
R II O
Rhode
Island.
in depth There are also many small canals, some to facili¬
tate conveyance, and others to promote irrigation. I he agri-
' culture is conducted with a rigid adherence to old customs.
The corn does not suffice for the consumption. W heat is
only grown in a few favoured spots; the greater portion ot
bread-corn is rye, and potatoes are extensively cultivated
as a substitute for grain. The valleys afford good fatten¬
ing and dairy land ; but the black cattle are for t ic mos
part brought from Germany when young, and °n the pas¬
tures here yield good butter, cheese, and meat. I he breed
of sheep has been much neglected. The horses are a small
race, and not numerous. The hills have extensive vine¬
yards, and produce abundance of wine, some of which is
good, and forms an article of considerable export trade.
The best sorts are those furnished in the vicinity of Col¬
mar, Turkheim, and Befort. There are a great number of
fruit-trees, but especially of cherries, from which a distilla¬
tion is made; and the spirit called kirchenwasser is highly
valued in Switzerland. This is a mining district, which
formerly produced silver, copper, and lead; but the opera¬
tions are now chiefly directed to obtaining iron and coa .
These are the foundations of the chief manufactures, w hich
employ a great number of hands in making cast and ham¬
mered iron, and ironmongery goods of various descriptions.
There are several paper-mills, and many for spinning both
cotton and flax. There are also manufactures of wool and
hosiery. Much potash is also made, and some porcelain
and glass. These are the basis of what trade exists, i he
capital of the department is the city of Colmar, with 15,958
inhabitants. . , . . .
RHINOCEROS, a genus of quadrupeds belonging to
the order of belluae. See Mammalia.
RHODE Island, one of .the United States ot North
America, is bounded on the north and east by Massachu¬
setts, on the south by the Atlantic Ocean, and on the west
by Connecticut. It is forty-nine miles in length by twen¬
ty-nine in breadth, and contains an area of one thousand
three hundred and fifty square miles, which lie between
41. 22. and 42. 3. of north latitude, and longitude 71. 6.
and 71. 38. west from Greenwich. This portion of coun¬
try includes what was formerly known by the name of
Rhode Island and Providence Plantations, originally con¬
stituting two plantations or provinces. Compared wdth its
limited extent, Rhode Island is a very diversified state. In
the north-west part the country is hilly and broken, but it
becomes gradually level towards the Atlantic Ocean. I he
state may be divided into three natural sections : the first,
constituting four fifths of the whole, is a pretty hilly paral¬
lelogram, lying west from Narragansett Bay ; the second
consists of the delightful islands of Narragansett Bay ; and
the third section is a small irregular slip lying along Mas¬
sachusetts, and east from Narragansett. This bay extends
from north to south through nearly the whole length of the
state, and embosoms a number of islands, of which the
most important are Rhode Island, Connecticut, Prudence,
Patience, Hope, Dyer’s, and Hog Islands. Block Island,
in the Atlantic, lying south of the state, is the most south¬
erly land belonging to it. These islands, and the country
bordering on the bay, are of great fertility, and are cele¬
brated for their fine cattle, their numerous flocks of sheep,
and the abundance and excellence of their butter and
cheese. The state generally is better adapted to grazing
than tillage. A large portion of the western and north¬
western part of it has a thin and lean soil, which affords
small crops of New England productions. Cider is made
for exportation. Corn, rye, barley, oats, and in some places
wheat, are produced in quantities sufficient for home con¬
sumption ; and the various kinds of grasses, fruits, culinary
roots and plants, are in great abundance and perfection.
In some parts iron is found in large quantities ; copper is
also met with ; and the state abounds in limestone, particu-
R II o
larlv the county of Providence. Anthracite coal is wrought Ehode
on the island which gives name to the state, but it is not Eland,
held in high estimation. There are several rivers in this
state, but their courses are short: the principal are called
Pawtucket, Providence, Pawtuxet, Pawcatuc, and Wood
Rivers. These, and also the bays, swarm with many vane-
tics of excellent fish* Hie climBte is &S salubrious ns thcit
of any other part of America, and more temperate than
that of the other New England states, particularly on the
islands where the ocean breezes have the usual effect of
tempering the heat of summer and moderating the cold of
The island called Rhode Island, situated in the bay of
Narragansett, and which gives name to the state, is about
fifteen miles in length from north to south, and three and
a half in breadth. It is divided into three townships, New¬
port, Portsmouth, and Middletown. This island is highly
celebrated for its salubrity, and here numbers of invalids
resort from southern climates. It is also of great fertility,
and noted for its breeds of sheep, neat cattle, and horses.
The whole is under high cultivation, and in some months
of the year presents so delightful an appearance as to have
obtained for it the name of the Eden of America. Long.
71. 20. W. Lat. 41. 25. N. .
In no state in the Union is so large a proportion of the
population and capital employed in manufactures as in
Rhode Island. The principal article is cotton goods, for
the manufacture of which there are above one hundred mills,
many of them extensive establishments. For the year end¬
ing September 1836, there were eighty sets of machinery
in operation for the manufacture of other kinds ot goods,
including broad cloths, satinets, jeans, linseys, and the
like. The quantity of wool produced was 265,261 pounds,
valued at 133,957 dollars. Iron, ardent spirits, and some
other articles, are likewise amongst the manufactures of
Rhode Island. The exports consist chiefly of flax-seed,
lumber, horses, cattle, beef, pork, fish, poultry, and cottm*
and linen goods. For the year ending September 1836,
the exports of domestic produce were to the amount of
212,297 dollars, and of foreign produce 16,123 dollars; the
total value of exports being 228,420 dollars, which appeals
to be considerably less than in some previous years. I he
value of the imports for the same period was 555,199 dol¬
lars. The amount of shipping ot this state may be reck¬
oned at about fifty thousand tons ; but so rapidly have com¬
merce and manufactures extended, that a period of only a
couple of years is sufficient to produce an increase in
branches of industry which could not have been looked for
in such a limited space of time. In 1837 the banks were
sixty-two in number, having specie to the amount of 243,484
dollars, a circulation of 1,864,132 dollars, and a capita o
9,837,171 dollars. , .
Amongst the institutions of Rhode Island is Brown Uni¬
versity, at Providence, a flourishing seminary. Academies
are established in all the principal towns, and the state
pays ten thousand dollars per annum for the support of free
schools. The most numerous religious sect is that of the
Baptists, who have about eighteen churches. There are,
besides, the usual religious diversities which characterise a
North American state, including many Friends.
Among the public works of this state may be mention¬
ed the New York, Providence, and Boston Railway, ex¬
tending from Stonington in Connecticut to Providence in
Rhode Island. About forty miles of it lie in the latter state.
It is connected with another railroad, and forms part o a
line from Boston to New York. Other works of the kin
Jlioiis
fclaiiil.
are in progress.
The population of Rhode Island in 1839 may be es i
mated as amounting to at least 125,000. The capita o
the state is Providence, an account of which will be found
under that head.
R !e
Is d.
R H O R H O
Population of the Counties and County Towns.
223
lihodes.
Counties.
Providence..
Newport 
Washington,
Kent 
Bristol 
Population
1820.
35,786
15,771
15,687
10,228
5,637
Population
1830.
47,014
16,534
15,414
12,784
5,466
County Towns.
83,109
97,212
Providence 
Newport 
South Kingston.
East Greenwich.
Bristol 
Population
1830.
16,832
8,010
3,663
1,591
3,054
Distance from
Providence. Washington.
30
31
15
15
394
403
389
406
409
Newport, which shares metropolitan honours with the
capital, being the seat of government every alternate ses¬
sion, is beautifully situated on the south-west end of the
island of Rhode Island, five miles from the sea, and in
latitude 41. 29. north, and longitude 71. 21. west. The
town lies north and south, upon a gradual ascent east from
the water, and exhibits a beautiful view from the harbour
and the neighbouring hills. The principal street is more
than a mile in length. The harbour, which spreads west¬
ward in front of the town, is one of the finest in the world,
and spacious enough to allow a large fleet to anchor and
ride in perfect security. The entrance is safe and easy,
and it is defended by three strong forts. Newport contains
a state-house, a jail, several banks and insurance offices, a
valuable public library, and houses of worship for most of
the religious denominations that are found in New Eng¬
land. A very elegant building is appropriated to the li¬
brary. This town is famous for the salubrity of its climate,
and more noted than any other American town for the va¬
riety and excellence of its fresh fish. Newport was first
settled in 1636, and before the American revolution had
attained to considerable commercial importance. During
that war it suffered severely, being for a long time occu¬
pied by the British. It maintains some trade with the East
Indies, Europe, and Cuba; but the most important branch
of its commerce is the coasting trade with the middle and
southern states. Its fisheries are very valuable. The po¬
pulation of Newport in 1839 may be estimated at about
10,000.
Pawtucket is a flourishing town, partly situated in that
part of this state called North Providence, partly in Mas¬
sachusetts. It is noted for the number and extent of its
manufactories, which are situated near a fine cascade on the
river Pawtucket. This town contains several public build¬
ings, two or three banks, more than twelve cotton factories,
and as many others of different kinds. This is reckoned
one of the most flourishing manufacturing villages in the
United States. The population may be about 5000. Bris¬
tol is a neat commercial town, situated on the east side of
Narragansett Bay. It has a safe and commodious harbour,
owns a good deal of shipping, and is a place of considerable
trade. The population at present (1839) may be about 4000.
Warren, South Kingston, East Greenwich, Smithfield,
Portsmouth, and Warwick, are the only other places of
any note. The last-named town contains above 6000 in¬
habitants.
The settlement of this state was commenced at Provi¬
dence in the year 1636, by Roger Williams, a person of
some celebrity in the annals of America. He was banished
from Massachusetts on account of the religious doctrines
which he preached. Two years afterwards the settlement
of the island of Rhode Island was begun. In 1643 Wil¬
liams went to England, and in the following year obtained
a charter by which Rhode Island and Providence Planta¬
tions were united under one government. This writ con-
tinued in force till 1663, when a new charter was granted
y Charles II., and this document has ever since formed the
basis of the government. This state is the only one in the
Union which is without a written constitution, according to
the American form of these things. The legislative power
is vested in a general assembly, consisting of a senate and
a house of representatives. The latter consists of seventy-
two members, six from Newport, four from each of the
towns of Providence, Portsmouth, and Warwick, and two
from each of the other towns in the state. They are elected
semi-annually in April and August. The senate consists
of ten members, who are elected annually in April. The
executive power is vested in a governor; and a lieutenant-
governor is elected along with him, on whom the duties of
the executive devolve in case of the office of governor be¬
ing vacated. The other officers of government are a se¬
cretary of state, a treasurer, and an attorney-general. The
general assembly meets four times a year; at Newport on
the first Wednesday in May, at the same place in June;
at Providence and South Kingston alternately in October;
and in January at East Greenwich, Bristol, or Providence.
Ihe judiciary power is vested in a supreme court, and a
court of common pleas for each of the five counties. All
the judges are appointed annually by the general assem¬
bly. A chief justice and two associate justices preside in
the supreme court. Each of the courts of common pleas
comprises five judges. Rhode Island has a well-consti¬
tuted militia force, which is called out for duty twice a
year' (r. r. r.)
RHODES, an island celebrated from the remotest anti¬
quity as the seat of commerce and of naval power, as well
as of literature and the arts; but now reduced from its an¬
cient splendour to a state of extreme depression and po¬
verty, by the devastations of war and the tyranny of its
Turkish rulers. It is situated in the Mediterranean, near
the coast of Asia Minor, and is about twelve leagues long
from north to south, and about six broad. It is of a tri¬
angular form ; and its circumference is commonly estimat¬
ed at about forty-four leagues.
The island is diversified in its surface, and contains in Aspect of
its centre an elevated mountain named Artemira, which th6 coun¬
commands a view of the whole island. It is so steep that
it is impossible to ascend it on horseback, and a person
clambering up on foot would not be able to reach the sum¬
mit in less than four hours. From this height there is a most
extensive prospect of the whole island around its base; of
the elevated coast of Caramania on the north ; on the north¬
west the Archipelago, studded with its numerous islands ; on
the south-west is seen Mount Ida, veiled in clouds; and
on the south and south-east the vast expanse of waters which
wash the African shore. Here and there on the island are
seen ranges of moderately elevated hills, on which are found
numbers of ancient pines, planted by the hand of nature:
these forests were formerly very thick, but they are now
greatly thinned by the Turks, who cut them down, and take
no care to plant others in their place. On the farther side of
this nearest range of hills the surface of the island falls
lower, and several hills in the form of amphitheatres extend
their bases as far as the sea. In more than half the island
II MODE S.
the land slopes towards the sea-shore by a gentle and scarcely
Climate.
bour, which is far from spacious, is much frequented by the
small craft of the country, which thence export the produce
of the island, and bring back foreign goods in exchange.
are employed in rural labours. There are five vil¬
lages occupied by Turks, and by a small number of Jews;
and there are five towns and forty-one villages inhabited by
Greeks. According to Savery, the number of families in
the island is 7300 ; namely, of Turks 4700, of Greeks 2500,
and of Jews 100. Estimating five persons in each family,
met heats, which are chiefly felt dunng me montnsuw-, the »”er ^jfriatcr"^!™,' Sttaatcs'Jta'-
and August, when the hot w.nds blow from ‘he of f ^tonts at only 20,000 ; namely, U.OOO Greeks, who are
Caramania. There is no frost or snow dunng the winter, ^.tanBat v Ua es/a„d 6000 Turks, with a
Rhodes,
perceptible declivity. , v , i
Rhodes was famed in ancient times for its delightful
climate, and it still maintains its former reputation. I he
air is pure and salubrious, and there is hardly a day through¬
out the year in which the sun is not visible. The winds
are liable to little variation ; they blow from the west often
with great violence for nine months in the year, and at
other times from the north; and they moderate the sum¬
mer heats, which are chiefly felt during the months of July
w hich is uncommonly mild and humid.
Produce. Rhodes, in addition to its fine climate, is blessed with a
fertile soil, and produces a variety of the finest fruits and
vegetables; and if the industry of the inhabitants corre¬
sponded to their natural advantages, it might possess all the
materials of wealth and commerce. But they have long
groaned under the iron rod of Turkish oppression, by which
those happy abodes are now converted into scenes of de¬
vastation. “ The gardens,” says Dr Clarke,1 “ are fil ed
with delicious fruit. Here, as in Cos, every gale is scented
with the most powerful fragrance, which is wafted from
oroves of orange and citron trees. Numberless aromatic
herbs exhale at the same time such profuse odour that the
whole atmosphere seems impregnated with a spicy perfume.
A single river, named Candura, which name it gives to the
cape in whose vicinity it discharges itself into the sea, waters
the interior of the island; but numerous smaller streams
and rivulets, which take their rise from the shady sum¬
mit of Mount Artemira, water the surrounding plains and
valleys. The inhabitants have a great taste for gardens ;
and around the villages are several cultivated fields and
orchards, containing fig, pomegranate, and orange trees.
The peach-tree, which is said by Pliny to have produced
no fruit in his time, is now more fruitful; but the fruit is
deficient in flavour, from the inhabitants not knowing the
art of ingrafting trees. The palm-tree is as flourishing
as in ancient times. In the uncultivated valleys which
abound throughout the island, wild roses hang around the
foot of the rocks; beds of flowing myrrh perfume the
air; laurel roses adorn the banks of the rivulets with their
gaudy flowers; and the fertile soil is besides covered with
a profusion of weeds and useless plants. I'ine tiees for¬
merly crowned the highest mountains, the icsin from which
supplied abundantly the wants of the navy ; but they have
been generally cut down by the Purks. On the sloping
hills fig-trees, carob-trees, and others both useful and
agreeable, still grow abundantly: the vine also holds its
place, and produces a species of wine which was highly
valued by the ancients, and is still extolled on account ox
its delicacy and perfume. The valleys afford rich pas¬
tures, and the plains produce every species of grain: the
wheat is of an excellent quality, the ear weighty, and fill¬
ed with the finest grain, as white as snow, and which makes
excellent bread; and, but for the extortions of its barbarian
rulers, the island might be the seat of agriculture, as well
as commerce, and might export large quantities of corn.
But the Turks are lazy and ignorant, and the Greeks are
loaded with corvees ; and, being further discouraged by the
fear of being robbed of the produce of their labours, leave
these rich plains unimproved.
Cities and There are two cities in the island, namely, Rhodes, the
population. capitai} which is inhabited chiefly by Turks, with a small
proportion of Jews; and the ancient Lindus, which is now
reduced to a hamlet, situated on the east side of the island,
nearly in the centre. It is entirely peopled by Greeks,
who are almost all employed in commerce; and its har-
small mixture of Jew's, chiefly residing in the capital.
Rhodes has long groaned under the despotic rule of the Conditio:
barbarous Turks, by which the people have been impove- of the
rished, and the country depopulated. The pachas, to whom
is delegated the supreme rule of the grand signior, gene¬
rally use their authority for the purpose of extortion, and
accumulate riches by robbing the unfortunate inhabitants
committed to their charge. According to Savery, the re¬
venue in Rhodes is derived from numerous taxes, name¬
ly, a poll-tax, a land-tax, the tithe of the crops, a port duty,
a tax on houses, cattle, on salt, on vineyards, on wax, at
tolls, and the farming of bagnios. But it is of little moment
what taxes are established. There is no restraint on the
power of the pacha, who seizes on the people’s substance
wherever he sees it, and from whose vigilant rapacity no
accumulation of property can be concealed. “ Ask not,”
says Savery, in his letter to his correspondent, “ what is
become of that powerful people, who, taking advantage of
their happy situation, of their forests, harbours, and of the
fertility of their soil, crossed the Mediterranean with their
victorious fleets. Liberty is no more; and genius and
science exist only where they are encouraged by her smile.
The Turkish government has filled up the measure of their
misfortunes; and a few wretches, without commerce, arts,
or industry, because they are without property, wander
here and there over the desolated plains of the country of
their ancestors.”
The antiquities in Rhodes are not of an earlier date than Antiqm-
the residence of the knights of Malta. The remains of theirlies'
fine old fortress are still to be seen, namely, a venerable
moated castle of great size and strength, so fortified as to
seem almost impregnable. The cells of the knights are yet
entire, forming a street within the works; and near these is
the cathedral or chapel, where doors of sycamore wood, cu¬
riously carved, are preserved in their original state. Ihe
sanctuary has been converted by the Turks into a magazine
for military stores. Dr Clarke observed several inscrip¬
tions at Rhodes on marble altars of a cylindrical form,
adorned with sculptured wreaths and festoons, supported by
rams’ heads. Several vases of great antiquity were also dug
up in a garden, of which he obtained one with upright handles.
Rhodes was one of the most distinguished states of an- HisW
cient Greece. Its early history is either lost in the dark¬
ness of antiquity, or it is disfigured by fabulous traditions.
The Rhodians were early celebrated as expert navigators;
but it was not till the time of the Peloponnesian war that
they were known as an independent state. The city was
afterwards built, and the people were at this time rent into
two factions, one of whom favoured the Athenians, the
other the Spartans. The latter acquired the ascendency,
and an aristocracy was established. The island was after¬
wards oppressed by Mausolus, king of Caria, and the inha¬
bitants applying to the Athenians, by their assistance ie-
gained their liberty. From this period to that of Alexan¬
der the Great, the Rhodians enjoyed uninterrupted tran-
Travels in Europe and Asia, chap. viii.
R H O
quillity. They voluntarily submitted to that conqueror,
''from whom they experienced great favour ; but no sooner
did they hear of his death than they took up arms against
the Macedonian garrisons, and expelled them. About this
period the city of Rhodes and the inhabitants suffered se¬
verely from a dreadful inundation, which was accompanied
with violent showers of rain; and hailstones of an extraordi¬
nary size beat down many houses, and killed a number of the
inhabitants. By the bursting of the wall the extraordinary
accumulation of water was allowed a free passage to the
sea, by which the danger was removed. From the effects
of this unexpected disaster the Rhodians quickly reco¬
vered, by their close application to navigation and trade ;
and during the wars that took place among Alexander’s
successors they observed a strict neutrality, and gradually
grew to be one of the most opulent states of the age. They
were, however, connected in strict alliance with Ptolemy of
Egypt, with whom Antigonus being at war, he demanded
succours of them, which they refusing, drew on themselves
the full weight of his hostility. He accordingly sent his son
Demetrius with an immense armament provided with all
sorts of machines for war and sieges, and an army of 40,000
troops, who laid siege to their city. This remarkable siege
lasted for a year, and called forth on the part of the Rho¬
dians the most brilliant efforts of valour and patriotism.
Demetrius, with all his knowledge of the known resources
of war, and all his skill to invent new machines of unheard-
of power and magnitude, was finally repulsed, with a prodi¬
gious slaughter of his bravest troops, and the loss of his mi¬
litary fame. The Rhodians after this siege applied them¬
selves as before to commerce and navigation, and Rhodes
became a flourishing city. In the year 203 before the
Christian era the Rhodians were engaged in a war with
Philip of Macedbn, in which being assisted by the Romans,
it was terminated to their advantage. In the wars that fol¬
lowed with the Romans and Antiochus, and afterwards with
Mithridates, the Rhodians were useful allies of the former,
whom they assisted with their naval power. In the civil
wars of Rome they aided Pompey against Caesar; and
after his death they joined Caesar, which drew on them the
resentment of Cassius, by whom their city wms taken and
plundered. Their privileges were restored by Marc An¬
tony; but the island was finally reduced into a Roman
province during the reign of Vespasian. Rhodes continued
under the Roman dominion, and was little heard of in his¬
tory, till, on the downfall of the eastern empire, the island
ecame one of the last retreats of the knights of Jerusalem,
under whose rule it became illustrious by its heroic resist¬
ance to the Turkish conquerors, then at the utmost height
ot their power. They baffled by their valour the efforts of
lanommed II., the conqueror of Constantinople ; and they
sus ained a memorable and sanguinary siege from Solyman
a aiS Wh° invested the city with a fleet of 400 sail
ana 140,000 troops. He was often repulsed by the brave
W1 • Sreat slaughter; and he only made his way
er e ruins of the city by the effect of numbers. A ca-
was 1IOn Mias ^ length agreed upon, by which the island
•rren^eret t0 t*le Turks, under whose dominion it has
ever since continued.
thp tlle capital of the above island, and stands on
nan nf C ^ ancient city> though it is not above the fourth
island. ltS,e,xtent- ^ situated to the north-east of the
extremin c a dlstance>its advantageous position at the
strength Ld a Promontory, its magnificent buildings, the
riSolf n ldlty °f its walls’ and towers planted on
The intprinr st' lmPress an idea of its ancient grandeur,
appearance C‘ty d°eS n0t corresPond to its outward
with such an f d°Se ancient streets which were laid out
ries of build;1° great a scale’ and that uniform so-
succeeded hvgS whlch monuments of taste, have been
v°c. xix ^ narrow winding streets, and buildings with-
R H O
out grace, ornament, or regularity. There are still some
monuments which testify that the island was once possessed
by the knights of Rhodes, namely, their arms, and the se¬
veral busts of the grand-masters, which were engraved on.
marble, and still adorn the fronts of several buildings ; the
walls and towers also bear marks of their heroic resistance
to the Ottoman arms. But there is no longer any monu¬
ment of its grandeur in times of antiquity; there is no
theatre, no magnificent temples nor spacious porticoes. The
statues, colossi, and paintings for which Rhodes was famed
in the early ages of Greece and Rome, have all been re¬
moved. Not a vestige is to be seen of the colossus de¬
scribed as seventy cubits high, and reckoned one of the
wonders of the world. The streets bear everywhere marks
of desolation. One half of the houses in the city are in
ruins, and one half in the suburbs are uninhabited, though
those occupied by the Greek inhabitants are beautiful, con¬
sisting of good stone houses, with gardens well stocked with
all the fruits of the climate. On the declivity of the neigh¬
bouring hills are about 400 country houses, the residences
of the principal inhabitants. The principal buildings which
remain are the church of St John, which is become the
principal mosque; the hospital, whence the charity of the
knights was liberally dispensed to the faithful from all quar¬
ters of the world, which has been transformed into pub¬
lic granaries; the palace of the grand-master, falling into
ruins and almost deserted ; and the senate-house, which
still contains some marbles and ancient columns. Of the
streets the best and widest is a long street which preserves
the name of Rue des Chevaliers. It is perfectly straight,
and formed of old houses, on which remain the armorial
bearings of the members of the order. On some of these
buildings are still seen the arms of the pope.
Rhodes has at present two harbours. The least of these,
towards the east, is named Dorca, and its entrance is ob¬
structed by a barrier of rocks, so as to admit the entrance
of one ship at a time. It is sufficiently sheltered from the
winds by high moles; but by the negligence of the Turks
the sand has been suffered to accumulate until the entrance
has been gradually choked up ; and merchant-ships can
only enter after being obliged previously to unload their
cargoes. The other harbour is larger, and bears the name
of Rhodes; here frigates of thirty guns may anchor, and
are sheltered from the west winds, though they are in dan¬
ger of being dashed against the walls of the city, or the
rocks, from the north and north-east winds. The two har¬
bours are separated by a mole which runs obliquely into the
sea; the two extremities are defended by towers 800 feet
apart, while in the centre of the mole is a square tower 120
feet high. There is a dock-yard, which, like all the other
departments of the public service, is a scene of disorder and
corruption. The population consists of 5000 Turks and
about 1000 Jews. Long. 28. 12. 15. E. Lat. 36. 26. N.
RHOMBOIDES, in Geometry, a quadrilateral figure
whose opposite sides and angles are equal, but which is
neither equilateral nor equiangular.
RHOMBUS, in Geometry, an oblique-angled parallelo¬
gram, or quadrilateral figure, whose sides are equal and pa¬
rallel, but the angles unequal, two of the opposite ones be¬
ing obtuse and two acute.
RHOMB Solid consists of two equal and right cones
joined together at their bases.
RHONE, a department of France, formed out of the an¬
cient districts of the Lyonnois and the Beaujolais. It is si¬
tuated between 45. 26. and 46. 25. of north latitude, and be¬
tween 4. 12. and 4. 37. of east longitude. It extends over
982 square miles, and is divided into two arrondissements,
which in the year 1836 contained twenty-five cantons and
253 communes, with 482,024 inhabitants, who mostly adhere
to the Catholic Church. The face of the country is irregu¬
lar, in all parts hilly, and in some mountainous. The vales
2 F
225
Rhom-
boides
II
Rhone.
226
Rhone.
K H 0
R H U
a , cn-,1 at an pvncn^e of 26,640,000 francs, or about L.l ,200,000. Kimhar*
between the several elevations are narrow, and have a so 1 t P , , .g about 210 miles; and in its progress^,-
'poor and stony, except in that division on the rivers Saone
and Rhone which includes some level tracts of greater ex¬
tent, well cultivated, adorned with fine trees, and present¬
ing a mixture of corn-fields, meadows, and vineyards. I he
chief rivers are the Rhone and the Saone, the latter of which
falls into the former near Lyons, having received the water
of the Izeron, the Garon, the Gier, with that of severa
smaller streams, which empty themselves at length into the
Mediterranean Sea. Both the Rhone and the Saone are
navigable through the whole of their course within this de¬
partment. The climate is mild, but, from the vicinity of the
mountains, is very variable, and from the same cause vege¬
tation is late in the spring. The productions are, the com¬
mon domestic animals, wax, honey, and abundance of game-
The whole length is about 210 miles; and in its progress' r-'
it comes into direct communication with other great rivers.
It is divided into four portions. The first commences at
the Saone, and proceeds to Dole, where it joins the Doubs.
The second portion is connected with Orchamps, Besan*
con, Baume, Clival, Lisle, and Vougeancourt, where it ter¬
minates. The third portion passes by Montbehard, Bu-
rogne, Valdieu, Mulhausen, Brisach, and Grapenstadt,
where the canal enters the river Ille, which falls into the
Rhine half a mile above Strasburg. The fourth part con¬
sists of branches from Mulhausen to Basel and Humngen,
fed by water from the Rhine at the latter place. I here is
a sanguine anticipation that this last branch will f°™i a
cheap communication between Switzerland and the Medi-
wM few!, and 6*.
the annual supply by about six and weight and little original cost, such as iron, wood, and stone,
flax, poppies, rapesee , sa °n> ’ extensively cul- to the city of Paris.
tatoes, are extensively grown. The vine is e*tens J d Ag neaHy one third of the surface of this department, con-
tivated, and those on the banks of ™e?e- sisting of mountains, small lakes, and morasses, is unculti
Rhone have, under a variety of names taken fiom the - & , x *,mnlv of corn for iti
spective districts, acquired great celebrity. There are some,
but not considerable, mines of copper, and others of vit ^
and of coal. The manufacturing industry is great. I he
silk manufacture is the most extensive, and is chiefly car-
vated, it does not produce a sufficient supply of corn for its
own consumption. The corn is not thrasheu, but, as in
other warm countries, is trodden out by oxen. IN either
cows nor horses are numerous, though on the island of La-
silk manufacture is fe ^fLvons^tL'ypitel of the margue many of the latter, of a small race, are bred, almost
ried on in and around the city of L>ons, the capita ^ a°tate 0f wiidness. The sheep are numerous, and are
dTHoT.V^V^ a department in the tenth of ^dto^h^
France, formed r^of “’XSituKom Is'lS “o «■ 1-, the department depends for procuring the means of sub-
vince. It extends in noith latitude ’ „• tPnf.p are oil wine, and silk. The olive-trees are abun-
and in east longitude from 4. 18.^o4.46^n^reh g ^ ^ winterehave destroyed many of them,
^Es^t U h3 ’oXhy th depar, and diminished ^ quant!ty 0f ra,
ment of Vanelnse, on the east by drat of the Var, on the f f^'™e'descriptionsf which form an in,-
portant source of wealth, a^doother^dried^fruit^^especially
IWLIL —w  ' * , -
^n^fomY.uS'ntbTginning^the hanhs rf MarseiUes and Ai, wh^
the Durance, and sketching from -st to west the ne.gh- of flowers, to-
bourhood of the Rhone, and rising to the height of 2500
feet above the level of the sea. 1 he south-west part is
wholly a level plain, full of morasses, and including the
island of Camargue and the island Plan, in which, though
some spots are fertile, yet the greater portion exhibits either
heaps of pebbles or unhealthy marshes. The river Rhone
is the chief stream, into which many others empty them¬
selves before it reaches the sea. The navigation of that
river is hazardous on account of its having three outlets,
the passages through which are very variable, sometimes
one being passable, and then in a few days nearly closed,
when another is opened. To remedy this inconvenience,^
also figs, almonds, capers, coral, and essences of flowers, to¬
gether with wool. . ,
' RHUBARB. The drug well known by this name is tlie
root of some species of Rheum, an important genus ot t le na
tural order Polygonacea, Juss., and referred to Ennean m
Triqynia in the Linnaean classification. The roots ot all we
species are thick and fleshy, generally a good deal branclie ,
and striking deep into the earth. The leaves and stems are
annual. The leaves, which are radical and petiolate, rise i
spring, coming up in a thick head folded together, an gra
dually expanding. The footstalks of the leaves are tiucK,
fleshy, and juicy, varying in length in the different specie
- - ~ - • The leaves themselves are
wnen aiiuuiui ^ ^ -— —  ' - ^ n - i . 1 n .
a canal has been opened from Arles to the small haven of from a few inches to two teet
, A mi  1 II  on/'l VOt'V 1(TP. nPlTl'
Bouc, near the sea." There are several smaller canals, which
serve partly for the purpose of communication, and in some
measure for those of irrigation. One of the most import¬
ant public works recently undertaken in France is the na¬
vigable canal which terminates in this department. It con¬
nects together the two great rivers the Rhine and the Rhone.
It was begun in 1804, and was originally called the Canal
Napoleon i it was afterwards designated the Canal ot Mon¬
sieur ; and it now bears the more appropriate name ot the
Canal of the Rhine and Rhone. It was completed in 1832,
spreading, and very large, being sometimes two feet in diame¬
ter. The flowering stems begin to rise at the end ot spring,
come into flower in June, and ripen their seeds in Augus
and September. The flowers are in a large termina panic
or compound raceme. They consist of a coloured S1X Pa ,
ed perianth. The seeds are three cornered, winged, anu
have the withered perianth adhering to their base,
rhubarbs are extensively cultivated in this country tor t
sake of the footstalks, and likewise for the medicinal root •
When grown for the sake of the latter, they should be sow
PS;
RHUBARB.
barb
in the place where they are intended to remain, that the
— growth of the roots may not be interfered with ; but when
meant to be used for culinary purposes, or as ornamental
plants, the seedlings may be transplanted in autumn. The
most important use of the plants of this genus is to furnish
the medicinal substance rhubarb.
It is not a little singular, that though this valuable medi¬
cine has been in use for centuries, we are still ignorant as
to the precise species which yields it. Many endeavours
have been made to ascertain this point, both by investiga¬
tion of die countries from which the commercial rhubarb is
brought, and by cultivating the known species and compar¬
ing their roots with the rhubarb of the shops, but none of
these attempts hitherto has proved successful. Previous
to 1732, rhubarb was believed to be yielded by the Rheum
rhaponticum, Linn. This species is distinguished by its
leaves being roundish ovate, obtuse, pale green, with a" few
hairs beneath on the nerves and margins. The footstalks
are pale green, striated, channelled above, with rounded
edges. The roots are large and thick, much divided, and,
like those of most of the other species, reddish brown with¬
out, yellow within. It is not found, however, that in culti¬
vated specimens the roots yield a product at all resembling
true rhubarb ; and as this species is a native of the wild
land to the north of the Caspian Sea, between the Volga
and Ural rivers, and not, so far as is known, of the country
from which rhubarb is believed to come, the opinion that
it is the true rhubarb plant has long been abandoned. It
is chiefly this species, or hybrids of it, which is so com¬
monly cultivated in gardens for the sake of the leafstalks,
which are used extensively in the spring for making tarts
and preserves. They have an agreeable acidity, owing to
their containing, like some other plants of the same natural
order, a considerable proportion of oxalic acid.
In 1732, some seeds sent to Paris and Chelsea as those
of the true rhubarb plant were grown, and found to be
Rheum undulatum. This species is distinguished by its
leaves being oval, obtuse, extremely wavy, of a dark-green
colour, and by the footstalks being downy, blood-red, with
the upper edges elevated. It is a native of China and Si¬
beria, and w'as long cultivated by the Russians in the latter
country as true rhubarb. The culture, however, is now
abandoned, and it is well known that the roots which it
yields are widely different from those of the genuine drug.
In 1750, Kaaw Boerhaave obtained some seeds which
were said to be those of the true rhubarb; and on being
grown, they produced both Rh. undulatum and Rh. palma-
tum. The latter species is distinguished from all the others
by its leaves being palmated, with acuminate segments; and
its roots on cultivation have been found by M. Guibour to
bear the nearest resemblance, in colour, taste, and smell, to
the true rhubarb. It appears, however, from the inquiries
of Pallas, that the Bucharian rhubarb merchants knew no-
thing of such a leaf as that of Rh. palmatam^ and described
the tiue niubarb plant as having round leaves with waved
edges. This has been supposed to come near to another
species, Rh. compactum, which is also occasionally cultivat¬
ed in our gardens, but its roots are found to differ from
true rhubarb in many particulars. Notwithstanding the
doubts raised by Pallas, however, the idea that Rh. palma-
ium is the true rhubarb plant is still extensively entertain¬
ed, and it has been stated as such in the new edition of the
London Pharmacopoeia. It is very doubtful, however, if a
decided opinion upon this point is admissible in the present
State ol our knowledge regarding this subject.
In the state, of uncertainty to which these conflicting
opinions gave rise as to the origin of rhubarb, the Empress
Catherine II. of Russia, in 1790, sent an apothecary of the
name of Sievers into Siberia, to endeavour to penetrate into
the rhubarb country and ascertain the true plant; but after
our years’ attempts he was ultimately foiled, and returned
227
with no further information than that nothing certain ap- Rhubarb,
peared to be known upon the subject. - -— v-—
More recently the Rh. Emodi of Dr Wallich {Rh. Aus-
trale, Don), and Rh. Webbianum, both natives of the Hima-
layah Mountains, have been found to be valuable as purga¬
tives, and the former was supposed to be the true source of
Chinese rhubarb ; but Mr Pereira has found that the Hi-
malayah rhubarb was quite different from the rhubarb of
the shops.
It thus appears that the source of true rhubarb is still un¬
ascertained ; nor is it at all certain that it is not yielded by
more than one species. Professor Royle of King’s College
is of opinion, and apparently correctly, that it is obtained
in the heart of Thibet, in about 95° east longitude, and
35° north latitude, a country into which as yet no scienti¬
fic botanist has ever penetrated. It is worthy of remark,
that this agrees with the statements of Pallas and other
travellers, that the Russian rhubarb is gathered on the
mountains surrounding Lake Kokonor, and that this is part
of w hat has been assigned by Murray as the native country
of Rh. palmatum.
Here, therefore, an excellent subject for investigation is
still open ; and it is to be hoped that this desideratum in
our knowledge of the botanical materia medica may soon
be supplied. Several circumstances however combine to
render the attainment of this object difficult. The labour
of penetrating into the wild country where the true rhubarb
probably grows is not to be overlooked; and jealousy on
the part of the dealers in this profitable article of commerce
will likewise lead to much inconvenience. It is said that
the trade in Russian rhubarb is monopolized by one Buc¬
harian family, who farm it from the Chinese government;
and it is not improbable that, in order to prevent the estab¬
lishment of a rival trade elsewhere, they may already have
embarrassed the subject, by purposely furnishing as the
seeds of true rhubarb, those of different and inferior spe¬
cies. In attempting to ascertain the true officinal species
by cultivation, we are likewise met by this difficulty, that
the different species hybridise so readily that their distinc¬
tive characters are very readily lost. This is very apparent
in the rhubarbs cultivated in our gardens, which, though
commonly referred to Rh. rhaponticum, are in great mea¬
sure made up of hybrids between that species, Rh. compac-
tum, and Rh. hybridum.
Though the true rhubarb plant has not been seen by any
scientific botanist, we have some interesting information
from other travellers respecting its growth and production.
The best accounts appear to be those given by Mr Bell in
his journey from St Petersburg to Pekin. Sievers, in his
attempts to discover the true rhubarb plant, likewise obtained
some information respecting it, and the statements of these
travellers differ only in some unimportant particulars. It
appears that the plant is not made the subject of special
culture, but that enough grows spontaneously to keep up
the supply of this valuable drug. The marmots, which
breed extensively in this country, contribute in a great mea¬
sure to the propagation of the plant; for it seems that the
seeds germinate almost exclusively on the loose earth
turned up by these animals in making their burrows. The
natives gather the roots in spring and autumn, and, after re¬
moving the cortical part, cut them in small pieces to facili¬
tate the drying. They cut a hole through each piece, and
then string them upon a small cord, by which they hang
them up to dry on poles or trees, or more commonly about
their tents, and occasionally, it seems, upon the horns of
their sheep. By this last practice a considerable amount of
loss is sustained, as, from the prolonged exposure to mois¬
ture, much of the root becomes decayed and useless. Ac¬
cording to Sievers, the roots are dried under sheds, out of
the rays of the sun, and they sometimes take a whole year
to dry.
228
Rhubarb.
II H U B A R B.
Several varieties of rhubarb occur in commerce. The first
and most esteemed is Turkey or Russia rhubarb, which
was formerly brought to Europe chiefly through the lurk-
Eh provinces of Asia Minor, but is now imported through
Russia. It is brought from the native country to the fron¬
tier town of Kiachta in Siberia, where it is examined by a first'extensively grown about the year
Russian government officer. All the pieces which are o s n , Hayward. Towards the end of last century
bad quality are rejected and burn^ and Aoae wh h .TOO b^Mr Haywa^ ^ ^ ba? in Eng
^ood are transmitted to Moscow and St 1 etersbuig, ^ wRinB Bavp been nre
The third commercial variety of rhubarb is the English, Efmbar,-
or, as it might more appropriately be called, European; for ~
what is called in France French rhubarb is merely an equi¬
valent sort grown in that country. 1 he English rhubarb
appears to be chiefly the roots of Rh. palmatum ; it is cul¬
tivated to a large extent, especially at Banbury in Oxford-
gouu art uaiiauiittcvA tw —   7" • } A f
they are again inspected, and any inferior pieces picked out.
From this careful examination Russian rhubarb is always o
good quality, and bears a higher price than any other kin .
The pieces of Russian rhubarb are generally from one
and a half to two inches broad, sometimes of a flat shape, but
more commonly two or three inches long, and somewhat
conical. The external surface is always irregular and an¬
gular, the bark apparently having been removed in slices.
They are always perforated by one large hole, through which
the cord has been passed in drying them ; occasionally some
smaller holes are observed, not passing completely through,
which have been made in Russia, for the purpose of exa¬
mining the interior of the specimens. The colour exter¬
nally is of a bright golden-yellow, owing to the pieces be¬
ing covered by powxler, formed by their friction upon each
other. When broken across they present an irregular and
rough surface, having a mottled appearance, owing to the
interlacing of yellow and brownish-red veins, which are
more distinctly seen when the surface is cut smooth. I he
smell of the rhubarb is strong and peculiar, and the taste
is bitter, astringent, and slightly aromatic. Under the
teeth good Russia rhubarb feels gritty, owing to the pre¬
sence of small crystals of oxalate of lime, which are dis¬
persed in tufts through the root, and which may be seen
under the microscope, in a piece which has been boiled m
water.
The second variety of rhubarb, though commercially dis¬
tinct from the Russian, is perhaps originally derived from
the same source. It is called East India or Chinese rhu-
barb, being imported chiefly from Canton or Singapoie.
It is distinguished from Russian rhubarb by the pieces be¬
ing larger and heavier, and by their surface being not angu¬
lar, but rounded, the bark having apparently been removed
by scraping, and not by slicing. The holes by which it is
perforated are generally smaller than those of the Russian
land for medicinal use, accounts of which have been pre¬
served in the Transactions of the Society for the Encourage¬
ment of Arts, Manufactures, and Commerce. The expec¬
tations which were then formed, and the opinions enter¬
tained, of the qualities of the English rhubarb were very san¬
guine ; but though it is still cultivated to a considerable ex¬
tent for this purpose, it is well known to be very inferior to the
foreign kinds. In France a great many varieties of rhubarb
are cultivated at a place called Rheumpole, in the depart¬
ment of Morbihan: they are chiefly Rh. undulatum, Rh.
rhaponticum, and Rh. compactum. The cultivation of
Rh. palmatum there has been abandoned, but tor what
reason is not very apparent. The produce of this cultiva¬
tion is what is sold in France as French rhubarb.
English rhubarb is found in the shops under two forms;
either^in pieces cut so as to resemble some of the Asiatic
kinds, in which case it is called dressed or trimmed ; or in
cylindrical pieces four or five inches long, and about one
inch thick, which are obviously the smaller portions of the
root dried entire or longitudinally split. This last kind is
termed stick rhubarb. The first of these is the only one
which can be mistaken for foreign rhubarb, but it may at
once be distinguished by its being very much lighter than
any of the Asiatic kinds, and by its being, especially towards
the centre, of a much softer texture. Its fracture, like that
of the Russian and Chinese rhubarb, is marked by the reti¬
culated veins, but it has generally rather a pinkish tint. It
is sometimes, though not commonly, gritty under the teeth;
it has much less astringency and bitterness to the taste than
the Asiatic rhubarb, being generally somewhat mucilagi¬
nous ; and its smell, though often equally strong, is much
less aromatic and agreeable. The external appearance of
European rhubarb is often very deceptive, for it is a com¬
mon practice to rub the pieces over with the powder of the
Turkey rhubarb, to make it pass for the more valuable drug;
perforated are genera y smaller than those or me ivussiau r , r,m*himr the
W ,na 4 portions of the - e—, the Pe,
foration are frequently decayed. The fracture is uneven,
and has a mottled appearance, but is usually of a darker
colour than the Russian kind. I he smell and taste of the
Chinese is inferior to that of the Russian, but not in a very
marked degree ; and it is generally equally gritty under the
teeth. The powder of Chinese rhubarb has rather a darker
tint than that of the Russian ; but the latter is seldom found
in the shops pure, and the difference generally is not very-
apparent. As the Chinese rhubarb is not subjected to the
same rigid examination and selection as that brought through
Russia, it is of inferior quality, and brings a much lower
price in the market. Thus, whilst Russia rhubarb in bond
is quoted in the official returns of the prices current, at eight
shillings and threepence per pound, the East India is stated
to bring only from two shillings and sixpence to four shil¬
lings. It does not appear, however, that the Chinese rhu¬
barb is in any essential respect inferior as a medicine to the
Russian.
Another variety of rhubarb has been described under the
name of Dutch trimmed, or Batavian, which, like the Chi¬
nese, is brought from Canton or Singapore, and is always
quoted in the prices current as a distinct commercial kind.
It is said to resemble the Russia rhubarb in external cha¬
racters, but is not superior in value to the common Chinese
sort, as it appears from the official returns that it brings the
same price in the market.
specimen, and its light weight and softer texture at once
proclaim the difference. ,, , „ , ,
In selecting rhubarb, the pieces should be found to have
a good colour and smell, and to be of a considerable spe¬
cific gravity. Those which are worm-eaten, or are of a
dirty-brown or blackish colour, should be rejected , and, to
ascertain these points, brushing the surface should never e
neglected, as inferior kinds are very frequently disguised by
unprincipled dealers, by covering the surface with powder
of good rhubarb ; and worm holes are sometimes concealed
by stopping them with a paste made ot the powder of ge¬
nuine rhubarb and water. . „
The chemical analysis of rhubarb is still very impertec •
A yellowish crystallizable principle has been obtained
from it, to which the names of Rheine, Rhaponticine, an
Rhabarbarine have been given; but these various terms
have obviously been applied by different chemists to tie
same substance. This appears to be merely the colouring
matter of rhubarb, and not its active principle, which may
still be regarded as unknown. Whatever be the nature o
the active part of rhubarb, as it exists in the plant it is so
luble both in water and alcohol. Water takes up moreot
the purgative and less of the astringent principles of r u
barb than alcohol; hence infusion is a good liquid form or
administering this medicine as a laxative. The watery
preparations of rhubarb, however, should always be ma
R H Y
R I C
229
i umb by infusion, and not by decoction, as a high temperature
impairs its purgative property. It is for this reason that the
common extract of rhubarb of the shops is of no use as a
laxative. Rhubarb, from its astringency, has been suppos¬
ed to contain tannine, but this has not been satisfactorily
demonstrated by chemical experiment. The roots contain
a certain proportion of starch. This is most abundant in
the English sort, which accounts for its generally having a
somewhat mucilaginous taste.
The medicinal action of rhubarb varies according to the
dose in which it is administered. In small quantities, as
three or four grains, it is a gentle stomachic and astringent,
and as such is employed in many cases of indigestion, and
a relaxed state of the bowels. In cases of diarrhoea in chil¬
dren, which are generally attended with superabundant aci¬
dity of the primce vice, there is no safer or more effectual re¬
medy than three or four grains of rhubarb, with twice that
quantity of prepared chalk, which may be taken two or three
times in the day.
In larger doses, as in quantities from fifteen to thirty
grains, rhubarb is a mild and easy laxative, and, from its
possessing no irritating qualities, is valuable in all cases
where the bowels might be injured by more active sub¬
stances. It is consequently well adapted to the more irri¬
table constitutions of children and females. Where there is
derangement of the stomach or bowels from indigestible
matter, or from acidity, rhubarb is a very valuable laxa¬
tive ; and in such cases its action is very much improved
by its being combined with magnesia. The well-known
Gregory’s powder, introduced by the late professor of phy¬
sic at Edinburgh, consists of two parts of rhubarb, three
of calcined magnesia, and one of ginger, and is one of the
best remedies which can be employed in such cases. The
usual dose of this for an adult is a tea-spoonful, which may
be taken in water, combined with some aromatic tincture,
or with a little of the tincture of rhubarb itself.
The colouring matter of rhubarb, and probably its pur¬
gative principle, are absorbed into the circulation during
its action on the system. That the colouring matter is ab¬
sorbed, is demonstrated by its presence in the urine, to which
it communicates a reddish-brown colour; a circumstance al¬
ways to be borne in mind in forming an opinion of any
case in which rhubarb may have previously been taken.
The absorption of the purgative principle is inferred from
the fact, that the milk of nurses who are using this medi¬
cine sometimes exerts a laxative influence on children at
the breast.
In the year 1835, the quantity of rhubarb imported into
Great Britain amounted to 81,100 lbs., and in 1836 to
122,142 lbs., of which in the former year 44,522 lbs., and
in the latter 44,468 lbs., were retained for home consump¬
tion; the duty being one shilling per lb., yielded a net
revenue of L.2220 in the one year, and L.2236 in the
other- . (b. m.)
RHUMB, in Navigation, a vertical circle of any given
place, or intersection of such a circle with the horizon; in
which last sense it is the same wuth a point of the compass.
Rhumb-Line is also used for the line which a ship de¬
scribes when sailing in the same collateral point of the com¬
pass, or oblique to the meridians.
RHYME, Rhime, Ryme, or Rime, in Poetry, the similar
sound or cadence and termination of two words which end
two verses, &c. Or rhyme is a similitude of sound between
the last syllable or syllables of a verse, succeeding either
immediately or at a distance of two or three lines.
RHYMER, Thomas the. See Thomas of Ekceldoun.
RHYTHM, Mustcal. See Music.
RIIYTHMOME l ER, from pud/Mog, and ytr^ov, an instru¬
ment contrived to measure equal portions of sounds in mu¬
sical performance, and to mark the time, at longer or shorter
intervals, according to adjustment of the mechanism. Mael-
zel s metronome is the instrument of this kind most gene¬
rally in use, although one more simple and less costly might
easily be made. Diderot, in the fourth memoir of his ma¬
thematical works, suggested a musical chronometer, but
added, “ Le seul bon chronometre que 1’on puisse avoir,
c est un habile musicien qui ait du gout, qui ait bien lui la
musique qu’il doit faire executer, et qui sache en battre la
mesure. The chief utility of a rhythmometer consists in
the power of fixing the duration of time wdiich a composer
wishes to give to the equalized portions of his composition,
as indicated by the vibrations of a pendulum, and as marked
by relative numerals affixed to characters of musical nota¬
tion. Almost all pieces of music of classical importance
are now printed with indications of the metronome mea¬
sures of time ; and this is a great improvement, inasmuch
as before the present century we had nothing but tradition,
and often no tradition at all, to guide us in. the comparative
slowness or quickness with which the notes of a musical
composition were to be performed.
EIAO, an island in the Eastern Seas, about twenty-five
miles in circumference, near the west coast of Mortv.
Long. 128. 2. E. Lat. 2. 25. N.
RIASAN, a government of Russia, so called from the
ancient city of that name. It extends in north latitude
from 53. 1. to 55. 41., and in east longitude from 38. 10. to
41.14., and is 13,486 square miles. It contains twelve cities
or towns, and 833 parishes or communes, with 1,250,000
inhabitants, a very great proportion of whom are in a state
of vassalage. The district is an extensive plain watered by
the rivers Don, Oka, Osetr, and Prona, and near to them it
is highly fertile. In the other parts the soil is as produc¬
tive as can well be expected in a climate so severe. The
land is best in the southern division of the province, but
the wdiole yields more corn than is required for domestic
consumption. A surplus for exportation is produced of
grain, and brandy made from it, of salted meat, of leather,
vyax, honey, and hops. The forests afford a large supply of
timber. The manufactures are confined to clothing, chiefly
linen, and to iron implements. The exports proceed through
the Oka to the river Wolga. The capital is the city of the
same name on the river Trubusch, and is the seat of a bishop.
It contains twenty churches, an ecclesiastical seminary, and
one for the higher classes, with 760 dwellings, and 5000 in¬
habitants, chiefly employed in making linens. It is 617
miles from Petersburg. Long. 39.4. 58TE. Lat. 54.58. 6. N.
RIBAUVILLER, a city of the department of the Up¬
per Rhine, and arrondissement of Colmar, in France. It is
situated at the foot of the Vosges Mountains, on the river
Stambach. In 1836j it contained 6558 inhabitants, who
were employed in cultivating the vine, and in carrying on
extensive cotton manufactures.
RIBERA, a town of the intendency of Girgenti, and
the district of Mazzara, in the island of Sicily. It stands
on an unhealthy plain on the sea-shore, near the river Ca-
latabellota, sixty miles from Palermo, and contains 4800 in¬
dustrious inhabitants.
RIBERAC, an arrondissement of the department of the
Dordogne, in France, 501 square miles in extent. It com¬
prises seven cantons, and eighty-three communes, and in
1836 contained 71,457 inhabitants. The capital is the city
of the same name, in a fertile vale on the left bank of the
river Dronne. It is ill built, and in 1836 contained 3775 in¬
habitants, with but little commerce.
RICARDO, David, the most distinguished political eco¬
nomist since Dr Smith, was the third of a numerous family,
and was born in the city of London on the 19th of April
1772. His father, a native of Holland, and of the Jewish
persuasion, settled in this country early in life. He is said
to have been a man of good talents and the strictest inte¬
grity ; and having become a member of the Stock Ex¬
change, he acquired a respectable fortune, and possessed
230
RICARDO.
Ricardo, considerable influence in his circle. David was destined
  ''for the same line of business as his father; and received,
partly in England, and partly at a school in Holland, where
he resided two years, such an education as is usually given
to young men intended for the mercantile profession. Clas¬
sical learning formed no part of his early instruction. He
began to be confidentially employed by his father, in the
business of the Stock Exchange, when he was only fourteen
years of age. Neither then, however, nor at any subse¬
quent period, was he wholly engrossed by the combinations
and details of his arduous and difficult profession, from
his earliest years he evinced a taste for abstract and general
reasoning; and manifested that determination to pro e
every subiect of interest to the bottom, and to torm his
opinion upon it according to the unbiassed conviction ot Ins
mind, which was always one of the distinguishing features
Mr Ricardo’s freedom and independence of mind did not
accord with the prejudices of his father, who had been ac¬
customed to subscribe, without investigation, to the opinions
of his ancestors, on all questions connected with re igion
and politics, and who was desirous that his children should
do the same. But this system of passive obedience, and
blind submission to the dictates of authority, was quite re¬
pugnant to the principles of young Ricardo, who, at the same
time that he never failed to testify the sincerest affection
and respect for his father, found reason to differ fiom uni
on many important points, and to become a convert to the
Christian faith. , „ , . ,
Not long after this event, and shortly after he attained
the age of majority, Mr Ricardo formed a union, produc¬
tive of unalloyed domestic happiness, with Miss Wilkinson.
Having, in consequence of this conduct, been entirely se¬
parated from his father, he was thrown wholly on las own
resources, and commenced business for himself. At this
important epoch of his history, the oldest and most respect¬
able members of the Stock Exchange gave a striking proof
of the esteem entertained by them for his talents and the
integrity of his character, by voluntarily coming forward to
support and assist him in his undertakings. His success
exceeded the most sanguine expectations of his friends, and
in a few years he realized an ample fortune.
« The talent for obtaining wealth,” says a near relation of
Mr Ricardo’s, from whose interesting account of his life we
have borrowed these particulars, “ is not held in much esti¬
mation ; but perhaps in nothing did Mr Ricardo more evince
his extraordinary powers, than he did in his business. . His
complete knowledge ot all its intricacies; his surprising
quickness at figures and calculation; his capability of get¬
ting through, without any apparent exertion, the immense
transactions in which he was concerned ; his coolness and
judgment, combined certainly with (for him) a fortunate
tissue of public events, enabled him to leave all his con¬
temporaries at the Stock Exchange far behind, and to raise
himself infinitely higher, not only in fortune, but in general
character and estimation, than any man had ever done be¬
fore in that house. Such was the impression which these
qualities had made on his competitors, that several of the
most discerning among them, long before he had emerged
into public notoriety, prognosticated, in their admiration,
that he would live to fill some of the highest stations in the
state.”1
According as his solicitude about his success in life de¬
clined, Mr Ricardo began to devote a greater portion of
his time to scientific and literary pursuits. When about
twenty-five years of age, he began to study some branches
of mathematical science, and made considerable progress in
chemistry and mineralogy. He fitted up a laboratory,
formed a collection of minerals, and was one of the original Hicardo.
members of the Geological Society. It is known, however,' ^
that he never entered warmly into the investigation of these
sciences. They were not adapted to the peculiar cast of
his mind; and he abandoned them entirely, as soon as his
attention was directed to the more congenial study of poli¬
tical economy. . - . .
Mr Ricardo is stated to have first become acquainted with
the “Wealth of Nations” in 1799, while on a visit to Bath,
where he had accompanied Mrs Ricardo for the benefit of
her health. He was highly gratified by its perusal; and it
is most probable that the inquiries about which it is con¬
versant continued henceforth to occupy a considerable share
of his attention, though it was not till a later period that he
became so exclusively occupied with their study.
Mr Ricardo first came before the public as an author in
1809. The rise in the market-price of bullion, and the fall
of the exchange that had taken place that year, had excit¬
ed a good deal of attention. Mr Ricardo applied himself to
the consideration of the subject; and the studies in which he
had been latterly engaged, combined with the experience
which he had derived from the vast extent of his moneyed
transactions, enabled him not only to perceive the true
cause of the phenomena in question, but to trace and exhi¬
bit its practical bearing and real effect. When Mr Ricardo
began this investigation, he had no intention of laying the
result of his researches before the public. But having
shown his manuscript to Mr Perry, then proprietor and edi¬
tor of the Morning Chronicle, he was prevailed upon by
him, though not without considerable difficulty, to consent
to its publication, in the shape of letters, in that journal.
The first of these letters appeared on the 6th of September,
1809. They made a considerable impression, and elicited
various answers. This success, and the increasing interest
of the subject, induced Mr Ricardo to commit his opinions
upon it to the judgment of the public, in a more enlarged
and systematic form, in the celebrated tract entitled “ The
High Price of Bullion a Proof of the Depreciation of Bank
Notes.” This tract led the way in the far-famed bullion
controversy. It issued from the press several months pre¬
viously to the appointment of the bullion committee ; and
is believed to have had no inconsiderable effect in forward¬
ing that important measure. In this tract Mr Ricardo
showed that redundancy and deficiency of currency are
only relative terms ; and that so long as the currency of a
particular country consists exclusively of gold and silver
coins, or of paper convertible into them, it is impossible
that its value should either rise above or fall below the
value of the currencies of other countries, by a greater sum
than will suffice to defray the expense of importing foreign
coin or bullion if the currency be deficient, or of export¬
ing a portion of the existing supply if it be redundant.
But when a country issues an inconvertible paper-money,
as was then the case with England, it cannot be exported
to other countries in the event of its becoming relatively
redundant at home ; and whenever, therefore, the exchange
with foreign states is depressed below, or the price of bul¬
lion rises above, its mint price, more than the expense of
sending coins abroad, it is a conclusive proof that too much
paper has been issued, and that its value is depreciated from
excess. The principles which pervade the Report of the
bullion committee are substantially the same with those
w hich pervade Mr Ricardo’s pamphlet; but the more com¬
prehensive and popular manner in which they are illus¬
trated in the Report, and their being recommended bya
committee composed of some of the ablest members of the
House of Commons, gave them a weight and authority
which they could not otherwise have obtained. And though
1 See an account of the Life of Mr Ricardo in the Annual Obituary for 1823, supposed to be written by one of his brothers.
RICARDO.
] irdo. the prejudices and ignorance of some, and the interested,
*—y—“-'and therefore determined, opposition of others, prevented
for a while the adoption of the measures proposed by Mr
Ricardo and the committee for restoring the currency to a
sound and healthy state, they have since been carried into
full effect, and afford one of the most memorable and en¬
couraging examples in the history of the country, of the
triumph of principle over selfishness, sophistry, and error.
The fourth edition of this tract is the most valuable ; for
an Appendix is added to it, in which there are some acute
and ingenious observations on some of the most difficult
and delicate points involved in the theory of exchange;
and which also contains the first germ of the happy idea of
making bank-notes exchangeable for bars of gold bullion.
Among those who entered the lists in opposition to the
principles laid down, and the practical measures suggested,
in Mr Ricardo’s tract, and in the Report of the bullion com¬
mittee, a very prominent place is due to Mr Bosanquet.
This gentleman had great experience as a merchant; and
as he professed that the statements given in his “ Practical
Observations,” and which are completely at variance with
those in the Report, were the result of a careful examina¬
tion of the theoretical opinions of the committee by the test
of fact and experiment, they were well calculated to make,
and did make, a very considerable impression. The triumph
of Mr Bosanquet and his friends was, however, of very short
duration. Mr Ricardo did not hesitate to attack this for¬
midable adversary in his stronghold. His second tract,
entitled “ Reply to Mr Bosanquet’s Practical Observations
on the Report of the Bullion Committee,” was published
in 1811, and is perhaps the best controversial essay that has
ever appeared on any disputed question of political econo¬
my. In this pamphlet, Mr Ricardo met Mr Bosanquet on
his own ground, and overthrew him with his own wea¬
pons. He examined all the proofs which Mr Bosanquet had
brought forward, of the pretended discordance between the
principles advanced in his own pamphlet, and in the Bullion
Report, and experience; and showed that Mr Bosanquet
had either mistaken the cases by which he proposed to try
the theory, or that the discrepancy was only apparent, and
was entirely a consequence of his inability to apply the prin¬
ciple, and not of any deficiency in the principle itself. The
victory of Mr Ricardo was perfect and complete; and the
elaborate errors and mis-statements of Mr Bosanquet serv¬
ed only, in the language of Dr Copleston, “ to illustrate
the abilities of the writer who stepped forward to vindicate
the truth.”1 This tract affords a striking example of the
ascendency which those who possess a knowledge both of
principle and practice, have over those familiar only with
the latter ; and though the interest of the question which
gave rise to it be now subsided, it will always be read with
delight by such as are not insensible of the high gratifica¬
tion which all ingenuous minds must feel in observing the
ease with which a superior intellect clears away the irrele¬
vant matter with which a question has been designedly em¬
barrassed, reduces false facts to their just value, and traces
and exhibits the constant and active operation of the same
general principle through all the mazy intricacies of practi¬
cal detail.
The merit of these pamphlets was duly appreciated; and
Mr Ricardo’s society was, in consequence, courted by men
of the first eminence and consideration, wdio were not less
delighted with his modesty, and the mildness and amenity
of his manners, than with the reach and vigour of his un-
231
derstanding. It was at this period that he formed that in- Ricardo,
timacy with Mr Malthus, and Mr Mill, the author of the
History of British India, which ended only with his life.
To Mr Mill he was particularly attached; and he always
felt pleasure in acknowledging how much he owed to the
friendship, and to the clear, discriminating judgment of
that gentleman.
Mr Ricardo’s next appearance as an author was in 1815,
during the discussions on the bill, afterwards passed into a
law, for raising the limit at which the importation of fo¬
reign corn should be permitted, to 80s. Mr Malthus, and a
“ Fellow of University College, Oxford” (Mr West, after¬
wards Sir Edward West), had, in two able pamphlets, pub¬
lished almost at the same moment, developed the real na¬
ture, origin, and causes of rent.2 But neither of them per¬
ceived the real value and importance of the principles which
they had established. This was reserved for Mr Ricardo, who,
in his “ Essay on the Influence of a Low Price of Corn on
the Profits of Stock,” showed the real effect of the increase
which must always take place in the price of raw produce,
in the progress of society, on wages and profits ; and found¬
ed an irresistible argument in favour of the freedom of the
corn trade, on the very principles from which Mr Malthus
had vainly endeavoured to show the propriety of subjecting
it to fresh restrictions. This essay is particularly worthy
of attention, as it contains a brief statement of some of the
fundamental principles subsequently demonstrated in the
“ Principles of Political Economy and Taxation.”
In 1816, Mr Ricardo published his “ Proposals for an
Economical and Secure Currency, with Observations on the
Profits of the Bank of England.” In this pamphlet Mr Ricar¬
do examined the circumstances which determine the value of
money, both when every individual has the power to supply it,
and when that power is restricted and placed under a monopo¬
ly : he showed that, in the former case, its value depends, like
that of all freely produced commodities, wholly on the cost of
its production; while in the latter its value is quite unaffected
by that circumstance, and depends entirely on the extent to
•which it has been issued compared with the demand. This
is a principle of great importance ; for it shows that intrin¬
sic worth is not necessary to a currency, and that, provided
the supply of paper-notes, declared to be legal tender, be suf¬
ficiently limited, their value may be maintained on a par with
that of gold, or raised to any higher level. If, therefore, it
wrere possible to devise a system for preserving the value
of paper on a level w ith gold, without making it converti¬
ble into coin at the pleasure of the holder, the whole of the
expenses attending the use of a metallic currency would
be saved. To effect this object, Mr Ricardo proposed that
bank-notes, instead of being made exchangeable for gold
coins, should be made exchangeable for bars of gold bullion
of the standard weight and purity. This device was obvi¬
ously calculated to check the over-issue of paper quite as
effectually as it could be checked by making it convertible
into coin ; while, as the bars could not be used as currency,
it prevented any gold from getting into circulation. Mr Ri¬
cardo’s proposal was recommended in the Reports of the
Committees of the Houses of Lords and Commons, appoint¬
ed in 1819, to consider the expediency of the bank’s re¬
suming cash-payments, and was afterwards adopted in the
celebrated bill introduced by Mr (now Sir Robert) Peel, for
the resumption of cash payments. But though the plan se¬
cured all the advantages which Mr Ricardo had in view, these
were not the only considerations that had to be attended
s nmrSt Letter to the Right Hon. Robert Peel, by one of his Constituents, p. Cl.
mt-Vicv UaS 1 j3.1 was new in either of these pamphlets ; the origin, nature, and causes of rent having been quite as well, or
T aw A in Ain- \n 3 Pa™Phlet hy Rr Anderson, the editor of the Bee, published in 1777 (Inquiry into the Nature of the Corn
anv e m 1Si gncu|tllral Recreations, published in 1C01. But the investigations and discoveries of Anderson did not attract
havp hpin l0naan wer!lindeed,’ totall'V forgotten ; so that it was necessary the theory of rent should be re-stated (it is believed to
nave been re-discovered), to moke it be understood and appreciated by the public.
232
RICARDO.
Iticardo. to. The discovery of means for the prevention, or at least
' y ' diminution, of the extensive forgery to which the substitu¬
tion of notes in the place of coins had given rise, was indis¬
pensably necessary to the success of Mr Ricardo’s plan ;
and notwithstanding all the efforts that have been made,
this desideratum has not yet been supplied. Forgery in
the larger description of notes, or in those for L.5 and up¬
wards, may, with due precaution, be prevented from becom¬
ing injuriously prevalent. But low notes, or those of the
value of L.l or L.2, having to circulate among the labouring
classes, and in immense numbers, present facilities for the
issue of spurious paper which it has been found impossible
materially to diminish. Hence, in 1821, the plan of paying
in bars of bullion was abandoned, and the Bank of England
recommenced paying in specie.
loose generalization, and more regard to science and prin¬
ciple. The practical considerations which Mr Ricardo too'
much neglected have had their proper influence ascertained
by subsequent inquirers; and his doctrines having been pro¬
perly modified, and made applicable to the exigencies of
society, have acquired a very high practical as well as theo¬
retical value.
Previously to the publication of his Principles, Mr Ricar¬
do retired wholly from business, with a very large fortune, ac¬
quired with the universal respect and esteem of his compe¬
titors. He afterwards spent the greater part of the summer
at Gatcomb Park, an estate which he had purchased in Glou¬
cestershire. But he did not retire from the bustle of active
life to the mere enjoyment of his acres—Non fait consilium
socordia atque desidia bonum otium conterere—he had other
Ricardo,
At length, in 1817, Mr Ricardo published his great work objects in view ; and while his leisure hours, when m the
on the “ Principles of Political Economy and Taxation.” country, were chiefly devoted to the prosecution of the in-
1  1 • i | u 1—: teresting science of which he was now confessedly at the
head, he determined to extend the sphere of his usefulness
by entering the House of Commons. In 1819 he took his
seat as member for Portarlington. His diffidence of his
own powers had, however, nearly deprived the country of
the important services which he rendered in this situation.
In a letter to one of his friends, dated the 7th of April
1819, he says, “ You will have seen that I have taken my
seat in the House of Commons. I fear that I shall be of
little use there. I have twice attempted to speak; but I
proceeded in the most embarrassed manner; and I have
no hope of conquering the alarm with which I am assailed
the moment I hear the sound of my own voice.” And in a
letter to the same gentleman, dated the 22d of June 1819,
he says, “ I thank you for your endeavours to inspire me
with confidence on the occasion of my addressing the
house. Their indulgent reception of me has, in some de¬
gree, made the task of speaking more easy to me; but
there are yet so many formidable obstacles to my success,
and some, I fear, of a nature nearly insurmountable, that
I apprehend it will be wisdom and sound discretion in me
to content myself with giving silent votes.” Fortunately
he did not adopt this resolution. The difficulties with
which he had at first to struggle, and his diffidence in him¬
self, gradually subsided; while the integrity of his charac¬
ter, the mildness of his manners, and the perfect mastery
which he possessed over the subjects on which he spoke,
and the unquestionable purity and disinterestedness of his
intentions, speedily secured him a very extensive and pow-
erful influence both in the house and the country, and gave
the greatest weight and authority to his opinions.
Mr Ricardo was not one of those who make speeches to
suit the temporary and ephemeral circumstances and poli¬
tics of the day; he spoke only from principle, and with a
fixed resolution never to diverge in the smallest degree
from the path which it pointed out; he neither concealed
nor modified an opinion for the purpose of conciliating the
favour, or of disarming the prejudices or hostility, of any
man or set of men ; nor did he ever make a speech or give
a vote which he was not thoroughly convinced was founded
on just principles, and calculated to promote the true and
lasting interests of the public. Trained to habits of pro¬
found thinking, independent in his fortune, and inflexible in
his principles, Mr Ricardo had nothing in common with the
vulgar tribe of party politicians. His country’s good was
the single and only object of his parliamentary exertions;
and he laboured to promote it, not by engaging in party
cabals, which he detested, but by supporting the rights and
liberties of all classes, and by explaining and unfolding the
true sources of national wealth and public prosperity.
The change which has taken place in the public opinion
respecting the financial and commercial policy of the coun¬
try, since the period when Mr Ricardo obtained a seat in
the House of Commons, is as complete as it is gratifying.
This was a step which he did not take without much hesi¬
tation. He was not, and did not affect to be, insensible
of the value of literary and philosophical reputation; but
his modesty always led him to undervalue his own
powers; and having already obtained a very high degree
of celebrity as a writer on currency, he was unwilling to
risk what he was already in possession of, by attempting
to gain more. Ultimately, however, he was prevailed upon
by the entreaties of his friends, and chiefly by those of Mr
Mill, to allow his work to be sent to press. Its appearance
forms a new era in the history of the science. With the
exception of the “ Wealth of Nations,” it is the most im¬
portant, as it certainly is the most original and profound,
work that has appeared on political economy. It must,
however, be admitted, that he has not been happy in the
exposition of several of his peculiar doctrines; and the ma¬
thematical cast of his reasonings, the intimate dependence
of his propositions on each other, and the new sense which
he sometimes gives to terms in common use, are apt to re¬
pel ordinary readers, and give an appearance of obscurity
to the work. But those who study it with the care and at¬
tention which it deserves, will find that it is eminently lo¬
gical ; and the powers of mind displayed in its investiga¬
tions, the dexterity with which the most abstruse and dif¬
ficult questions are unravelled, the sagacity evinced in
tracing the operation of general principles, in disentangling
them from such as are of a secondary and accidental na¬
ture, and in perceiving and estimating their remotest con¬
sequences, have rarely been surpassed, and will for ever se¬
cure the name of Ricardo a conspicuous place in the list of
profound thinkers, and of the discoverers of useful truths.
The reader will find in the article Political Economy
a pretty full account of the leading principles advanced by
Mr Ricardo in this work, and of his most material conclu¬
sions. It is to be regretted that he relied too much on
theoretical reasonings, without making sufficient allowance
for the circumstances natural to and inherent in society,
which either counteract or materially modify some of the
principles on which he laid the greatest stress. But despite
the errors into which he thus necessarily fell, his work is of
the very highest value. It is the first in which we find an
analysis and generally just explanation of the circumstances
which determine the distribution of wealth among the vari¬
ous ranks and orders of society, and which govern their ap¬
parently conflicting but really harmonious relations. Since
the appearance of Mr Ricardo’s work the whole face of
the science has been changed, not merely by his numerous
discoveries, and the new lights which he struck out in every
department, but by the closer and more analytical method of
reasoning which he introduced. In this respect there is yet,
no doubt, much room for improvement; but any one who
compares the economical writings of the last seven years,
with those current before Mr Ricardo’s wrork made its ap¬
pearance, wdll be satisfied that there is now much less of
RICARDO.
ardo. That monopoly has still many defenders, must be allowed;
'v'***' but they defend, it only because they are interested in its
support. The most enlarged principles are now supported
by all the leading members of both houses. All are now
ready to admit that the exclusive system is founded on vi¬
cious principles; that it is not calculated to accelerate, but
to retard, the progress of those nations by whom it is adopt¬
ed ; and that it is sound policy to admit the freest compe¬
tition in every branch of industry, and to deal with all the
world on fair and liberal principles. The writings and the
speeches of Mr Ricardo contributed more than those of any
other individual to accomplish this salutary and desirable
change. As he was known to be a master in “ the master
science of civil life, his opinion, from the moment he en¬
tered the House of Commons, was referred to on all im¬
portant occasions and he acquired a constant accession of
influence and consideration, according as experience served
to render the house and the country better acquainted with
the rare and excellent qualities of his mind, and the single¬
ness of his heart.
In 1820 Mr Ricardo was prevailed on to furnish an ar¬
ticle on the “ F unding System” for the Supplement to the
Encyclopaedia Britannica. This tract, though somewhat
confused and perplexed in its arrangement, embraces many
admirable discussions. Mr Ricardo was a decided friend
to the plan for raising the supplies for a war within the
year, by an equivalent increase of taxation ; and he was
also of opinion that it would be both expedient and practi¬
cable to pay off the public debt by an assessment on capi¬
tal. In this article he has endeavoured, if not with perfect
success, at least with great ingenuity, to defend both pro¬
jects from the objections commonly urged against them.
In 1822, during the parliamentary discussions on the sub¬
ject of the corn laws, Mr Ricardo published his pamphlet
on “ Protection to Agriculture.” This is the best of all his
pamphlets, and is, indeed, a chef-d'oeuvre. The various and
important questions respecting remunerating price, the in¬
fluence of a low and high value of corn on wages and pro-
hts, the effects of taxation on agriculture and manufactures,
j and many other topics of equal difficulty and interest, are
all discussed in the short compass of eighty or ninety pages,
with a precision and clearness that leaves nothing to be de¬
sired. Even if Mr Ricardo had never written anything else,
this pamphlet would have placed him in the very first rank
of political economists.
Though not robust, Mr Ricardo’s constitution was appa-
rently good, and his health such as to promise a long life of
usefulness. He had indeed been subject for several years
233
to an affection in one of his ears; but as it had never given
wi1 a7 seri?us inconvenience, he paid little attention to it.
Wiien he retired to his seat in Gloucestershire, subsequently
to the close of the session of 1823, he was in excellent
Realth and spirits; and besides completing a tract, contain¬
ing a plan for the establishment of a national bank, he had
engaged, with his usual ardour, in profound and elaborate
inquiries in relation to the theory of value. But he was not
destined to bring this investigation to a close. In the be¬
ginning of September he was suddenly seized with a violent
pain in the diseased ear : the symptoms were not, however,
considered as unfavourable ; and the breaking of an impos-
uiume that had formed within it contributed greatly to his
reliet. But the amendment was only transitory ; within two
ays inflammation recommenced ; and after a period of in¬
describable agony, pressure on the brain ensued, which pro-
uced a stupor that continued until death terminated his
sufferings on the 11th of September.
In private life Mr Ricardo was most amiable. He was
a and and indulgent father and husband, and a wrarm, af-
ectionate, and zealous friend. No man was ever more Ricardo,
t oroughly free from every species of artifice and preten-
sion. He was sincere, plain, and unassuming, at once the
firmest and the gentlest of human beings. He was parti¬
cularly fond of assembling intelligent men around him, and
of conversing in the freest and most unrestrained manner
on all topics of interest, but more especially on those con¬
nected with his favourite science. He was always ready to
give way to others, and never discovered the least impa¬
tience to speak; but when he did speak, the extent and ac¬
curacy of his knowledge, the solidity of his judgment, his
perfect candour, and his peculiar and extraordinary talent
for resolving a question into its elements, and for setting
the most difficult and complicated subject in the clearest
and most striking point of view, arrested the attention of
every one, and made him the delight and idol of all who had
the happiness to hear him. Mr Ricardo never entered into
an argument, whether in public or private, for the sake of
displaying ingenuity, of baffling an opponent, or of gaining
a victory ; he was an entire stranger to such motives. The
discovery of truth was his exclusive object. He was ever
open to conviction; and if he was satisfied that he had
either advanced or supported an erroneous opinion, he was
the first to acknowledge his error, and to caution others
against it.
Few men ever possessed in a higher degree than Mr Ri¬
cardo the talent of speaking and conversing with clearness
and facility on the most abstruse and difficult subjects. In
this respect his speeches were greatly superior to his pub¬
lications. The latter cannot be readily understood and fol¬
lowed without considerable attention ; but nothing could
exceed the ease and felicity with which he illustrated and
explained the most refined and delicate questions of politi¬
cal economy, both in private conversation and in his speeches.
Without being forcible, his style of speaking was easy,
fluent, and agreeable. It was impossible to take him off
his guard. To those who were not familiar with his spe¬
culations, some of his positions were apt to appear para¬
doxical ; but the paradox was only in appearance. He
never advanced an opinion on which he had not deeply re¬
flected, and without examining it in every point of view;
and the readiness with which he met and overthrew the
most specious objections that the ablest men in the house
could state to his doctrines, is the best proof of their cor¬
rectness, and of the superiority and acuteness of his under¬
standing. I hat there w ere greater orators, and men of
more varied and general acquirements, in parliament than
Air Ricardo, we readily allow; but we are bold to say, that
in point of deep, clear, and comprehensive intellect, he had
no superiors, and very few, if any, equals, either in parlia¬
ment or the country.
Mr Ricardo was not less generous than intelligent; he
was never slow to come forward to the relief of the poor
and the distressed ; and while he contributed to almost every
charitable institution in the metropolis, he supported at his
own expense an alms-house for the poor, and two schools
for the instruction of the young in the vicinity of his seat
in the country.
Besides the publications previously enumerated, Mr Ri¬
cardo left several manuscripts. Among others, a “ Plan
for the Establishment of a National Bank” was found in a
finished state, and has since been published. In this pamph¬
let he has endeavoured to show that the power of issuing
paper-money might be safely placed in the bands of com¬
missioners appointed by government; and that, while such
a plan would be productive of no inconvenience, it would
most probably save the public a considerable sum annually.
Mr Ricardo also left very full Notes on Mr Malthus’s
Mr Peel^resnectim^thp fllis Pro™nent appearances on the 24th of May 1819, in the debate on the resolutions proposed by
Vol. xix 10n < aS1 Pa'Vment,s- did not rise until he was loudly called upon from all sides of the House.
2 G
234
Ricaut.
R I C
Principles of Political Economy. They contain a vindica¬
tion of his own doctrines from the objections of Mr Malthas,
and an exposition of the mistakes into which he conceives
the latter had fallen.
Though not properly belonging to the Whig party, Mi
Ricardo voted almost uniformly with them. He was hilly
impressed with a conviction of the many advantages that
would result from giving the people a greater influence
over the choice of their representatives in the H°use ot
Commons ; and was so far a friend to the system of the ra¬
dical reformers, as to give his cordial support to the plan ot
voting by ballot, which he considered as the best if not the
only means for securing the mass of the electors against im¬
proper solicitations, and enabling them to vote in favour o
the candidates whom they really approved. He did no ,
however, agree with the radical reformers in their plan ot
universal suffrage : he thought the elective franchise should
be o-iven to all who possessed a certain amount ot property ;
but he was of opinion, that while it would be a very hazar¬
dous experiment, no practical good would result from giv¬
ing the franchise indiscriminately to all.
When the circumstances under which the greater part o
the life of Mr Ricardo was spent are brought under view,
and when it is also recollected that he died at the early age
of fifty-one, it may be truly said that very few men have
ever achieved so much. His industry was quite unrivalled;
or if rivalled, it was only by his sagacity, his integrity, and
his candour. , „ , .
“ The history of Mr Ricardo,” to use the words ot his
friend Mr Mill, “ holds out a bright and inspiring example.
Mr Ricardo had everything to do for himself, and he did
everything. Let not the generous youth, whose aspirations
are higher than his circumstances, despair of attaining either
the highest intellectual excellence, or the highest influence
on the welfare of his species, when he recollects m what
circumstances Mr Ricardo opened, and in what he closed
his memorable life. He had his fortune to make, his mind
to form ; he had even his education to commence and con¬
duct. In a field of the most intense competition he rea¬
lized a large fortune, with the universal esteem and affec¬
tion of those who could best judge of the honoui and purity
of his acts. Amid this scene of active exertion and prac¬
tical detail, he cultivated and he acquired habits of intense
and patient and comprehensive thinking, such as have been
rarely equalled and never excelled.”
Mr Ricardo left a widow, three sons, and four daughters.
One of his daughters died a few years before him, shortly
after her marriage. (c - c-)
RICAUT, or Rycaut, Sir Paul, an eminent English
traveller, of the time of whose birth we find no account;
but in 1661 he was appointed secretary to the Earl of Win-
chelsea, who was sent ambassador extraordinary to Turkey.
During his continuance in that station he wrote “ The Pre¬
sent State of the Ottoman Empire, in three books, contain¬
ing the maxims of the Turkish policy, their religion, and
military discipline,” London, 1670; and he afterwards re¬
sided eleven years as consul at Smyrna, where, at the com¬
mand of Charles II., he composed “ The Present State of
the Greek and Arminian Churches, anno Christi 1678.”
On his return, Lord Clarendon being appointed lord lieu¬
tenant of Ireland, made him his principal secretary for
Leinster and Connaught. King James II. knighted him,
and made him one of the privy council in Ireland, and judge
of the court of admiralty. These appointments he held till
the Revolution. He was employed by King William as
resident at the Hanse Towns, in Lower Saxony, where he
continued for ten years ; but being worn out with age and
infirmities, he obtained leave to return in 1700, and died
the same year. Ricaut continued Knolles’s History of the
Turks, and Platina’s Lives of the Popes; besides which
there are some other productions which bear his name.
u i c
RICE “ Rice bras” says Mr Marsden, “ whilst in the Kite,
husk is 'in Indian called paddee, and assumes a different'—^
name in each of its other various states. We observe no
distinction of this kind in Europe, where our grain retains
through all its stages, till it becomes flour, its original name
of barley, wheat, or oats. The following, besides many
others, are names applied to rice in its different stages of
growth and preparation : paddee, original name of the seed;
oossay, grain of last season ; bunnee, the plants before re¬
moved to the sawoors; bras, or bray, rice, the husk of the
paddee being taken off; charroop, rice cleaned for boiling;
nassee, boiled rice ; peerang, yellow rice \jambar, a service
of rice, &c.
“ Among people whose general objects ot contemplation
are few, those which do of necessity engage their attention
are often more nicely discriminated than the same objects
among more enlightened people, whose ideas, ranging over
the extensive field of art and science, disdain to fix long on
obvious and common matters. Paddee, in Sumatra and the
Malay Islands, is distinguished into two sorts ;• laddang or
upland paddee, and sawoor or lowland, which are always
kept separate, and will not grow reciprocally. Of these, the
former bears the higher price, being a whiter, heartier, and
better-flavoured grain, and having the advantage in point
of keeping. The "latter is much more prolific from the seed,
and liable to less risk in the culture, but is of a watery sub¬
stance, produces less increase in boiling, and is subject to a
swifter decay. It is, however, in more common use than the
former. Besides this general distinction, the paddee of each
sort, particularly the laddang, presents a variety of species,
which, as far as my information extends, I shall enumeiate
and endeavour to describe. The common kind of dry
ground paddee; colour light brown ; the size rather large,
and very little crooked at the extremity. Paddee undal-
lonq; dry ground; short round grain; grows in whorls or
bunches round the stock. Paddee ebbass; dry ground,
large grain ; common. Paddee galloo; dry ground; light
coloured ; scarce. Paddee sennee; dry ground; deep co¬
loured ; small grain; scarce. Paddee ejoo; dry ground;
light coloured. Paddee kooning ; dry ground; deep ye-
low; fine rice ; crooked and pointed. Paddee coocoor uat-
lum ; dry ground ; much esteemed ; light coloured; small,
and very much crooked, resembling a dove’s nail, from
whence its name. Paddeepesang ; dry ground ; outer coat
light brown ; inner red; longer, smaller, and less crooked
than the coocoor ballum. Paddee santong; the finest sort
that is planted in wet ground; small, straight, and light
coloured. In general it may be observed that the larger
grained rice is the least esteemed, and the smaller and
whiter the most prized. In the Lampoon country they make
a distinction of paddee crawang and paddee jerroo; the
former of which is a month earlier in growth than the latter.
The following is the Chinese method of cultivating rice,
as it is stated by Sir George Staunton : “ Much of the low
grounds in the middle and southern provinces of the em¬
pire are appropriated to the culture of that grain. It con¬
stitutes, in fact, the principal part of the food of all those
inhabitants who are not so indigent as to be forced to su
sist on other and cheaper kinds of grain. A great propor¬
tion of the surface of the country is well adapted for the
production of rice, which, from the time the seed is com
mitted to the soil till the plant approaches to maturity, re¬
quires to be immersed in a sheet ot water. Many and great
rivers run through the principal provinces of China, the low
grounds bordering on those rivers are annually inundate ,
by which means is brought upon their surface a rich mu
or mucilage that fertilizes the soil, in the same manner as
Egypt receives its fecundative quality from the overflowing
of the Nile. The periodical rains which fall near the sources
of the Yellow and the Kiang rivers, not very far distant
from those of the Ganges and the Burumpooter, among
R I C
!. the mountains bounding India to the north and China to
the west, often swell those rivers to a prodigious height,
though not a drop should have fallen on the plains through
which they afterwards flow.
After the mud has lain some days upon the plains in
China, preparations are made for planting them with rice.
For this purpose a small piece of ground is enclosed by a
bank of clay ; the earth is ploughed up ; and an upright
harrow, with a row of wooden pins in the lower end, is
drawn lightly over it by a buffalo. The grain, which had
previously been steeped in dung diluted with animal water,
is then sown very thickly upon it. A thin sheet of water
is immediately brought over it, either by channels leading
to the spot from a source above it, or, when below it, by
means of a chain-pump, of which the use is as familiar as
that of a hoe to every Chinese husbandman. In a few davs
the remainder of the ground intended for cultivation, if
stiff, is ploughed, the lumps broken by hoes, and the sur¬
face levelled by the harrow. As soon as the shoots have
attained the height of six or seven inches, they are plucked
up by the roots, the tops of the blades cut off) and each
loot is planted separately, sometimes in small furrows turn¬
ed with the plough, and sometimes in holes made in rows
by a diilling stick for that purpose. The roots are about
half a foot asunder. Water is brought over them a second
time. For the convenience of irrigation, and to regulate
its proportion, the rice-fields are subdivided by narrow
ridges of clay into small enclosures. Through a channel in
each lidge the water is conveyed at will to every subdivi¬
sion of the field. As the rice approaches to maturity, the
water, by evaporation and absorption, disappears entirely ;
and the crop, when ripe, covers dry ground. The first crop
or harvest, in the southern provinces particularly, happens
towards the end of May or beginning of June. The in¬
strument for reaping is a small sickle, dentated like a saw,
and crooked. Neither carts nor cattle are used to carry
the sheaves off from the spot where they ■were reaped; but
they are placed regularly in frames, two of which, suspend-
cd at the extiemities of a bamboo polej are carried across
the shoulders of a man, to the place intended for disen-
gaging the grain from the stems which had supported it.
I his operation is performed, not only by a flail, as is cus¬
tomary in Europe, or by cattle treading the corn in the
manner of other orientalists, but sometimes also by strik¬
ing it against a plank set upon its edge, or beating it against
the side of a large tub scolloped for that purpose ; the back
and sides being much higher than the front, to prevent the
grain from being dispersed. After being winnowed, it is
carried to the granary.
Jo remove the skin or husk of rice, a large strong
earthen vessel, or hollow stone, in form somewhat like that
which is used elsewhere for filtering water, is fixed firmly
in the ground; and the grain, placed in it, is struck with a
conical stone fixed to the extremity of a lever, and cleared
sometimes indeed imperfectly, from the husk. The stone
is worked frequently by a person treading upon the end of
the lever. I he same object is attained also by passing the
gram between two flat stones of a circular form, the upper
of which turns round upon the other, but at such' a distance
irom it as not to break the intermediate grain. The ope¬
ration is performed on a large scale in mills turned by wa¬
ter; the axis of the w heel carrying several arms, which by
striking upon the ends of levers, raise them in the same
manner as is done by treading on them. Sometimes twenty
ot these levers are worked at once. The straw from which
the gram has been disengaged is cut chiefly into chaff to
serve as provender for the very few cattle employed in the
Chinese husbandry.
“ I he labour of the first crop being finished, the ground
is immediately prepared for the reception of fresh seeds,
tie first operation undertaken is that of pulling up the
R I C
235
stubble, collecting it into small heaps, which are burnt, and Richard-
t le ashes scattered upon the field. The former processes son-
«re afterwards renewed. The second crop is generally ripe
late in October or early in November. The grain is treat¬
ed as before; but the stubble is no longer burnt. It is
turned under with the plough, and left to putrefy in the
earth, ibis, with the slime brought upon the ground by
inundation, are the only manures usually employed in the
culture of rice.”
RICHARDSON, Samuel, a novelist of great celebrity
was born in the year 1689, in Derbyshire, but in what pari
ticular place has not been ascertained. Flis father, the de¬
scendant of a reputable family in the county of Surrey, fol¬
lowed the occupation of a joiner. The son was at first in¬
tended for the church ; but after his father had sustained
some heavy losses, he was left, at the age of fifteen or six¬
teen, to make choice of some employment which did not
require so expensive a preparation. ' He only appears to
nave received the most ordinary training of a country school.
Latin words and phrases are to be found in his works, but
there is no reason to believe that he had acquired even an
elementary knowledge of that language, nor was he after¬
wards induced to make the more easy acquisition of French.
Rut he had access to the rich and ample treasures of Eng¬
lish literature, and he became deeply read in the book of
human nature. He was a bashful boy, and gave an early
preference to the society of the other sex. From his child¬
hood he delighted in letter-writing; and to this early taste
we may trace the germ of his principal works. “ I was
not more than thirteen,” he informs us, “ when three of
these young women, unknown to each other, having an
high opinion of my taciturnity, revealed to me their love-
seci ets, in order to induce me to give them copies to write
alter, or correct, for answers to their lovers’ letters ; nor
did any one of them ever know that I was the secretary to
the others.” J
In his choice ot an employment he was chiefly guided
by his love of reading. In 1706 he was bound apprentice
to John vv ilde, a printer at Stationers Hall. Although he
served a rigid master, he contrived to steal from his hours
of rest and relaxation some precious intervals for the im¬
provement of his mind. After the completion of his ap¬
prenticeship, he continued for five or six years to work as
a compositor and corrector in a printing office, and part of
this time as an overseer. Thus he gradually emerged to
the situation of a master-printer, having first taken an of¬
fice in a court in Fleet-street, and afterwards in Salisbury-
court. As an apprentice he had been diligent and con¬
scientious, as a master he wras assiduous and liberal. In ad¬
dition to the proper avocations of a printer, he on various
occasions undertook to write indices, prefaces, and, as he
describes them, honest dedications. The punctuality, to¬
gether with the integrity and liberality of his dealings,
speedily procured him friends, and his business became very
prosperous. Through the interest of the Speaker, Mr Ons-
low^ he was employed to print the Journals of the House
of Commons, in twenty-six volumes folio. In 1754 he was
chosen master of the Stationers’ Company. In 1760 he
purchased a moiety of the patent of law-printer to his ma¬
jesty, and in this branch of his business he was conjoined
with Miss Catherine Lintot. He was thus enabled to live
in comfort, and to make a suitable provision for his family.
Like other prosperous citizens, he set a due value on coun¬
try air, and had first a residence at North-end near Ham¬
mersmith, and afterwards at Parsons-green near Fulham,
w here he spent such intervals of time as he could spare from
business, and where he was seldom without visitors.
I he first work that recommended him to public notice
was “ Pamela, or Virtue rewarded,” published in the year
1741. The twro volumes, of which it originally consisted,
appear to have been written in less than three months. Its
236
R I C
R I C
son.
Itichard- success was almost unprecedented, for it reached a frfth
edition within the space of a year. “ The printer in Sahs-
' bury-courtsays Mrs Barbauld, “ was to create a new spe-
cies^of writing; his name was to be familiar in the mouths
of the great, the witty, and the gay, and he was destmed to
give one motive more to the rest of Europe to learn the
language of his country.” The moral tendency of this
novel was considered as so excellent, lfc was even -
commended from the pulpit, particularly by Dr Slocock o
Christ Church in Surrey. This estimate may now excite
some degree of surprise; and Dr Watts, to whom the au¬
thor had sent his two volumes, wrote to him that ^ under¬
stood the ladies could not read them without b usi ng
Other inconsistencies in the work were powerfully ^hculed
by Fielding in his History of Joseph Andrews, whom he
introduces to his readers as the brother of Fame •
was an iniury which Richardson, though an amiab e a
benevolent man, found it very difficult, if not imposs.ble to
forgive. In his correspondence with his admiring trends,
he predicted that Fielding would speedily sink into obllvlon*
But, in the present age, for every reader of Pamela and
Clarissa there are at least five hundred of Joseph Andrews
and Tom Jones.
The brilliant success of this novel prompted some name¬
less individual to write and publish a continuation of t ie
story, under the title of “ Pamela in high Life. Rmha
son, who might very safely have disregarded such an at¬
tempt to invade his province, was thus induced to add a
second part, which however made no addition to his repu¬
tation. “ These volumes,” says Mrs Barbauld, “ two in
number, are, like most second parts, greatly inferior to the
first. They are superfluous, for the plan was already com¬
pleted ; and they are dull, for instead of incident and pas¬
sion, they are filled with heavy sentiment, in diction far
from elegant. A great part of it aims to palliate, by co'in‘
ter-criticism, the faults which had been found m the first
parts. It is less a continuation, than the author s defence
of himself.” On the story of Pamela, the famous dramatist
Goldoni has written two of his plays, Pamela Nubile and
Pamela Maritata.
In the year 1749, he published the first two volumes of
“ The History of Clarissa Harlowe.” This work, which he
extended to eight volumes, is the chief foundation of his
celebrity as an original and inventive writer. Notwith¬
standing its inordinate length, the book long continued to
enjoy an almost unrivalled share of public favour, and, what¬
ever may be its defects or redundancies, this favour could
only be secured by the author’s power over the imagination
and moral feelings. The outline of the story is sufficiently
simple, nor is the curiosity of the reader excited by intri¬
cate plots and marvellous adventures. It is a work, not of
action and enterprise, but of character and sentiment. Cla¬
rissa was exhibited in a French dress by Prevost; but he
has given an abridgement rather than a translation ; and, as
he has stated, the book required some softening to adapt it
to the more delicate taste of his countrymen. A more faith¬
ful version was afterwards published by Le Tourneur. It
was translated into Dutch by Stinstra, and into German
under the auspices of the illustrious Haller.
His next production was “ The History of Sir Charles
Grandison,” published in 1753, in seven volumes. In his
previous works he had given ample delineations of female
character, and he now endeavoured to exhibit a pattern of
a perfect man. Whatever is graceful and engaging in the
man of spirit and the fine gentleman, it was his aim to
unite with every moral virtue, and with the strict observ¬
ance of Christian principles. This was certainly a difficult
enterprise ; and the writer’s genius is more successfully dis¬
played in delineating the character of Clementina, than in
delineating that of his hero. Of all the representations
of madness, says Dr WTarton, that of Clementina “ is the
most deeply interesting. I know not whether even the Ihchatt
madness of Lear is wrought up, and expressed by so many
little strokes of nature and passion. It is absolute pedantry
to prefer the madness of Orestes in Euripides to that of
Clementina.” But it is the great fault of Richardson, that
he never knows when to withdraw his hand from the can¬
vass ; and he has diminished the effect of this character by
prolonging her appearances beyond the proper crisis for her
^Th™nervous system of Richardson was naturally weak ;
and during his latter years his hand shook, and he was sub¬
ject to frequent fits of giddiness. His disorders having at
length terminated in apoplexy, he died on the 4th of July
1761, at the age of seventy-two. He left behind him the
character of a virtuous and benevolent man, highly respect¬
ed in all the relations of private life. His chief weakness
seems to have been vanity, which is sufficiently displayed
in his private correspondence. His success in literature
was so great and so unexpected, and he received so much
flattery from his friends, especially from his female friends,
that it would have required a very firm texture of mind to
resist the access of that passion which so easily converts a
wise man into a fool.
Richardson was twice married. His first wife was Mar¬
tha the daughter of Allington Wilde, a printer of Clerken-
well. She bore him five sons and a daughter, who all died
young. His second wife, who survived him for many years,
was Elizabeth the sister of Mr Leake, a bookseller of Bath.
She became the mother of a son and five daughters. T e
son died at an early age, but four of the daughters sur¬
vived him ; Mary, married in 1757 to Mr Ditcher, an emi¬
nent surgeon of Bath ; Martha, married in 1762 to Edward
Bridgen, Esq.; Anne, who died unmarried in 1804; and
Sarah, married to Mr Crowther, surgeon of Boswell-court.
Besides his three novels in nineteen volumes, he pub¬
lished some other works. 1. The Negociations of Sir Tho¬
mas Roe, in his Embassy to the Ottoman Porte, from 1621
to 1628 inclusive. 1740, fol. 2. An edition of ^sops
Fables, with Reflections. 3. Familiar Letters to and from
several Persons upon business, and other subjects. He
furnished some additions to the sixth edition of De Foe s
Tour through Great Britain ; and some of his contributions
are to be found in periodical works. Long after his deal
appeared “ The Correspondence of Samuel Richardson,
author of Pamela, Clarissa, and Sir Charles Grandison ; se¬
lected from the original manuscripts bequeathed by him to
his family. To which are prefixed a biographical account
of that author, and observations on his writings, by Anna
Laetitia Barbauld.” Lend. 1804, 6 vols. 12mo. This pub¬
lication has no tendency to augment his reputation.
The most eminent writers of our own, and even of fo¬
reign countries, have paid their tribute to the talents of
Richardson, whose works have been published m almost
every language and country of Europe. They have been
greatly admired, notwithstanding every dissimilitude of man¬
ners, and every disadvantage of translation. Diderot, in his
Essay on Dramatic Poetry, speaking of the means em¬
ployed to move the passions, mentions Richardson as a
perfect master of that art. “ How striking,” says he, “ how
pathetic are his descriptions! His personages, though silent,
are alive before me ; and of those who speak, the actions are
still more affecting than the words.” Rousseau, in his et
ter to M. d’Alembert, speaking of the novels of Richardson,
asserts, “ that nothing was ever written equal to, or even
approaching them, in any language.” Dr Johnson, in ns
introduction to the ninety-seventh number of the Rambler,
which was written by Richardson, observes that the reader
was indebted for that day’s entertainment to an author
“ from whom the age has received greater favours, who
has enlarged the knowledge of human nature, and taug t
the passions to move at the command of virtue.” In h:s
R I C
Rikrd- Life of Rowe, he says, “ The character of Lothario seems
IT to have been expanded by Richardson into that of Love-
lace; but he has excelled his original in the moral effect of
the fiction. Lothario, with gaiety which cannot be hated,
and bravery which cannot be despised, retains too much of
the spectator’s kindness. It was in the power of Richard¬
son alone to teach us at once esteem and detestation ; to
make virtuous resentment overpower all the benevolence
which wit, and elegance, and courage, naturally excite ; and
to lose at last the hero in the villain.” Dr Young has re¬
marked, that Richardson, with the mere advantages of na¬
ture, improved by a very moderate progress in education,
struck out at once, and of his own accord, into a new pro¬
vince of writing, in which he succeeded to admiration. And,
what is more remarkable, he not only began, but finished,
the plan on which he set out, leaving no room for any one
after him to render it more complete ; and not one of the
various writers that have ever since attempted to imitate
him, have in any respect equalled, or at all approached near
him. This kind of romance is peculiarly his own ; and “ I
consider him,” he continues, “ as a truly great natural ge¬
nius ; as great and supereminent in his way as Shakspeare
and Milton were in theirs.”
Richardson, Jonathan, a celebrated painter of heads,
wras born about the year 1665, and against his inclination
was placed by his father-in-law apprentice to a scrivener,
with whom he lived six years. Having obtained his free¬
dom by the death of his master, he followed the bent of his
disposition, and at the age of twenty became the disciple
of Riley, with whom he lived four years, whose niece he
married, and of whose manner he acquired enough to main¬
tain a solid and lasting reputation, even during the lives of
Kneller and Dahl, and to remain at the head of the profes¬
sion when they no longer continued to exercise it.
I here is strength, roundness, and boldness in his co¬
louring ; but his men want dignity, and his women grace.
The good sense of the nation is characterised in his por¬
traits. M e perceive that he lived in an age when neither
enthusiasm nor servility was predominant. Yet with a
| pencil so firm, possessed of a numerous and excellent col¬
lection of drawings, full of the theory, and profound in re¬
flections on his art, he drew nothing well below the head,
and was void of imagination. His attitudes, draperies, and
back grounds, are totally insipid and unmeaning ; so ill did
he apply to his own practice the sagacious rules and hints
which he bestowed on others. Though he wrote with fire and
judgment, his paintings owed little to either. No man dived
deeper into the inexhaustible stores of Raphael, or was more
smitten with the native lustre of Vandyck. Yet though
capable of relishing the elevation of the one and the ele¬
gance of the other, he could never contrive to see with their
eyes when he was to copy nature himself. One w onders
that he could comment on their works so well, and imitate
them so little.
He quitted business some years before his death ; but
his temperance and virtue contributed to protract his life
to a great length in the full enjoyment of his understand¬
ing, and in the felicity of domestic friendship. He had a
paralytic stroke that affected his arm, yet never disabled
him from his customary walks and exercise. He had been
in St James’s Park, and died suddenly at his house in
Queen’s-square on his return home, on the 28th of May 1745,
when he had passed the eightieth year of his age. He left
a son and four daughters ; one of whom was married to his
disciple Mr Hudson, and another to Mr Grigson, an attor¬
ney. The taste and learning of the son, and the harmony
in which he lived with his father, are visible in the joint
works which they composed. In 1719 the father pub-
hshed two discourses: 1. An Essay on the whole Art of
Criticism as it relates to Painting ; 2. An Argument in be¬
half of the Science of a Connoisseur. In 1722 came forth
R I C 237
“ An Account of some of the Statues, Bas-reliefs, Draw- R'ichelet
ings, and Pictures, in Italy, &c. with Remarks by Mr Rich- II
ardson, senior and junior.” The son made the journey ; R^helieu.
and from his notes, letters, and observations, they both at v~"~"
his return compiled this valuable work. As the father was
a formal man, with a slow but loud and sonorous voice,
and, in truth, with some affectation in his manner, and as
there is much singularity in his style and expression, these
peculiarities, for they were scarcely foibles, struck superfi¬
cial readers, and between the laughers and the envious the
book was much ridiculed. Yet both this and the former
are full of matter, good sense, and instruction ; and the
very quaintness of some expressions, and their laboured no¬
velty, shew the difficulty which the author experienced in
his attempts to convey mere visible ideas through the me¬
dium of language. If these authors were censured when
they confined themselves within their own circle, it was not
to be expected that they would be treated with milder in¬
dulgence when they ventured into a sister region. In 1734,
they published a very thick octavo, containing explanatory
notes and remarks on Milton’s Paradise Lost, w-ith the life
of the author, and a discourse on the poem. Again wTere
the good sense, the judicious criticisms, and the sentiments
that broke forth in this work, forgotten in the singularities
by which it is distinguished. The father having said, in
apology for being little conversant in ancient literature, that
he had looked into the classics through his son, Hogarth,
whom a quibble could furnish with wut, drew the father
peeping through the nether end of a telescope, with which
his son was perforated, at a Virgil placed on a high shelf.
Richardson, indeed, was as incapable of reaching the su¬
blime or harmonious in poetry, as he was in painting, though
so capable of illustrating both. Some specimens of verse
that he has given us here and there in his works excite no
curiosity for more, though he informs us in his Milton, that
if painting was his wife, poetry had been his secret con¬
cubine.
RICHELET, Ctesar Peter, a French writer, born in
1631, at Chemin in Champagne, was the friend of Patru
and Albancourt; and like them applied himself to the study
of the French language with success. He compiled a dic¬
tionary of that language, full of new and useful remarks;
but exceptionable, as containing many satirical reflections
and obscenities. The best edition is that of Lyon, 1728,
three volumes folio. He also collected a small dictionary
of rhymes, and composed some other pieces in the gram¬
matical and critical department. He died in 1698.
RICHELIEU, John Armand du Plessis de, cardinal
of Richelieu and Fronsac, bishop of Lucon, &c. was born
at Paris in 1585. He was possessed of excellent parts;
and at the age of twenty-two he had the address to obtain
a dispensation to enjoy the bishopric of Lucon. He applied
himself in a particular manner to the function of preaching;
and his reputation procured him the office of almoner to
the queen Mary de’ Medicis. His abilities in the manage¬
ment of affairs advanced him to be secretary of state in
1616; and the king soon gave him the preference to all
his other secretaries. The death of the marquis d’Ancre
having produced a revolution in state affairs, Richelieu re¬
tired to Avignon, where he employed himself in composing
books of controversy and piety. The king having recalled
him to court, he was made a cardinal in 1622; and, two
years after, first minister of state, and grand-master of the
navigation. In 1626, the Isle of Rhee was preserved by
his care; and in 1628 Rochelle was taken, the haven having
been enclosed by the famous dyke which he ordered to be
raised. He accompanied the king to the siege of Cazal,
and contributed not a little to the raising of it in 1629. He
also obliged the Huguenots to the peace at Alets, which
proved the ruin of that party. He took Pamerol, and suc¬
coured Cazal, besieged by Spinola. In the mean time the
238
R I C
R I C
Richelieu nobles found fault with his conduct, and persuaded the king
\\ to discard him. The cardinal, for his part, was unmoved,
Riches. an(j reasonings overthrew what was thought to be de-
v ' termined against him ; so that, instead of being disgraced,
lie from that moment became more powerful than ever.
He punished all his enemies in the same manner as they
would have punished him; and the day which produced
this event, so glorious to Cardinal de Richelieu, was called
the day of dupes. This able minister had from thence
forward an ascendency over the king’s mind ; and he now
resolved to humble the excessive pride of the house of Aus¬
tria. For that purpose he concluded a treaty with Gus-
tavus Adolphus king of Sweden, for carrying the war into
the heart of Germany. He also entered into a league with
the duke of Bavaria; secured Lorraine ; raised a part of
the princes of the empire against the emperor; treated
with the Dutch to continue the war against Spain ; favour¬
ed the Catalans and Portuguese till they shook off the Spa¬
nish yoke; and, in short, took so many different measures,
that he accomplished his design ; and after having carried
on the war with success, was thinking of concluding it by
a peace, when he died at Paris on the 4th of December
1642, aged fifty-eight. He was interred in the Sorbonne,
where a magnificent mausoleum is erected to his memory.
This great politician made the arts and sciences flourish ;
formed the botanical garden at Paris, called the king?s gar¬
den ; founded the French academy; established the royal
printing-house; erected the palace afterwards called Le
Palais Royal, which he presented to the king; and rebuilt
the Sorbonne with a magnificence that appears truly royal.
Besides his books of controversy and piety, there pass un¬
der the name of this minister, a Journal, in 2 vols. 12mo ;
and a Political Testament, in 12mo; all treating of politics
and state affairs.
Richelieu, or Sorell, a river of Loiver Canada, flowing
in a northerly direction from Lake Champlain to the great
St Lawrence. It is the principal channel by which the
waters of the lake are conveyed to the latter river ; and by
being made navigable for vessels of large size throughout
its whole extent, it would afford a most convenient means
of commercial intercourse with the interior of New York,
and form a direct chain of communication with the great
western republic. This river is remarkable for being
much narrower at its embouchure than at the place from
which it flows. From its mouth to the basin of Chamblay
it is about twm hundred and fifty yards wide; thence to
the Isle du Portage the breadth is five hundred yards ; be¬
yond this it expands to double that size, and continues to
enlarge up to St John’s, from which there is a ship-naviga¬
tion to the towns on Lake Champlain. From Chamblay
downwards to the St Lawrence the current is regular and
gentle ; but from Lake Champlain to the basin it is hurried,
in some places violent, and in others broken by rapids.
The channel is, however, of great value and importance, and
the medium of considerable trade.
Richelieu Islands, a cluster of islands, about a hundred
in number, in the river St Lawrence, situated at the south¬
west entrance of Lake St Peter. They lie low, and are
liable to be overflowed in spring, w'hen the lake is swelled
by the melting of snow and ice. Some of them afford good
pasturage for cattle, and they all abound with wild fowl.
RICHES, a word used always in the plural number,
means wealth, money, possession, or a splendid sumptuous
appearance. When used to express the fortune of private
persons, whether patrimonial or acquired, it signifies opu¬
lence ; a term which expresses not the enjoyment, but the
possession, of numerous superfluities. By the riches of a
state or kingdom we mean the produce of industry, of com¬
merce, of different incorporated bodies, of the internal and
external administration of the principal members of which
the society is composed.
RICHMOND, a city, port of entry, and the metropolis Richmond
of Virginia, one of the United States of North America. . II
It is situated on the north bank of James River, just below Rlckmans. ^
the falls, one hundred and fifty miles from the mouth of the w*
river, and one hundred and twenty-three south-west from
Washington. The situation of this city is alike picturesque,
salubrious, and favourable for commerce. The public build¬
ings are numerous, and some considerable manufactures
are here carried on. The capitol, a handsome structure,
occupies a commanding situation on a rising ground.
Among the churches, that called the Monumental Church
is most beautiful and conspicuous. It is erected on the
spot where, in 1811, the theatre of Richmond was burned
to the ground during the performance, and above seventy
persons perished in the flames. A monument in front com¬
memorates the event, and hence the name of the church.
There are a number of other religious houses, a sufficiency
of good schools, and a well-regulated penitentiary. Rich¬
mond is the natural depot of tobacco, wheat, and hemp,
raised in the populous county watered by the river. The
falls extend six miles, during which space the James de¬
scends eighty feet. A canal passes around these falls, and
the river is navigable for batteaux two hundred and twenty
miles above them; by this means the city is connected
with a very extensive and productive back country. The
inland, coasting, and foreign trade is extensive. Manches¬
ter, on the opposite side of the river, is connected with it
by means of bridges. In 1830 the population amounted to
16,060 ; in 1839 it may be estimated at about 20,000.
Long. 77. 21. W. Lat. 37. 32. N.
Richmond, a towm of the county of Surrey, in the hun¬
dred of Kingston, nine miles from London, on the right
bank of the river Thames, over which is an elegant bridge
leading to Twickenham. It was anciently called Sheen,
and a "palace adjoining was long the residence of our mo-
narchs. The park still belongs to the crown. A hill rises
from the town, of great celebrity for the extent and beauty
of the prospect which it affords. The brow of the hill has
a delightful promenade, and is adorned by residences of
great taste and magnificence, and by hotels, where every
accommodation that luxury can desire is supplied, though
at the most extravagant prices. Other houses of the purest
taste are built along the bank, and to the edge of the river.
The vicinity to the royal gardens of Kew form an induce¬
ment to a residence at this delightful place, which is one of
the desirable retreats from the metropolis. It has a neat
parish church, or rather chapel to Kingston. The popula¬
tion amounted in 1801 to 4628, in 18ll to 5219, in 1821
to 5994, and in 1831 to 7243.
Richmond, a market and borough town of the north
riding of the county of York, 254 miles from London. It
stands on the east side of a steep hill rising from the banks
of the river Swale, which nearly encircles the town. It is
finely situated, and well built. It was fortified in ancient
times, and probably more populous than it is at present. It
now gives the title of duke to one branch of the illegitimate
descendants of Charles II. It returns two members to the
House of Commons. The country around it is celebrated
for its breed of horses, and annual races are still held near
it. There is a good market on Saturday. The population
amounted in 1801 to 2861, in 1811 to 3056, in 1821 to
3546, and in 1831 to 3900.
RICKMANSWORTH, a market-town of the county of
Hertford. It is in the hundred of Cashio, seventeen miles
from London, and stands at the spot where the river Gade
falls into the Colne, which latter forms a part of the Grand
Junction Canal. It is also near the course of the railway
by which London is connected with Birmingham, and is
thus highly favoured with respect to the facilities of com¬
munication. The church is a fine large fabric of an an¬
cient date. The town has some trade in straw-hats and in
R I D
III
ji ?au making thread-lace. There are several mills in the neigh¬
bourhood occupied in making cotton and silk goods, and
]ti ale. many jn making paper. It has a weekly market on Satur-
day, though now but little attended. The population
amounted in 1801 to 2975, in 1811 to 3230, in 1821 to
3940, and in 1831 to 4574.
RIDEAU, in Fortification, a small elevation of earth,
extending itself lengthwise on a plain, serving to cover a
camp or give an advantage in a post.
Rideau is sometimes also used for a trench, the earth
of which is thrown up on its side, to serve as a parapet for
covering the men.
RIDICULE, in matters of literature, is that species of
writing which excites contempt with laughter.
The ridiculous, says Lord Karnes, differs from the risible.
A risible object produces an emotion of laughter merely ;
a ridiculous object is improper as well as risible, and pro¬
duces a mixed emotion, which is vented by a laugh of de¬
rision or scorn.
Burlesque, though a great engine of ridicule, is not con¬
fined to that subject; for it is clearly distinguishable into
burlesque that excites laughter merely, and burlesque that
provokes derision or ridicule. A grave subject in which
there is no impropriety, may be brought dow n by a certain
colouring so as to be risible ; which is the case of Virgil
Traveslie, and also the case of the Secchia Rapita; the
authors laugh first, in order to make their readers laugh.
The Lutrin is a burlesque poem of the other sort, laying
hold of a low and trifling incident, to expose the luxury,
indolence, and contentious spirit of a set of monks. Boi-
leau, the author, gives a ridiculous air to the subject, by
dressing it in the heroic style, and affecting to consider it
as of the utmost dignity and importance. In a composition
of this kind, no image professedly ludicrous ought to find
quarter, because such images destroy the contrast; and ac¬
cordingly the author show's always the grave face, and never
once betrays a smile.
Though the burlesque that aims at ridicule produces its
effects by elevating the style far above the subject, yet it
has limits beyond which the elevation ought not to be car¬
ried. The poet, consulting the imagination of his readers,
ought to confine himself to such images as are lively and
readily apprehended; a strained elevation, soaring above
an ordinary reach of fancy, makes not a pleasant impres-
! si°n. The reader, fatigued with being always upon the
stretch, is soon disgusted; and if he persevere, becomes
thoughtless and indifferent. Further, a fiction gives no
pleasure unless it be painted in colours so lively as to pro¬
duce some perception of reality; which never can be done
effectually where the images are formed wdth labour or
difficulty. For these reasons, we cannot avoid condemning
the Batrachomyomachia, said to be the composition of Ho¬
mer : it is beyond the power of imagination to form a
clear and lively image of frogs and mice acting with the
dignity of the highest of our species ; nor can we form a
conception of the reality of such an action, in any manner
so distinct as to interest our affections even in the slightest
degree.
The Rape of the Lock is of a character clearly distin¬
guishable from those now mentioned ; it is not properly a
burlesque performance, but what may rather be termed an
heroi-comical poem; it treats a gay and familiar subject
with pleasantry, and with a moderate degree of dignity.
The author puts not on a mask like Boileau, nor professes
to make us laugh like Tassoni. The Rape of the Lock is
a genteel species of writing, less strained than those men¬
tioned ; and is pleasant or ludicrous without having ridicule
for its chief aim ; giving way, however, to ridicule, where it
naturally arises from a particular character, such as that of
Sir Plume.
1 hose who have a talent for ridicule, which is seldom
RID 2,39
united with a taste for delicate and refined beauties, are Riding
quick-sighted in improprieties; and these they eagerly grasp, . I
in order to gratify their favourite propensity. Persons galled u* e-v‘
are provoked to maintain that ridicule is improper for grave "
subjects. Subjects really grave are by no means fit for
ridicule; but then it is urged against them, that, when call¬
ed in question whether a certain subject be really grave, ri¬
dicule is the only means of determining the controversy.
Hence a celebrated question, whether ridicule be or be not
a test of truth.
On one side it is observed that the objects of ridicule
are falsehood, incongruity, impropriety, or turpitude of cer¬
tain kinds; but as the object of every excited passion must
be examined by reason before we can determine whether
it be proper or improper, so ridicule must, apparently at
least, establish the truth of the improprieties designed to
excite the passion of contempt. Lienee it comes in aid of
argument and reason, when its impressions on the imagina¬
tion are consistent with the nature of things ; but when it
strikes the fancy and affections with fictitious images, it be¬
comes the instrument of deceit. But however ridicule may
impress the idea of apparent turpitude or falsehood in the
imagination, yet still reason remains the supreme judge;
and thus ridicule can never be the final test or touchstone
of truth and falsehood.
On the other side, it is contended that ridicule is not a
subject of reasoning, but of sense or taste. Stating the
question, then, in more accurate terms, whether the sense
of ridicule be the proper test for distinguishing ridiculous
objects from what are not so, they proceed thus. No per¬
son doubts that our sense of beauty is the true test of what
is beautiful; and our sense of grandeur, of what is great or
sublime. Is it more doubtful whether our sense of ridicule
be the true test of what is ridiculous ? It is not only the
true test, but indeed the only test; for this subject comes
not, more than beauty or grandeur, under the province of
reason. If any subject, by the influence of fashion or cus¬
tom, have acquired a degree of veneration to which it is
not naturally entitled, what are the proper means for wiping
off the artificial colouring, and displaying the subject in its
true light ? A man of true taste sees the subject without the
disguise ; but if we hesitate, let him apply the test of ridi¬
cule, which separates it from its artificial connections, and
exposes it naked with all its native improprieties.
RIDING. See Horsemanship.
Riding, in naval affairs, is the state of a ship’s being re¬
tained in a particular station, by means of one or more cables
with their anchors, which are for this purpose sunk into the
bottom of the sea, &c. in order to prevent the vessel from
being driven at the mercy of the wind or current. A rope
is said to ride, when one of the turns by which it is wound
about the capstern or windlass lies over another, so as to
interrupt the operation of heaving.
Riding Atkivart, the position of a ship which lies across
the direction of the wind and tide, when the former is so
strong as to prevent her from falling into the current of the
latter.
Riding between the Wind and Tide, the situation of a
vessel at anchor, when the wind and tide act upon her in
direct opposition, in such a manner as to destroy the effort
of each other upon her hull; so that she is in a manner
balanced between their reciprocal force, and rides without
the least strain on her cables. When a ship does not labour
heavily, or feel a great strain when anchored in an open
road or bay, she is said to ride easy. On the contrary, when
she pitches violently into the sea, so as to strain her cables,
masts, or hull, it is called riding hard, and the vessel is
termed a bad roader.
RIDLEY, Nicholas, bishop of London, and a martyr
to the Reformation, was descended of an ancient family,
and born in the beginning of the sixteenth century, at Wil-
240
Itidley.
R I D
montswick in Northumberland. From the grammar-school
'of Newcastle-upon-Tyne he was sent to Pembroke Hall in
Cambridge, in the year 1518, and was there, supported by
his uncle Dr Robert Ridley, fellow of Queen s College. In
1522 he took his first degree in arts; two years after, was
elected fellow ; and, in 1525, he commenced master or arts.
In 1527, having taken orders, he was sent by his uncle, tor
further improvement, to the Sorbonne at Paris ; from thence
he went to Louvain, and continued abroad tul the year
1529. On his return to Cambridge, he was chosen under¬
treasurer of the university; and, in 1533, was elected senior
proctor. He afterwards proceeded bachelor of divinity, and
was chosen orator and a chaplain of the university,
this time he was much admired as a preacher and dispu¬
tant. He lost his kind uncle in 1536 ; but was soon alter
patronised by Dr Cranmer, archbishop of Canterbury, who
made him his domestic chaplain, and presented him to the
vicarage of Herne in East Kent, where, we are told, he
preached the doctrine of the Reformation. In lo40, hav¬
ing commenced doctor of divinity, he was made king s chap¬
lain ; and in the same year was elected master of his col¬
lege in Cambridge. Soon after, Ridley was collated to a
prebend in the church of Canterbury ; and it was not long
before he was accused in the bishop’s court, at the instiga¬
tion of Bishop Gardiner, of preaching against the doctrine
of the Six Articles. The matter being referred to Cran¬
mer, Ridley was acquitted. In 1545, he was made a pre¬
bendary of Westminster; in 1547 was presented, by the
fellows of Pembroke Hall, to the living of Soham, in the
diocese of Norwich; and the same year was consecrated
bishop of Rochester. In 1550 he was translated to the see
of London. During the same year he was one of the com¬
missioners for examining Bishop Gardiner, and concurred
in his deprivation. In 1552, returning from Cambridge,
he, unfortunately for himself, paid a visit to the Princess,
afterwards Queen Mary; to whom, prompted by his zeal
for reformation, he expressed himself with too much free¬
dom ; for she was scarcely seated on the throne when Rid¬
ley was doomed a victim to her revenge. With Cranmer
and Latimer he was burnt alive at Oxford, on the loth ot
October 1555. Among other works, he wrote, L A Irea-
tise concerning Images in Churches; 2. A brief Declara¬
tion of the Lord’s Supper; 3. Certain godly and comfortable
Conferences between Bishop Ridley and Mr Hugh Latimer,
during their imprisonment; 4. A Comparison between the
comfortable Doctrine of the Gospel and the Traditions of
the Popish religion.
Ridley, Gloster, was of the same family with the pre¬
ceding. He was born at sea, in the year 1702, on board
the Gloucester East Indiaman, from which circumstance he
obtained his Christian name. He was educated at W in-
chester school, and afterwards obtained a fellowship of
New College, Oxford, where he took the degree of LL. B.
in 1729. He paid his court to the Muses at an early pe¬
riod, and laid the foundation of those solid and elegant ac¬
quisitions which afterwards distinguished him as a divine,
historian, and poet. During a vacation in 1728, he joined
with four friends in composing a tragedy called “ The Fruit¬
less Redress,” each undertaking an act, agreeably to a plan
which they had previously concerted. It was offered to
Mr Wilkes, but never acted, and is still in manuscript. Dr
Ridley in his youth was extremely attached to theatrical
performances. The Redress, and another tragedy called
Jugurtha, were exhibited at Midhurst in Sussex ; and the
actors were chiefly the gentlemen who assisted him in their
composition. W*e are informed that he played Marc An¬
tony, Jaffier, Horatio, and Moneses, with very great ap¬
plause, which may be readily inferred from his graceful
manner of speaking in the pulpit.
During a great part of his life he had only the small col¬
lege living of Westow in Norfolk, and that of Poplar in
R l E
Middlesex, which w'as the place of his residence. After an Ihenzi
interval of some years, his college added to these the dona-vo¬
tive of Romford in Essex, which left him little or no time
for what he considered as the necessary studies of his pro¬
fession. Yet in this situation he remained in the possession
of, and satisfied with domestic felicity, and enjoyed the’in¬
timate friendship of some who were equally distinguished
for worth and learning. , , t T n/r
The eight Sermons which he preached at Lady Moyer s
lecture it 1740 and 1741 were given to the public in 1742.
In the year 1756 he was invited to go to Ireland as first
chaplain to the duke of Bedford, but declined to accept the
offer. In the year 1763 he published the Life of Bishop Rid¬
ley, in 4to, by subscription, from the profits of which he
was enabled to purchase L.800 in the public funds. In the
vear 1765 he published his Review of Philips’s Lite ot Car¬
dinal Pole. In 1767 the university of Oxford conferred
upon him by diploma the degree of D. D. In 1768 he was
presented by Archbishop Seeker with a rich prebend in the
cathedral church of Salisbury ; the only reward he received
from the great during a long and useful life. He was at
last worn out with infirmities, and died in 1774, leaving be¬
hind him a wife and four daughters. Dr Ridley survived
both his sons, who were young men of considerable abili¬
ties. The elder, called James, was author of Tales of the
Genii, and some other literary performances; and his
brother Thomas was sent as a writer to Madras by the
East India Company, but he suddenly died of the small¬
pox.
RIENZI, Nicholas Gabrini de, one of the most singu¬
lar characters of the fourteenth century, was born at Rome,
but it is not certainly known in what year. His father, as
some affirm, was a vintner, but, according to others, a miller,
and his mother was a laundress, yet they found means to
give their son a liberal education; and to a fine natural
understanding he added uncommon application.. He was
well acquainted with the laws and customs of nations; and
had a vast memory, which enabled him to retain much of
Cicero, Valerius Maximus, Livy, the two Senecas, and, in
particular, Caesar’s Commentaries, which he constantly per¬
used. This extensive erudition proved the foundation ot
his future rise. He acquired the reputation of a great an¬
tiquary, from the time which he spent among the inscrip¬
tions to be found at Rome, and these inspired him with ex¬
alted ideas of the liberty, the grandeur, and justice of the
old Romans. He even persuaded himself, and found means
to persuade others, that he should one day be the restorer
of the Roman republic. The credulity of the people was
powerfully encouraged and strengthened by his advan¬
tageous stature, by the attractions of his countenance, an
by that air of consequence which he could assume at pffia*
sure. The joint energy of all these prepossessing qualities
made a deep and almost indelible impression on the minds
of his hearers. ,
Nor was his fame merely confined to the vulgar, tor ne
even ingratiated himself into the good opinion ot many dis¬
tinguished personages belonging to the administration. I e
Romans chose him one of their deputies to Pope Clemen
VI. then at Avignon. The purport of this mission was to
persuade his holiness that his absence from the capital was
inimical to its interest. His commanding eloquence and
gay conversation charmed the court of Avignon ; and Rienzi
was thus encouraged to tell the pope, that the great men o
Rome were public thieves, robbers, adulterers, and profli¬
gates, by whose example the most horrid crimes were sanc¬
tioned. This ill-timed freedom of speech made Cardina
Colonna his enemy, though the friend of genuine ’
because he thought that some of his family were inc u e
in this flagrant accusation. Rienzi was disgraced, and tel
into extreme misery, vexation, and sickness, which, by e
ing united with indigence, brought him to a hospital. u
R I E
R I E
241
as the cardinal was compassionate, the offender was again
J brought before the pope, who, being informed that Rienzi
was a good man, and the strenuous advocate of equity and
justice, gave him higher proofs of his esteem and confidence
than before. He was appointed apostolic notary, and sent
back to Rome loaded with the effects of papal munificence.
The functions of this office he executed in such a man¬
ner as to become the idol of the people, whose affections
he laboured to secure by exclaiming against the vices of
the great, rendering them as odious as possible; for which
imprudent liberties he was dismissed from office. In this
situation of his affairs he endeavoured to kindle and keep
alive in the minds of the people a zeal for their ancient li¬
berties, displaying emblems of the former grandeur and pre¬
sent decline of the city, accompanied with harangues and
many expressive predictions. Such an intrepid, and at the
same time extraordinary conduct, made some regard him
as a lunatic, while others hailed him as their guardian and
deliverer. When he supposed that the numbers attached
to his interest were sufficiently strong, he called them to¬
gether, and gave them a dismal picture of the state of the
city, overrun with debaucheries, which their governors had
neither capacity to correct nor to amend. He declared
that the pope could, even at the rate of fourpence, raise
100,000 florins by fuel, an equal sum by salt, and as much
more by the customs and other duties ; insinuating that he
did not seize on the revenues without the consent of his
holiness.
This artful tale so powerfully animated his hearers, that
they signified their determination' to secure these treasures
for whatever purposes might be most convenient, and that
to his will they would cheerfully devote themselves. This
resolution he caused them confirm by an oath; and it is
said that he had the address to procure from the pope’s
vicar the sanction of his authority. On the 20th of May,
being Whitsunday, he averred that he did nothing but in
consequence of the particular inspiration of the Holy Ghost,
and about nine o’clock he came out of the church with his
head bare, attended by the pope’s vicar, and about a hun¬
dred men in armour. Having proceeded directly to the
capitol, he declared from the rostrum, with even more
than his wonted boldness and energy, that the hour of their
emancipation was at length arrived ; that he himself was
to be their glorious deliverer, and that he poured contempt
on the dangers to which he might be exposed in the service
of his holiness, and for the happy deliverance of the people.
The laws of the “ good establishment” w'ere next ordered
to be read ; and he rested assured that the Romans would
resolve to observe those law's, in consequence of which he
pledged himself to re-establish them in a short time in their
ancient grandeur and magnificence.
Plenty and security were the blessings promised by the
good establishment, together with the humbling of the
nobles, who were regarded as common oppressors. Such
ideas filled the people with transport, and they became
zealously attached to the fanaticism of Rienzi. The mul¬
titude declared him to be sovereign of Rome, to whom they
granted the power of life and death, of rewards and punish¬
ments, of making and repealing laws, of treating with fo¬
reign powers, and a full aud absolute authority over all the
Roman territories.
Having thus arrived at the zenith of his ambition, he
concealed his artifice as much as possible, and pretended
to be extremely averse to accept of their proffered honours,
unless they would make choice of the pope’s vicar to be his
coadjutor, and find means to procure the sanction of the
pope himself. His w ish to have the vicar, bishop of Or-
vieto, as his coadjutor was readily complied with, while all
the honours were paid to Rienzi, the duped bishop enjoy¬
ing but a mere nominal authority. Rienzi was seated in
his triumphal chariot, and the people were dismissed, over-
VOL. XIX.
whelmed with joy and expectation. This strange election
was ratified by the pope, although it was impossible that he
could inwardly approve of it; and to procure a title exclu¬
sive of the prerogative of his holiness, was the next object
of Rienzi’s ambition. He sought, therefore, and readily
obtained the title of magistrate, which was conferred on him
and his coadjutor, with the addition of deliverers of their
country. The conduct of Rienzi immediately subsequent
to this elevation justly procured him esteem and respect, as
well from the Romans as from neighbouring states; but as
his beginning was mean and obscure, he soon became in¬
toxicated with his sudden, his extraordinary elevation, and
the incensed nobles having conspired against him, succeed¬
ed in their attempt to drive him from an authority which
he had not the prudence or address to retain more than six
months. At this critical period, his life was only preserved
by flight, and by the disguises to which he afterwards had
recourse.
Having made an ineffectual effort at Rome to regain his
authority, he proceeded to Prague to Charles king of the
Romans. In consequence of this rash step he was sent as
a prisoner to Avignon, where he continued for three years.
When he procured his enlargement, Pope Innocent IV.,
who succeeded Clement, well knew that many of the Ro¬
mans were still attached to Rienzi, and therefore he made
choice of him as a fit object for assisting him in his design
of humbling the other petty tyrants of Italy. In short, he
was set at liberty, and appointed governor and senator of
Rome. It was hoped that his chastisement would teach
him more moderation in future, and that gratitude would
induce him to preserve an inviolable attachment to the holy
see during the remainder of his life. He met with consi¬
derable opposition in assuming his new authority, but cun¬
ning and resolution enabled him to overcome it. But gra¬
tifying his passions, which were violent in the extreme, and
disgracing his office and character by acts of cruelty, he
was murdered on the 8th of October 1354.
I hus died Nicholas Rienzi, one of the most extraordi¬
nary characters of the age in which he lived ; who, having
formed a conspiracy big with extravagance, and carried it
into execution nearly in the face of the whole world, with
such remarkable success as to become sovereign of Rome ;
having blessed the Romans with plenty, liberty, and jus¬
tice ; having afforded protection to some princes, and prov¬
ed a terror to others ; having become the arbiter of crown¬
ed heads, established the ancient majesty and power of the
Roman republic, and filled all Europe with his fame; fi¬
nally, having procured their sanction whose authority he
had usurped in opposition to their interests, he fell at last
a sacrifice to the nobles whose ruin he had vowed, and to
those vast projects, the execution of which was only pre¬
vented by his death.
RIESENGEBIRGE, a range of mountains in the domi¬
nions of Prussia, and in part of Austria, which commences on
the northward on the borders of Lusatia, and separates Bo¬
hemia from Silesia and Moravia, till it terminates by forming
a junction with the Carpathian range to the southward.
The loftiest part of the range is that which lies between
the sources of the rivers Neisse and Bober. The general
height does not much exceed 3000 feet, but several of the
peaks attain a much greater elevation. Of these the most
remarkable are two; the Schneeberg, which is 5300 feet,
and the Sturmhaube, which is 5100 feet in height. The
summit of the former commands a prospect of more than
sixty miles round, including the city of Breslau to the north,
and of Prague to the south. The intersecting valleys are
many of them picturesque and mostly fertile; but the higher
parts are unfavourable to the growth of corn, from the scar¬
city of which the inhabitants in most winters suffer severely.
RIETI, one of the delegations or provinces into which
the papal dominions are divided. It is a wild and moun-
Riesenge
birge
242
R I G
Riga tainous district, containing two cities, sixteen market-towns,
II with many villages and hamlets, and 6o,7o0 inhabitants.
Rights, capital is the city of the same name situated on the river
  '' Belino, near its junction with the Turano. It contains ten
parish churches, five monasteries, seven nunneries, and 9-7U
inhabitants, who subsist chiefly by the trade in silk, and by
tanning and currying leather. Long. 12. 46. 50. E. Lat.
42. 24.25. N. . , .
RIGA, a city of the province of Livonia, a part ot tne
Russian empire in Europe. It is the capital ot a circle o
the same name as well as of the province. The circle ex¬
tends over 4180 square miles, and contains, in two cities,
one market-town, and thirty-nine parishes, about 150,000
inhabitants. The city of Riga, called in the language ot
Esthonia Riolin, and in that of Livonia Righo, is situated
on the right bank of the river Duna or Dwina, about seven
miles from its entrance into the Baltic. As a barrier on the
western frontier of Russia, it is strongly fortified, both on
the land and the sea side. It is composed of large old
houses, and of narrow crooked streets ill paved. The prin¬
cipal public buildings are the palace of the governor, the
barracks, and the town-hall, used now as the exchange. It
contains 1240 private dwellings, with about 30,000 inhabi-
. tants, exclusive of the garrison. The people are mostly of
the German race, and their language is far more common
than that of Russia or of Livonia. The Germans have four
Lutheran and one reformed church; and there are three
Greek churches for the Russians and the troops. The city
formerly was one of the Hanse Towns, and has now consi¬
derable export trade in the raw materials which are pro¬
duced in the extended districts through which the river
passes. At some seasons England draws much corn from
this place. It has some considerable establishments for
making leather, sail-cloth, linen, and some iron, steel, and
other metallic articles. It imports large quantities of fiuit,
beer, wine, salt, sugar, tea, coffee, spices, and manufactured
clothing. It has several institutions for education, and many
for the relief of poverty, age, aud sickness. Long. 23. 57.
10. E. Lat. 56. 56. 32. N.
RIGADOON, a gay and brisk dance, borrowed origi¬
nally from Provence in France, and performed in figure by
a man and a woman
RIGGING of a Ship, a general name given to all the
ropes employed to support the masts, and to extend or re¬
duce the sails, or arrange them to the disposition of the
wind. The former, which are used to sustain the masts,
remain usually in a fixed position, and are called standing
rigging ; such are the shrouds, stays, and backstays. 1 he
latter, whose office is to manage the sails, by communicat¬
ing with various blocks or pulleys situated in different parts
of the masts, yards, shrouds, &c. are comprehended in the ge¬
neral term of running rigging. Such are the braces, sheets,
haliards, clue-lines, and brails.
RIGHT, in Geometry, signifies the same witn straight;
thus, a straight line is called a right one.
Right is a title conferred, 1. together with Reverend,
upon all bishops ; 2. together with Honourable, upon earls,
viscounts, and barons ; 3. by courtesy, together with Ho¬
nourable, upon the sons of dukes, marquises, and the eldest
sons of earls; 4. together with Honourable, upon the
speaker of the House of Commons, but upon no other com¬
moner excepting those who are members of her majesty’s
most honourable privy council, and the three lords mayors
of London, York, and Dublin, and the lord provost of Edin¬
burgh, during their office.
RIGHTS, in the common acceptation of the word, are
of various kinds ; they are natural or adventitious, alienable
or unalienable, perfect or imperfect, particular or general.
Natural rights are those which a man has to his life,
limbs, and liberty; to the produce of his personal labour ;
to the use, in common with others, of air, light, and water.
R I G
That every man has a natural right or just claim to these Big:
things, is evident from their being absolutely necessary to'v—
enable him to answer that purpose, whatever it may be, for
which he was made a living and a rational being. This
shows undeniably that the Author of his nature designed
that he should have the use of them, and that the man who
should wantonly deprive him of any one of them, would be
o-uilty of a breach of the divine law, as well as act incon¬
sistently with the fitness of things in every sense in which
that phrase can possibly be understood.
Adventitious rights are those which a king has over his
subjects, a general over his soldiers, a husband to the per¬
son and affections of his wife, and which every man has to
the greater part of his property. The important question
is, how are adventitious rights acquired? In answer to
this question, the moralist who deduces the laws of virtue
from the will of God, observes, that as God appears from
his works to be a benevolent Being who wills the happiness
of all his creatures, he must of course will every thing which
naturally tends to promote that happiness. But the exist¬
ence of civil society evidently contributes in a great degree
to promote the sum of human happiness; and therefore
whatever is necessary for the support of civil society in ge¬
neral, or for the conduct of particular societies already es¬
tablished, must be agreeable to the will of God: but the
allegiance of subjects to their sovereign, the obedience of
soldiers to their leader, the protection of private property,
and the fulfilling of contracts, are all absolutely necessary
to the support of society ; and hence the rights of kings,
generals, husbands, and wives, &c. though adventitious, and
immediately derived from human appointments, are not less
sacred than natural rights, since they may all be ultimately
traced to the same source. The same conclusion may easily
be drawn by the philosopher, who rests moral obligation on
the fitness of things, or on a moral sense; only it must in
each of these cases partake of the instability of its founda¬
tion.
Rights, besides being natural or adventitious, are like¬
wise alienable or unalienable. Every man, wdien he be¬
comes the member of a civil community, alienates a part of
his natural rights. In a state of nature, no man has a su¬
perior on earth, and each has a right to defend his life, li¬
berty, and property, by all the means which nature has put
in his power. In civil society, however, these rights are
all transferred to the laws and the magistrate, except in
cases of such extreme urgency as leave not time for legal
interposition. This single consideration is sufficient to show
that the right to civil liberty is alienable; though, in the
vehemence of men’s zeal for it, and in the language of some
political remonstrances, it has often been pronounced to be
an unalienable right. “ The true reason,” says Paley, “why
mankind hold in detestation the memory of those who have
sold their liberty to a tyrant is, that, together with their
own, they sold commonly or endangered the liberty of others,
of w hich they had certainly no right to dispose.” The rights
of a prince over his people, and of a husband over his wife,
are generally and naturally unalienable.
Another division of rights is into those which are perjec
and those which are imperfect. Perfect rights are sue as
may be precisely ascertained and asserted by force, or in
civil society by the course of law. To imperfect rights nei¬
ther force nor law is applicable. A man’s rights to his life,
person, and property, are all perfect; for if any of these e
attacked, he may repel the attack by instant violence, punisJ
the aggressor by the course of law, or compel the author o
the injury to make restitution or satisfaction. A womans
right to her honour is likewise perfect; for if she cannot
otherwise escape, she may kill the ravisher. Every poor man
has undoubted right to relief from the rich; but his ng i
is imperfect, for if the relief be not voluntarily given, he
cannot compel it either by law or by violence. There is
1 ts,
R I G
no duty upon which the Christian religion puts a greater
-'value than alms-giving, and every preacher of the gospel
has an undoubted right to inculcate the practice of it upon
his audience; but even this right is imperfect, for he can¬
not refuse the communion to a man merely on account of
his illiberality to the poor, as he can to another for the ne¬
glect of any duty comprehended under the term justice. In
elections or appointments to offices, where the qualifications
are prescribed, the best-qualified candidate has unquestion¬
ably a right to success ; yet if he be rejected, he can nei¬
ther seize the office by force, nor obtain redress at law.
His right, therefore, is imperfect.
Here a question naturally offers itself to our considera¬
tion : “ How comes a person to have a right to a thing, and
yet have no right to use the means necessary to obtain it ?”
The answer is, that in such cases the object or the circum¬
stances of the right are so indeterminate, that the permis¬
sion of force, even where the right is real and certain, would
lead to force in other cases where there exists no right at
all. Thus, though the poor man has a right to relief, who
shall ascertain the mode, season, and extent of it, or the
person by whom it shall be administered ? These things
must be ascertained before the right to relief can be en¬
forced by law ; but to allow them to be ascertained by the
poor themselves, would be to expose property to endless
claims. In like manner, the comparative qualifications of
the candidate must be ascertained, before he can enforce
his right to the office; but to allow him to ascertain his
qualifications himself, would be to make him judge in his
own cause between himself and his neighbour.
\\ herever the right is imperfect on one side, the corre¬
sponding obligation on the other must be imperfect like¬
wise. The violation of it, how ever, is often not less crimi¬
nal in a moral and religious view, than of a perfect obliga¬
tion. It is well observed by Paley, that greater guilt is in¬
curred by disappointing a worthy candidate of a place upon
which perhaps his livelihood depends, and in which he could
eminently serve the public, than by filching a book out of
a library, or picking a pocket of a handkerchief. The same
sentiment has been expressed by Mr Godwin, but in terms-
much too strong. “ My neighbour,” says he, “ has just as
much right to put an end to my existence with dagger or
poison, as to deny me that pecuniary assistance without
which I must starve, or as to deny me that assistance with¬
out which my intellectual attainments or my moral exer¬
tions will be materially injured. He has just as much right
to amuse himself with burning my house, or torturing my
children upon the rack, as to shut himself up in a cell, careless
about his fellow men, and to hide ‘ his talent in a napkin.’ ”
It is certainly true, that the man who should suffer another
to starve for want of that relief which he knew that he alone
could afford him, would be guilty of murder, and murder of
the cruelest kind ; but there is an immense difference be¬
tween depriving society of one of its members, and with¬
holding from that member what might be necessary to en¬
able him to make the greatest possible intellectual attain¬
ments. Newton might have been useful and happy though
he had never been acquainted with the elements of mathe¬
matics.
Rights are particular or general. Particular rights are
such as belong to certain individuals or orders of men, and
not to others. The rights of kings, of masters, of husbands,
ot wives, and, in short, all the rights which originate in so¬
ciety, are particular. General rights are those which be¬
long to the species collectively. Such are our rights to the
vegetable produce of the earth and to the flesh'of animals
tor food. If the vegetable produce of the earth be includ¬
ed under the general rights of mankind, it is plain that he
|s guilty of wrong who leaves any considerable portion of
and waste merely for his own amusement: he is lessening
tne common stock of provision which Providence intended
R I G
to distribute among the species. On this principle it would
not be easy to vindicate certain regulations respecting game,
as well as some other monopolies which are protected by the
municipal laws of most countries. Dr Paley, by just reason-.
ing, has established this conclusion, “ that nothing ought to
be made exclusive property which can be conveniently en¬
joyed in common.” An equal division of land, howrever,
the dream of some visionary reformers, would be injurious
to the general rights of mankind, as it may be demonstrated
that it would lessen the common stock of provisions, by lay¬
ing every man under the necessity of being his own weaver,
tailor, shoemaker, smith, and carpenter, as well as plough¬
man, miller, and baker.
Among the general rights of mankind is the right of «e-
cessity ; by which a man may use or destroy his neighbour’s
property when it is absolutely necessary for his own pre¬
servation. It is on this principle that goods are thrown
overboard to save the ship, and houses pulled down to stop
the progress of a fire. In such cases, however, there must
be restitution when it is in our power.
Rights, Bill of, a Declaration delivered by the lords and
commons to the prince and princess of Orange, 13th Febru¬
ary 1688 ; and afterwards enacted in parliament when they
became king and queen. It sets forth, that King James
did, by the assistance of divers evil counsellors, endeavour
to subvert the laws and liberties of this kingdom, by exer¬
cising a power of dispensing with and suspending of laws ;
by levying money for the use of the crown by pretence of
prerogative without consent of parliament; by prosecuting
those who petitioned the king, and discouraging petitions;
by raising and keeping a standing army in time of peace ;
by violating the freedom of election of members to serve in
parliament; by violent prosecutions in the court of king’s
bench ; and causing partial and corrupt jurors to be re¬
turned on trials, excessive bail to be taken, excessive fines
to be imposed, and cruel punishments inflicted ; all which
were declared to be illegal. And the declaration concludes
in these remarkable wTords : “ And they do claim, demand,
and insist upon, all and singular the premises, as their un¬
doubted rights and liberties.” And the act of parliament
itself (1 W. and M. stat. ii. cap. 2) recognises “ all and sin¬
gular the rights and liberties, asserted and claimed in the
said declaration, to be the true, ancient, indubitable rights
of the people of this kingdom.”
IlIGOLL, or Regals, a kind of musical instrument, con¬
sisting of several sticks bound together, only separated by
beads. It is tolerably harmonious, being well struck with
a ball at the end of a stick. Such is the account which
Grassineau gives of this instrument. Skinner, upon the
authority of an old English dictionary, represents it as a
clavichord, or claricord; possibly founding his opinion on
the nature of the office of the tuner of the regals, who still
subsists in the establishment of the king’s chapel at St
James’s, and whose business is to keep the organ of the
chapel-royal in tune ; and not knowing that such wind-in¬
struments as the organ need frequent tuning, as well as the
clavichord and other stringed instruments. Sir Henry Spel-
man derives the word I'igoll from the Italian rigabello, a mu¬
sical instrument, anciently used in churches instead of the
organ. \\ alther, in his description of the regal, makes it
to be a reed-work in an organ, w ith metal and also wooden
pipes and bellows adapted to it. And he adds, that the
name ot it is supposed to be owing to its having been pre¬
sented by the inventor to some king. From an account of
the regal used in Germany and other parts of Europe, it
appears to consist of pipes and keys on one side, and the
bellows and wind-chest on the other. We may add, that
I.ord Bacon, Nat. Hist. cent. ii. 102, distinguishes between
the regal and organ, in a manner which show's them to be
instruments of the same class. Upon the whole, there is
reason to conclude, that the regal or rigoll was a pneu-
243
Rights,
Bill of
II
Rigoll.
244
R I N
R I 0
Rigor
matic, and not a stringed instrument. Mersenne relates,
II that the Flemings invented an instrument, ks regales de
Itingwood. b - consisting of seventeen cylindrical pieces ot wood, de-
' * creasing gradually in length, so as to produce a succession
of tones and semitones in the diatonic series, which had keys,
and was played on as a spinnet; the hint of which, he says,
was taken from an instrument, in use among the iurks,
consisting of twelve wooden cylinders of different lengths,
strung together, which being suspended and struck with a
stick having a ball at the end, produced music.
RIGOR, in Medicine, a convulsive shuddering from se¬
vere cold, an ague fit, or other disorder. . , . .
RIMA-SZOMBACH, a large market-town in the circle
of Houth, and province of the Hither Theiss, in Hungary.
It is situated on the river Rima, over which is a fine bridge.
It is a well-built place, having a Catholic, a Lutheran, and
a Calvinistic church, and a house of assembly for the meet¬
ing of the provincial states. It contains 40o0 inhabitants,
who are actively employed in making linen goods, m tanning
leather, and other trades. . , , .
RIMINI, a city in the papal dominions, in the delegation
of Forli. It is situated at the mouth of the river Marechia,
over which is a bridge said to have been built by Augustus.
The city was once on the sea-shore, but the water having
receded' the canal to the ancient harbour is now a part of
a garden. It is surrounded with walls. It is the seat ot
a bishop; and, besides the cathedral, it contains several
churches, and many convents, in which are paintings ot the
highest repute. It likewise contains several fine palaces, a
public library, a town-house, and a market-place, adorned
with some fine statuary. Among the antiquities are an
amphitheatre, and some triumphal arches. There is a Lom¬
bard and several charitable institutions. 1 he inhabitants
amount to 17,460. They partly live on their incomes, but
some are employed in making leather, in the fisheiies, and m
preparing sulphur. Long. 12. 27. 31. E. Lat. 44. 3. 43. N.
RING, an ornament of gold and silver, of a circular
figure, and usually worn on the finger. The antiquity of
rings is known from Scripture and profane authors. Judah
left his ring or signet with Tamar. When Pharaoh commit¬
ted the government of all Egypt to Joseph, he took his ring
from his finger, and gave it to Joseph. After the victory
which the Israelites obtained over the Midianites, they of¬
fered to the Lord the rings, the bracelets, and the golden
necklaces, and the ear-rings, that they had taken from the
enemy. The Israelitish women wore rings, not only on their
fingers, but also in their nostrils and their ears. St James
distinguishes a man of wealth and dignity by the ring of
gold that he wore on his finger. At the return of the pro¬
digal son, his father orders him to be dressed in a new suit
of clothes, and to have a ring put upon his finger. The
ring was used chiefly to seal with. 1 he patents and orders
of princes were sealed with their rings or signets; and it
was this that secured to them their authority and respect.
The Episcopal Ring, which makes a part of the pontifical
apparatus, and is esteemed a pledge of the spiritual marriage
between the bishop and his church, was used at a remote
period. The fourth council of Toledo, held in 633, appoints
that a bishop condemned by one council, and found after¬
wards innocent by a second, shall be restored, by giving him
the ring, staff, &c. From bishops, the custom of the ring
has passed to cardinals, who are to pay a very great sum pro
jure annuli cardinalitii.
RINGWOOD, a market-town of Hampshire, in the di¬
vision of the New Forest, ninety miles from London. It is
situated on the river Avon, is well built, has a handsome
church, and a good market on Wednesday. It has been
long celebrated for the excellence of the strong beer which
is brewed there. The population amounted in 1801 to
3222, in 1811 to 3269, in 1821 to 3471, and in 1831 to
3434.
RIO GRANDE, a large river of Western Africa, which Ri„
falls into the Atlantic a considerable distance to the south Grande
of the Gambia. It appears to be now ascertained, that the II
three great rivers of the western coast, the Senegal, the
Gambia, and the Rio Grande, have all their sources very Norte
close to each other, in a range of mountains a short dis-
tance to the north-west of Teembo, in Foota Jallo. M. ^
Mollien’s account represents the Gambia, called the Ba Di¬
man, and the Rio Grande, called the Comba, as springing
from the same basin, amid high mountains. The source of
the latter stream is in latitude 10. 37. north, and longitude
11 i7_ west. The correctness of this traveller’s statements
is confirmed by M. Caille, who crossed his route. M. Mol-
lien, in describing the origin of the rivers, says, that on
leaving the village called Toulon, he was led to the sum¬
mit of'one of the mountains which bear the appellation of
Badet. Below him appeared two thickets, the one con¬
cealing the sources of the Rio Grande, and the other those
of the Gambia. The valley in which they are situated
forms a kind of funnel, having no other outlets than the
two defiles by which the rivers issue. On quitting this
basin these rivers pursue their course towards opposite
points. The current of the Rio Grande is at first slow and
turbid, but it soon clears ; and beyond the valley its direc¬
tion, hitherto north-north-east, changes to the west. After
receiving the lomine or Dongo, it assumes the appellation
of Kaboo, a name which also distinguishes the country be¬
tween the Rio Grande, the Gambia, and the Geba river.
The territories bordering on the upper part of its course are
inhabited by Foulahs, and the kingdom of Foota Jallo ex¬
tends along the right bank. Further down, its shores are
peopled by the Biafaras, Balantes, Papels, and other tribes,
and occupied by the kingdoms of Ghinala and Biguba.
Near its embouchure it divides into a number of branches,
forming alluvial islands, which, with others farther out at
sea, compose the Archipelago of the Bissagos. The w hole
length of its course may be about 500 miles. It falls into
the Atlantic fifty leagues to the south of the Gambia.
Rio Grande do Norte, a province of Brazil, is bound¬
ed on the south by Paraiba, on the north and east by the
Atlantic Ocean, and on the west by Seara. Situated be¬
tween the parallels of 4. 10. and 5. 45. of south latitude,
the climate is of course very hot. At Cape St Roque, which
forms the angle of this province, in longitude 36. 15. west,
latitude 5. 7. south, the coast of Brazil terminates towards
the north-east; and the Atlantic Ocean, which has so long
been its boundary on the east, begins to wash its northern
shores. It presents about one hundred miles of sea-coast. The
general features of the province may be laid down as dis¬
playing a tolerable fertility to the southward of Natal, the
capital, and as presenting a barren aspect to the northward
of it, except on the banks, and in the immediate neighbour¬
hood of the Rio Grande, or Potengi, the great river of the
province. This stream rises in a ridge in the western limits
of Rio Grande, and traverses its whole extent in a direction
from south-west to north-east. The bar of the Potengi is
narrow, but sufficiently deep for vessels of moderate ton¬
nage. The river is very safe within the bar; the water
being deep and quite tranquil. The province is irrigated
by other streams, on whose banks the most fertile land is
to be found. The village and valley of Papari, lying to the
north of the Rio Grande, are described as presenting a
most inviting aspect. The whole of the valley is cultivated,
and w’hen every other part of the surrounding country is
parched with drought, and the high sandy lands are ren¬
dered quite barren, this place retains its freshest verdure.
Although at the distance of three or four leagues from
the sea, the salt-water lake of Groahyras communicates
with it, so that the inhabitants have the fish brought to their
own doors. Between three and four leagues farther is the
Indian village of St Joze, situated on a dry sandy soil. A
Grsiii'1
i»rt
R I O
RIO 245
Uo few leagues beyond this place the road passes over a suc-
G' te d° cession of dismal sand-hills. These are perpetually chang-
. Jf . ing their situations and forms; and the high winds raise
the sand in clouds, which render the road dangerous when
they prevail. The sand is white and very fine, so that horses
sink up to the knees at every step; and it is so light as to
prevent almost all vegetation.
Natal, the capital (so named because the church was con¬
secrated on Christmas-day), sometimes called Cidade dos
Keys, or City of the Kings, is situated on the right margin
of the Rio Grande, about two miles above its mouth. So
highly was the position of Natal at one time valued, that
during the Dutch war its fortress was deemed the strongest
place in Brazil. At present it contains some good sti*eets,
squares, and churches, a governor’s palace, a town-hall, pri¬
son, and other public buildings. The harbour of Natal is
spacious, and a flourishing trade is carried on. The po¬
pulation amounts to about 19,000.
1 o the north of Natal lies the town of Estremoz, about
ten miles to the north-west, and at the same distance from
the sea. In the western part of the province are several
towns, of which the most considerable is that formerly called
Assu, but now dignified with the name of Villa Nova da
Princesa. It is situated on. the left bank of the river of the
same name, otherwise called the Parinhas, twenty-five miles
from its mouth. Its position is nearly in the centre of Rio
Grande; and the road leading from Natal to it having been
traversed by Mr Koster, a brief abstract of his description
will serve to convey an idea of the character of the pro¬
vince in this quarter. The tract of country through which
the road lies, is a plain traversed by a river remarkable for
its serpentine evolutions. Here is a place called Lagoa
Seca, or dry lake; a place which is laid under water by
the rains, but which supplies the capital with farinha du¬
ring the drought. Between eight and ten leagues from
Natal is Pai Paulo, a place situated on the borders of the
Sertam, a long barren plain of five days’journey. This scene
is desolate and dreary in the extreme. On approaching
Assu, however, lands covered with wood make their appear¬
ance ; and fazendas and other indications of human neigh¬
bourhood rise around. The town of Assu is situated upon
the northern bank of the smaller branch of the river Assu,
which here runs for a short distance in two channels. This
place, chiefly built in the form of a square, contains several
j churches, and other public buildings. There are numerous
salt-works in the vicinity, which bring some trade to the
place, and large barks in the proper season ascend the river
to the town. At the distance of about a league from Assu
is the lake of Piato, three leagues in length by one in
breadth, which is filled by the river in the rainy season, and
is never quite dry. In summer its sides afford a rich soil
or the cultivation of rice, maize, the cane, melons, and
cotton. • Between this place and the frontier of the province
or Seara, a distance of four days’ journey, the country con¬
sists for the most part of plains, with trees thinly scattered,
and patches of wood. Several salt-marshes intervene, and
these, during the rainy season, form lakes. The Arraial
of St Luzia stands on the left bank of the river Appody,
about twenty miles from the sea. Large canoes advance
np the river to this place, which carries on a trade in salt,
from this situation downwards are found the famous salterns
of Massoro, the salt of which is as white as snow. The
Appody has a course of a hundred and thirty miles, run¬
ning almost the whole way through a flat country, inter¬
spersed with lakes, which it fills by its floods. This river
forms the boundary line between Rio Grande do Norte and
beara. The soil of many parts of this province is favourable
to the grow th of sugar-cane, and some trade is carried on in
sugar, which, together with salt, seems to be the staple of com¬
merce in this quarter of Brazil. The pqpulation of the whole
province is not supposed to exceed b0,000 inhabitants. ■
Rio Grande do Sul, formerly the most southern pro- Rio
vince in the empire of Brazil, but, according to recent ac- Grande do
counts, now an independent republic of South America. ^
It declared its independence in 1836, and resolved on intro- “ v-
ducing a constitution similar to that of the United States of
North America. In April and May 1838 two severe con¬
flicts took place between the troops of the emperor of Brazil
and the insurgents, in both of which the former were defeated
with great slaughter. Whether this country may ultimately
succeed in maintaining its position among the republican
states of South America, appears very doubtful. Rio Grande
do Sul is bounded on the north by St Catharina and St
Paulo; on the west by the river Uruguay, which separates
it from the republic of the same name ; on the south by the
river Plata; and on the east by the Atlantic Ocean. It is
upwards of five hundred miles in length by four hundred
in breadth, lying between latitude 28° and 35° south, and
enjoys a temperate and salubrious climate. This extensive
country chiefly consists of large plains, covered wdth im¬
mense herds of cattle and other animals. Some mountain-
ridges traverse it in various directions, but none of them is
of any great height. Here several large rivers have their
origin, of which the Uruguay, the Jacuhy or Rio Pardo,
and the Camapuam, are the most important. Its great extent
of level and alluvial coast exhibits some lakes of vast di¬
mensions. The Lagoa dos Patos is the largest lake iq Bra¬
zil, being one hundred and fifty miles in length from north¬
east to south-west, and about forty miles in breadth. It is
said to derive its name from a species of fowl which fre¬
quents its waters in great numbers. This lake is the re¬
cipient of almost all the streams which irrigate the northern
and eastern portions of the country. It is very shallow, and
its water continues fresh as far as the island dos Marin-
heiros, near the port of St Pedro. Although encumbered
with sand-banks, and subject to violent squalls of wind, it
may be navigated without much risk. The peninsula lying
between the lake and the ocean is low and level, and al¬
most in a direct line on the eastern side, but forms various
points and bays on the opposite side. The western shore
of the lake is bold but not rugged, and is cut by several
rivers, of which the Camapuam and Jacuhy, already men¬
tioned, are most deserving of notice. The sources of the
former are in a chain of low hills called the great Cochilha,
which traverses the western limits of the country. It flow's
with a rapid and disturbed current, interrupted by conti¬
nued cataracts for nearly a hundred miles, receiving four¬
teen streams from the south and fifteen from the north, and
falls into the lake about the middle of its western side, by
five different channels, formed by four small islands. The
Jacuhy, sometimes called the Rio Pardo, which is one of
its tributaries, is a river of still greater value. It rises in
the province of St Paulo, and after traversing the southern
declivity of the general ridge for a few leagues, it turns
eastward, describing innumerable windings for a course of
thirty leagues, during which it collects the water of a num¬
ber of smaller rivers, many of them being navigable. It
then suddenly bends towards the south, and after running
fifteen miles in this direction, enters the western side of
the lake about four leagues below its northern extremity.
It is a fine, broad and deep river, with lofty and diversified
banks, and is full of little islands. To the south-west of
the Lagoa dos Patos lies another sheet of water, called
Lake Mirim, or Mirin. It is ninety miles in length by
about twenty in breadth, and discharges itself into the La¬
goa dos Patos by means of a channel called the river of St
Gonzales. Lake Mirim is very shallow, and in the rainy
sea-on it widely extends its borders. The Gonzales is fifty
miles in length : it is wide and handsome, and navigable
for small vessels, which by this channel pass into Lake Mi¬
rim, and thence by means of rivers penetrate into the fer¬
tile interior, and distribute their cargos to the large towns
246
R I O
Itio on the coast. There are other large lakes running parallel
Grande do wij|1 the shore, but these are the most important.
SuL On the northern bank of the Jacuhy, twenty-five miles
^from its mouth, stands the town of Portalegre, the capital
of the country. It is situated on a declivity, and commands
a fine view of the river and the surrounding country. The
houses are well built, the streets well laid out, and altoge¬
ther it is a very neat and flourishing place. The govern¬
ment-house and public offices are placed on a hill. It has
several churches, schools, what appear to be the rudiments
of a university, a dock-yard, and other public establish¬
ments and institutions. In 1812 Mr Luccock thus spoke
of it: “ As a capital, its influence is wide ; as a seat ot
commerce, it commands a large tract of country, and many
navigable rivers.” It has subsequently made very great ad¬
vancement. Englishmen have long been established here ;
and not only commerce, but agriculture, has been much be¬
nefited by their exertions. One great bar to improvement
is, that much of the interior is still in the hands of the na¬
tive tribes, whose animosity to white people is of the bit¬
terest description. Portalegre contains above 12,000 in¬
habitants.
Being situated at the head of the great lake, it has con¬
stant intercourse with St Pedro do Sul, which lies at the
foot of it. Up to the year 1763 this town was the capital
of the province, and was usually called Rio Grande, fiom
its harbour, which forms the entrance to the Lagoa dos
Patos, and is, with the same impropriety as the bay of Rio
de Janeiro, termed a river. The town was begun a league
to the south-west of where it now stands, in the situation
called Estreito, near the head of the bay or harbour. It
stood on a bank about twenty feet in height, and was sur¬
rounded with a parapet of sods, as a barrier against the en¬
croaching sands.1 Yet by a slow but sure progress they
appear to have gained ground, so as almost to have over¬
whelmed the town, and occasioned its removal to the pre¬
sent site. It is now situated on a level plain, a little above
high-water mark; but, like its predecessor, it suffers much
from the accumulation of sand. Its public buildings com¬
prise a cathedral, the plainness of which externally and in¬
ternally does not prevent it from being a handsome edifice.
It has several public buildings, and is defended by a fort.
Its commercial importance appears to be considerable.
Many towns along the coast mainly depend upon this part
of the continent for their supply of food. Immense quan¬
tities of wheat, hides, tallow, dried beef, cheese, and other
articles are shipped from this port, and commerce is rapidly
increasing. We have no means of ascertaining the amount
of its population; but it is certainly not less than that of
the capital, for it was the great mart of Southern Brazil
while the country formed an integrant part of the empire.
Near this town is the fertile island of Marinheiros, which
contains some of the highest land and the best cultivated
spots in the neighbourhood.
This country, we have said, is chiefly distinguished for
cattle-breeding. The proprietors of land are divided into
two classess, viz. fazendeiros or farmers, and lavradores or
husbandmen. The latter, who breed only what is neces¬
sary for their own consumption, possess generally about
two square leagues of land; the former will farm from eight
to ten leagues, but some of these fazendas are reported
to extend to a hundred square leagues, or nearly 600,000
RIO
acres. To each three square leagues are allotted four or If.
five thousand head of cattle, six men, and a hundred horses.™-
The proportion of horses will appear a very large one ; but
it is to be kept in view that, in this pastoral country, they
cost nothing in keeping, and even short journeys ot half a
mile are made on horseback. About one hundred cows
are allowed for the supply of milk, butter, cheese, and veal,
to a farm of the average size. Hogs, although abundant,
are but little valued: sheep might be multiplied to any
extent, in consequence of their producing generally two
lambs at a birth, but do not appear to attract much atten¬
tion. Droves of horses and mules are bred to a great ex¬
tent ; the latter are, however, found to be much more pro¬
fitable than the former, a mule being double the value of a
horse. Horses are trained for the exercises of the field, in
a manner peculiarly well adapted to fortify them against fear.
They are much used in capturing cattle, which, as is the
universal custom in South America, is effected by the lasso.
Cattle form the grand staple of Rio Grande, and the beef,
hides, and tallow which they yield are the chief articles of
export. An extensive tract, famous for its fine cattle, is
comprehended under the name of Charqueados, derived from
the “ charqued” beef, which is prepared in this district for
exportation. Wffien the cattle are killed and skinned, the
flesh is taken off from the sides in one broad piece, some¬
thing like a flitch of bacon ; it is then slightly sprinkled with
salt, and dried in the sun. In that state it forms the com¬
mon food of the peasantry. Some idea of the immense
quantity thus prepared may be formed from the fact, that
in one year a single individual slaughtered 54,000 head of
cattle, and charqued the flesh.
The history of this portion of South America presents
little but a gloomy picture of Spanish aggression and Por¬
tuguese retaliation. Lying on the confines of Brazil, where
the latter bordered on the possessions of Spain, it was con¬
venient for hostile inroad on the part of the latter powei.;
and it was unfortunate for these colonies that the animosi¬
ties of the mother countries in Europe were communicated
across the Atlantic, and perpetually embroiled their settle¬
ments, so that the bloody and ever-losing game of war played
between the powers was maintained in both hemispheres
at once. Into details of mutual hostilities we shall not enter;
it is sufficient to state that this country was finally incorpo¬
rated with the empire of Brazil, and so continued, till its re¬
cent assertion of independence. The population of Rio
Grande do Sul is estimated at 160,000.
RIO DE JANEIRO, an important province of Brazil,
is bounded on the north by Espiritu Santo, from which it is
separated by the river Capabuan, and by Minas Geraes,
from which it is divided by the rivers Preto and Paraiba,
and in part by the Serra da Manliqueira; on the west it
borders on San Paulo; and the Atlantic Ocean washes it
on the south and east. It embraces half of the old capitania
of St Vincente, together with a part of territory which for¬
merly belonged to Espiritu Santo. Its length from east to
west is estimated at sixty leagues; and its medium breadt
is about twenty-three leagues. This province is distin¬
guished for its romantic beauty and great fertility, notwith¬
standing its being very mountainous. From south-west to
north-east runs the Serra dos Orgoas, or Organ Mountains,
and this chain divides it into two nearly equal portions: the
northern half is called Serra Accina, or Mountains Abo\ e,
1 Mr Luccock mentions some circumstances very interesting in a geological point of view ; and as his remarks convey a correct idea
of the nature of the coast in this quarter, we shall quote them. He informs us that by a careful examination of the coast, it will con¬
vincingly appear that a very considerable portion of it has been formed by sand driven up by the ocean. “ The two lakes wmc
form the chief features of this part of the country have probably been created by the rivers which flow into them repelling the sa
accumulated at their mouths by the occasional impetuosity of their currents, until the bar was formed in the dead water produced y
the stream and the ocean. Here the bank would gradually rise above the high-water mark, and compel the river to bend its course;
and by constant acquisition would grow broader and longer, and at length form an estuary within it.” In this manner he thinks i .
Jacuhy, Camapuam, and other rivers, were compelled by accumulation of sand to take a southern course, and thus produce e &
lake. In confirmation of this view, he states that the bar of the Itio Grande is still proceeding southward.
II I o
R I 0
247
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de the southern, Beira-Mar, or Sea-coast. These again are sub-
iro. divided, the former into the districts of Paraiba Nova and
Canto Gallo, the latter into Rio Janeiro, Ilha Grande, Cape
Frio, and Goytacazes. The Organ Mountains derive their
extraordinary appellation from the appearance of their pyra¬
midal heads of granite, which bristle up along the horizon,
and bear a fanciful resemblance to organ-pipes in a vast
cathedral. The whole province is well watered by a num¬
ber of streams, the most considerable being the Paraiba.
This river originates in a small lake in the southern part of
the Serra da Bocania, a continuation of the Organ Moun¬
tains. It flows first into the province of San Paulo; but after
a long and winding course it re-enters the province in which
it rose, and disembogues in its eastern part. The Rio de
Janeiro is a misnomer, from De Sousa, the discoverer of
this part of the country, having mistaken the salt bay or gulf)
so called, for the mouth of a river. Many streams discharge
themselves into this bay towards its upper end, several of
them being navigable to some distance. Among these may
be mentioned the Iraja, which issues from a small lake,
and affords navigation with the tide to its port of the same
name; the Miriti, which traverses a marshy country, but
whose banks have a very rich soil, and produce abundance of
sugar, milho, and mandioc; the Iguassu, which is navigable
for four leagues, and has for a tributary the Iguare, a stream
affording navigation for a mile to the port of the same name ;
the Maraby, which flows from the Serra of Boavista, and is
navigable to the port of Couto, three leagues above its mouth;
the Inhumirim, a fine river, the banks of which, as well as
those of its confluents, are well cultivated; it is navigable
for three leagues to the flourishing port of Estrella; the Igu-
apezu or Macacu, one of the largest streams which fall into
the bay, being navigable for fifteen leagues, during which
it receives several tributaries from the mountains ; the
Suruhy, Mageassu, and Iguapimirim, which descend from
the mountains. These and several other streams fall into the
bay of Rio, and by their means different parts of the coun¬
try to the northward of the capital may be visited with con¬
siderable facility. Near the right bank of the river Igua¬
pimirim is the parish of Ajuda, the soil of which is re¬
markably productive, and is planted with mandioc, rice,
and coffee. Towns are in general situated on the banks
of these streams, forming ports from which the products of
the surrounding territory are embarked for the capital, the
grand emporium of commerce. Lakes are very numerous
in the province of Rio; the most remarkable are the Ja-
care-Pagua, and the Roderigo de Freytas.
Ihe principal bays by which the coast is indented are
the bay of Rio de Janeiro, and Augra dos Reys or King’s
Bay. The bay of Rio is stated to be no less than thirty-
two miles in circumference, and on its shores are nume¬
rous smaller inlets, which may be termed sub-bays. All
travellers agree in praising the surpassing grandeur and
beauty of this majestic inlet of the sea. “ Nothing that I
have ever seen,” says Mrs Graham, “ is comparable in
beauty to this bay. Naples, the Frith of Forth, Bombay
Harbour, and Trincomalee, each of which I thought per¬
fect in its beauty, all must yield to this, which surpasses
each in its different way.” This capacious basin is em¬
bosomed among elevated mountains, having conically shap¬
ed summits, and, being well wooded, are of romantic and
picturesque beauty. Some of these advance a considerable
distance into the bay, whilst others retire as far inland,
leaving between them deep recesses and glens. The en¬
trance of the bay is narrow, being only three quarters of a
mile in breadth; and its granite barriers are so bold, caus¬
ing it to resemble a gap or chasm in the mountain ridge,
that, doubtless, it was often passed by early navigators
wit lout their apprehending the existence of such au im¬
mense salt-water lake within. Being completely land-lock-
e , and protected from gales on every side, it is perfectly
secure, even for boats, at all seasons of the year; from which
circumstance, as well as from many other advantages which
it possesses, it has been pronounced the finest harbour in
the world. It is so well defended by strong forts that it
seems completely closed against a hostile force. The bay
is studded with about a hundred islands, on many of which
are forts. That of Ilha dos Cobras, or Snake Island, is of
great strength, and constitutes one of the most command¬
ing points for the defence of the city. In short, the Brazi¬
lians and early subjugators of the country have carefully
availed themselves of every advantage presented by nature
for rendering their capital unassailable by a maritime force.
On either side the shores of the bay, lined at the water’s
edge with cottages and hamlets of fishermen, sweep widely
round; while behind, hills in the richest state of cultiva¬
tion, studded with farm-houses and villas, and crowned with
churches and monasteries, all of purest white, rise abruptly
on every side, till, a few miles inland, they terminate in the
bold, beautiful, and picturesque ranges of the Organ Moun¬
tains.
With the exception of the capital, there are few places
in the province of Rio which require particular notice.
Canto Gallo is the capital of a district of amazing fertility,
and carries on considerable trade with Rio in the produc¬
tions of the soil. Porto d’Estrella and Mage are the names
of other towns which also carry on a great deal of traffic
with the capital. The productions of this province com¬
prise almost every thing for which Brazil is celebrated; dia¬
monds and precious stones, sugar, coffee, cotton, and, in
short, all fruits peculiar to the tropics, are here produced
in the richest abundance, and of the most excellent quality.
City of Rio. The city of St Sebastian, now universally
called Rio de Janeiro, the capital of the Brazilian empire,
is situated on the south-western side of the bay or harbour
just described, about four miles from its entrance. It oc¬
cupies the north-east part of a tongue of land of an irre¬
gularly quadrangular shape, and extending on an inclined
plane, a short distance into the bay. The town itself, which
also exhibits the form of a parallelogram, and rises between
four fortified eminences, which flank it at each corner, pre¬
sents a north-east aspect of the bay, whose waters wash
three sides of the square promontory on which it stands.
The site selected for their town by the early settlers is con¬
sidered the best that could have been chosen, out of many
excellent ones that everywhere present themselves. The
most easterly point is the Punta do Calabouco; the most
northerly is the Armazem do Sal, opposite to which is the
small island of Ilha das Cobras. The most ancient and im¬
portant part of the city is built between these two points
along the shore, lying from north-west to south-east; and
a beautiful quay, constructed of solid blocks of chiselled
granite, forms an elegant faqade to it. The houses of Rio
are neatly and substantially built, generally of granite, and
two stories high, with little wooden balconies in front, the
windows and doors being cased with hewn blocks of this
stone, which the quarries at the end of every street supply
in abundance, and of the finest quality. The lower stories
are commonly occupied by shops and warehouses, and the
upper ones by the family apartments. The whole town
is disposed in squares, the streets crossing each other at
right angles, and, although narrow, they are well paved,
and lined at each side by flagged trottoirs. The style of
architecture of the old town is in general mean, resembling
that of the old part of Lisbon; but the new town is in a
much more handsome style. Although this town has al¬
ways ranked as the most important in 13razil, or as second
only to Bahia at the time when the latter was the seat of
government; yet it was only after the imperial residence
and the court were fixed here that it assumed the character
of a European city. Great improvements took place after
that event. The new town has almost wholly sprung up
Rio de
Janeiro.
248
R I O
R I O
Rio de
Janeiro.
since it occurred. This part of Rio is connected with the
south-western quarter, or Bairro de Mato-porcos, by the
'bridge of St Diogo, thrown over a salt-water inlet. Be¬
tween the old and new town is situated a large plain, near¬
ly surrounded by an amphitheatre of mountains, clothed at
their bases with the richest verdure, and terminating by
belts of forest-trees of immense growth, and of every va¬
riety. One of these elevations is called the Corcovado, 01
Broken Back, an appellation which it acquired from its
extraordinary and fantastical shape. The plain thus envi¬
roned is enclosed with houses so as to form an enormous
quadrangle, perhaps the largest square in the world. Here
are erected the senate-house, the museum, the camera or
town-hall, and other public buildings. One o. the most
striking features of the Brazilian capital is the number of
its churches and monasteries, which not only abound m the
city, but are seen crowning almost all the surrounding
eminences. .
Near the centre of the quay, which has already been men¬
tioned, there is a large square, surrounded on three of its
sides with buildings, but having its fourth open to the bay.
In this square the palace or imperial residence is situated ;
but although extensive in its dimensions, and commodious
and even splendid in its internal arrangements, there is no¬
thing magnificent or striking in its architecture. Ihe pub¬
lic library occupies a suite of rooms in this quarter. It con¬
tains sixty or seventy thousand volumes in all languages,
ancient and modern, and is considered a very admirable
establishment. It is particularly distinguished for its col¬
lection of Bibles, said to be one of the most extensive in
the world. On the quay, in front of the square, is a very
beautiful fountain for supplying water to this pai t of the
city, and to the shipping in the harbour. It is fed by a
splendid stone aqueduct leading from the Corcovado Moun¬
tain, not more striking for the magnificent singularity of
its appearance than for its importance and utility. This
o-reat work, which is called Arcos de Cariaco, extends across
a deep vallev, resting on a double tier of lofty arches placed
one above the other to the height of eighty palms, and the
water is conducted to the reservoir by a succession of stone
troughs, laid on the top of this bridge, under an arched
covering of brick-work. Each tier comprises forty-two
arches, the upper one extending one hundred and forty fa¬
thoms. The whole of this splendid superstructure is highly
ornamental to the city, as well as of the greatest utility to
it. The following is the provision made for education : a
military academy ; a naval academy; a surgical and medical
academy; an academy of the fine arts, in connection with
which we may mention a national museum ; and, lastly, two
ecclesiastical' seminaries, where the ancient and modern
languages are taught, as well as divinity and the sciences.
There are attached to it about twelve professors, for whose
salaries |eleven millions of reis are annually allowed by
government. Besides these, there are several schools on
Lancaster’s principle, and a primary school in almost every
street of the city. In short, there seems to be ample pro¬
vision made for the education of the people in Rio, and
it is perfectly free to all classes, in which respect half-civi¬
lized Brazil is in advance of Great Britain herself. In pe¬
riodicals, gazettes, and newspapers, the city is by no means
deficient, and book-printing is carried on, although not ex¬
tensively. Government has a printing establishment. There
is a public walk and a botanic garden in the city, and
another much more extensive at some distance from it.
There is a bishop of Rio, who has under him the usual
train of ecclesiastical functionaries. The Roman Catholic
religion is that patronized by the state, but Protestants are
permitted to exercise their own peculiar form of worship.
Rio is the grand emporium of Brazilian commerce; but
we need not enter into particulars in this place, as an ac¬
count of the gxports and imports will be found in the ar¬
ticle Brazil, to which the reader is referred. Its coasting Riodi
trade is immense, centring in itself that of all southern Jan«
Brazil. The goods which it receives from foreign countries
it distributes all over this vast region, obtaining the pro¬
ductions of each district in return. The manufactures of
this city are unimportant. The shops are generally large
and commodious, and well supplied with English goods,
and other kinds of merchandise. Chinese goods may also
be purchased here very reasonably. There is a number
of English and North American merchants in the city,
who monopolize no inconsiderable portion of the export
trade.
The climate of Rio is considered as favourable to health,
comfort, and even longevity, as that of any other place be¬
tween the tropics. The sun is nearly vertical for a few
weeks in December, when the heat is oppressive; but a
refreshing sea-breeze sets in every morning, and modifies
the temperature. During the summer months, which may
be reckoned as extending from October to April, heavy
rains fall; but, on the whole, few places possess a more
beautiful climate than this celebrated city. At certain sea¬
sons it may be unhealthy to strangers, but the danger is
averted by adopting the Brazilian mode of living, and by
avoiding the night dews, exposure to the sun, and all ex¬
cesses in eating and drinking. It is among the happy im¬
munities of the country, that it is exempt from the acci¬
dents which occur in a similar latitude on the opposite side
of the continent. Earthquakes are here unknown. The
population consists of a singular mixture of colours and na¬
tions. About two thirds are negroes, mulattoes, and other
people of the darker shades. Among the whites are seen
English, French, Germans, Italians, Dutch, and North Ame¬
ricans. Much disparity exists amongst the statements of
writers regarding the exact number of the inhabitants. It
is supposed to be about 200,000, of whom a very great
number are slaves. The city lies in lat. 22. 53. S. and long.
43. 12. W.
The bay of Rio was discovered on the 1st of January
1531, by Martin Alphonso de Sousa, a Portuguese navigator.
The natives had given to this tranquil basin the significant
appellation of Nitherohy, that is, hidden water; but he, sup¬
posing it the estuary of some great river like the Orinoco,
called it the Rio de Janeiro, after the day on which it had
been discovered. It remained many years unnoticed or
unoccupied by the Portuguese, but in the mean time was
taken possession of by France, and became an asylum for
the persecuted Huguenots. These were subsequently ex¬
pelled by the Portuguese, who, in 1567, founded the city
of Rio. In 1676 it was erected into a bishopric, and
its riches soon rendered it an object of cupidity to other
European powers. But the few attempts made to wrest it
from Portugal were unsuccessful. It steadily advanced in
riches and importance, so that in the year 1763, Dom Jo¬
seph was induced to transfer hither the vice-regal residence
from Bahia, hitherto the capital of the province of Brazil.
In 1808 it became the residence of the Portuguese court,
and in 1822 was constituted the capital of the independent
empire of Brazil. In 1831 it was the theatre of a revolu¬
tion, in which 6000 armed citizens were joined by the
troops of the line in their opposition to the government,
and in consequence of which Dom Pedro abdicated the
throne in favour of his son Pedro II.
According to the census of 1823, the last that has been
made public, the population of the whole province of Rio
de Janeiro was 589,650.
RIOM, an arrondissement of the department of Puy de
Dome, in France, extending over 804 square miles. R
comprehends thirteen cantons, divided into 130 communes,
and in 1836 contained 151,456 inhabitants. The capital is
the city of the same name, situated on the river Limagne. It
is well built, with broad streets, and is surrounded by five
M
W.
R I S
liiseco
I ble
N—,v-«
promenades. It is the seat of a bishop, and had, in 1836,
11,473 inhabitants, who make linen cloth, cotton goods, ser-
^ges, and cassimeres, glass, brandy, and leather; and trade
in wine, brandy, nut-oil, and flax-seed, by the river. Lons;.
3. 1. 45. E. Lat. 45. 54. 30. N.
RIOSECO, a partido, in the province of Valladolid, in
Spain, the capital of which, of the same name, but with the
prefix sometimes of Medina del, is a large city. There is
a canal from it which unites the canal of Campo with that
of Castille. It contains three churches, five monasteries,
two hospitals, 1200 houses, and betwixt 8000 and 9000 in¬
habitants, who manufacture serges and some other woollen
goods, and ribbons and other silk goods. There are two
fairs held annually, which were places of vast resort, but
had declined, till of late years they have revived, and are
again become of great importance to the place. There
is also a town of the same name in the district of Rey-
nosa and province of Toro, in a mountainous part of the
country.
RIOUS Island, or Rooahooga, in the Pacific Ocean,
about twenty-four miles in circumference, discovered in
1792 by Lieutenant Hergest. It is barren and rocky.
Long. 139. 9. W. Lat. 8. 54. S.
RIPEN, or more properly Rise, is a sea-port town and
capital of the district of Ribe, in the province of North
Jutland, Denmark, and is situated on the river Nipsaae,
which here falls into the North Sea. The harbour is dif¬
ficult of access, and admits only of small vessels. There is
a castle, two colleges, and a public library ; but the principal
building is the cathedral, which is a handsome structure,
and contains many of the tombs of the kings of Denmark.
The bishopric is the most ancient, not only of Denmark, but
also of Sweden and Norway. The town carries on a con¬
siderable trade in linen; and it also exports corn, horses,
and cattle. The population in the year 1834 amounted to
2365.
RIPHCEAN Mountains are a chain of high moun-8
tains m Russia, to the north-east of the river Oby, where
there are said to be the finest sables of the whole empire.
RIPLEli, a market-town of the west riding of the
county of York, 215 miles from London and four from
Knaresborough, in the wapentake of Claro. It is situated
on the river Nyd, over which is a stone bridge. It was
formerly a place of some importance, having a large castle,
the ruins of which still exist. The church is an ancient
building, with many monuments. It is remarkable from
the extensive cultivation of liquorice. The market is on
rnday, but has been but little attended of late years. The
population amounted in 1801 to 892, in 1811 to 880, in
• ^ to 1282, and in 1831 to 1219 ; but in the parish are
included other two townships.
RIP ON, a city of the west riding of Yorkshire, 222
miles from London. It is situated between two small
streams, the Ure and the Skell. A new diocese has been
erected, and the first bishop of Ripon, Dr Londev, was
consecrated in 1836. The cathedral, formerly the colle-
giate church, has a dean, a subdean, four prebendaries,
and two vicars. It is a fine old building, recently placed
in good order. It was once adorned with two steeples, one
ot which was blown down, and the other has been remov¬
ed. 1 he market-place is one of the finest in the north of
England, and is well attended on Thursdays. Ripon was
once celebrated for making spurs, but that trade has vanish-
ea. Lotton-mills have been erected, which afford more em-
pioyment. The population amounted in 1801 to 3211, in
1811 lo 3633, in 1821 to 4563, and in 1831 to 5080. Near
Mrs Lawred'ley ^°ya1’ the rnaSnificent seat and grounds of
RISIBLE, any thing capable of exciting laughter. Ludi-
its°fw!S f- ^ene,ra^ ,ter™’ signifying, as may appear from
vol Xu0"’ What 18 playsome’ sPortive> or jocular. Ludu
R 1 T
crous therefore seems the genus, of which risible is a spe¬
cies, limited to what makes us laugh.
However easy it may be, concerning any particular ob¬
ject, to say whether it be risible or not, it seems difficult,
if at all practicable, to establish any general character, by
which objects of that kind may be distinguished from others.
Nor is that a singular case ; for, upon a review, we find
the same difficulty in most of the articles already handled.
There is nothing more easy, viewing a particular object,
than to pionounce that it is beautiful or ugly, grand or
little; but were we to attempt general rules for ranging
objects under different classes according to these qualities,
we should be much gravelled. A separate cause increases
the difficulty of distinguishing risible objects by a general
character: all men are not equally affected by risible ob¬
jects, nor the same man at all times; for in high spirits a
thing will make him laugh aloud, which will scarcely provoke
a smile in a grave mood. Risible objects, however, are cir¬
cumscribed within certain limits. No object is risible but
what appears slight, little, or trivial; for we laugh at nothing
that is of importance to our own interest or to that of others.
Real distress raises pity, and therefore cannot be risible;
but a slight or imaginary distress, which moves not pity, is
risible. The adventure of the fulling-mills in Don Quix¬
ote is extremely risible; so is the scene where Sancho, in
a dark night, tumbling into a pit, and attaching himself to
the side by hand and foot, hangs there in terrible dismay
till the morning, when he discovers himself to be within a
foot of the bottom. A nose remarkably long or short is
risible; but to want it altogether, so far from provoking
laughter, raises horror in the spectator. With respect to
works both of nature and art, none of them is risible but
such as are out of rule; some remarkable defect or ex¬
cess, a very long visage, for example, or a very short one.
Hence nothing just, proper, decent, beautiful, proportion-
t ed, or grand, is risible.
Even from this slight sketch it will be readily conjectur¬
ed, that the emotion raised by a risible object is of a nature
so singular as scarcely to find place while the mind is oc¬
cupied with any other passion or emotion ; and the conjec¬
ture is verified by experience ; for we scarcely ever find that
emotion blended with any other. One emotion we must
except; and that is, contempt raised by certain improprie¬
ties : every improper act inspires us with some degree of
contempt for the author; and if an improper act be at the
same time so risible as to provoke laughter, of which blunders
and absurdities are noted instances, the two emotions of
contempt and of laughter unite intimately in the mind, and
pioduce externally what is termed a laugh of derision or of
scorn. Hence objects that cause laughter may be distin¬
guished into two kinds : they are either risible ov ridiculous.
A risible object is mirthful only; a ridiculous object is both
mirthful and contemptible. The first raises an emotion of
laughter that is altogether pleasant: the pleasant emotion
of laughter raised by the other is blended with the painful
emotion of contempt, and the mixed emotion is termed
the emotion of ridicule. The pain which a ridiculous object
gives me is resented and punished by a laugh of derision.
A risible object, on the other hand, gives me no pain ; it is
rendered altogether pleasant by a certain titillation, which is
expressed externally by mirthful laughter.
RIl E, among divines, denotes the particular manner of
celebrating divine service.
RITORNELLO, or Repeat, in Music, the burden of a
song, or the repetition of the first or other verses of a song
at the end of each couplet.
RITUAL, a book directing the order and manner to be
observed in performing divine service in a particular church,
diocese, or the like. The ancient heathens had also their
rituals, which contained their rites and ceremonies to be
observed in building a city, consecrating a temple or altar,
2 i
249
Rite
II
Ritual.
250
R I V
R I V
Kiva
River.
in sacrificing and deifying, in dividing the curiae, tribes,
centuries, and, in general, in all their religious ceremon e .
There are several passages in Cato’s books De Re R^sUc ,
' which may give us some idea of the rituals of the ancie .
RIVA, a city of the Austrian province of Trieste, in the
circle of Roveredo. It is placed on the lake of Garda, m
a beautiful situation, and has a good haven, from which
considerable trade is carried on between Italy and Germany.
Here many vessels are built. The inhabitants amount to
3350. and some of them are employed in making hardware.
It is said that a million dozen of Jews’ harps are made annu¬
ally in this place, and distributed over all Europe.
P
RIVER.
Utility of
rivers.
Definition. A river is a current of fresh wrater, flowing m a bed or
channel from its source to the sea. . ^
The term is appropriated to a considerable collection ot
waters, formed by the conflux of two or more brooks,
which deliver into its channel the united streams o severa
rivulets, which have collected the supplies of many rills
trickling down from numberless springs, and the torrents
which carry off from the sloping grounds the surplus of
every shower. c
Rivers form one of the chief features of the surface of
this globe, serving as voiders of all that is immediately re¬
dundant in our rains and springs, and also as boundaries
and barriers, and even as highways, and in many countries
as plentiful storehouses. They also fertilize our sou by
laying upon our warm fields the richest mould, brougn
from the high mountains, where it would have remained
useless for want of genial heat.
Being such interesting objects of attention, every branc
acquires a proper name, and the whole acquires a soit o
personal identity, of which it is frequently difficult to find
the principle ; for the name of the great body of waters
which discharges itself into the sea is traced backwards to
one of the sources, while all the contributing streams are
lost, although their waters form the chief part of the collec¬
tion. And sometimes the feeder in which the name is pre¬
served is smaller than others which are united to the cur-
Origin of
their
names.
rent, and which like a rich but ignoble alliance lose then
man.
name in that of the more illustrious family. Some rivers
indeed are respectable even at their birth, coming at once
in force from some great lake. Such is the Rio de la Plata,
the river St Lawrence, and the mighty streams which issue
in all directions from the Baical Lake. But, like the sons
of Adam, they are all of equal descent, and should take
their name from one of the feeders of these lakes. This is
indeed the case with a few, such as the Rhone, the Rhine,
the Nile. These, after having mixed their waters with
those of the lake, resume their appearance and their name
at its outlet.
O' in an(j But in general their origin and progress, and even the
progress si-features of their character, bear some resemblance (as has
milar to been prettily observed by Pliny) to the life ot man. The
the life cf river springs from the earth, but its origin is in heaven.
Its beginnings are insignificant, and its infancy is frivolous;
it plays among the flowers of a meadow; it waters a garden,
or turns a little mill. Gathering strength in its youth, it
becomes wild and impetuous. Impatient of the restraints
which it still meets w ith in the hollows among the moun¬
tains, it is restless and fretful; quick in its turnings, and
unsteady in its course. Now it is a roaring cataract, tearing
up and overturning whatever opposes its progress, and it
shoots headlong down from a rock ; then it becomes a sul¬
len and gloomy pool, buried in the bottom of a glen. Re¬
covering breath by repose, it again dashes along, till, tired
of the uproar and mischief, it quits all that it has swept along,
and leaves the opening of the valley strewed with the re¬
jected waste. Now, quitting its retirement, it comes abroad
'into the world, journeying with more prudence and discre¬
tion, through cultivated fields, yielding to circumstances,
and winding round what would trouble it to overwhelm or
remove. It passes through the populous cities and all the
busy haunts of man, tendering its services on every side,
and becomes the support and ornament of the country. Now
increased by numerous alliances, and ad vanced in its course
of existence, it becomes grave and stately in its motions,
loves peace and quiet; and in majestic silence rolls on its
mighty waters, till it is laid to rest in the vast abyss.
The philosopher, the real lover of wisdom, sees much to he ri
admire in the economy and mechanism of running waters 1
and there are few operations of nature which give him morenms
opportunities of remarking the nice adjustment of the most
simple means for attaining many purposes of most extensive
beneficence. All mankind seems to have felt this. 1 he
heart of man is ever open (unless perverted by the habits
of selfish indulgence and arrogant self-conceit) to impres¬
sions of gratitude and love. He who ascribes the religious
principle (debased though it be by the humbling abuses
of superstition) to the workings of fear alone, may betray
the slavish meanness of his own mind, but gives a very un¬
fair and a false picture of the hearts of his neighbours.
Lucretius was but half a philosopher when he penned his
often quoted apophthegm. Indeed his own invocation
shows how much the animal was blended with the sage.
We apprehend, that whoever will read with an honest The et
and candid mind, unbiassed by licentious wishes, the ac-ofg
counts of the ancient superstitions, will acknowledge that^
the amiable emotions of the human soul have had their
share in creating the numerous divinities whose worship fill¬
ed up their kalendars. The sun and the host of heaven have
in all ages and nations been the objects of a sincere wor¬
ship. Next to them, the rivers seem to have attracted the
grateful acknowledgments of the inhabitants of the adjacent
countries. They have everywhere been considered as a
sort of tutelar divinities ; and each little district, eveiy re¬
tired valley, had its river-god, who was preferred to all
others with a partial fondness. The expostulation of N da¬
man the Syrian, who was offended with the prophet for en¬
joining him to wash in the river Jordan, was the natural
effusion of this attachment. “ What!” said he, “ are not
Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, more excellent
than all the waters of Judea? Might I not wash in them
and be clean ? So he went away wroth.
In those countries particularly, where the rural labours
and the hopes of the shepherd and the husbandman were
not so immediately connected with the approach and recess
of the sun, and depended rather on what happened in a far
distant country by the falls of periodical rains or the me t-
ing of collected snows, the Nile, the Ganges, the Indus, the
river of Pegu, were the sensible agents of nature in pro¬
curing to the inhabitants of their fertile banks all their
abundance, and they became the objects of grateful vene¬
ration. Their sources were sought out with anxious care
even by conquering princes; and when found, were uni¬
versally worshipped with the most affectionate devotion.
These remarkable rivers, so eminently and so palpably be¬
neficent, preserve to this day, amidst every change ot ha¬
bit, and every increase of civilization and improvement, tie
fond adoration of the inhabitants of those fruitful countries
through which they hold their stately course, and their ha¬
ters are still held sacred. No progress of artificial refine¬
ment, not all the corruption of luxurious sensuality, has
RIVER.
251
ry. been able to eradicate this plant of native growth from the
v—^ heart of man. The sentiment is congenial to his nature,
and therefore it is universal; and we could almost appeal
to the feelings of every reader, whether he does not per¬
ceive it in his own breast. Perhaps we may be mistaken
in our opinion in the case of the corrupted inhabitants of
the populous and busy cities, who are habituated to the
fond contemplation of their own individual exertions as the
sources of all their hopes. Give the shoemaker but leather
and a few tools, and he defies the powers of nature to dis¬
appoint him; but the simpler inhabitants of the country,
the most worthy and the most respectable part of every na¬
tion, after equal, perhaps greater exertion, both of skill and
of industry, are more accustomed to resign themselves to
the great ministers of Providence, and to look up to heaven
for the “ early and the latter rains,” without which all their
labours are fruitless.
 Extrema per illos
N umenque excedens terris vestigia fecit.
And among the husbandmen and the shepherds of all na¬
tions and ages, we find the same fond attachment to their
springs and rivulets.
Fortunate senex, hie, inter flumina nota
Et fontes sacros, frigus captabis opacum,
was the mournful ejaculation of poor Meliboeus. We hardly
know a river of any note in our own country whose source
is not looked on with some respect.
We repeat our assertion, that this worship was the off¬
spring of affection and gratitude, and that it is giving a very
unfair and false picture of the human mind to ascribe these
superstitions to the working of fear alone. These would
have represented the river-gods as seated on ruins, bran¬
dishing rooted-up trees, with angry looks, pouring out their
sweeping torrents. But no such thing. The lively imagi¬
nation of the Greeks felt, and expressed with an energy un¬
known to all other nations, every emotion of the human
soul. They figured the Naiads as beautiful nymphs, pat¬
terns of gentleness and of elegance. These they represent¬
ed as partially attached to the children of men; and their
interference in human affairs is always in acts of kind as¬
sistance and protection. They resemble, in this respect,
the rural deities of the northern nations, the fairies, but
without their caprices and resentments. And if we attend
to the descriptions and representations of their river-gods,
beings armed with power, an attribute which slavish fear
never fails to couple with cruelty and vengeance, we shall
find the same expression of affectionate trust and confidence
in their kind dispositions. They are generally called by
the respectable but endearing name of father. “ Da Tyberi
Pater,” says Virgil. Mr Bruce says that the Nile at its
source is called the abay, or “ father.” We observe this
word, or its radix, blended with many names of rivers of the
east; and think it probable that when our traveller got this
name from the inhabitants of the neighbourhood, they ap-
j plied to the stream what is meant to express the tutelar or
i presiding spirit. The river-gods are always represented as
! venerable old men, to indicate their being coeval with the
world. But it is always a cruda viridisque senectus, and
they are never represented as oppressed with age and de¬
crepitude. Their beards are long and flowing, their looks
1 placid, their attitude easy, reclined on a bank, covered, as
they are crowned, with never-fading sedges and bulrushes,
and leaning on their urns, from which they pour out their
plentiful and fertilizing streams. Mr Bruce’s description of
the sources of the Nile, and of the respect paid to the sacred
waters, has not a frowning feature ; and the hospitable old
man, with his fair daughter Irepone, and the gentle priest-
lood which peopled the little village of Geesh, form a con¬
trast with the neighbouring Galla (among whom a mili¬
tary leader was called the lamb, because he did not mur- Historv.
der pregnant women), which very clearly paints the inspir- '"“'"'v'-—"■
ing principle of this superstition. Pliny says (lib. viii. 8)
that at the source of the Clitumnus there is an ancient
temple highly respected. The presence and the power of
the divinity are expressed by the fates which stand in the
vestibule. Around this temple are several little chapels,
each of which covers a sacred fountain ; for the Clitumnus
is the father of several little rivers which unite their streams
with him. At some distance below the temple is a bridge
which divides the sacred waters from those which are open
to common use. No one must presume to set his foot in
the streams above this bridge; and to step over any of them
is an indignity which renders a person infamous. They can
only be visited in a consecrated boat. Below the bridge
we are permitted to bathe, and the place is incessantly oc¬
cupied by the neighbouring villagers. See also Vibius Se¬
quester Oberlini, p. 101-103, and 221-223; also Sueton.
Caligula, c. 43; Virg. Georg, ii. 146.
What is the cause of all this? The Clitumnus, near its
source, flows through the richest pastures, through which it
was carefully distributed by numberless drains ; and these
nourished cattle of such spotless whiteness and extraordi¬
nary beauty that they were sought for with eagerness over
all Italy, as the most acceptable victims in their sacrifices.
Is not this superstition then an effusion of gratitude ?
Such are the dictates of kind-hearted nature in our breasts,
before it has been vitiated by vanity and self-conceit, and
we should not be ashamed of feeling the impression. We
hardly think of making any apology for dwelling a little on
this incidental circumstance of the superstitious veneration
paid to rivers. We cannot think that our readers will be
displeased at having agreeable ideas excited in their minds,
being always of opinion that the torch of true philosophv
will not only enlighten the understanding, but also warm
and cherish the affections of the heart.
With respect to the origin of rivers, we have very little
to offer in this place. It is obvious to every person, that
besides the torrents which carry down into the rivers what
part of the rains and melted snows is not absorbed by the
soil or taken up by the plants which cover the earth, they
are fed either immediately or remotely by the springs. A
few remarkable streams rush at once out of the earth in
force, and must be considered as the continuation of sub¬
terraneous rivers, whose origin we are therefore to seek
out; and we do not know any circumstance in which their
first beginnings differ from those of other rivers, which are
farmed by the union of little streams and rills, each of
which has its own source in a spring or fountain. This
question, therefore, w hat is the process of nature, and what
are the supplies which fill our springs ? will be treated of
under the word Spring.
Whatever be the source of rivers, it is to be met with in Origin of
almost every part of the globe. The crust of earth with rivers,
which the rocky framing of this globe is covered is gene¬
rally stratified. Some of these strata are extremely per¬
vious to water, having but small attraction for its particles,
and being very porous. Such is the quality of gravelly
strata in an eminent degree. Other strata are much more
firm, or attract water more strongly, and refuse it passage.
This is the case with firm rock and with clay. When a
stratum of the first kind has one of the other immediately
under it, the water remains in the upper stratum, and bursts
out wherever the sloping sides of the hills cut off the strata,
and this will be the form of a trickling spring, because the
water in the porous stratum is greatly obstructed in its pas¬
sage tmvards the outlet. As this irregular formation of the
earth is very general, we must have springs, and of course
rivers or rivulets, in every corner where there are high
grounds.
Rivers flow from the higher to the low grounds. It is
252
river.
History.
They flow
from the
higher to
the lower
grounds.
Course of
the rivers
of Europe.
of Asia,
the arrangement of this elevation which distributes them
over the surface of the earth. This appears to be accom¬
plished with considerable regularity ; and, except the great
desert of Kobi on the confines of Chinese Tartary, we do
not remember any very extensive tract of ground that is
deprived of those channels for voiding the superfluous
waters ; and even there they are far from being redundant.
The courses of rivers give us the best general method
for judging of the elevation of a country. Thus it appears
»that Savoy and Switzerland are the highest grounds ot Eu¬
rope, from whence the ground slopes in every direction.
From the Alps proceed the Danube and the Rhine, whose
courses mark the two great valleys, into which many lateral
streams descend. The Po also and the Rhone come from
the same head, and with a steeper and shorter course find
their way to the sea through valleys of less breadth and
length. On the west side of the valleys of the Rhine and
the Rhone the ground rises pretty fast, so that few tribu¬
tary streams come into them from that side; and bom this
gentle elevation France slopes to the westward. II aline,
nearly straight, but bending a little to the northward, be
drawn from the head of Savoy and Switzerland all the way
to Solikamskoy in Siberia, it will nearly pass through the
most elevated part of Europe; for in this tract most of the
rivers have their rise. On the left go off the various feed¬
ers of the Elbe, the Oder, the Wesel, the Niemen, the
Duna, the Neva, the Dwina, the Petzora. On the right,
after passing the feeders of the Danuoe, we see the sources
of the Sereth and Pruth, the Dniester, the Bog, the Dnie¬
per, the Don, and the mighty Volga. The elevation, how¬
ever, is extremely moderate ; and it appears from the levels
taken with the barometer by the Abbe Chappe d’Auteroche,
that the head of the Volga is not more than 470 feet above
the surface of the ocean. And we may observe here,, by
the by, that its mouth, where it discharges its waters into
the Caspian Sea, is undoubtedly lower by many feet than
the surface of the ocean. (See Pneumatics.) Spain
and Finland, with Lapland, Norway, and Sweden, form
two detached parts, which have little symmetry with the
rest of Europe.
A chain of mountains begins in Nova Zembla, and
stretches due south to near the Caspian Sea, dividing Eu¬
rope from Asia. About three or four degrees north of the
Caspian Sea it bends to the south-east, traverses Western
Tartary, and passing between the Tengis and Zaizan lakes,
it then branches to the east and south. The eastern branch
runs to the shores of Korea and Kamtschatka. 1 he south¬
ern branch traverses Turkestan and Thibet, separating
them from India, and at the head of the kingdom of Ava
joins an arm stretching from the great eastern branch, and
here forms the centre of a very singular radiation. Chains
of mountains issue from it in every direction. Three or
four of them keep very close together, dividing the conti¬
nent into narrow slips, which have each a great river flow¬
ing in the middle, and reaching to the extreme points of
Malacca, Cambodia, and Cochin-china. From the same
central point proceeds another great ridge due east, and
passes a little north of Canton in China. We called this a
singular centre ; for though it sends off so many branches,
it is by no means the most elevated part of the continent.
In the triangle which is included between the first southern
ridge (which comes from between the lakes Tengis and
Zaizan), the great eastern ridge, and its branch which al¬
most unites with the southern ridge, lie the Boutan and
part of Thibet; and the many little rivers which occupy its
surface flow southward and eastward, uniting a little to the
north of the centre often mentioned, and then pass through
a gorge eastward into China. The higher grounds (if we
except the ridges of mountains which are boundaries) of the
continent seem to be in the country of the Calmucs, about
06° east from London, and latitude 43° or 45° north. It is
represented as a fine though sandy countiy, having many ^History,
little rivers which lose themselves in the sand, or end in v ’ y-'*
little salt lakes. This elevation stretches north-east to a
great distance ; and in this tract we find the heads of the
Irtish, Selenga, and Tunguskaia (the great feeders of the
Oby), the Olenitz, the Lena, the Yana, and some other
rivers, which all go off to the north. On the other side we
have the great river Amur, and many smaller rivers, whose
names are not familiar. I he Hoangho, the great river of
China, rises on the south side of the great eastern ridge we
have so often mentioned. This elevation, which is a con¬
tinuation of the former, is somewhat of the same com¬
plexion, being very sandy, and at present is a desert of pro¬
digious extent. A great ridge of mountains begins at the
south-east corner of the Euxine Sea, and proceeds east¬
ward, ranging along the south side of the Caspian, and, still
advancing, unites with the mountains first mentioned in
Thibet, sending off' some branches to the south, which di¬
vide Persia, India, and Thibet. From the south side of
this ridge flow the Euphrates, Tigris, Indus, and Ganges,
and from the north the ancient Oxus and many unknown
streams.
Of the rivers of Africa we still know but little, fheofAfrica,
Nile indeed is perhaps better known than any river out of
Europe ; and of its source and progress we have given a
full account in a separate article. See Nile.
By the register of the weather kept by Mr Bruce at
Gondar in 1770 and 1771, it appears that the greatest rains
fall about the beginning of July. He says that at an ave¬
rage each month after June it doubles its rains. The ca-
lish or canal is opened at Cairo about the 9th of August,
when the river has risen fourteen peeks (each twenty-one
inches), and the waters begin to decrease about the 10th
of September. Hence we may form a conjecture concern¬
ing the time which the latter employs in coming from Abys¬
sinia. Mr Bruce supposes it nine days, which would require
a velocity of not less than fourteen feet in a second ; a thing <
past belief, and inconsistent with all our notions. The ge¬
neral slope of the river is greatly diminished by several
great cataracts; and Mr Bruce expressly says that he
misht have come down from Sennaar to the cataracts ot
Syene in a boat, and that it is navigable for boats i'ar above
Sennaar. He came from Syene to Cairo by water. We
apprehend that no boat would venture down a stream mov¬
ing even six feet in a second, and none could row up if the
velocity was three feet. As the waters begin to decrease
about the 10th of September, we must conclude that the
water then flowing past Cairo had left Abyssinia when the
rains had greatly abated. Judging in this way, we must
still allow the stream a velocity of more than six feet. Had
the first swell at Cairo been noticed in 1770 or 1771, we
might have guessed better. The year that Thevenot was
in Egypt, the first swell of eight peeks was observed on
the 28th of January. The calish was opened for fourteen
peeks on the 14th of August, and the waters began to de-
cre^ise on the 23d of September, having risen to twenty-
one and two-third peeks. We may suppose a similar pro¬
gress at Cairo corresponding to Mr Bruce’s observations at
Gondar, and date every thing five days earlier.
The frame-work (so to call it) of America is better known,
and is singular. .
A chain of mountains begins, or at least is found, in 1°^'
gitude 110° west of London, and latitude 40° north, on the
northern confines of the kingdom of Mexico, and, stretching
southward through that kingdom, forms the ridge of the
neck of land which separates North from South America,
and keeping almost close to the shore, ranges along the
whole western coast of South America, terminating at Cape
Horn. In its course it sends off branches, which after se¬
parating from it for a few leagues, rejoin it again, enclosing
valleys of great extent from north to south, and of prodi-
gistorj
RIVER.
Hi i ry. gious elevation. In one of these, under the equatorial sun,
stands the city of Quito, in the midst of extensive fields of
barley, oats, wheat, and gardens containing apples, pears,
and gooseberries, and, in short, all the grains and fruits of
the cooler parts of Europe ; and although the vine is also
there in perfection, the olive is wanting. Not a dozen miles
from it, in the low countries, the sugar-cane, the indigo,
and all the fruits of the torrid zone, find their congenial heat,
and the inhabitants swelter under a burning sun. At a
small distance on the other hand tower aloft the pinnacles
of Pichincha, Corambourou, and Chimbora9ao, crowned
with never-melting snows.
The individual mountains of this stupendous range cut
off therefore all communication between the Pacific Ocean
and the inland continent; and no rivers are to be found on
the west coast of South America which have any consider¬
able length of course or body of waters. The country is
drained, like Africa, in the opposite direction. Not 100
miles from the city of Lima, the capital of Peru, which lies
almost on the sea-shore, and just at the foot of the high
Cordilleras, arises out of a small lake the Maragnon or
Amazons river, which, after running northward for about
100 miles, takes an easterly direction, and crosses nearly
the broadest part of South America, and falls into the great
western ocean at Para, after a course of not less than 4095
miles. In the first half of its descent it receives a few
middle-sized rivers from the north, and from the south it
receives the great river Combos, springing from another
little lake not fifty miles distant from the head of the Ma¬
ragnon, and enclosing between them a wide extent of coun¬
try. It then receives the Yuta, the Yuerva, the Cuchi-
vara, and Parana Mire, each of which is equal to the Rhine;
and then the Madeira, which has flowed above 1300 miles.
At their junction the breadth is so great that neither shore
can be seen by a person standing up in a canoe ; so that
the united stream must be about six miles broad. In this
form it rolls along through a flat country, covered with im¬
penetrable forests, and most of it as yet untrodden by hu¬
man feet. Mr Condamine, who came down the stream,
says that all is silent as the desert, and the wild beasts and
numberless birds crowd round the boat, eyeing it as some
animal of which they did not seem afraid. The bed was
cut deep through an equal and yielding soil, which seemed
rich in every part, if he could judge by the vegetation,
which was rank in the extreme. What an addition to
the possible population of this globe ! A narrow slip along
each bank of this mighty river would equal in surface the
whole of Europe, and wrould probably exceed it in general
fertility; and although the velocity in the main stream was
considerable, he observed that it was extremely moderate,
nay almost still, at the sides; so that in those parts where
the country was inhabited, the Indians paddled up the river
with perfect ease. Boats could go from Para to near the
mouth of the Madeira in thirty-eight days, which is nearly
1200 miles.
Not far from the head of the Maragnon, the Cordilleras
send off a branch to the north-east, which reaches and
ranges along the shore of the Mexican Gulf; and the Rio
Grande de Sta Martha occupies the angle between the
ridges.
Another ridge ranges with interruption along the east
coast of Terra Firma, so that the whole waters of this coun¬
try are collected into the Oroonoko. In like manner, the
north and east of Brazil are hemmed in by mountainous
ndges, through which there is no considerable passage;
and the ground sloping backwards, all the waters of this
immense tract are collected from both sides by many con¬
siderable rivers into the great river Paraguay, or Rio de la
Plata, which runs down the middle of the country for more
than 1400 miles, and falls into the sea through a vast mouth,
in latitude 35°.
253
Thus the whole of South America seems as if it had been Historv.
formerly surrounded by a mound, and been a great basin.^
The ground in the middle, where the Parana, the Madeira,
and the Plata, take their rise, is an immense marsh, unin¬
habitable on account of its exhalations, and quite impervious
in its present state.
The manner in which the continent of North America
is watered, or rather drained, has also some peculiarities.
By looking at the map, one will observe, first of all, a ge¬
neral division of the whole of the best-known part into two,
by the valleys in which the beds of the rivers St Lawrence
and Mississippi are situated. The head of this is occupied
by a singular series of fresh-water seas or lakes, viz. the
Lakes Superior and Michigan, which empty themselves into
Lake Huron by two cataracts. This again runs into Lake
Erie by the river Detroit, and the Erie pours its water into
the Ontario by the famous Fall of Niagara, and from the
Ontario proceeds the great river St Lawrence.
The ground to the south-west of the Lakes Superior and
Erie is somewhat lower, and the middle of the valley is oc¬
cupied by the Mississippi and the Missouri, wdiich receive
on both sides a number of smaller streams, and, having
joined, proceed to the south under the name Mississippi.
In latitude 37° this river receives into its bed the Ohio, a
river of equal magnitude, and the Cherokee river, which
drains all the' country lying at the back of the United
States, separated from them by the ranges of the Appala¬
chian Mountains. The Mississippi is now one of the chief
rivers on the globe, and proceeds due south till it falls into
the Mexican Bay through several shifting mouths, which
greatly resemble those of the Danube and the Nile, having
run above 1200 miles.
The elevated country between this bed of the Mississippi
and St Lawrence and the Atlantic Ocean is drained on the
east side by a great number of rivers, some of which are
very considerable, and of long course; because instead of
being nearly at right angles to the coast, as in other coun¬
tries, they are in a great measure parallel to it. This is
more remarkably the case with Hudson’s river, the Dela¬
ware, Potomac, and Rappahannoc. Indeed the whole of
North America seems to consist of ribs or beams laid nearly
parallel to each other from north to south, and the rivers
occupy the interstices. All those which empty themselves
into the bay of Mexico are parallel and almost perfectly
straight, unlike what are seen in other parts of the world.
The westernmost of them all, the North river, as it is
named by the Spaniards, is nearly as loner as the Missis¬
sippi.
For the length of the courses, and some peculiarities of
the principal rivers, see Physical Geography.
PART I THEORY OF THE MOTION OF RIVERS AND
CANALS.
Ihe importance of this subject needs no commentary. inip0rt-
Every nation, every country, every city is interested in it. ance of the
Our wants, our comforts, and our pleasures require a know-doctrine of
ledge of it. We must conduct the water of rivers to the .rnot*on
centre of our dwellings ; we must secure ourselves against0 ^vers
their ravages; we must employ them to drive those ma-an cana s‘
chines which, by compensating for our personal weakness,
make a few able to perform the work of thousands; we
employ them to water and fertilize our fields, to decorate
our mansions, to cleanse and embellish our cities, to pre¬
serve or extend our demesnes, to transport from county to
county every thing which necessity, convenience, or luxury,
has rendered precious to man: for these purposes we must
confine and govern the mighty rivers, we must preserve or
change the beds of the smaller streams, draw off from them
what shall water our fields, drive our machines, or supply
R I V E R.
This sci¬
ence as y
in its in¬
fancy.
our houses. We must keep up their waters for the pur¬
poses of navigation, or supply their places by canals; we
must drain our fens, and defend them when drained; we
must understand their motions, and their mode of secret,
slow, but unceasing action, that our bridges, our wharfs,
our dikes, may not become heaps of ruins. Ignorant how
to proceed in these daily recurring cases, how often do we
see projects of high expectation and heavy expense fail o
their object, leaving the state burdened with works not
only useless, but frequently hurtful ?
This has long been a most interesting subject of study
in Italy, where the fertility of their fields is not more in¬
debted to their rich soil and happy climate, than to their
numerous derivations from the rivers which traverse them ,
and in Holland and Flanders, where their very existence
requires unceasing attention to the waters, which are every
moment ready to swallow up the inhabitants, and where
the inhabitants, having once subdued this formidable ene¬
my, have made those very waters their indefatigable drudges,
transporting through every corner of the country the mate¬
rials of an extensive commerce.
Such having been our incessant occupations with moving
waters, we should expect, that while the operative artists
are continually furnishing facts and experiments, the man
of speculative and scientific curiosity, excited by the impor¬
tance of the subject, would ere now have made consider¬
able progress in the science; and that the professional^ en¬
gineer would be daily acting from established principle,
and be seldom disappointed in his expectations. Unfortu¬
nately, the reverse of this is nearly the true state of the
case : each engineer is obliged to collect the greatest part
of his knowledge from his own experience, and by many
dear-bought lessons, to direct his future operations, in
which he still proceeds with anxiety and hesitation; for
we have not yet acquired principles of theory, and experi¬
ments have not yet been collected and published by which
an empirical practice might be safely formed. Many ex¬
periments of inestimable value are daily made; but they
remain with their authors, who seldom have either leisure,
ability, or generosity, to add them to the public stock.
The motion of waters has been really so little investigat-
et ed as yet, that hydraulics may still be called a new study.
We have merely skimmed over a few common notions con¬
cerning the motions of water; and the mathematicians of
the first order seem to have contented themselves with
such views as allowed them to entertain themselves with
elegant applications of calculus. This, however, has not
been their fault. They rarely had opportunity of doing
more, for want of a knowledge of facts. TTey have made
excellent use of the few which have been given them ; but
it required much labour, great variety of opportunity, and
great expense, to learn the multiplicity of things which are
combined even in the simplest cases of water in motion.
These are seldom the lot of the mathematician; and he
is without blame when he enjoys the pleasures within his
reach, and cultivates the science of geometry in its most
abstracted form. Here he makes a progress which is the
boast of human reason, being almost insured from error
by the intellectual simplicity of his subject. But when we
turn our attention to material objects, and, without know¬
ing either the size and shape of the elementary particles,
or the laws which nature has prescribed for their action,
presume to foresee their effects, calculate their exertions,
direct their actions, what must be their consequence ? Na¬
ture shows her independence with respect to our notions,
and, always faithful to the laws which are enjoined, and of
which we are ignorant, she never fails to tlwart our views,
to disconcert our projects, and render useless all our ef¬
forts.
To wish to know the nature of the elements is vain, and
our gross organs are insufficient for the study. To sup¬
pose what we do not know, and to fancy shapes and sizes at Theorji
will, is to raise phantoms, and will produce a system, but
will not prove a foundation for any science. But to inter- J
rogate Nature herself, study the laws which she so faith-iny
fully observes, catch her, as we say, in the fact, and thus tion#
wrest from her the secret; this is the only way to become
her master, and it is the only procedure consistent with
o-ood sense. And we see that soon after Kepler detected
the laws of the planetary motions, when Galileo discovered
the uniform acceleration of gravity, when Paschal discover¬
ed the pressure of the atmosphere, and Newton discovered
the laws of attraction and the track of a ray of light; astro¬
nomy, mechanics, hydrostatics, chemistry, optics, quickly
became bodies of sound doctrine, and the deductions from
their respective theories were found fair representations of
the phenomena of nature. Whenever a man has discovered
a law of nature, he has laid the foundation of a science, and
he has given us a new mean of subjecting to oui service
some element hitherto independent; and so long as groups
of natural operations follow a route which appears to us
whimsical, and will not admit our calculations, we may be
assured that we are ignorant of the principle which con¬
nects them all, and regulates their procedure.
This is remarkably the case with several phenomena in Our pt-
the motions of fluids, and particularly in the motion of water ™ce of
in a bed or conduit of any kind. Although the first ge- J^'
niuses of Europe have for this century past turned much 0f ^
their attention to this subject, we are almost ignorant oftj0!])
the general laws which may be observed in their motions.
We have been able to select very few points of resem¬
blance, and every case remains nearly an individual. About
one hundred and fifty years ago we discovered, by experi¬
ence only, the quantity and velocity of water issuing from
a small orifice, and, after much labour, have extended this
to any orifice; and this is almost the whole of our confi¬
dential knowledge. But as to the uniform course of the
streams which water the face of the earth, and the maxims
which will certainly regulate this agreeably to our wishes,
we are in a manner totally ignorant. Who can pretend to
say what is the velocity of a river of which you tell him
the breadth, the depth, and the declivity ? Who can say
what swell will be produced in different parts of its course,
if a dam or weir of given dimensions be made in it, or a
bridge be thrown across it; or how much its waters will be
raised by turning another stream into it, or sunk by taking
off a branch to drive a mill? Who can say with confidence
what must be the dimensions or slope of this branch, in or¬
der to furnish the water that is wanted, or the dimensions
and slope of a canal which shall effectually drain a fenny
district ? Who can say what form will cause or will pre¬
vent the undermining of banks, the forming of elbows, the
pooling of the bed, or the deposition of sands ? Yet these
are the most important questions. .
The causes of this ignorance are the want or uncertain-and the
ty of our principles; the falsity of our only theory, which cause
is belied by experience; and the small number of proper
observations or experiments, and difficulty of making such
as shall be serviceable. We have, it is true, made a fevv
experiments on the efflux of water from small orifices, and
from them wTe have deduced a sort of theory, dependent on
the fall of heavy bodies and the laws of hydrostatic pres¬
sure. Hydrostatics is indeed founded on very siiqple prin¬
ciples, which give a very good account of the laws of the
quiescent equilibrium of fluids, in consequence of gravity
and perfect fluidity. But by what train of reasoning can
we connect these with the phenomena of the uniform mo¬
tion of the waters of a river or open stream, which can de¬
rive its motion only from the slope of its surface, and t e
modifications of this motion or its velocity only from t e
width and depth of the stream ? These are the only cir¬
cumstances which can distinguish a portion of a river from
i-A
| Piintip1.
, mliicl
; tie‘VS-
: W-^
I Jm
1
ilirjf
RIVER.
a vessel of the same size and shape, in which, however, the
' water is at rest. In both, gravity is the sole cause of pres¬
sure and motion; but there must be some circumstance
peculiar to running waters which modifies the exertion of
this active principle, and which, when discovered, must be
the basis of hydraulics, and must oblige us to reject every
theory founded on fancied hypothesis, and which can only
lead to absurd conclusions ^ and surely absurd consequences,
when legitimately drawn, are complete evidence of impro¬
per principles.
When it was discovered experimentally, that the veloci¬
ties of water issuing from orifices at various depths under
lenra t^e sur^ace were as the square roots of those depths, and
hyd .dies the fact was verified by repeated experiments, this princi-
dep<p. was immediately, and without modification, applied to
every motion of water. Mariotte, Varignon, and Guglielmini,
made it the basis of complete systems of hydraulics, which
prevail to this day, after having received various amend¬
ments and modifications. The same reasoning obtains
through them all, though frequently obscured by other cir¬
cumstances, which are more perspicuously expressed by
Guglielmini in his Fundamental Theorems.
He considers every point P (fig. 1) in a mass of fluid
255
Pri: iple
on ' deli
the is-
tem bf
as an orifice in the side of a vessel, and
conceives the particle as having a ten¬
dency to move with the same velocity
with which it would issue from the ori¬
fice. Therefore, if a vertical line APC
be drawn through that point, and if this
be made the axis of a parabola ADE,
of which A at the surface of the fluid
is the vertex, and AB (four times the
height through which a heavy body g
would fall in a second) is the parame-
ter, the velocity of this particle will be
represented by the ordinate PD of this
parabola; that is, PD is the space
which it would uniformly describe in a second
Fr°ni thiS PrinciPle is derived the following theory of
“ eQ i3m runmng waters. J
Let DC (fig. 2) be the horizontal bottom of a reservoir
to which is join- jp; g
ed a sloping chan-
nel CK of uniform
I breadth, and let
! AB be the surface
of the standing wa¬
ter in the reservoir.
Suppose the vertical plane BC pierced with an infinity of
holes, through each of which the water issues. The velo¬
city of each filament will be that which is acquired by fall¬
ing from the surface AB.1 The filament C, issuing with
this velocity, will then glide down the inclined plane like
any other heavy body ; and (by the common doctrine of
the motion down an inclined plane) when it has arrived at
b, it will have the same velocity which it would have ac¬
quired by falling through the height OF, the point O being
| in horizontal plane AB produced. The same may be
said of its velocity when it arrives at H or K. The fila¬
ment immediately above C will also issue with a velocity
which is in the subduplicate ratio of its depth, and will
then glide down above the first filament. The same may
he affirmed of all the filaments, and of the superficial fila¬
ment, which will occupy the surface of the descending
^ stream. °
quenc* . 1 l0m thls account of the genesis of a running stream of
awn wa5er> may fairly draw the following consequences.
)m thL The velocity of any particle R, in any part of the
eorjr.
plane^AN ^ ^ aC<^Uired by Palling from the horizontal Theory.
2. I he velocity at the bottom of the stream is everywhere
greater than anywhere above it, and is least of all at the
surrace.
3. I he velocity of the stream increases continually as
the stream recedes from its source.
4. The depths EF, GH, &c. in different parts of the
stream, will be nearly in the inverse subduplicate ratio of
the depths under the surface AN : for since the same quan¬
tity of water is running through every section EF and GH
and the channel is supposed of uniform breadth, the depth’
of each section must be inversely as the velocity of the
water passmg through it. This velocity is indeed different
in different filaments of the section ; but the mean velocity
in each section is in the subduplicate ratio of the depth of
the filament under the surface AB. Therefore the stream
becomes more shallow as it recedes from the source • and
inconsequence of this the difference between LH and
MG continually diminishes, and the velocities at the bot¬
tom and surface of the stream continually approach to
equality, and at a great distance from the source they dif¬
fer insensibly. J
5. If the breadth of the stream be contracted in any
part, the depth of the running water will be increased in
that part, because the same quantity must still pass through •
but the velocity at the bottom will remain the same, and
that at the surface will be less than it was before ; and the
area of the section will be increased on the whole.
6. Should a sluice be put across the stream, dipping a
little into the water, the water must immediately rise on
the upper side of the sluice till it rises above the* level of
the reservoir; and the smallest immersion of the sluice will
produce this effect. For, by lowering the sluice, the area
of the section is diminished, and the velocity cannot be in¬
creased till the water heap up to a greater height than the
surface of the reservoir ; and this acquires a pressure which
will produce a greater velocity of efflux through the orifice
left below the sluice.
7. An additional quantity of water coming into this chan¬
nel will increase the depth of the stream, and the quantity
of water which it conveys ; but it will not increase the ve¬
locity of the bottom filaments unless it comes from a hi<dier
source. °
All these consequences are contrary to experience, and These
show the imperfection at least of the explanation. sequence,
1 he third consequence is of all the most contrary to ex- all contra-
penence. If any one will but take the trouble of followine-r7to expe-
a single brook from its source to the sea, he will find itrience-
most rapid in its beginnings among the mountains, gradually
slackening its pace as it winds among the hills and gentler
declivities, and at last creeping slowly along through the
flat grounds, till it is checked and brought to rest by the
tides of the ocean.
Noi is the second consequence more agreeable to obser¬
vation. It is universally found that the velocity of the sur¬
face m the middle of the stream is the greatest of all, and
that it gradually diminishes from thence to the bottom and
sides.
And the first consequence, if true, would render the run¬
ning waters on the surface of this earth the instruments of
immediate ruin and devastation. If the waters of our ri¬
vers, in the cultivated parts of a country, which are two,
three, and four hundred feet lower than their sources, ran
with the velocity due to that height, they would in a few
minutes lay the earth bare to the very bones.
I he velocities of our rivers, brooks, and rills, being so
greatly inferior to what this theory assigns to them, the
See Guglielmini’s Hydraulics, 21.
256
E I V E R.
Theorv. other consequences are equally contrary to experience.
 When a stream has its section diminished by narrowing the
channel, the current increases in depth, and this is always
accompanied by an increase of velocity through the whole
of the section, and most of all at the surface ; and the area
of the section does not increase, but diminishes, all the phe¬
nomena' thus contradicting in every circumstance the de¬
duction from the theory; and when the section has been
diminished by a sluice let down into the stream, the
gradually heaps up on the upper side of the sluice, aiid, by
its pressure, produces an acceleration of the stream below
the sluice, in the same way as if it were the beginning of a
stream, as explained in the theory. I he velocity now is
composed of the velocity preserved from the source and the
velocity produced by this subordinate accumulation ; and
this accumulation and velocity continually increase till they
become such that the whole supply is again discharged
through this contracted section: any additional water no
only increases the quantity carried along the stream, but
also increases the velocity, and therefore the section does
not increase in the proportion of the quantity.
The theo- It is surprising that a theory really founded on a conceit,
ry, how- and which in every one of the most familiar and obvious cir-
ever, has cumstances is contradicted by facts, should have met with so
been gene-mucll attention. That Varignon should immediately catch
at this notion of Guglielmini, and make it the subject of
thew riters many elaborate analytical memoirs, is not to be wondered
on the sub- at. This author only wanted donner prise au calcul; and
ject, it was a usual joke among the academicians of I ans, when
any new theorem was invented, donnons le a Varignon a
qeneraUser. But his numerous theorems and corollaries
were adopted by all, and still make the substance of the
present systems of hydraulics. Gravesande, Muschenbroeck,
and all the elementary treatises of natural philosophy, de¬
liver no other doctrines ; and Belidor, who has been consi¬
dered as the first of all the scientific engineers, details the
same theory in his great work the Architecture Hydrctu-
Uaue.
though Guglielmini was, however, not altogether the dupe of his
some of own ingenuity. He was not only a pretty good mathema-
the more £ician> but an assiduous and sagacious observer. He had
ingenious ]ied bis theory to some important cases which occurred
fpnts'and" hi the exercise of his profession as inspector of the rivers and
attempted canals in the Milanese, and to the course of the Danube;
to supply and could not but perceive that great corrections were ne-
them. cessary for making the theory quadrate in some tolerable
manner with observation ; and he immediately saw that the
motion was greatly obstructed by inequalities of the canal,
which gave to the contiguous filaments of the stream trans¬
verse motions, which thwarted and confused the regular
progress of the rest of the stream, and thus checked its ge¬
neral progress. These obstructions, he observed, were most
effectual in the beginning of its course, while yet a small
rill, running among stones, and in a very unequal bed. The
whole stream being small, the inequalities bore a great pro¬
portion to it, and thus the general effect was great. He
also saw that the same causes (these transverse motions pro¬
duced by the unequal bottom) chiefly affect the contiguous
filaments, and were the reasons why the velocity at the
sides and bottom was so much diminished as to be less than
the superficial velocity, and that even this might come to
be diminished by the same cause. For he observed, that
the general stream of a river is frequently composed of a
sort of boiling or tumbling motion, by which masses of wa¬
ter are brought up to the surface and again descend. Every
person must recollect such appearances in the freshes of a
muddy river; and in this way Guglielmini was enabled to
account in some measure for the disagreement of his theory
with observation.
Mariotte had observed the same obstruction even in the
smoothest glass pipes. Here it could not be ascribed to
the checks occasioned by transverse motions. He there- Theo-
fore ascribed it to friction, which he supposed to dimmish'—
the motion of fluid bodies in the same manner as of solids;
and he thence concludes, that the filaments which imme¬
diately rub on the sides of the tube have their velocity gra¬
dually diminished, and that the filaments immediately ad¬
joining to these, being thus obliged to pass over them or
outstrip them, rub upon them and have their own velocity
diminished in like manner, but in a smaller degree; and
that the succeeding filaments towards the axis of the tube
suffer similar but smaller diminutions. By this means the
whole stream may come to have a smaller velocity ; and at
any rate, the medium velocity by which the quantity dis-
charged is determined, is smaller than it would have been
independent of friction. .
Guglielmini adopted this opinion of Mariotte, and, in his
next work on the Motion of Rivers, considered this as the
chief cause of the retardation ; and he added a third cir¬
cumstance, which he considered as of no less consequence,
the viscidity or tenacity of water. He observes that syrup,
oil, and other fluids, where this viscidity is more remark¬
able, have their motions prodigiously retarded by it, and
supposes that water differs from them only in the degree in
which it possesses this quality; and he says, that by this
means not only the particles which are moving more ra¬
pidly have their motions diminished by those in their neigh¬
bourhood which move slower, but that the filaments also
which would have moved more slowly are accelerated by
their more active neighbours, and that in this manner the
superficial and inferior velocities are biougnt nearer to an
equality. But this will never account for the universal fact
that the superficial particles are the swiftest of all. The su¬
perficial particles, says he, acquire by this means a greater
velocity than the parabolic law allows them; the medium
velocity is often in the middle of the depth 5 the numerous
obstacles continually multiplied and repeated, cause the cur¬
rent to lose the velocity acquired by the fall; the slope of
the bottom then diminishes, and often becomes very small,
so that the force remaining is hardly able to overcome the
obstacles which are still repeated, and the river is reduced
almost to a state of stagnation. He observes that the Rhe-
no, a river of the Milanese, has near its mouth a slope of
no more than 5", which he considers as quite inadequate to
the task ; and here he introduces another principle, which
he considers as an essential part of the theoiy of open cur¬
rents. This is, that there arises from the very depth of the
stream a propelling force, which restores a part of the lost
velocity. He offers nothing in proof of this principle, but
uses it to account for and explain the motion of water in
horizontal canals. The principle has been adopted by the
numerous Italian writers on hydraulics, and, by various con¬
trivances, interwoven with the parabolic theory, as it is
called, of Guglielmini. Our readers may see it in various
modifications in the Idrostatica e Idraulica of P. Lecchi,
and in the Sperienze Idrauliche of Michelotti. It is by no
means distinct either in its origin or in the manner of its
application to the explanation of phenomena, and seems
only to serve for giving something like consistency to the
vague and obscure discussions which have been published
on this subject in Italy. We have already remarked, that
in that country the subject is particularly interesting, and
has been much investigated. But the writers of Eng¬
land, France, and Germany, have not paid so much atten¬
tion to it, and have more generally occupied themselves
with the motion of water in close conduits, which seem to
admit of a more precise application of mathematical rea¬
soning. . ,
Some of them have considered with more attention tne
effects of friction and viscidity. Sir Isaac Newton, with
his usual penetration, had seen distinctly the manner m
which it behoved these circumstances to operate. In his
R I V E R.
researches into the mechanism of the celestial motions, he
''had occasion to examine the famous hypothesis of Descartes,
that the planets were carried round the sun by fluid vor-
1tices, and saw that there would be no end to uncertainty
, and dispute till the modus operandi of these vortices were
ib- mechanically considered. He therefore employed himself
in the investigation of the manner in which the acknow¬
ledged powers of natural bodies, acting according to the re¬
ceived laws of mechanics, could produce and preserve these
vortices, and restore that motion which was expended in
carrying the planets round the sun. In the second book of
the Principles of Natural Philosophy, he gives a series of
beautiful propositions, viz. 51, 52, &c. with their corollaries,
showing how the rotation of a cylinder or sphere round its
axis in the midst of a fluid will excite a vortical motion in
this fluid; and he ascertains with mathematical precision
the motion of every filament of this vortex.
He sets out from the supposition that this motion is ex¬
cited in the surrounding stratum of fluid in consequence of
a want of perfect lubricity, and assumes as an hypothesis,
that the initial resistance (or diminution of the motion of
the cylinder) which arises from this want of lubricity, is
proportional to the velocity with which the surface of the
cylinder is separated from the contiguous surface of the
sunounding fluid, and that the whole resistance is propor¬
tional to the velocity with which the parts of the fluid are
mutually separated from each other. From this, and the
equality of action and re-action, it evidently follows, that the
velocity of any stratum of the vortex is the arithmetical me¬
dium between the velocities of the strata immediately with¬
in and without it. For the intermediate stratum cannot be
in equilibrio, unless it is as much pressed forward by the
superior motion of the stratum within it, as it is kept back
by the slower motion of the stratum without it.
This beautiful investigation applies in the most perfect
manner to every change produced in the motion of a fluid
filament, in consequence of the viscidity and friction of the
adjoining filaments ; and a filament proceeding along a tube
at some small distance from the sides has, in like manner,
| a velocity which is the medium between those of the fila¬
ments immediately surrounding it. It is therefore a pro¬
blem of no very difficult solution to assign the law by w hich
j the velocity will gradually diminish as the filament recedes
from the axis of a cylindrical tube. It is somewhat sur-
i prising that so neat a problem has never occupied the at¬
tention of the mathematicians during the time that these
subjects w ere so assiduously studied; but so it is, that no¬
thing precise has been published on the subject. The only
approach to a discussion of this kind, is a Memoir of Mr
Fitot, read to the academy of Paris in 1726, w here he con¬
siders the velocity of efflux though a pipe. Here, by at¬
tending to the comparative superiority of the quantity of
motion in large pipes, he affirms, that the total diminutions
arising from friction will be {cceteris paribus) in the inverse
ratio of the diameters. This was thankfully received by
other writers, and is now a part of our hydraulic theories,
it has not, however, been attended to by those who write
on the motion of rivers, though it is evident that it is ap-
pucable to these with equal propriety ; and had it been in¬
troduced, it would at once have solved all their difficulties
and particularly would have shown how an almost imper¬
ceptible declivity would produce the gentle motion of a
great river, without having recourse to the unintelligible
principle of Guglielmini.
Mr Couplet made some experiments on the motion of the
water in the great main pipes of Versailles, in order to ob-
ain some notions of the retardations occasioned by fric-
ion. 1 hey were found prodigious; but were so irregular,
tho unsuscePtlble of reduction to any general principle (and
e experiments were indeed so few that they were unfit
tor this reduction), that he could establish no theory. What
VOL. XIX. J
257
Mr Lelidor established on them, and makes a sort of sys- Theory,
tem to direct future engineers, is quite unworthv of atten- '
tion.
Upon the whole, this branch of hydraulics, although of Scarcely at
much greater practical importance than the conduct of wa-all impTov.
ter m pipes, has never yet obtained more than a vague, edsince his
and, we may call it, slovenly attention from the mathema-time*
ticians; and we ascribe it to their not having taken the
pains to settle its first principles with the same precision as
had been done in the other branch. They were, from the
beginning, satisfied with a sort of applicability of mathema¬
tical principles, without ever making the application. Were
it not that some would accuse us of national partiality, we
would ascribe it to this, that Newton had not pointed out
the way in this as in the other branch ; for any intelligent
reader of the performances on the motions of fluids in dose
vessels, will see that not a principle, nay hardly a step of
investigation, has been added to those which were used
or pointed out by Sir Isaac Newton. He has nowhere
touched this question, the motion of water in an open canal.
In his theories of the tides, and of the propagation of waves,
he had an excellent opportunity for giving at once the fun¬
damental principles of motion in a free fluid whose surface
was not horizontal. But, by means of some of those happy
and shrewd guesses, in which, as Daniel Bernoulli says, he
excelled all men, he saw the undoubted consequences of
some palpable phenomenon which would answer all his pre¬
sent purposes, and therefore entered no farther into the in¬
vestigation.
The original theory of Guglielmini, or the principle adopt¬
ed by him, that each particle of the vertical section of a
running stream has a tendency to move as if it were issu¬
ing from an orifice at that depth under the surface, is false;
and that it really does so in the face of a dam when the
floodgate is taken away, is no less so; and if it did, the
subsequent motions would hardly have any resemblance to
those which he assigns them. Were this the case, the ex¬
terior form of the cascade would be something like what is
sketched in fig. 3, with an abrupt angle at B, and a con¬
cave surface BEG. This will be evi¬
dent to every one who combines the
greater velocity of the lower filaments
with the slower motion of those which
must slide down above them. But this
greater advance of the lower filaments
cannot take place without an expenditure of the water un¬
der the surface AB. The surface therefore sinks, and B
instantly ceases to retain its place in the horizontal plane.
The water does not successively flow forward from A to B,
and then tumble over the precipice; but immediately open¬
ing the floodgate, the water wastes from the space imme¬
diately behind it, and the whole puts on the form repre¬
sented in fig. 4, consisting of the curve AbPc EG, convex
from A to c, and con¬
cave from thence for¬
ward. The superficial
water begins to acce¬
lerate all the way from
A ; and the particles
may be supposed (for
the present) to have
Fig. 4.
acquired the velocity corresponding to their depth under
the horizontal surface. This must be understood as nothing
more than a vague sketch of the motions. It requires a
very critical and intricate investigation to determine either
the form of the upper curve or the motions of the different
filaments. The place A, where the curvature begins, is of
equally difficult determination, and is various according to
the differences of depth and of inclination of the succeed¬
ing canal.
We have thus given an historical sketch of the progress
2 K
258
RIVER.
Theory.
Uncer¬
tainty of
the theo¬
ries when
applied to
practice
exempli¬
fied.
Necessity
of multi-
which had been made in this part of hydraulics, that our
readers might form some opinion of the many dissertations
which have been written on the motion of rivers, and of the
state of the arts depending on it. Much of the business of the
civil engineer is intimately connected with it; and we may
therefore believe, that since there was so little principle in
the theories, there could be but very little certainty in the
practical operations. The fact has been, that no engineer
could pretend to say, with any precision, what would oe the
effect of his operations. One whose business had given him
many opportunities, and who had kept accurate and judicious
registers of his own works, could pronounce, with some pro¬
bability, how much water would be brought off by a drain
of certain dimensions and a given slope, when the circum¬
stances of the case happened to tally with some former work
in which he had succeeded or failed; but out of the pale
of his own experience he could only make a sagacious
guess. A remarkable instance of this occurred some time
ago. A small aqueduct was carried into Paris. It had been
conducted on a plan presented to the academy, who had
corrected it, and gave a report of what its performance
would be. When executed in the most accurate manner,
it was deficient in the proportion of five to nine. When
the celebrated Desaguliers was employed by the city of
Edinburgh to superintend the bringing in the water for the
supply of the city, he gave a report on the plan which was
to be followed. It was executed to his complete satisfac¬
tion ; and the quantity of water delivered was about one
sixth of the quantity which he promised, and about one
eleventh of the quantity which the no less celebrated
Maclaurin calculated from the same plan.
Such being the state of our theoretical knowledge (if it
ui .uuin- can be called by this name), naturalists began to be per-
plving ex- suaded that it was but losing time to make use of a theory
periments. incongruous with observation, and that the only safe me¬
thod of proceeding was to multiply experiments in every
variety of circumstances, and to make a series of experi¬
ments in every important case, which should comprehend
all the practical modifications of that case. Perhaps cir¬
cumstances of resemblance might occur, which would enable
us to connect many of them together, and at last discover
the principles which occasioned this connection; by which
means a theory founded on science might be obtained. And
if this point should not be gained, we might perhaps find a
few general facts, which are modified in all these particular
cases, in such a manner that we can still trace the general
facts, and see the part of the particular case which depends
on it. This would be the acquisition of what may be called
an empirical theory, by which every phenomenon would be
explained, in so far as the explanation of a phenomenon is
nothing more than: the pointing out the general fact or law
under which it is comprehended; and this theory would
answer every practical purpose, because we should confi¬
dently foresee what consequences would result from such
and such premises; or if we should fail even in this, we
should still have a series of experiments so comprehensive,
that we could tell what place in the series would correspond
to any particular case which might be proposed.
Labours of There are two gentlemen whose labours in this respect
Michelotti deserve very particular notice, Professor Michelotti of Tu-
and Bossutrjn) and the Abbe Bossut of Paris. The first made a pro¬
in this way, numi3er 0f experiments, both on the motion of water
through pipes and in open canals. They were performed
at the expense of the sovereign, and no expense was spared.
A tower was built of the finest masonry, to serve as a ves¬
sel from which the water was to issue through holes of va¬
rious sizes, under pressures of from five to twenty-two feet.
The water was received into basins constructed of masonry
and nicely lined with stucco, from whence it was conveyed
in canals of brickwork lined with stucco, and of various
forms and declivities. The experiments on the expense of
water through pipes are, of all that have yet been made, Theory,
the most numerous and exact, and may be appealed to on
every occasion. Those made in open canals are still more
numerous, and are no doubt equally accurate ; but they
have not been so contrived as to be so extensively useful,
beino- in general very unlike the important cases which will
occur in practice; and they seem to have been contrived
chiefly with the view of establishing or overturning certain
points of hydraulic doctrine which were probably prevalent
at the time among the practical hydraulists.
The experiments of Bossut are also of both kinds; and
though on a much smaller scale than those of Michelotti,
seem to deserve equal confidence. As far as they follow the
same tract, they perfectly coincide in their results, which
should procure confidence in the other; and they are made
in situations much more analogous to the usual practical
cases. This readers them doubly valuable. They are to be
found in his two volumes entitled Hydrodynamique. He
has opened this path of procedure in a manner so new and
so judicious, that he has in some measure the merit of such
as shall follow him in the same path.
This has been most candidly and liberally allowed him and the
by the Chevalier de Buat, who has taken up the matter
where the Abbe Bossut left it, and has prosecuted his expe-/,
riments with great assiduity, and, we must now add, with j)e
singular success. By a very judicious consideration of the
subject, he hit on a particular view of it, which saved him
the trouble of a minute consideration of the small internal
motions, and enabled him to proceed from a very geneial
and evident proposition, which may be received as the key
to a complete system of practical hydraulics. We shall fol¬
low this ingenious author in what we have further to say on
the subject \ and we doubt not but that our readers will
think we do a service to the public by making these discus¬
sions of the Chevalier de Buat more generally known in this
country. It must not however be expected that we shall
give more than a synoptical view of them, connected by
such familiar reasoning as may be either comprehended or
confided in by persons not deeply versed in mathematical
science.
Sect. I.— Theory of Rivers.
It is certain that the motion of open streams must, in some His tf-
respects, resemble that of bodies sliding down inclined planes iJj P™P
perfectly polished ; and that they would accelerate continu¬
ally, were they not obstructed ; but they are obstructed, and
frequently move uniformly. I his can only arise from an
equilibrium between the forces which promote their descent
and those which oppose it. Mr Buat, therefore, assumes
the leading proposition, that, i j
When water flows uniformly on any channel or bed, the
accelerating force which obliges it to move is equal to the sum
of all the resistances which it meets with, whether arising from
its own viscidity, or from the friction of its bed.
This law is as old as the formation of rivers, and should
be the key of hydraulic science. Its evidence is clear; and
it is, at any rate, the basis of all uniform motion. And
since it is so, there must be some considerable analogy be¬
tween the motion in pipes and in open channels. jotl
owe their origin to an inequality of pressure, both would ac
celerate continually if nothing hindered, and both are re
duced to uniformity by the viscidity of the fluid and t e
friction of the channel. ^Thesi*'
It will therefore be convenient to examine the phenomena i ^
of water moving in pipes by the action of its weight on K^jas
along the sloping channel. But, previously to this, we mus
take some notice of the obstruction to the entry of water p^sei
into a channel of any kind, arising from the deflection o
the many different filaments which press into the channe
from the reservoir from every side. We shall then be ab e
i
R I
Tb|ry. to separate this diminution of motion from the sum total
^ that is observed, and ascertain what part remains as pro¬
duced by the subsequent obstructions.
We shall then consider the principle of uniform motion,
the equilibrium between the power and the resistance. The
power is the relative height of the column of fluid which
tends to move along the inclined plane of its bed ; the re¬
sistance is the friction of the bed, the viscidity of the fluid,
and its adhesion to the sides. Here is necessarily com¬
bined a number of circumstances which must be gradually
detached, that we may see the effect of each, viz. the extent
of the bed, its perimeter, and its slope. By examining the
effects produced by variations of each of these separately,
we discover what share each has in the general effect; and
having thus analysed the complicated phenomena, we shall
be able to combine those its elements, and frame a formu¬
la which shall comprehend every circumstance, from the
greatest velocity to the extinction of all motion, and from
the extent of a river to the narrow dimensions of a quill.
We shall compare this formula with a series of experiments
in all this variety of circumstances, partly made by Mr Buat,
and partly collected from other authors; and we shall leave
the reader to judge of the agreement.
Confident that this agreement will be found most satis¬
factory, we shall then proceed to consider very cursorily the
chief varieties which nature or art may introduce into these
beds, the different velocities of the same stream, the inten¬
sity of the resistance produced by the inertia of the mate¬
rials of the channel, and the force of the current by which
it continually acts on this channel, tending to change either
its dimensions or its form. We shall endeavour to trace the
origin of these great rivers which spread like the branches
of a vigorous tree, and occupy the surface even of a vast
continent. W^e shall follow them in their course, unfold
all their windings, study their train and regimen, and point
out the law of its stability; and we shall investigate the
causes of their deviations and wanderings.
The study of these natural laws pleases the mind: but it
answers a still greater purpose ; it enables us to assist na¬
ture, ana to hasten her operations, w hich our wants and our
impatience often find too slow. It enables us to command
the elements, and to force them to administer to our wants
and our pleasures.
We shall therefore, in the next place, apply the know¬
ledge which we may acquire to the solution of the most im¬
portant hydraulic questions winch occur in the practice of
the civil engineer.
We shall consider the effects produced by a permanent
addition to any river or stream by the union of another, and
the opposite effect produced by any draught or offset, show¬
ing the elevation or depression produced up the stream, and
the change made in the depth and velocity below the ad¬
dition or offset.
We shall pay a similar attention to the temporary swells
produced by freshes.
We shall ascertain the effects of straightening the course
ot a stream, which, by increasing its slope, must increase its
velocity, and therefore sink the waters above the place
where the curvature was removed, and diminish the ten-
iiency to overflow, while the same immediate consequence
must expose the places farther down to the risk of floods,
trom w hich they would otherwise have been free.
The effects of dams or weirs, and of bars, must then be
considered; the gorge or swell which they produce up the
stream must be determined for every distance from the
w'eir or bar. This will furnish us with rules for renderino-
navigable or floatable such waters as have too little depth
or too great slope. And it will appear that immense ad¬
vantages may be thus derived, with a moderate expense
even from trifling brooks, if we will relinquish all preiudices,
an not imagine that such conveyance is impossible be-
V E R.
259
cause it cannot be carried on by such boats and small craft Theory,
as w e have been accustomed to look at. —v-*-
The effects of canals of derivation, the rules or maxims
of draining, and the general maxims of embankment, come
in the next place; and our discussions will conclude with
remarKs on the most proper forms for the entry to canals,
Jocks, docks, harbours, and mouths of rivers, the best shape
for the starthngs of bridges and of boats for inland naviga-
tion, and such like subordinate but interesting particulars,
which will be suggested by the general thread of discus¬
sion.
It is considered as physically demonstrated (see Hydro- Natural
dynamics), that water issuing from a small orifice in the velocity,
bottom or side of a very large vessel, almost instantly ac~exPenst>
quires and maintains the velocity which a heavy body would an(1 di9'
acquire by falling to the orifice from the horizontal surface Sarge’,
of the stagnant water. Ihis we shall call its natural
velocity. Therefore, if we multiply the area of the ori- fE
flee by this velocity, the product will be the bulk or quan¬
tity of the water which is discharged. This we may call
the natural expense of water, or the natural dis¬
charge.
Let O represent the area or section of the orifice express¬
ed in some known measure, and 4 its depth under the sur¬
face. Let ff express the velocity acquired by a heavy body
dming a second by falling. Let V be the medium velocity
of the water s motion, Q the quantity of water discharged
during a second, and N the natural expense.
We know that V is equal to Vty x \Hi. Therefore
N =: O V2,g *Jh.
i£ these dimensions be all taken in English feet, we have
V&/ very nearly equal to 8; and therefore V rr 8 *///,
and N =z O 8 •Jh.
But in our present business it is much more convenient
to measure every thing by inches. Therefore, since a body
acquires the velocity of 32 feet 2 inches in a second, we
have = 64 feet 4 inches, or 772 inches, and V2y=z 27’78
inches, nearly 27| inches.
Therefore V = ^772 Vh, = 27-78 Vh, and N = O
V112 Vh, = O 27-78 Vh.
But it is also well known, that if we were to calculate the
expense or discharge for every orifice by this simple rule,
we should in every instance find it much greater than na¬
ture really gives us.
When water issues through a hole in a thin plate, the
lateral columns, pressing into the hole from all sides, cause
the issuing filaments to converge to the axis of the jet, and
contract its dimensions at a little distance from the hole.
And it is in this place of greatest contraction that the wa¬
ter acquires that velocity which wTe observe in our experi¬
ments, and which we assume as equal to that acquired by
falling from the surface. 1 herefore, that our computed
discharge may best agree with observation, it must be cal¬
culated on the supposition that the orifice is diminished to
the size of this smallest section. But the contraction is
subject to variations, and the dimensions of this smallest
section are at all times difficult to ascertain with precision.
It is therefore much more convenient to compute from the
real dimensions of the orifice, and to correct this computed
discharge, by means of an actual comparison of the com¬
puted and effective discharges in a series of experiments
made in situations resembling those cases which most fre¬
quently occur in practice. This correction, or its cause, in Contrac¬
tile mechanism of those internal motions, is generally called tion.
contraction by the writers on hydraulics ; and it is not
confined to a hole in a thin plate : it happens in some de¬
gree in all cases where fluids are made to pass through nar¬
row places. It happens in the entry into all pipes, canals,
and sluices; nay even into the passage of water over the
edge of a board, such as is usually set up on the head of a
260
RIVER.
Theory.
dam or weir, and even when this is immersed in water on
' both sides, as in a bar or keep, frequently employed for
raising the waters of the level streams in Flanders m order
to render them navigable. We mentioned an observation
of Mr Buat to this effect, when he saw a gooseberry rise up
from the bottom of the canal along the face of the bar, and
then rapidly fly over its top. We have attempted to re¬
present this motion of the filaments in these different situa¬
tions.
Fig. 5.
Q for ditto projecting
flowing full
nwards and j 6gl4 _ 0.18.93 Vh^n
Q for ditto with a contracted jet, fig. | 5137 —; 014-27 Vh
C J  
Motion of A shows the motion through a thin plate.
filaments ]$ shows the motion when a tube of about two diameters
in various j is added, and when the water flows with a full mouth.
],articular (joeg not a]wayS happen in so short a pipe (and never
Situations, ^ ^ is ghorter^ hut the water frequently detaches
itself from the sides of the pipe, and flows with a contract¬
ed jet. . , .
C shows the motion when the pipe projects into the in¬
side of the vessel. In this case it is difficult to make it
flow full. „
D represents a mouth-piece fitted to the hole, and term¬
ed agreeably to that shape which a jet would assume of it¬
self. In this case all contraction is avoided, because the
mouth of this pipe may be considered as the real orifice,
and nothing now diminishes the discharge but a trifling
friction of the sides.
E shows the motion of water over a dam or weir, where
the fall is free or unobstructed; the surface of the lower
stream being lower than the edge or sole of the waste-
board.
F is a similar representation of the motion of water over
what we would call a bar or keep.
It was one great aim of the experiments of Michelotti
and Bossut to determine the effects of contraction in these
1 cases. Michelotti, after carefully observing the form and
dimensions of the natural jet, made various mouth-pieces
resembling it, till he obtained one which produced the
smallest diminution of the computed discharge, or till the
discharge computed for the area of its smaller end approach¬
ed the nearest to the effective discharge. And he at last
obtained one which gave a discharge of 983, when the na¬
tural discharge would have been 1000. This piece was
formed by the revolution of a trochoid round the axis of
the jet, and the dimensions were as follow:
Diameter of the outer orifice = 36
Diameter of the inner orifice 46
Length of the axis 96
The results of the experiments of the Abbe Bossut and
of Michelotti scarcely differ, and they are expressed in the
following table:
Q. for the mouth-piece, fig. D 9831 — 0*2 /'31 V7«
(4 for a weir, fig. E   9536 r= 0,26,49 \/h
Q for a bar, fig. F 9730 = 0,27,03 Vh
The numbers in the last column of this little table are
the cubical inches of water discharged in a second when
the height h is one inch.
It must be observed, that the discharges assigned here
for the weir and bar relate only to the contractions occa¬
sioned by the passage over the edge of the board. The
weir may also suffer a diminution by the contractions at its
twro ends, if it should be narrower than the stream, which
is generally the case, because the two ends are commonly
of square masonry or wood-work. The contraction there
is nearly the same with that at the edge of a thin plate.
But this could not be introduced into this table, because its
effect on the expense is the same in quantity whatever is
the length of the waste-board of the weir.
In like manner, the diminution of discharge through a Dimimi-
sluice could not be expressed here. When a sluice is turn of J
drawn up, but its lower edge still remains under water, the™^?
discharge is contracted both above and at the sides, and’'*3™-1
and the ef¬
fects of
contraction r
determin¬
ed.
the diminution of discharge by each is in proportion to its
extent. It is not easy to reduce either of these contractions
to computation, but they may be very easily observed.
We frequently can observe the water, at coming out of a
sluice into a mill-course, quit the edge of the aperture, and
show a part of the bottom quite dry. This is always the
case when the velocity of efflux is considerable. W hen it
is very moderate, this place is occupied by an eddy water
almost stagnant. When the head of water is eight or ten
inches, and runs off freely, the space left between it and
the sides is about one and a half inch. If the sides of the
entry have a slope, this void space can never appear; but
there is always this tendency to convergence, which dimi¬
nishes the quantity of the discharge.
It w ill frequently abridge computation very much to con¬
sider the water discharged in these different situations as
moving with a common velocity, which we conceive as pro¬
duced not by a fall from the surface of the fluid (which is
exact only when the expense is equal to the natural ex¬
pense), but by a fall h accommodated to the discharge : or
it is convenient to know the height which would produce
that very velocity which the water issues with in these si¬
tuations.
And also, when the water is observed to be actually
moving with a velocity V, and wre know whether it is com¬
ing through a thin plate, through a tube, over a dam, c.
it is necessary to know the pressure or head of water
which has actually produced this velocity. It is convenient
therefore to have the following numbers in readiness.
V2
h for the natural expense
sluice, i
h for a thin plate at the depth of 8 feet...
h for a tube 2 diam. long 
N or the natural expense 10000 = 0*27'78 Vh
Q. for the thin plate, fig. A, almost | 6526  0T8T3 Vh
Q for ditto at the depth of 8 feet....J. 6195 = 0-17-21 Vh
Q for ditto at the depth of 16 feet  6173 zz 0T7T5
Q for a tube 2 diameters long, fig. B... 8125 = 0-22*57 Vh
h for a dam or weir.
h for a bar,
772
V2
296
V*
: 509
V2
' 702
’ 731
It was necessary to premise these facts in hydraulics,
See Resistance of Fluids, p. 11J0,
RIVER.
261
Th l-io-
tioi it' ri¬
ver! |le-
pem on
the (ope
oft sur¬
face
I
!
k
i
i
that we may be able in every case to distinguish between
' the force expended in the entry of the water into the con¬
duit or canal, and the force employed in overcoming the
resistances along the canal, and in preserving or accelerat¬
ing its motion in it.
The motion of running water is produced by two causes:
1. The action of gravity; and, 2. the mobility of the par¬
ticles, which makes them assume a level in confined ves¬
sels, or determines them to move to that side where there
is a defect of pressure. When the surface is level, every
particle is at rest, being equally pressed in all directions;
but if the surface is not level, not only does a particle on
the very surface tend by its own weight towards the lower
side, as a body would slide along an inclined plane, but
there is a force, external to itself, arising from a superiority
of pressure on the upper end of the surface, which pushes
this superficial particle towards the lower end; and this is
not peculiar to the superficial particles, but affects every
particle within the mass of water. In the vessel ACDE
(fig. 6), containing water with
an inclined surface AE, if
we suppose all frozen but
the extreme columns AKHB,
FGLE, and a connecting por¬
tion HKCDLG, it is evident,
from hydrostatical laws, that
die water on this connecting
part will be pushed in the direction CD ; and if the frozen
mass BHGF were moveable, it would also be pushed along.
Giving it fluidity will make no change in this respect; and
it is indifferent what is the situation and shape of the con¬
necting column or columns. The propelling force (MNF
being horizontal) is the weight of the column AMNB. The
same thing will obtain wherever we select the vertical co¬
lumns. There will always be a force tending to push every
particle of water in the direction of the declivity. The
consequence will be, that the water will sink at one end
and rise at the other, and its surface will rest in the hori¬
zontal position a O e, cutting the former in its middle O.
This cannot be, unless there be not only a motion of per¬
pendicular descent and ascent of the vertical columns, but
also a real motion of translation from K towards L. It per¬
haps exceeds our mathematical skill to tell what will be the
motion of each particle. Newton did not attempt it in his
investigation of the motion of waves, nor is it at all neces¬
sary here. We may, however, acquire a very distinct no¬
tion of its general effect. Let OPQ be a vertical plane
passing through the middle point O. It is evident that
every particle in PQ, such as P, is pressed in the direction
QD, with a force equal to the weight of a single row of
particles whose length is the difference between the columns
BH and FG. The force acting on the particle Q is, in
like manner, the weight of a row of particles = AC — ED.
Now if OQ, OA, OE, be divided in the same ratio, so that
all the figures A CDE, BHGF, &c. may be similar, we see
that the force arising solely from the declivity, and acting
on each particle on the plane OQ., is proportiona. to its
depth under the surface, and that the row of particles
ACQDE, BHPGF, &c. which is to be moved by it, is in
the same proportion. Hence it unquestionably follows, that
the accelerating force on each particle of the row is the
same in all. Therefore the whole plane OQ tends to ad¬
vance forward together with the same velocity; and in the
instant immediately succeeding, all these particles would
be found again in a vertical plane indefinitely nearer to
OQ; and if we sum up the forces, we shall find them the
same as if OQ were the opening of a sluice, having the wa¬
ter on the side of D standing level with O, and the water
on the other side standing at the height AC. This result
is extremely different from that of the hasty theory of
Guglielmini. He considers each particle in OQ as urged
by an accelerating force proportional to its depth, it is true; Theory,
but he makes it equal to the weight of the row OP, and
never recollects that the greatest part of it is balanced by
an opposite pressure, nor perceives that the force which is
not balanced must be distributed among a row of particles
which varies in the same proportion with itself. When
these two circumstances are neglected, the result will be
incompatible with observation. When the balanced forces
are taken into the account of pressure, it is evident that the
surface may be supposed horizontal, and that motion should
obtain in this case as well as in the case of a sloping sur¬
face ; and indeed this is Guglielmini’s professed theory, and
what he highly values himself upon. He announces this dis¬
covery of a new principle, which he calls the energy of
deep waters, as an important addition to hydraulics. It is
owing to this, says he, that the great rivers are not stagnant
at their mouths, where they have no perceptible declivity
of surface, but, on the contrary, have greater energy and
velocity than farther up, where they are shallower. This
principle is the basis of his improved theory of rivers, and
is insisted on at great length by all the subsequent writers.
Buffon, in his theory of the earth, makes much use of it.
We cannot but wonder that it has been allowed a place in
the theory of rivers given in the great Encyclopedie of Pa¬
ris, and in an article having the signature (O) of D’Alembert.
We have been very anxious to show the falsity of this
principle, because we consider it as a mere subterfuge of
Guglielmini, by which he was able to patch up the mathe¬
matical theory which he had so hastily taken from Newton
or Galileo ; and we think that we have secured our readers
from being misled by it, when wre show that this energy
must be equally operative when the surface is on a dead
level. The absurdity of this is evident. We shall see by
and by, that deep waters, when in actual motion, have an
energy not to be found in shallow running waters, by which
they are enabled to continue that motion ; but this is not a
moving principle; and it will be fully explained, as an im¬
mediate result of principles, not vaguely conceived and in¬
distinctly expressed, like this of Guglielmini, but easily un¬
derstood, and appreciable with the greatest precision. It
is an energy common to all great bodies. Although they
lose as much momentum in surmounting any obstacle as
small ones, they lose but a small portion of their velocity.
At present, employed only in considering the progressive
motion of an open stream, whose surface is not level, it is
quite enough that we see that such a motion must obtain,
and that we see that there are propelling forces; that
those forces arise solely from the want of a level surface, or
from the slope of the surface; and that, with respect to any
one particle, the force acting on it is proportional to the
difference of level between each of the two columns (one
on each side of the particle) which produce it. Were the
surface level, there would be no motion; if it is not level,
there will be motion ; and this motion will be proportional
to the want of level or the declivity of the surface : it is of
no consequence whether the bottom be level or not, or
what is its shape.
Hence we draw a fundamental principle, that the motion
of rivers depends entirely on the slope of the surface.
The slope or declivity of any inclined plane is not pro¬
perly expressed by the difference of height alone of its ex¬
tremities ; we must also consider its length ; and the mea¬
sure of the slope must be such that it may be the same
while the declivity is the same. It must therefore be the
same over the whole of any one inclined plane. We shall
answer these conditions exactly, if we take for the measure
of a slope the fraction which expresses the elevation of one
extremity above the other divided by the length of the
plane. Thus will express the declivity of the plane
AF.
262
RIVER.
Theory.
If the water met with no resistance from the bed in
» ' which it runs, if it had no adhesion to its sides and bottom,
When it is an(j jf its fluidity were perfect, its gravity would accelerate
uniform its course continually, and the earth and its inhabitants
ance^s1 would be deprived of all the advantages which they derive
equal to from its numberless streams. They would run off so quick-
the accele- ly, that our fields, dried up as soon as watered, would be
rating
force.
Terms
precisely
explained.
barren and useless. No soil could resist the impetuosity
of the torrents; and their accelerating force would render
them a destroying scourge, were it not that, by kind Pro¬
vidence, the resistance of the bed, and the viscidity of the
fluid, become a check which reins them in and sets bounds
to their rapidity. In this manner the friction on the sides,
which, by the viscidity of the water, is communicated to
the whole mass, and the very adhesion of the particles to
each other, and to the sides of the channel, are the causes
which make the resistances bear a relation to the velocity;
so that the resistances, augmenting with the velocities, come
at last to balance the accelerating force. Then the velo¬
city now acquired is preserved, and the motion becomes
uniform, without being able to acquire new increase, unless
some change succeeds either in the slope or in the capacity
of the channel. Hence arises the second maxim in the
motion of rivers, that when a stream moves uniformly, the
resistance is equal to the accelerating force.
As in the efflux of water through orifices, we pass over
the very beginnings of the accelerated motion, which is a
matter of speculative curiosity, and consider the motion in
a state of permanency, depending on the head of w ater, the
area of the orifice, the velocity, and the expense ; so in the
theory of the uniform motion of rivers, we consider the
slope, the transverse section or area of the stream, the uni¬
form velocity, and the expense. It will be convenient to
affix precise meanings to the terms which we shall employ.
The section of a stream is the area of a plane perpen¬
dicular to the direction of the general motion.
The resistances arise ultimately from the action of the
water on the internal surface of the channel, and must be
proportional (cceteris paribus) to the extent of the action.
Therefore, if we unfold the whole edge of this section, which
is rubbed as it were by the passing water, we shall have a
measure of the extent of this action. In a pipe, circular or
prismatical, the whole circumference is acted on ; but in a
river or canal ACDR (fig. 6) the horizontal line aOe, which
makes the upper boundary of the section aCDe, is free from
all action. The action is confined to the three lines oC,
CD, De. We shall call this line aCDe the border of the
section.
The MEAN velocity is that with which the whole sec¬
tion, moving equally, would generate a solid equal to the
expense of the stream. This velocity is to be found per¬
haps but in one filament of the stream, and we do not know
in which filament it is to be found.
Since w e are attempting to establish an empirical theory
of the motion of rivers, founded entirely on experiments, and
palpable deductions from them, and since it is extremely
difficult to make experiments on open streams which shall
have a precision sufficient for such an important purpose,
it would be a most desirable thing to demonstrate an exact
analogy between the mutual balancing of the acceleration
and resistance in pipes and in rivers ; for in those w e can
not only make experiments with all the desired accuracy,
and admitting precise measures, but we can make them in
a number of cases that are almost impracticable in rivers.
We can increase the slope of a pipe from nothing to the
vertical position, and w^e can employ every desired degree
of pressure, so as to ascertain its effect on the velocity in de¬
grees which open streams will not admit of. The Chevalier
de Buat has most happily succeeded in this demonstration ;
and it is here that his good fortune and his penetration have
done so much service to practical science.
Let AB (fig. 7) be a horizontal tube, through which the The««
water is impelled by the pressure or head DA. This headler^ r
is the moving power; and it
Fiji. 7.
may be conceived as consisting
of two parts, performing two
distinct offices. One of them
is employed in impressing on
the water that velocity with
which it actually moves in the
tube. WTere there no obstruc¬
tions to this motion, no greater
head would be wanted; but
there are obstructions, arising from friction, adhesion, and
viscidity. This requires force. Let this be the office of
the rest of the head of water in the reservoir. There is
but one allotment, appropriation, or repartition of the whole
head which will answer. Suppose E to be the point ot
partition, so that DE is the head necessary for impressing
the actual velocity on the water (a head or pressure which
has a relation to the form or circumstance of the entry, and
the contraction which takes place there). The rest EA is
wholly employed in overcoming the simultaneous resistances
which take place along the whole tube AB, and is in equi-
librio with this resistance. Therefore, if we apply at E a
tube EC, of the same length and diameter with AB, and
having the same degree of polish or roughness ; and if this
tube be inclined in such a manner that the axis of its ex¬
tremity may coincide with the axis of AB in the point C ;
we affirm that the velocity will be the same in both pipes,
and that they will have the same expense ; for the moving
force in the sloping pipe EC is composed of the whole
weight of the column DE and the relative weight of the
column EC; but this relative weight, by which alone it
descends along the inclined pipe EC, is precisely equal to
the weight of a vertical column EA of the same diameter.
Everything therefore is equal in the two pipes, viz. the
lengths, the diameters, the moving forces, and the resist¬
ances ; therefore the velocities and discharges will also be
equal.
This is not only the case on the whole, but also in every
part of it. The relative weight of any part of it EK is pre¬
cisely in equilibrio with the resistances along that part of
the pipe ; for it has the same proportion to the whole rela¬
tive weight that the resistance has to the whole resistance.
Therefore {and this is the most important circumstance, and
the basis of the whole theory) the pipe EC may be cut shorter,
or may be lengthened to infinity, without making any change
in the velocity or expense, so long as the propelling head
DE remains the same.
Leaving the whole head DA as it is, if we lengthen the
horizontal pipe AB to G, it is evident that we increase the
resistance without any addition of force to overcome it.
The velocity must therefore be diminished ; and it will now
be a velocity which is produced by a smaller head than DE:
therefore, if w e were to put in a pipe of equal length at E,
terminating in the horizontal line AG, the water will not
run equally in both pipes. In order that it may, we must
discover the diminished velocity with which the water now
actually runs along AG, and we must make a head DI ca¬
pable of impressing this velocity at the entry of the pipe*
and then insert at I a pipe IH of the same length with AG.
~ ~ ~ A xx f Vvxa4-Tv xurill r»/VW t HC
The expense and velocity of both pipes will now be the
same.
1 We recommend it to the reader to make this distribution or allotment of the different portions of the pressure very familiar to
his mind. It is of the most extensive influence in every question of hydraulics, and will on every occasion give him distinct concep¬
tions of the internal procedure. Obvious as the thought seems to be, it has escaped the attention of all the writers on the subject.
RIVER.
Fig. 8.
Tl'irr. What has now been said of a horizontal pipe AB would
/ have been equally true of any in-
ori n in-clinedpipe AB A'B (fig. 8). Draw-
clinllpipe. jng the horizontal line CB, w e see
that DC is the whole head or pro¬
pelling pressure for either pipe AB
or A'B ; and if DE is the head ne¬
cessary for the actual velocity, EC
is the head necessary for balan¬
cing the resistances; and the pipe
EF, of the same length with AB,
and terminating in the same horizontal line, will have the
same velocity: and its inclination being thus determined,
it will have the same velocity and expense whatever be its
length.
Thus we see that the motion in any pipe, horizontal or
sloping, may be referred to or substituted for the motion in
the* pipes another inclined pipe, whose head of water, above the place
denr stra-^ entr>,> is that productive of the actual velocity of the
ted be water tn the pipe. Now, in this case, the accelerating force
263
Ana ry
betv i;n
Eua
Const
ie queue
it
t
if
is equal to the resistance : we may therefore consider this
last pipe as a river, of which the bed and the slope are uni¬
form or constant, and the current in a state of permanency ;
and we now may clearly draw this important conclusion,
that pipes and open streams, when in a state of permanency,
perfectly resemble each other in the circumstances which
are the immediate causes of this permanency. The equi¬
librium between the accelerating force obtains not only in
general, but takes place through the whole length of the
pipe or stream, and is predicable of every individual trans¬
verse section of either. To make this more palpably evi¬
dent, if possible, let us consider a sloping cylindrical pipe,
the current of which is in a state of permanency. W e can
conceive it as consisting of two half cylinders, an upper and
a lower. These are running together at an equal pace ; and
the filaments of each immediately contiguous to the sepa¬
rating plane and to each other are not rubbing on each
other, nor affecting each other’s motions in the smallest de¬
gree. It is true that the upper half is pressing on the lower,
but in a direction perpendicular to the motion, and there¬
fore not affecting the velocity ; and we shall see presently,
that although the lower side of the pipe bears somewhat
more pressure than the other, the resistances are not
changed. Indeed this odds of pressure is accompanied
with a difference of motion, which need not be considered
at present; and we may suppose the pipe so small or so far
below the surface that this shall be insensible. Now let
us suppose, that in an instant the upper half cylinder is anni¬
hilated : we then have an open stream ; and every circum¬
stance of accelerating force and of resistance remains pre¬
cisely as it was. The motion must therefore continue as it
did ; and in this state the only accelerating force is the slope
of the surface. The demonstration therefore is complete.
From these observations and reasonings we draw a gene¬
ral and important conclusion, “ that the same pipe will be
susceptible of different velocities, which it will preserve uni¬
form to any distance, according as it has different inclina¬
tions ; and each inclination of a pipe of given diameter has
a certain velocity peculiar to itself, which will be maintain¬
ed uniform to any distance whatever; and this velocity in¬
creases continually, according to some law, to be discovered
by theory or experiment, as the position of the pipe changes
from being horizontal till it becomes vertical; in which po¬
sition it has the greatest uniform velocity possible relative Theory,
to its inclination, or depending on inclination alone.” y-—"
Let this velocity be called the train, or the rate, of
each pipe.
It is evident that this principle is of the utmost conse-Measure of
quence in the theory of hydraulics ; for by experiment we fbe resist-
can find the train of any pipe. It is in train when an in- anc^ f° tbe
crease of length makes no change in the velocity. If length- ™|thlon r.
ening the pipe increases the velocity, the slope of the pipe venVelo-
is too great, and vice versa. And having discovered the city,
train of a pipe, and observed its velocity, and computed the
head productive of this velocity with the contraction at the
entry, the remainder of the head, that is, the slope (for this
is equivalent to EA), is the measure of the resistance. Thus
w e obtain the measure of the resistance to the motion with
a given velocity in a pipe of given diameter. If we change
only the velocity, w’e get the measure of the new resistance
relative to the velocity ; and thus discover the law of rela¬
tion between the resistance and velocity. Then, changing
only the diameter of the pipe, we get the measure of the
resistance relative to the diameter. This is the aim of a Results of
prodigious number of experiments made and collected byf>e Buat’s
De Buat, and which we shall not repeat, but only give the i?vestiSa'.
results of the different parts of his investigation. tionon this
° . subject.
We may express the slope of a pipe by the symbol -, 1
being an inch, for instance, and s being the slant length of
a pipe which is one inch more elevated at one end than at
the other. Thus a river which has a declivity of an inch
and a half in 120 fathoms or 8640 inches, has its slope
n i
or
But in order to obtain the hydraulic
8640’ 5760'
slope of a conduit-pipe, the height of the reservoir and place
of discharge being given, w^e must subtract from the differ¬
ence of elevation the height or head of water necessary for
propelling the water into any pipe with the velocity V,
which it is supposed actually to have.
V2'
ThisisM9-
The
remainder d is to be considered as the height of the decli¬
vity, which is to be distributed equally over the whole length
l of the pipe, ana the slope is then y — -.
There is another important view to be taken of the slope,
which the reader should make very familiar to his thoughts.
It expresses the proportion between the weight of the whole
column which is in motion and the weight which is employ¬
ed in overcoming the resistance; and the resistance to the
motion of any column of water is equal to the webdit of
°
that column multiplied by the fraction -, which expresses
its slope.
We now come to consider more particularly the resist- Of die re-
ances which in this manner bring the motion to a state ofsistauces
uniformity. If we consider the resistances which arise from which
a cause analogous to friction, we see that they must depend bnng the
entirely on the inertia of the water. What we call the re- Estate of°
sistance is the diminution of a motion w hich would have uniformity,
obtained but for these resistances; and the best wyay we
have of measuring them is by the force which we must em¬
ploy in order to keep up or restore this motion. We esti¬
mate this motion by a progressive velocity, which we mea-
PUPblished in ascribes something like it to Daniel Bernoulli; but Bernoulli, in the passage quoted
esce^twater IS /rndnS ‘V^nstant of opening an orifice. Part of it, says he, is employed in accelerating the qui-’
sel. Bernoulli TiJLnt h tbe 0Clt^ of an(i the remainder produces the pressure (now diminished) on the sides of the ves-
through successive orifices • a ,cgood_w^ers’ malce this distribution in express terms in their explanation of the motion of water
required a similar mrHHnn f ti 118 sulPnsinS that no one before the Chevalier de Buat saw that the resistance arising from friction
RIVER.
sure by the expense of water in a given time. We judge
the velocity to diminish when the quantity discharged di¬
minishes ; yet it may be otherwise, and probably is other¬
wise. The absolute velocity of many, if not all, of the par¬
ticles, may even be increased; but many of the motions
being transverse to the general direction, the quantity ot
motion in this direction may be less, while the sum of the
absolute motions of all the particles may be greater. When
w e increase the general velocity, it is not unreasonable to
suppose that the impulses on all the inequalities are increas¬
ed in this proportion ; and the number of particles thus im¬
pelling and deflected at the same time will increase m the
same proportion. The whole quantity, therefore, of these
useless and lost motions will increase in the duplicate ratio
of the velocities, and the force necessary for keeping up the
motion will do so also ; that is, the resistances should in¬
crease as the squares of the velocities. ^
Or if we consider the resistances as arising merely irom
the curvature of the imperceptible internal motions occa¬
sioned by the inequalities of the sides of the pipe, and as
measured by the forces necessary for producing these cur-
vilineal motions ; then, because the curves will be the same
whatever are the velocities, the deflecting forces will be as
the squares of the velocities; but these deflecting forces
are pressures, propagated from the parts urged or pressct
by the external force, and are proportional to these external
pressures by the principles of hydrostatics. I herefore the
pressures or forces necessary for keeping up the velocities
are as the squares of these velocities; and they are our only
measures of the resistances which must be considered as
following the same ratio. Whatever view therefore we take
of the nature of these resistances, we are led to consider
them as proportional to the squares of the velocities.
We may therefore express the resistances by the symbol
—, m being some number to be discovered by experiment.
m
Thus, in a particular pipe, the diminution of the motion or
the resistance may be the 1000th part of the square of the
V2
velocity, and R=:: jqqq-
Now if g be the accelerating power of gravity on any
particle, - will be its accelerating power by which it would
urge it down the pipe whose slope is -. Therefore, by
the principle of uniform motion, the equality of the accele-
V2 n
rating force, and the resistance, we shall have — = -, and
° ms
He found, in the first place, that in the same channel Th
the product of V and */s increased as s increased; that
is, the velocities increased faster than the square roots of
the slope, or the resistances did not increase as fast as the
squares of the velocities. We beg leave to refer our readers
to what we said on the resistance of pipes to the motion of
fluids through them, in the article Pneumatics, when speak¬
ing of bellows. They will there see very valid reasons, we
apprehend, for thinking that the resistances must increase
more slowly than the squares of the velocities.
It being found, then, that V is not equal to a constant
quantity it becomes necessary to investigate some
quantity depending on Vs, or, as it is called, some function of
\/7 which shall render Vmg ^ constant quantity. Let X
be this function of Vs, so that we shall always have VX
equal to the constant quantity Vmg, or —equal to the
actual velocity V of a pipe or channel which is in train.
Mr Buat, after many trials and reflections, the chief of
which ■will be mentioned by and by, found a value of X
which corresponded with a vast variety of slopes and velo¬
cities, from motions almost imperceptible, in a bed nearly
horizontal, to the greatest velocities which could be pro¬
duced by gravity alone in a vertical pipe ; and when he
compared them together, he found a very discernible rela¬
tion between the resistances and the magnitude of the sec¬
tion; that is, that in two channels which had the same
slope, and the same propelling force, the velocity was
greatest in the channel which had the greatest section re-
fative to its border. This may reasonably be expected.
The resistances arise from the mutual action of the water
and this border. The water immediately contiguous to it
is retarded, and this retards the next, and so on. It is to be
expected, therefore, that if the border, and the velocity, and
the slope, be the same, the diminution of this velocity will
be so much the less as it is to be shared among a greater
number of particles; that is, as the area of the section is
treater in proportion to the extent of its border. The di¬
minution of the general or medium velocity must be less in
a cylindrical pipe than in a square one of the same area,
because the border of the section is less.
It appears evident, that the resistance of each particle
is in the direct proportion of the whole resistance, and the
inverse proportion of the number of particles which receive
equal shares of it. It is therefore directly as the border,
and inversely as the section. Therefore, in the expression
V2
Y Vs = Vmg; that is, the product of the velocity, and
the reciprocal of the square root of the slope, or the quo¬
tient of the velocity divided by the square root of the slope,
is a constant quantity Vmg for any given pipe ; and the
primary formula for all the uniform velocities of one pipe is
_ Vmg
- '
Mr Buat therefore examined this by experiment, but
ments and found, that even with respect to a pipe or channel which
reasoning was uniform throughout, this was not true. We could give
of DeBuat, at once forraula which he found to express the
? espec mg ve|ocjty jn every case whatever; but this would be too em¬
pirical. The chief steps of his very sagacious investigation
are instructive. We shall therefore mention them briefly,
at least as far as they tend to give us any collateral infor¬
mation ; and let it always be noted, that the instruction
which they convey is not abstract speculation, but experi¬
mental truths, which must ever remain as an addition to
our stock of knowledge, although Mr Buat’s deductions from
them should prove false.
Experi-
these re¬
sistances,
&c.
— which we have given for the resistance, the quantity w
m
cannot be constant, except in the same channel; and in
different channels it must vary along with the relation ot
the section to its border, because the resistances diminish
in proportion as this relation increases.
Without attempting to discover this relation by theoreti¬
cal examination of the particular motions of the various
filaments, Mr Buat endeavoured to discover it by a com¬
parison of experiments. But this required some manner
of stating this proportion between the augmentation of the
section and the augmentation of its border.
His statement is this : he reduces every section to a rect¬
angular parallelogram of the same area, and having its base
equal to the border unfolded into a straight line. The pm-
duct of this base by the height of the rectangle will be equa
to the area of the section. Therefore this height will be a
representative of this valuable ratio of the section to its
border (we do not mean that there is any ratio between a
surface and a line : but the ratio of section to section is
different from that of border to border ; and it is the ratio
of these ratios which is thus expressed by the height of tins
RIVE R.
265
rectangle). If S be the section, and B the border, is
^ a
evidently a line equal to the height of this rectangle. Every
section being in this manner reduced to a rectangle, the
perpendicular height of it may be called the hydraulic
mean depth of the section, and may be expressed by the
symbol d. Buat calls it the mean radius. If the chan¬
nel be a cylindrical pipe, or an open half cylinder, it is evi¬
dent that d is half the radius. If the section is a rectangle,
whose width is w and height h, the mean depth is ,
w-\-2h
&c. In general, if q represent the proportion of the breadth
of a rectangular canal to its depth, that is, if q be made z=
q h
~r, we shall have d — 
h 9 + 2
or d
S’ + 2
Now, since the resistances must augment as the propor¬
tion of the border to the section augments, m in the for-
V2 <7 _  
mulas — — - and V Vs = Vmg must follow the propor-
w s
tions of d, and the quantity Vmg must be proportional to
V mg
Vd, for different channels, and
,■=— should be a constant
Vd
objitpn
A sf :ous
quantity in every case.
Our author was aware, however, of a very specious ob-
obvia
an e*
ment
the o
tion c
water
syphd
jection to the close dependence of the resistance on the ex
tent of the border, and that it might be said that a double
border did not occasion a double resistance, unless the
pressure on all the parts was the same. For it may be natu¬
rally, and it is generally, supposed, that the resistance will
be greater when the pressure is greater. The friction, or
resistance analogous to friction, may therefore be greater
on an inch of the bottom than on an'inch of the sides; but
M. d’Alembert and many others have demonstrated, that the
paths of the filaments will be the same whatever be the pres-
Ibysures. This might serve to justify our ingenious author;
n- but he was determined to rest every thing on experiment,
la. .^e tlierefore made an experiment on the oscillation of water
in syphons, which we have repeated in the following form,
which is affected by the same circumstances, and is suscep-
. tible of much greater precision, and of more extensive and
important application.
The two vessels ABCD,
abed were connected by the
syphon EFGgfe, which turn- A
ed round in the short tubes
E and e, without allowing H
any water to escape; the
axis of these tubes being in B
one straight line. The ves¬
sels were about ten inches
deep, and the branches FG,
fg of the syphon were about
five feet long. The vessels
were set on two tables of
equal height, and (the hole
e being stopped) the vessel
ABCD, and the whole sy¬
phon, were filled with water,
and water was poured into
the vessel abed till it stood at a certain height LM.
syphon was more than six times greater than before. As Theory,
it was thought that the friction on this small part (only six v*^"'
inches) was too small a portion of the whole obstruction,
various additional obstructions were put into this part of the
syphon, and it was even lengthened to nine feet; but still
no remarkable difference was observed. It was even thought
that the times were less when the syphon was vertical.
Thus M. de Buats opinion is completely justified; and The resist-
he may be allowed to assert, that the resistance depends ance de-
chiefly on the relation between the section and its border ;Pends
Vrna ’ c^ed-v on
and that ——- should be a constant quantity.
To ascertain this point was the object of the next senesleftil^L
of experiments ; to see whether this quantity was really its border,
constant, and, it not, to discover the law of its variation,
and the physical circumstances which accompanied the va¬
riations, and may therefore be considered as their causes.
A careful comparison of a very great number of experi¬
ments, made with the same slope, and with very different
channels and velocities, showed that Vmg did not follow
the proportion of Vd, nor of any power of Vd. This
quantity Vmg increased by smaller degrees in proportion
as Vd was greater. In very great beds Vmg was nearly
proportional to Vd; but in smaller channels, the velocities
diminished much more than Vd did. Casting about for
some way of accommodation, M. Buat considered, that some
approximation at least would be had by taking off from
Vd some constant small quantity. This is evident: for
such a diminution will have but a trifling effect when V7l
is great, and its effect will increase rapidly when Vd is
very small. He therefore tried various values for this sub¬
traction, and compared the results with the former experi¬
ments ; and he found, that if in every case Vd be diminish¬
ed by one tenth of an inch, the calculated discharges would
agreejery exactly with the experiment. Therefore, instead
of Vd, he makes use of Vd—OT, and finds this quantity
always proportional to Vmg, or finds that ~mg
Vd— OI
is a
Fig. 9.
J?
A
I. «
IK
i — -w — m.*/ c* AJdgiit July.!.* The
syphon was then turned into a horizontal position, and the
1 mg drawn out of e, and the time carefully noted which
ves Jlf6r ™Pl°y!d,in rising t0 the level HK hh in b°th
sseis. I he whole apparatus was now inclined so that
water ran back into ABCD. The syphon was now put
Nn Posltlon> and the experiment was repeated,
y . . n!lble or regnlar difference was observed in the time,
in this experiment the pressure on the part Gg of the
constant quantity, or very nearly so. It varied from 297
to 287 in all sections, from that of a very small pipe to that
of a little canal. In the large sections of canals and rivers
it diminished still more, but never was Jess than 256.
This result is very agreeable to the most distinct notions The result
that we can form of the mutual actions of the water and its agreeable
bed. We see that when the motion of water is obstructed to our tlis-
by a solid body, which deflects the passing filaments, thetinctestno'
disturbance does not extend to any considerable distance tlions of
on the two sides of the body. In like manner, the small
disturbances, and imperceptible curvilineal motions, which and its bed
are occasioned by the infinitesimal inequalities of the chan¬
nel, must extend to a very small distance indeed from the
sides and bottom of the channel. We know, too, that the
mutual adhesion or attraction of water for the solid bodies
which are moistened by it extends to a very small distance,
which is probably the same, or nearly so, in all cases. M.
Buat obsei ved, that a surface of twenty-three square inches,
applied to the surface of stagnant water, lifted 1601 grains;
another of 5| square inches lifted 365 ; this was at the rate
of sixty-five grains per inch nearly, making a column of
about one sixth of an inch high. Now this effect is very
much analogous to a real contraction of the capacity of the
channel. The water may be conceived as nearly stagnant
to this small distance from the border of the section. Or,
to speak more accurately, the diminution of the progressive
velocity occasioned by the friction and adhesion of the sides
decreases very rapidly as we recede from the sides, and
ceases to be sensible at a very small distance.
2 L
266
RIVE R.
and con¬
firmed by
experi¬
ment.
Theory. The writer of this article1 verified the observation by a very
simple and instructive experiment. He was making experi¬
ments on the production of vortices, in the manner suggested
by Sir Isaac Newton, by whirling a very accurate and smooth¬
ly polished cylinder in water; and he found that the rapid
motion of the surrounding water was confined to an exceed¬
ingly small distance from the cylinder, and it was not till
after many revolutions that it was sensible even at the dis¬
tance of half an inch. We may, by the way, suggest this
as the best form of experiments for examining the resist¬
ances of pipes. The motion excited by the whirling cylin¬
der in the stagnant water is equal and opposite to the mo¬
tion lost by water passing along a surface equal to that of
the cylinder with the same velocity. Be this as it may, we
are justified in considering, with M. Buat, the section of the
stream as thus diminished by cutting off a narrow border all
round the touching parts, and supposing that the motion and
discharge is the same as if the square root of the mean depth
of the section were diminished by a small quantity, nearly
constant. We see, too, that the effect of this must be in¬
sensible in great canals and rivers; so that, fortunately, its
quantity is best ascertained by experiments made with small
pipes. This is attended with another conveniency, in the
opinion of M. Buat, namely, that the effect of viscidity is
most sensible in great masses of wTater in slow motion, and
is almost insensible in small pipes, so as not to distuib
these experiments. We may therefore assume 297 as the
v' mg o
general value of
W—o-i
V mg
Since we have —
9Q72 _
riL(W —0-1)2, =
9
Vd — 0-1
88209
297, we have also in
362
(yd — 0-1 )2, =
243*7
{Vd—0-1)2. This we may express by n {Vd—0-1)2.
And thus, when we have expressed the quantity of friction
by —, the quantity m is variable, and its general value is
V2
—, in which n is an invariable abstract number
n {Vd — 0- i )“
equal to 243-7, given by the nature of the resistance which
water sustains from its bed, and which indicates its intensity.
And, lastly, since m — n {Vd— 0-1)2, we have Vmg
— Vng {Vd — 0-1), and the expression of the velocity V,
which water acquires and maintains along any channel what-
, v Vnq{Vd—fr\) 297 (V<7—0-1)
ever, now becomes V = —iA— l 0r  
X ’ X ’
in which X is also a variable quantity, depending on the
slope of the surface or channel, and expressing the accele¬
rating force which, in the case of water in train, is in equi-
librio with the resistances expressed by the numerator of
the fraction.
Law of ac- Having so happily succeeded in ascertaining the variations
celeration Gf resistance, let us accompany M. Buat in his investigation
investi- 0f the law of acceleration, expressed by the value of X.
Experience, in perfect agreement with any distinct opi¬
nions that we can form on this subject, had already shown
him that the resistances increased in a slower ratio than
that of the squares of the velocities, or that the velocities
increased slower than Vs. Therefore, in the formula
V = ^n9{^d Q which, for one channel, we may ex-
gated.
A ' * •ThJ
press thus, V -we must admit that X is sensibly equal
to V~s when the slope is very small or s very great. But,
that we may accurately express the velocity in proportion
as the slope augments, we must have X less than Vs;
and, moreover, must increase as diminishes. These
A.
conditions are necessary that our values of V, deduced from
A
the formula V = may agree with the experiment.
In order to comprehend every degree of slope, we must
particularly attend to the motion through pipes, because
open canals will not furnish us with instances of exact
trains with great slopes and velocities. We can make
pipes vertical. In this case — and the velocity is the
greatest possible for a train by the action of gravity: but
we can give greater velocities than this by increasing the
head of water beyond what produces the velocity ot the train.
Let AB (fig. 10) be a vertical tube, and let CA be the
head competent to the velocity in the tube, which we sup¬
pose to be in train. The slope is 1, and the full
weight of the column in motion is the precise Fig. 10.
measure of the resistance. The value ofy, con¬
sidered as a slope, is now a maximum ; but, con¬
sidered as expressing the proportion of the weight
of the column in motion to the weight which is
in equilibrio with the resistance, it may not be a
maximum ; it may surpass unity, and s may be
less than 1. For if the vessel be filled to E, the
head of water is increased, and will produce a
greater velocity, and this will produce a greater
resistance. The velocity being now greater, the
head EF which imparts it must be greater than
CA. But it will not be equal to EA, because the uniform
velocities are found to increase faster than the square roots
of the pressures. This is the general fact. Therefore F
is above A, and the weight of the column FB, now em¬
ployed to overcome the resistance, is greater than the weight
of the column AB in motion. In such cases, therefore,
greater than unity, is a sort of fictitious slope, and only re¬
presents the proportion of the resistance to the weight of
the moving column. This proportion may surpass unity.
But it cannot be infinite: for, supposing the head of wa¬
ter infinite, if this produce a finite velocity, and we deduct
from the whole height the height corresponding to this fi¬
nite velocity, there will remain an infinite head, the mea¬
sure of an infinite resistance produced by a finite velocity.
This does not accord with the observed law of the veloci¬
ties, where the resistances actually do not increase as fast
as the squares of the velocities. Therefore an infinite head
would have produced an infinite velocity, in opposition to
the resistances : taking off the head of the tube, competent
to this velocity, at the entry of the tube, which head would
also be infinite, the remainder would in all probability be
finite, balancing a finite resistance.
Therefore the value of s may remain finite, although the
velocity be infinite ; and this is agreeable to all our clear¬
est notions of the resistances.
Adopting this principle, we must find a value of X whicn
will answer all these conditions. 2. It must be sensibly
proportional to Vs, while s is great. It must always be less
1 The late Professor Robison of Edinburgh. _
e In this formula, and in the subsequent part' of the investigation, French inches are employed. For English inches the constant nu
ber is 307. • . •
RIVER.
267
nry
M NO P
its asymptotes MA, AB, would represent the equation
^ values of would be represented by the
abscissae, and the velocities by the ordinates, and V s =: A
would be the power ot the hyperbola. But since these ve*
locities are not sensibly equal to
than Vsi 3. It must deviate from the proportion of Vlso contrary to experience. It would seem, therefore, that Theory,
much the more as Vs is smaller. 4. It must not vanish nothmg W1U answer for K but some power of Vs which has
when the velocity is infinite. 5. It must agree with a range a variable index. The logarithm of Vs has this property,
of experiments with every variety of channel and of slope. We may therefore try to make X = Vs — log. Vs. Ac-
We shall understand the nature of this quantity X better j- i , . A
by representing by lines the quantities concerned in form- corcling*y> n we try the equation V = hy~p~iog "y/s’
'"tftfie velocities were exactly as the square roots of the I[n thfderltff JhJ agreefJmenKt] with t]}e experiments
slopes, the equilateral hyperbola NKS (fig. 11) between k considerable, or about which
r ’ 1 v& y is much greater than any river. But it will not agree with
j | the velocities observed in some mill-courses, and in pipes
of a stiH greater declivity, and gives a velocity that is too
small; and in vertical pipes the velocity is not above one
half of the true one. We shall g^.L rid of most of these in-
congruitiesjf we make K consist of the hyperbolic loga¬
rithm of Vs augmented by a small quantity ; and by trying
various values for this constant quantity, and comparing the
results with experiment, we may hit on one sufficiently ex¬
act for all practical purposes.
M. de Buat, after repeated trials, found that he would
have a very great conformity with experiment by making
K log. V s -j- 1*6, and that the velocities exhibited in
his experiments would be very w’dl represented by the for-
V s — L V s + 1’6
There is a circumstance which our author seems to have Mutual ad-
overlooked on this occasion, and which is undoubtedly ofhesion °f
great effect in these motions, viz. the mutual adhesion of^T Par'.
the particles of water. This causes the water which is de- JateV*
_ scending (in a vertical pipe, for example) to drag more wa-
except when Vs is very ter after it, and thus greatly increases its velocity. We
oreat and dpviatP tlip e . ^,av^ seen an exPeriment in which the water issued from
i, , and deviate the more from this quantity as Vs is the bottom of a reservoir through a long vertical pipe hav-
rf iTcurvl Vel0Cl,r by the 0rdinsr a Very ™ ^ W.Te bch
anotner curve 1 (j 1, which approaches very near to the diameter at the upper end, and two inches at the lower
" “.grlat dis;an“ fr.°m A al»"S AB; but se- The depth of the water in the re^rvofr was exact v one
if AO represcntTtCt'value^fVWwh-T311^. S° ‘hat f°0t; in,a min“te there were discharged S-ft cubic feet of
may become less than nnif^ wV h 'C WCi laVe Se-en ater- ft must therefore have issued through the hole in
•finite velocity the line QO“ mav beThT815011^ T ^ T the bottorf of the reservoir with the velocity of 8-85 feet
y, ne QO may be the asymptote of the per second. And yet we know that this head of water
new curve. Its ordinates are equal to while those of the E thr°Ugh ^ with a velocit>7
X ^xeatei tnan b ob reet per second. This increase must
hyperbola are ennal tn ^ te e u . r. , therefore have arisen from the cause we have mentioned,
JP c equal to Therefore the ratio of these and is a proof of the great intensity of this force. We doubt
no^ discharge might have been much more in-
ordinates, or —should be such that it shall be so much creased ,by proper contrivances; and we know many in-
nearer tn nnltv ao */ • * stances in water-pipes where this effect is produced in a
t0 unity as Vs is greater, and shall surpass it so much very great degree.
To express e ■ • , following^ case is very distinct. Water is brought An actual
answer > therefore, as some function of V s so as to into the town of Dunbar, in the county of Haddington,case
less thwf coadlt1iaf’ we see in general that X must be from a spring at the distance of about 3200 yards. It is
. And it must not be equal to any power of conveyed along the first 1100 yards in a pipe of two inches
Vs whose index is less than unitv heea„co n Vs diameter, and the declivity is 12 feet 9 inches ; from thence
less than unity, because then ^ would the water flows in a pipe of 4 diameter, with a declivity
dfifer so much the more from unity as v's is greater Nor °f i ^ three ,mches’ making in all 57 feet. When the
must it be any multiple of Vs, such as o VsffoVthe same T'u ^ ^ far aS the tw°-inch P'lPe reached’ the
reason. If we make X = V5 - K, K being a consZt ^s^harge 'vas found ^ be 27 Scotch pints, of 1031 cubic
quantity, we may answer the first condition prettv well !nC les faCj’. ia a minute. When it was brought into the
m be very sma11’ that X may not become eouii Z dlsuchar§e was 28' Here it is plain that the de-
nothing, except in some exceedingly small value ofl/<? ?cent along the second stretch of the pipe could derive no
ow the experiments will not admit of this because tbe 1™Pu^sl0n ftom the first. This was only able to supply 27
ratio - V* i . ’ pints, and to deliver it into a pipe of equal bore. It was
Vs —- K °es not mcrease sufficiently to correspond not equivalent to the forcing it into a smaller pipe, and al-
with the velocities which we observe in rer^ir, ci 1!‘ost doubling its velocity. It must therefore have been
less we make K greater than uni tv wiiVV. • °^eS’ Un-' dra99e(^ mto this smaller pipe by the weight of what was
^ntwithotL experimentr r81*"1 ,s !ncon' lending along it, and this water was exerting a forc“
Tfing that it w'llTot X to makTKn T. Can' a head of 16 inches, increasing thf veS
lf we should make it X. ftX.' K ,nS,,a''t T^Mny. from 14 to about 28. 8 y
B,b X = °> is, nothing! whe7sir=i, wldch **.?»*> j-«, there
be no declivity so small that a current of water will not
268
RIVER.
Theory, take place in it. And accordingly none has been observed
* ,   in the surface of a stream when this did not happen. But
proves that it ais0 should happen with respect to any declivity ot Dot-
the small- tomi yet we know that water will hang on the sloping
est declivi- sur^ce 0f a board without proceeding further. The cause
,-v wllol P™' of this seems to be the adhesion of the water, combined with
reiu. its viscidity. The viscidity of fluid presents a certain force
which must be overcome before any current can take place.
A series of important experiments were made by our au¬
thor in order to ascertain the relation between the velocity
at the surface of any stream and that at the bottom. I hese
are curious and valuable on many accounts. One circum¬
stance deserves our notice here, viz. that the differences be¬
tween the superficial and bottom velocities of any stream are
proportional to the square roots of the superficial velocities.
From what has been already said on the gradual diminu¬
tion of the velocities among the adjoining filaments, we
must conclude that the same rule holds good with respect
to the velocity of separation of two filaments immediately
adjoining. Hence we learn that this velocity of separation
is in all cases indefinitely small, and that we may, without
danger of any sensible error, suppose it a constant quantity
in all cases.
, , . We think, with our ingenious author, that on a review
nart’of the of these circumstances, there is a constant or invariable
accelerat- portion of the accelerating force employed in overcoming
ing force this viscidity, and producing this mutual separation ot the
employed a(u0inincr filaments. We may express this part of the ac-
in over- J
oming the ce]erat,jng force by a part - of that slope which constitutes
tv
expressing this slope, the numerator being always unity; and Tlj,
is had by dividing the expanded length of the pipe or chan¬
nel by the difference of height of its two extremities.
g The velocity (in inches per second) which a heavy body
acquires by falling during one second.
n An abstract constant number, determined by experi¬
ment to be 243*7.
L The hyperbolic logarithm of the quantity to which it
is prefixed, and is had by multiplying the common loga¬
rithm of that quantity by 2*3026.
We shall have in every instance
Vng (Vrf —0-1) _ 0.3 (vy _ 0.1V
V =
Vs — L -v/s-j- 1*6
This, in numbers, and English inches, is
y _ 307 (Vd—OT)
Vs — LVs+ 1*6
and in French inches,
■0*1)
— 0*3 (Vrf—0*1);
y 297 (Vd-
— 0*3 (W—0*1).
viscidity,
&c.
the whole of it. If it were not employed in overcoming
this resistance, it would produce a velocity which (on ac¬
count of this resistance) is not produced, or is lost. This
A
would be —■—^——. This must therefore be taken from
^S —LVS
the velocity exhibited by our general formula. When thus
, /~ r. . \ / V ng
corrected,it would become V = (vd—0*1)( —- ^
V^g \ „
S —L^sj’
But as the term
is com-
Vs — hVs + 1*6
The following table contains the real experiments from
which this formula was deduced, and the comparison of the
real velocities with the velocities computed by the formula.
It consists of two principal sets of experiments. The first
are those made on the motion of water in pipes. The second
are experiments made on open canals and rivers. In the
first set, column 1st contains the number of the experiment;
2d, the length of the tube; 3d, the height of the reservoir;
4th,the values of s, deduced from columns second and third;
5th gives the observed velocities; and 6th, the velocities
calculated by the formula.
In the second set, column 2d gives the area of the sec¬
tion of the channel; 3d, the border of the canal or cir¬
cumference of the section, deducting the horizontal^ width,
which sustains no friction ; 4th, the square root V'd of the
hydraulic mean depth ; 5th, the denominator s of the slope;
6th, the observed mean velocities ; and <th, the mean ve¬
locities by the formula. In the last ten experiments on large
canals and a natural river, the 6th column gives the ob¬
served velocities at the surface.1
v/S —VS —WS
pounded only of constant quantities, we may express it by
a single number. This has been collected from a scrupu¬
lous attention to the experiments (especially in canals and
great bodies of water moving with very small velocities,
in which case the effects of viscidity must become more re-
markable), and it appears that it may be valued at V0*09
inch, or 0*3 inch very nearly.
From the whole of the foregoing considerations, drawn
from nature, supported by such reasonings as our most dis¬
tinct notions of the internal motions will admit, and autho¬
rized by a very extensive comparison with experiment, we
are now in a condition to conclude a complete formula, ex¬
pressive of the uniform motion of water, and involving every
circumstance which appears to have any share in the ope¬
ration.
Therefore, let
Formula V represent the mean velocity, in inches per second, of
expressing any current of water, running uniformly, or which is in
the uni- train, in a pipe or open channel, whose section, figure, and
fhrm mo. slppe5 are constant, but its length indefinite.
^on O wa- d The hydraulic mean depth, that is, the quotient arising
from dividing the section of the channel, in square inches,
by its border, expressed in linear inches.
s The reciprocal of the slope of the pipe, or of the sur¬
face of the current.. It is the denominator of the fraction
SET I. EXPERIMENTS ON PIPES.
Experiments by Chevalier de Buat.
Vertical Tube § of a Line in Diameter, and
Vd- 0*117851.
Table
taininj
expeii
meats
formal
deduce
No.
Length of Height of
Pipe. Reservoir.
Inch.
12
12
Inch.
16*166
13*125
Values
of s.
Inch.
0*75636
0*9307
Velocities
observed.
Inch.
11*704
9*753
Velocities
calculated
Inch.
12*006
10*576
Vertical Pipe 1^ Line Diameter, and
Vd — 0*176776 Inch.
34*166
do.
do.
do.
42*166
38*333
36*666
35*333
0*9062
0*9951
1*0396
1*0781
45*468
43*156
42*385
41*614
46-210
43*721
42*612
41*714
The same Pipe Horizontal.
9
10
34*166
do.
do.
do.
14*583
9*292
5*292
2*083
2*5838
4*0367
7*036
17*6378
26*202
21*064
14*642
7*320
25*523
19*882
14*447
2*351
These tables are expressed in French measures. A line is the twelfth part of an inch.
RIVER,
Set L—continued.
Vertical Pipe 2 Lines Diameter, and Vd = 0-204.124.
No.
Length of
Pipe.
Height of
Reservoir.
Values
of s.
Inch. Inch. Inch. Inch.
36-25 51-250 0-85451 67-373
do. 45-250 0-96338 59-605
do. 41-916 1-03808 57-220
do. 38-750 1-12047 54-186
Same Pipe with a slope of —^—.
^ ^ J 1-3024
Velocities
observed.
Velocities
calculated
Inch.
64-945
60-428
57-838
55-321
15 | 36-25 | 33-500 | 1-29174 | 51-151 J 50-983
16
17
18
19
36-25
do.
do.
do.
Same Pipe horizontal.
15-292
8-875
5-292
2-042
2-7901
4-76076
7-89587
20-01637
33-378
25-430
19-940
10-620
33-167
24-553
18-313
10-492
Vertical Pipe 2-$y Lines Diameter, and Vd = 0-245798.
20 36-25 53-250 0-95235 85-769
21 do. 50-250 1-00642 82-471
22 do. 48-333 1-0444 81-646 )
23 do. 48 333 1-0444 79-948 f
24 do. 47-916 1-0529 81-027
25 do. 44-750 1-1241 76-079
26 do. 41-250 1-2157 73-811
The same Pipe with the slave —^ .
^ 1-3024
27 | 36-25 j 37-5 ( 1-3323 | 70-822 j
The same Pipe horizontal.
85-201
82-461
80-698
80-318
77-318
73-904
70-138
36-25
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
2-4303 | 51-956 I 50-140
5- 2686 j 33-577 32-442
6- 4504 28-658 28-801
9-3573 23-401 23-195
95097 22-989 22-974
96652 22-679 22-754
12-4624 19-587 19-550
16-3135 16-631 16-324
21-6639 14-295 14-003
27-5102 12-680 12-115
| U-S33 152-3427 7-577 8-215
Pipes sensibly horizontal, 1 Inch Diameter, Vd — 0-5.
20-166
9-083
7-361
5
4-916
4-833
3-708
2-713
2-083
1-625
0-833
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
117
117
138-5
117
138-5
737
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
138-5
737
737
36
26-666
20-950
18
6
23-7
14-6
13-7
12-32
8-96 )
8-96 j
7-780
5-93
4-2
4-2
0-7
0-5
0-15
!}
5-6503
7-48
10-3215
10-7880
33-1962
33-6658
54-2634
57-7772
64-1573
87-8679
101-0309
132-1617
186-0037
257-8863
1540-75
5113-42
84-945
71-301
58-808
58-310
29-341
28-669
21-856
20-970
19-991
16-625 \
16-284 /
15-112
13-315
10-671 )
10-441 J
8-689
3-623
l-SS'D
85-524
72-617
60-034
58-472
29-663
29-412
22-056
21-240
19-950
16-543
15-232
13-005
10-656
8-824
3-218
1-647
Experiments by the Abbe Bossut.
Horizontal Pipe l Inch Diameter, Vd ~ 0-5
600
600
12
4
54*5966
161-312
22-282
12-223
21-975
11-756
Set I.—continued.
Horizontal Pipe 1^ Inch Diameter, Vd= 0-5774.
No.
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
Length
of Pipe.
Inch.
360
720
360
1080
1440
720
1800
2J60
1080
1440
1800
2160
Height of
Reservoir.
Inch.
24
24
12
24
24
12
24
24
12
12
12
12
Values
of*.
Velocities
observed.
Inch.
19-0781
33-6166
37-0828
48-3542
64-1806
66-3020
78-0532
92-9474
95-8756
125-6007
155-4015
185-2487
Inch.
48-534
34-473
33-160
28-075
24-004
23-360
21-032
18-896
18-943
16-128
14-066
12-560
Velocities
calculated.
Horizontal Pipe 2-01 Inch Diameter,
360 24 21-4709
72 720 24 35-8082
73 360 12 41-2759
74 1080 24 50-4119
75 1440 24 65-1448
76 720 12 70-1426
77 1800 24 79-8487
78 2160 24 94-7901
79 1080 12 99-4979
80 1440 12 129-0727
81 1800 12 158-7512
82 2160 12 188-5172
Vd—Q
58-903
43
40-322
35-765
30-896
29-215
27-470
27-731
23-806
20-707
18-304
16-377
83
84
85
86
87
88
Mr Couplet’s Experiments at Versailles.
Pipe 5 Inches Diameter, V7l— 1-11803.
Inch.
49-515
35-130
33-106
28-211
24-023
23- 345
21-182
19- 096
18-749
15- 991
14-119
12-750
•708946.
58-803
43-136
39-587
35-096
30096
28-796
26-639
24- 079
23-400
20- 076
17-788
16- 097
84240
do.
do.
do.
do.
do.
25
24
21-083
16-750
11-333
5-583
3378-26
3518-98
4005-66
5041-61
7450-42
15119-96
5-323
5-213
4-806
4-127
3-154
2-011
5-287
5-168
4-887
4-225
3-388
2-254
Pipe 18 Inches Diameter, Vd — 2-12132.
89 | 43200 J 145-083 | 304-973 f 39-159 | 40-510
SET. II EXPERIMENTS WITH A WOODEN CANAL.
Trapezium Canal.
No.
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100
101
102
103
104
105
106
Section
of
Canal.
Inch.
18-84
50-60
83-43
27-20
39-36
50-44
56-43
98-74
100-74
119-58
126-20
130-71
135-32
20-83
34-37
36-77
42-01
Border
of
Canal.
Inch.
13-06
29-50
26
15-31
18-13
20- 37
21- 50
28-25
28-53
31-06
31- 91
32- 47
33- 03
13-62
17
17- 56
18- 69
Values
of V7.
Inch.
1-20107
1-3096
1-7913
1-3329
1-4734
1-5736
1-6201
1-8696
1-8791
1-9622
1-9887
1-0064
1-0241
1-2367
1-4219
1-4471
1-4992
Values
of s.
| Mean
[ Velocity
observed.
Inch.
212
212
412
427
427
427
427
432
432
432
432
432
432
1728
1728
1728
1728
Inch.
27- 51
28- 92
27- 14
18-28
20-30
22- 37
23- 54
28- 29
28-52
30- 16
31- 58
31- 89
32- 32
8- 94
9- 71
11- 45
12- 34
Mean
Velocity!
calcul.
Inch.
27- 19
29-88
28- 55
20-39
22-71
24- 37
25- 14
29- 06
29- 23
30- 60
31- 03
31-32
31-61
8- 58
9- 98
10-17
10-53
270
Theorv.
The theo¬
ry a well-
founded
probabi¬
lity.
R I V E R.
Set II.—continued.
Rectangular Canal.
No.
107
108
109
110
111
112
113
114
113
Section
of
Canal.
Inch.
34*50
86-25
34- 50
35- 22
51-75
76-19
105-78
69
155-25
Border
of
Canal.
Inch.
21-25
27-25
21-25
21-33
23-25
26-08
29-17
25-25
35-25
Values
of V d.
Values
of s.
Inch.
1-27418
1-77908
1-27418
1-28499
1-49191
1-70921
1-90427
1- 65308
2- 09868
Inch.
458
458
929
1412
1412
1412
1412
9288
9288
Mean
Velocity
observed.
Inch.
20-24
28-29
13- 56
9-20
12-10
14- 17
15- 55
4- 59
5- 70
Mean
Velocity
calcul.
Inch.
18-66
26-69
11-53
10-01
11-76
13-59
15-24
4- 56
5- 86
SET III.—EXPERIMENTS ON THE CANAL OF JARD.
No.
Section
of
Canal.
116
117
118
119
120
121
16252
11905
10475
7858
7376
6125
Border
of
Canal.
402
366
360
340
337
324
Values
of V d.
6-3583
5-70320
5-3942
4-8074
4-6784
4-3475
Values
of s.
8919
11520
15360
21827
27648
27648
Velocity
obs. at
Surface.
17-42
12-17
15-74
9-61
7-79
7-27
Velocity
calcu¬
lated.
18-77
14-52
11-61
8-38
7-07
6-55
Experiments on the River Hayne.
No.
122
123
124
125
Section
of
River.
31498
38838
30905
39639
Border
of
River.
569
601
568
604
Values
of V d.
7- 43974
8- 03879
7- 37632
8- 10108
Values
of s.
6048
6413
32951
35723
Velocity
at
Surface.
35-11
31-77
13-61
15-96
V elocity
(mean)
calcul.
27- 62
28- 76
10-08
10-53
e
mental course. It does honour to his skill and address; Tin
and we think the whole both a pretty and instructive spe¬
cimen of the method of discovering the laws of nature in
the midst of complicated phenomena. Daniel Bernoulli
first gave the rules of this method, and they have been
greatly improved by Lambert, Condorcet, and De la Grange.
Mr Coulomb has given some excellent examples of their
application to the discovery of the laws of friction, of mag-
netical and electrical attraction, &c. But this present work
is the most perspicuous and familiar of them all. It is the
empirical method of generalising natural phenomena, and
of deducing general rules, of which we can give no other
demonstration but that they are faithful representations of
matters of fact. We hope that others, encouraged by the
success of M. de Buat, will follow this example, where
public utility is preferred to a display of mathematical know¬
ledge.
Although the author may not have hit upon the precise The H
modus operandi, we agree with him in thinking that nature riment
seems to act in a way not unlike what is here supposed.
At any rate, the range of experiments is so extensive, andluaHe'
so multifarious, that few cases can occur which are not in¬
cluded among them. The experiments will always retain
their value (as we presume that they are faithfully nar¬
rated), whatever may become of the theory; and we are
confident that the formula will give an answer to any ques¬
tion to which it may be applicable, infinitely preferable to
the vague guess of the most sagacious and experienced en¬
gineer.
We must however observe, that as the experiments on There
pipes were all made with scrupulous care in the contri-citygh
vance and execution of the apparatus, excepting only thoseb)’|he
of Mr Couplet on the main pipes at Versailles, we may™^
presume that the formula gives the greatest velocities which or|nar
can be expected. In ordinary works, where joints are rough worts,
or leaky, where drops of solder hang in the inside, where
cocks intervene with deficient water-ways, where pipes have
awkward bendings, contractions, or enlargements, and where
they may contain sand or air, we should reckon on a smaller
velocity than what results from our calculation ; and we pre¬
sume that an undertaker may with confidence promise four
fifths of this quantity without any risk of disappointing his
employer. We imagine that the actual performance of
canals will be much nearer to the formula.
We have made inquiry after works of this kind executed
in Britain, that we might compare them with the formula.
But all our canals are locked and without motion ; and we
The comparison must be acknowledged to be most satis¬
factory, and shows the great penetration and address of the
author, in so successfully sifting and appreciating the share
which each co-operating circumstance has had in producing
the very intricate and complicated effect. It adds some have only learned by an accidental information from Mr
weight to the principles on which he has proceeded in this Watt, that a canal in his neighbourhood, which is eighteen
analysis of the mechanism of hydraulic motion, and must feet wide at the surface, and seven feet at the bottom, and
give us great confidence in a theory so fairly established on four feet deep, and has a slope of one inch in a quarter of a
a very copious induction. The author offers it only as a mile, runs with the velocity of seventeen inches per second
rational and well-founded probability. To this character at the surface, ten at the bottom, and fourteen in the mid-
it is certainly entitled; for the suppositions made in it are die. If we compute the motion of this canal by our formu-
agreeable to the most distant notions we can form of these la, we shall find the mean velocity to be 13i.
internal motions. And it must always be remembered, that No river in the world has had its motion so much scru-
the investigation of the formula, although it be rendered tinized as the Po about the end of the last century. It had
somewhat more perspicuous by thus having recourse to been a subject of 100 years’ continual litigation between
those motions, has no dependence on the truth of the prin- the inhabitants of the Bolognese and theFerrarese, whether
ciples. For it is, in fact, nothing but a classification of ex- the waters of the Rheno should be thrown into the Tronco
periments, which are grouped together by some one cir- de Venezia or Po Grande. This occasioned very nume-
cumstance of slope, velocity, form of section, &c. in order rous measures to be taken of its sections and declivity, and
to discover the law of the changes which are induced by a the quantities of water which it contained in its different
variation of the circumstances which do not resemble. The states of fulness. But, unfortunately, the long-established
procedure is precisely similar to that of the astronomer methods of measuring waters which were in force in Lom-
when he deduces the elements of an orbit from a multi- bardy, made no account of the velocity ; and not all the en-
tude of observations. This was the task of M. de Buat; treaties of Castelli, Grandi, and other moderns, could pre-
and he candidly and modestly informs us, that the finding vail on the visitors in this process to deviate from the esta-
out analytical forms of expression which would exhibit those blished methods. We have therefore no minute accounts
changes was the work of Mr Benezech de St Honore, a of its velocity, though there are many rough estimates to
young officer of engineers, and his colleague in the experi- be met with in that valuable collection published at Flo-
~rVi
RIVE r;
'heory.
iserva-
ns on
e velo-
of the
rence in 1723, of the writings on the motion of rivers.
From them we have extracted the on/y precise observations
which are to be found in the whole work.
The Po Grande receives no river from Stellata to the
sea, and its slope in that interval is found most surprisingly
uniform, namely, six inches in the mile (reduced to English
measure). The breadth in its great freshes is 759 feet at
Lago Scuro, with a very uniform depth of thirty-one feet.
In its lowest state (in which it is called Po Magra), its
breadth is not less than 700, and its depth about ten and a
half.
The Rheno has a uniform declivity from the Ponte Emi¬
lio to Vigarano of fifteen inches per mile. Its breadth in
its greatest freshes is 189 feet, and its depth nine.
Signor Corrade in his report says, that in the state of the
great freshes the velocity of the Rheno is most exactly
four fifths of that of the Po.
Grandi says, that, according to many observations of his
own, a great fresh in the Rheno employs twelve hours to
come from Ponte Emilio to Vigarano, which is thirty miles.
This is a velocity of forty-four inches per second. And, by
Corrade’s proportion, the velocity of the Po Grande must
be fifty-five inches per second.
Montanari’s observation gives the Po Magra a velocity
of thirty-one inches per second.
Let us compare these velocities with the velocities cal¬
culated by Buat’s formula.
The hydraulic mean depths d and D of the Rheno and
Po in the great freshes, deduced from the above measures,
are 98-6 and 344 inches; and their slopes s and S are
andioW This will give
307 (VP —0-1)
0'3 (VD — 01) =: 52'176 inches, and
271
this depends on the magnitude, form, and slope of the chan- Theory,
nel. ihis permanency we have expressed by the term Y'-—"
train, saying that the stream is in train.
We proceed to consider the subordinate circumstances
contained in this theorem; such as, 1st, The forms which
nature or art may give to the bed of a running stream, and
the manner of expressing this form in our theorem. 2d, The
gradations of the velocity, by which it decreases in the dif¬
ferent filaments, from the axis or most rapid filament to the
border; and the connection of this with the mean velocity,
which is expressed by our formula. 3d, Having acquired
some distinct notions of this, we shall be able to see the
manner in which undisturbed nature works in forming the
beds of our rivers, the forms which she affects, and which
we must imitate in all their local modifications, if we would
secure that permanency which is the evident aim of all her
operations. We shall here learn the mutual action of the
current and its bed, and the circumstances which insure
the stability of both. 1 hese we may call the regimen or the Regimen
conservation of the stream, and may say that it is in regimen, of streams,
or in conservation. This has a relation, not to the dimen- what,
sions and the slope alone, or to the accelerating force and
the resistance arising from mere inertia; it respects imme¬
diately the tenacity of the bed, and is different from the
train.
4th, These pieces of information will explain the devia¬
tion of rivers from the rectilineal course, the resistance oc¬
casioned by these deviations, and the circumstances on
which the regimen of a winding stream depends.
VS — L VS + P6
307 (Vd—O-l)
VsLVT+Te" “ °‘3 — °'1) = 46,727 inches.
|ghly to
credit
the the
These results differ very little from the velocities above
mentioned. And if the velocity corresponding to a depth
of thirty-one feet be deduced from that observed by Mon¬
tanan in the Po Magra ten feet deep, on the supposition
that they are in the proportion of s/d, it will be found to be
about fifty-three and a half inches per second.
1 his comparison is therefore highly to the credit of the
neory, and would have been very agreeable to M. de Buat,
a\v 6 i™°Wn as we h°Pe it is to our readers.
vve have collected many accounts of water-pipes, and
e the comparisons, and we flatter ourselves that these
ave enaMeci us to improve the theory. They shall ap-
tW m 6ir Pr<?Per piace ; and we may just observe here,
vevnaih °'1?Ch P1P^’ Which we formerly spoke of as con-
Srnmh .e,water t0 Dunbar, should have yielded only 25|
small erroT ^ minUte by the formula’ instead of 27; a
We Jiave, therefore, no hesitation in saying, that this
sirmlpfm.™ 1 a; , ’ uu uesuation in saying, that this
most vafimhla °f the Umfbrm motion °f water is one of the
have receivpH Prescnts whlch natural science and the arts
received during the course of this century.
A table containing the values of 7-—^07 ready
cal 1 .1 ^^ — Lv's “p l-6
canals or rk evei7 declivity that can occur in water-pipes,
Aided bv thLerS,v iglV6n in the article WateR-works.
tbe computation^ nh SUpersede® tbe ^ difficult part of
proposed casp - ’i P61?011 <lan calculate the velocity for any
1 P ed case 111 less than five minutes. "
§ 1- Qf the Forms of the Channel.
The numerator of the fraction which expresses the velo- The semi-
city of a river in train has ^d for one of its factors. That L'iroular
form, therefore, is most favourable to the motion which gives !.orm moRt
the greatest value to what we have called the hydraulic
mean depth d. This is the prerogative of the semicircle, ’
and here d is equal to half the radius; and all other figures
of the same area are the more favourable, as they approach
nearer to a semicircle. This is the form, therefore, of ail
conduit-pipes, and should be taken for aqueducts which are
built of masonry. Ease and accuracy of execution, however,
have made engineers prefer a rectangular form ; but neither
of these will do for a channel formed out of the ground.
We shall soon see that the semicircle is incompatible with but incom-
a regimen; and if we proceed through the regular polygons, patible
we shall find that the half hexagon is the only one which with regi-
has any pretensions to a regimen ; yet experience shows us,men'
that even its banks are too steep for almost any soil. A dry
earthen bank, not bound together by grass roots, will hardly
stand with a slope of forty-five degrees; and a canal which
conveys running waters will not stand with this slope.
Banks whose base is to their height as four to three will Banks that
stand very well in moist soils, and this is a slope very usual-stand best,
ly given. This form is even affected in the spontaneous
operations of nature, in the channels which she digs for the
rills and rivulets in the higher and steeper grounds.
This form has some mathematical and mechanical pro¬
perties which entitle it to some further notice. Let ABEC
(fig. 12) be such a trapezium, and AHGC the rectangle
of equal width and depth. Bisect HB and EG by the ver¬
ticals FD and KI, and draw the verticals 5B, cE. Because
AH : HB = 3 : 4, we have AB = 5, and BD = 2, and
FD =: 3, and BD -{- DF = BA. From these premises it fol-
Hydiuulics h esta?.u.h.ed in some measure a Theory of
Presses the relaHn^^f^F1 general theorem which ex-
motions as have ^ °f ^ chief drcumstances of all such
as have attained a state of permanency, in so far as
lows, that the trapezium ABEC
has the same area with the rect¬
angle FDIK ; for HB being bi¬
sected in D, the triangles A OF,
BOD are equal. Also the border
ABEC, which is touched by the
passing stream, is equal to EDI K.
Fig. i:
272
RIVER.
Best form
of a chan¬
nel.
Theory. Therefore the mean depth, which is the quotient of the
 ^ area divided by the border, is the same in both ; and this is
the case, whatever is the width BE at the bottom, or even
though there be no rectangle such as 6BEe interposed be¬
tween the slant sides.
Of all rectangles, that whose breadth is twice the height,
or which is half of a square, gives the greatest mean depth
If, therefore, FK be double of FD, the trapezium ABEC,
which has the same area, will have the largest mean depth
of any such trapezium, and will be the best form of a chan¬
nel for conveying running waters. In this case, we have
AC = 10, AH = 3, and BE = 2. Or we may say that the
best form is a trapezium, whose bottom width is f ol the
depth, and whose extreme width is 1^). This form ap¬
proaches very near to that which the torrents in the hi Is
naturally dig for themselves in uniform ground, where then-
action is not checked by stones which they lay bare, or
which they deposit in their course. This shows us, and it
will be fully confirmed by and .by, that the channel of a
river is not a fortuitous thing, but has a relation to the con¬
sistency of the soil and velocity of the stream.
A rectangle, whose breadth is of the depth of water,
will therefore have the same depth with a triangle whose
surface width is of its vertical depth ; for this is the di¬
mensions when the rectangle 6BEe is taken away.
Let A be the area of the section of any channel, w its
width (when rectangular), and h its depth of water. T. hen
A
width and real depth, we can determine the dimensions of The ,
t o 7 J 7 J I ^
the bed, and we have w = q a 2 a, and « _ a + —. Rule:;,
V iimlir: „
2. If we knew the area and mean depth, we can in like dimer ^
manner find the dimensions, that is, tv and Ji. for A. — w h,
and 'therefore W = ±J
A!
4^'
2A+^
3. If d be known, and one of the dimensions be given,
, „ W Jl . 2 ll rl
we can find the other; for d — w -^-2 h £lves w
h~d'
and h —
tv d
tv—2 d
4. If the velocity V and the slope s for a river in mean
train be given, we can find the mean depth ; for V = dep t
(   — — 03^ (i/d — 0-1). Whence we
\v/5_-L Vs + 1-6 /
V
[V s — L V s + 1*6
deduce Vd—OT  
V s
307
0-3,
what we have called its mean depth, or d, w ill he ^ ^
LV s + 1-6)
and Vd =. to this quantity + 0-1.
5. We can deduce the slope which will put in train slope,
a river whose channel has given dimensions. We make
307 (V~d O'l ) _ ^ Thig should be = V* ~
V 0-3 (Vd—0-1)
tv h
Or if q expresses the ratio of the width to
tv 2 h
the depth of a rectangular bed, that is, if ^ _ -p we have
a very simple and ready expression for the mean depth,
L Vs + 1-6, which we correct by trials, which will be ex¬
emplified when we apply these doctrines to practice.
Having thus established the relation between the different
circumstances of the form of the channel to our general
formula, we proceed to consider,
either from the width or depth.
q h
For d —
7 +
or d ~
§ 2. The Gradations of Velocity from the middle of the
Stream to the sides.
q 2
Therefore, if the depth were infinite, and the width finite,
we should have d——^-, or if the width be infinite, and the
stream.
depth finite, wre have d — h. And these are the limits of
the values of d; and therefore in rivers whose width is
always great in comparison of the depth, we may without
much error take their real depth for their hydraulic mean
Estimate depth. Hence we derive a rule of easy recollection, and
of the ex- which will at all times give us a very near estimate of
pense of a the velocity and expense of a running stream, viz. that
running velocities are nearly as the square roots of the depths.
We find this confirmed by many experiments of Miche-
lotti.
Also, when wq are allowed to suppose this ratio of the
velocities and depths, that is, in a rectangular canal of great
breadth and small depth, we shall have the quantities dis¬
charged nearly in the proportion of the cubes of the velo¬
cities. For the quantity discharged d is as the velocity and
area jointly, that is, as the height and velocity jointly, be¬
cause when the width is the same the area is as the height.
Therefore, we have d = h v. But, by the above remark,
h = v*. Therefore, d = v3 ; and this is confirmed by the
experiments of Bossut, vol. ii. 236. Also, because d is as
v h, when tv is constant, and by the above remark (allow¬
able when tv is very great in proportion to h) v is as Vh,
we have d as hVh, or A'2, or the squares of the dis¬
charges proportional to the cubes of the heights in rect¬
angular beds, and in their corresponding trapeziums.
1. Knowing the mean depth and the proportion of the
The knowledge of this is necessary for understanding
the regimen of a river; for it is the velocity of the fila¬
ments in contact with the bed which produces any change
in it, and occasions any preference of one to another in re¬
spect of regimen or stability. Did these circumstances not
operate, the water, true to the laws of hydraulics, and con¬
fined within the bounds which have been assigned them,
would neither enlarge nor diminish the area of the channel.
But this is all that we can promise of waters perfectly clear,
running in pipes or hewn channels. But rivers, brooks, and
smaller streams, carry along waters loaded with mud or
sand, which they deposit wherever their velocity is check¬
ed ; and they tear up, on the other hand, the materials of
the channel wherever their velocity is sufficiently great'
Nature, indeed, aims continually at an equilibrium, and
works without ceasing to perpetuate her own performances,
by establishing an equality of action and re-action, and pro¬
portioning the forms and direction of the motions to her
agents, and to local circumstances. Her work is slow but
unceasing; and what she cannot accomplish in a year s e
> CllllA Wildly Oilt; V*»/ ^ ^ * rj
will do in a century. The beds of our rivers have acquire
some stability, because they are the labour of ages; an it
is to time that we owe those deep and wide valleys whici
receive and confine our rivers in channels, which are now
consolidated, and with slopes which have been gradua y
moderated, so that they no longer either ravage our ham-
IllUUtH dieU, LllclL LiiCy 11W lUligWi ^ ’ v
tations or confound our boundaries. Art may imitate nature, a
   / 1 • 1_
and, by directing her operations (which she still carries on,
according to her own imprescriptible laws) according to our
views, we can hasten her progress, and accomplish our Plir'strea«
pose, during the short period of human life. But wc can
do this only by studying the unalterable laws of mechanism.
These are presented to us by spontaneous nature. He-
RIVER.
273
ry. quently we remain ignorant of their foundation ; but it is
'~—^not necessary for the prosperity of the subject that he have
the talents of the senator; he can profit by the statute
without understanding its grounds. It is so in the present
instance. We have not as yet been able to infer the law
of retardation observed in the filaments of a running stream
from any sound mechanical principle. The problem, how¬
ever, does not appear beyond our powers, if we assume, with
Sir Isaac Newton, that the velocity of any particular fila¬
ment is the arithmetical mean between those of the fila¬
ments immediately adjoining. We may be assured, that
the filament in the axis of an inclined cylindrical tube, of
which the current is in train, moves the fastest, and that
all those in the same circumference round it are those which
glide along the pipe. We may affirm the same thing of the
motions in a semicylindrical inclined channel conveying an
open stream. But even in these we have not yet demon¬
strated the ratio between the extreme velocities, nor in the
different circles. This must be decided experimentally.
And here we are under great obligations to M. de Buat.
He has compared the velocities in the axes of a prodigious
number and variety of streams, differing in size, form, slope,
and velocity, and has computed in them all the mean velo¬
cities, by measuring the quantities of water discharged in a
given time. His method of measuring the bottom velocity
was simple and just. He threw in a gooseberry, as nearly
as possible of the same specific gravity with the water. It
was carried along the bottom almost without touching it.
See Resistance of Fluids, p. 180.
of He discovered the following laws : 1. In small velocities
dif" ^le velocity *n fhe axis is to that at the bottom in a ratio
. of considerable inequality. 2. This ratio diminishes as the
' iftheve‘oc^y increases, and in very great velocities approaches
r i. to the ratio of equality. 3. What was most remarkable
was, that neither the magnitude of the channel, nor its slope,
had any influence in changing this proportion, while the
mean velocity remained the same. Nay, though the stream
ran on a channel covered with pebbles or coarse sand, no
difference worth noticing was to be observed from the velo¬
city over a polished channel. 4. And if the velocity in the
axis is constant, the velocity at the bottom is also constant,
and is not affected by the depth of water or magnitude of
the stream. In some experiments the depth was thrice
the width, and in others the width was thrice the depth.
This changed the proportion of the magnitude of the sec¬
tion to the magnitude of the rubbing part, but made no
change on the ratio of the velocities. This is a thing which
no theory could point out.
Another most important fact was also the result of his
observation, viz. that the mean velocity in any pipe or open
stream is the arithmetical mean between the velocity in the
axis and the velocity at the sides of a pipe or bottom of an
open stream. We have already observed, that the ratio of
tie velocity in the axis to the velocity at the bottom di¬
minished as the mean velocity increased. This variation
ie was enabled to express in a very simple manner, so as
to be easily remembered, and to enable us to tell any one
0 tlmm by observing another.
J we take unity from the square root of the superficial ve-
oeity, expressed in inches, the square of the remainder is the
velocity at the bottom ; and the mean velocity is the half sum
these two. ~ Thus, if the velocity in the middle of the
rream be 25 inches per second, its square root is five ;
rom which if we take unity, there remains four. The
quare of this, or 16, is the velocity at the bottom, and
~o -f 16
" 2 ’ or the mean velocity.
T his is a very curious and most useful piece of informa¬
tion. The velocity in the middle of the stream is the Theory,
easiest measured of all, by any light small body floating''’“‘v-—-
down ; and the mean velocity is the one which regulates
the train, the discharge, the effect on machines, and all the
most important consequences.
We may express this by a formula of most easy re-exPressed
collection. Let V be the mean velocity, v the velocity in b-v a *or'
the axis, and u the velocity at the bottom ; we have mu a‘
u-{Vv — If, and V =
Also ^ = (vTHl + i)\ and v = (yu+ If.
V =(Vv— -t)2 + i, and V — (Vu -f ^)2 -j- 1.
u — (Vv — l)2, and u — (VV — ^ — i)2.
Also v — u — 2 V V — T anti v — V, — V — —
VV — £; that is, the difference between these velocities
increases in the ratio of the square roots of the mean velo¬
cities diminished by a small constant quantity.1
This may perhaps give the mathematicians some help in
ascertaining the law of degradation from the axis to the
sides. Thus, in a cylindrical pipe, we may conceive the
current as consisting of an infinite number of cylindrical
shells sliding within each other like the draw-tubes of a
spy-glass. Each of these is in equilibrio, or as much acce¬
lerated by the one within it as it is retarded by the one
without; therefore, as the momentum of each diminishes in
the proportion of its diameter (the thickness being suppos¬
ed the same in all), the velocity of separation must increase
by a certain law from the sides to the axis. The magni¬
tude of the small constant quantity here spoken of seems to
fix this law.
The place of the mean velocity could not be discovered Place of
with any precision. In moderate velocities it was not morethe n?ea11
than one fourth or one fifth of the depth distant from the^0^-v
bottom. In very great velocities it was sensibly higher,
but never in the middle of the depth.
The knowledge of these three velocities is of great
importance. The superficial velocity is easily observed,
hence the mean velocity is easily computed. This multi¬
plied by the section gives the expense; and if we also mea¬
sure the expanded border, and then obtain the mean depth
(or Vd), we can, by the formula of uniform motion, deduce
the slope, or, knowing the slope, we can deduce any of the
other circumstances.
The following table of these three velocities will save the
trouble of calculation in one of the most frequent questions
of hydraulics.
Velocity in Inches.
Velocity in Inches.
Sur-i
face. I
Bottom.
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
0-000
0-172
0-537
1-
1- 526
2- 1
2- 709
3- 342
4-
4- 674
5- 369
6- 071
6- 786
7- 553
8- 254
Mean.
0-5
1-081
1- 768
2- 5
3- 263
4- 050
4- 854
5- 67
6- 5
7- 337
8- 184
9- 036
9-893
10- 756
11- 622
Sur¬
face.
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
Bottom. Mean
9-
9-753
10- 463
11- 283
12- 055
12- 674
13- 616
14- 402
15- 194
16-
16-802
17- 606
18- 421
19- 228
20- 044
12- 5
13- 376
14- 231
15- 141
16- 027
16- 837
17- 808
18- 701
19- 597
20- 5
21- 401
22- 303
23- 210
24- 114
25- 022
'OL, XIX.
In these formula;, and
in the following table, the velocities are understood to be expressed in French inches.
2 M
II
274
RIVER.
Theorv.
Sur¬
face.
Yeiocity in Inches.
Velocity in Inches.
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
Bottom.
20- 857
21- 678
22- 506
23- 339
24- 167
25-
25- 827
26- 667
27- 51
28- 345
29- 192
30- 030
30- 880
31- 742
32- 581
33- 432
34- 293
35- 151
36-
36- 857
37- 712
38- 564
39- 438
40- 284
41- 165
42- 016
42- 968
43- 771
44- 636
45- 509
46- 376
47- 259
48- 136
49*
49- 872'
Mean.
25- 924
26- 839
27- 753
28- 660
29- 583
30- 5
31- 413
32- 338
33- 255
34- 172
35- 096
36- 015
36- 940
37- 871
38- 790
39- 716
40- 646
41- 570
42- 5
j 43-428
| 44-356
45- 282
46- 219
47- 142
48- 082
49- 008
49- 984
50- 886
51- 818
52- 754
53- 688
54- 629
55- 568
56- 5
57- 436
Sur¬
face.
Bottom.
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
90
100
50- 751
51- 639
52- 505
53- 392
54- 273
55- 145
56- 025
56- 862
57- 790
58- 687
59- 568
60- 451
61- 340
62- 209
63- 107
64-
64- 883
65- 780
66- 651
67- 568
68- 459
69- 339
70- 224
71- 132
72- 012
72- 915
73- 788
74- 719
75- 603
76- 51
77- 370
78- 305
79- 192
80- 120
81-
Mean.
58- 376
59- 319
60- 252
61- 196
62- 136
63- 072
64- 012
64- 932
65- 895
66- 843
67- 784
68- 725
69- 670
70- 605
71- 553
72- 5
73- 441
74- 390
75- 325
76- 284
77- 229
78- 169
79- 112
80- 066
81-006
81- 957
82- 894
83- 859
84- 801
85- 755
86- 685
87- 652
88- 596
89- 56
90- 5
The manner in which unwearied nature carries on some
of these operations is curious, and deserves to be a little H
noticed. All must recollect the narrow ridges or wrinkles “OT iJ
which are left on the sand by a temporary fresh or stream, f
They are observed to lie across the stream, and each ridge
consists of a steep face AD, BF (fig. 13), which looks down
the stream, and a gentler slope DB, FC, which connects this
Fig. 13.
Operation
of the
The knowledge of the velocity at the bottom is of the
greatest use for enabling us to judge of the action of the
stream on its bed ; and we shall now make some observa¬
tions on this particular.
Every kind of soil has a certain velocity consistent with
   the stability of the channel. A greater velocity would en-
stream on able the waters to tear it up, and a smaller velocity would
its bed, permit the deposition of more moveable materials from
above. It is not enough, then, for the stability of a river,
that the accelerating forces are so adjusted to the size and
figure of its channel that the current may be in train : it
must also be in equilibrio with the tenacity of the channel.
We learn from observation, that a velocity of three inches
per second at the bottom wrill just begin to work upon fine
clay fit for pottery, and however firm and compact it may
be, it w’ill tear it up. Yet no beds are more stable than
clay when the velocities do not exceed this: for the water
soon takes away the impalpable particles of the superficial
clay, leaving the particles of sand sticking by their lower
half in the rest of the clay, which they now protect, making a
very permanent bottom, if the stream does not bring down
gravel or coarse sand, which will rub off this very thin crust,
and allow another layer to be worn off. A velocity of six
inches will lift fine sand ; eight inches will lift sand as
coarse as linseed ; twelve inches will sweep along fine gra¬
vel ; twenty-four inches wall roll along rounded pebbles an
inch diameter; and it requires three feet per second at the
bottom to sweep along shivery angular stones of the size of
an egg.
with the next ridge. As the stream comes over the first steep
AD, it is directed almost perpendicularly against the point E
immediately below D, and thus it gets hold of a particle of
coarse sand, which it could not have detached from the rest
had it been moving parallel to the surface of it. It easily
rolls it up the gentle slope EB; arrived there, the particle
tumbles over the ridge, and lies close at the bottom of it at
F, where it is protected by the little eddy, which is form¬
ed in the very angle; other particles lying about E are
treated in the same way, and, tumbling over the ridge B,
cover the first particle, and now protect it effectually from
any farther disturbance. The same operation is going on
at the bottom of each ridge. The brow or steep ot the
ridge gradually advances down the stream, and the whole
set change their places, as represented by the line adbf;
and after a certain time the particle which was deposited in
F is found in an unprotected situation, as it was in E, and
it now makes another step down the stream.
The Abbe Bossut found,, that when the velocity of the
stream wras just sufficient for lifting the sand (and a small
excess hindered the operation altogether), a ridge advanced
about twenty feet in a day.
Since the current carries off the most moveable matters
of the channel, it leaves the bottom covered with the re¬
maining coarse sand, gravel, pebbles, and larger stones.
To these are added many which come down the stream
while it is more rapid, and also many which roll in from the
sides as the banks wear away. All these form a bottom
much more solid and immoveable than a bottom of the
medium soil would have been. But this does not always
maintain the channel in a permanent form, but frequently
occasions great changes, by obliging the current, in the
event of any sudden fresh or swell, to enlarge its bed, and
even to change it altogether, by working to the right and
to the left, since it cannot work downwards. It is gene¬
rally from such accumulation of gravel and pebbles in the
bottom of the bed that rivers change their channels.
It remains to ascertain, in absolute measures, the force
which a current really exerts in attempting to drag along
with it the materials of its channel ; and which will pr0"
duce this effect unless resisted by the inertia ot these ma¬
terials. It is therefore of practical importance to know
this force. . .
Nor is it abstruse or difficult. For when a current is m
train, the accelerating force is in equilibrio with the re¬
sistance, and is therefore its immediate measure. Now this
accelerating force is precisely equal to the weight or t e
body of water in motion multiplied by the fraction whic
expresses the slope. The mean depth being equal to t e
quotient of the section divided by the border, t!16 sj'Ct,1?n
is equal to the product of the mean depth multiplied by the
border. Therefore, calling the border b, and the mean
depth d, we have the section = db. The body of water m
motion is therefore dbs (because s was the slant length o
a part whose difference of elevation is 1), and the aceeie*
P
RIVER.
275
. rating force is dbs X or db. But if we would only con¬
sider this resistance as corresponding to an unit of the
length of the channel, we must divide the quantity db by s,
and the resistance is then —. And if we would consider
s
the resistance only for an unit of the border, we must divide
this expression by b; and thus this resistance (taking an inch
for the unit) will be expressed for one square inch of the
bed by the weight of a bulk of water which has a square
inch for its base, and ^ for its height. And lastly, if E
be taken for any given superficial extent of the channel or
bed, and F the obstruction, which we consider as a sort of
T? ir
friction, we shall have F — —
s
Thus, let it be required to determine in pounds the re¬
sistance 01 fiiction on a square yard of a channel whose
current is in train, which is ten feet wide, four feet deep,
and has a slope of one foot in a mile. Here E is nine feet!
Ten feet width and four feet depth give a section of forty
Therefore ri — ~ rr
18
mndwi
.cM
teem
frire1
lltli •:
lit 1
US
it ]
*
feet. The border is eighteen feet.
2 2222, and s is 5280. Therefore the friction is the weight
of a column of water whose base is nine feet, and height
2-2222
—^ggQ’ or nearly 3^ ounces avoirdupois.
§ 3. Settlement of the Beds of Rivers.
jm • W^° l0?^8 a careless eye at a map of the world,
. in i* aftt0 consider the rivers which ramble over its surface
[icta* a chance-medley disposition of the drainers which carry
off the waters. But it will afford a most agreeable object
to a considerate and contemplative mind to take it up in
this very simple light; and, having considered the many
ways in which the drenched surface might have been cleared
ol the superfluous waters, to attend particularly to the very
way which nature has followed. In pursuing the troubled
waters of a mountain torrent, or the pure streams which
trickle from their bases, till he sees them swallowed up in
the ocean, and in attending to the many varieties in their
motions, he will be delighted with observing how the simple
awsof mechanism are made so fruitful in good consequences,
both by modifying the motions of the waters themselves,
and also by inducing new forms on the surface of the earth,
ntted for re-acting on the waters, and producing those very
modifications of their motions which render them so bene-
cial. The permanent beds of rivers are by no means for¬
tuitous gutters hastily scooped out by dashing torrents; but
both they and the valleys through which they flow are the
patient but unceasing labours of nature, prompted bv good¬
ness and directed by wisdom.
Whether we trace a river from the torrents which collect
the superfluous waters of heaven, or from the springs which
discharge what would otherwise be condemned to perpe-
ual inactivity, each feeder is but a little rill, which could
ot ramble far from its scanty source among growing plants
^ ,ab®?*b.ent earth> without being sucked up and evapo-
ated, did it not meet with other rills in its course. When
united, they form a body of water still inconsiderable, but
uci more able, by its bulk, to overcome the little obsta-
s to ns motion ; and the rivulet then moves with greater
speed, as we have now learned. At the same time, the sur-
e exposed to evaporation and absorption is diminished by
fappUlf1?n °f ?e nlls‘ Four ecLual rills have °nly the sur-
dce ot two when united. Thus the portion which escapes
arrestment, and travels downward, is continually increas- Theory,
ing. I his is a happy adjustment to the other opeiations v "** y
of natuie. . Were it otherwise, the lower and more valu¬
able countries would be loaded with the passing waters in
addition to their own surplus rains, and the immediate
neighbourhood of the sea would be almost covered by the
drains of the interior countries. But, fortunately, those
passing waters occupy less room as they advance, and by
this wise employment of the most simple means, not only
are the superfluous waters drained off from our fertile fields,
but the drains themselves become an useful part of the
country by their magnitude. They become the habitation
of a prodigious number of fishes, which share the Creator’s
bounty ; and they become the means of mutual communi¬
cation of all the blessings of cultivated society. The vague
ramblings of the rivers scatter them over the face of the
country, and bring them to every door. It is not even an
indifferent circumstance, that they gather strength to cut
out deep beds for themselves. By this means they cut
open many springs. Without this, the produce of a heavy
shower would make a swamp which would not dry up in
many days. And it must be observed, that the same heat
which is necessary for the vigorous growth of useful plants
will produce a very copious evaporation. This must return
in showers much too copious for immediate vegetation, and ’
the overplus would be destructive. Is it not pleasant to
contemplate this adjustment of the great operations of na¬
ture, so different from each other, that if chance alone di¬
rected the detail, it was almost an infinite odds that the
earth would be uninhabitable ?
But let us follow the waters in their operations, and note Their ef-
the face of the countries through which they flow. Attend- feet on the
ing to the breadth, the depth, and the slope of the valleys, countries
we shall be convinced that their present situation is ex-th.r.ou§h
tremely different from what it was in ancient days; and", they
that the valleys themselves are the works of the rivers, orF
at least of waters which have descended from the heights,
loaded with all the lighter matters which they were able to
bring away with them. The rivers now flow in beds which
have a considerable permanency; but this has been the
work of ages. This has given stability, both by filling up
and smoothing the valleys, and thus lessening the changing
causes, and also by hardening the beds themselves, which
are now covered with aquatic plants, and lined with the
stones, gravel, and coarser sand, out of which all the light¬
er matters have been washed away.
I he surface of the high grounds is undergoing a conti¬
nual change; and the ground on which we now walk is by
no means the same which was trodden by our remote an¬
cestors. Hie showers from heaven carry down into the
valleys, or sweep along by the torrents, a part of the soil
which covers the heights and steeps. The torrents carry
this soil into the brooks, these deliver part of it into the
great rivers, and these discharge this fertilizing fat of the
earth into the sea, where it is swallowed up, and for ever
lost for the purposes of vegetation. Thus the hillocks lose
of their height, the valleys are filled up, and the moun¬
tains are laid bare and show their naked precipices, which
formerly were covered over with flesh and skin, but now
look like the skeleton of this globe. The low countries,
raised and nourished for some time by the substance of the
high lands, will go in their turn to be buried in the ocean ;
and then the earth, reduced to a dreary flat, will become
an immense uninhabitable mass. This catastrophe is far
distant, because this globe is in its youth, but it is not the
less certain; and the united labours of the human race
could not long protract the term.
But, in the mean time, we can trace a beneficent pur¬
pose, and a nice adjustment of seemingly remote circum¬
stances. The grounds near the sources of all our rivers
are indeed gradually stripped of their most fertile ingredi-
276
Theory.
Benefi¬
cence dis¬
played in
the chan¬
ges they
produce.
RIVER.
ents. But had they retained them for ages, the sentient
inhabitants of the earth, or at least the nobler animals, with
man at their head, would not thence have derived much ad¬
vantage. The general laws of nature produce changes in
our atmosphere which must ever render these great eleva¬
tions unfruitful. That genial warmth, which is equally ne¬
cessary for the useful plant as for the animal which lives on
it, is confined to the lower grounds. The earth, which on
the top of Mount Haemus could only bring forth moss and
dittany, when brought into the gardens of Spalatro pro¬
duced pot-herbs so luxuriant, that Diocletian told his col¬
league Maximian that he had more pleasure in their culti¬
vation than the Roman empire could confer. Thus nature
not only provides us manure, but conveys it to our fields.
She even keeps it safe in store for us till it shall be want¬
ed. The tracts of country which are but newly inhabited
by man, such as great part of America, and the newly-dis¬
covered regions of Terra Australis, are still almost occupied
by marshes and lakes, or covered with impenetrable forests ;
and they would remain long enough in this state, it popu¬
lation, continually increasing, did not increase industry, and
multiply the hands of cultivators along with their necessi¬
ties. The Author of Nature was alone able to form the
huge ridges of the mountains, to model the hillocks and
the valleys, to mark out the courses of the great rivers, and
give the first trace to every rivulet; but has left to man
the task of draining his own habitation and the fields which
are to support him, because this is a task not beyond his
powers. It was therefore of immense advantage to him that
those parts of the globe into which he has not yet pene¬
trated should remain covered with lakes, marshes, and forests,
which keep in store the juice of the earth, which the in¬
fluence of the air and the vivifying warmth of the sun
would have expended long ere now in useless vegetation,
and which the rains of heaven would have swept into the
sea, had they not been thus protected by their situation or
their cover. It is therefore the business of man to open up
these mines of hoarded wealth, and to thank the Author of
all good, who has thus husbanded them for his use, and left
them as a rightful heritage for those of after days.
The earth had not in the remote ages, as in our day,
those great canals, those capacious voiders, always ready to
drain off the rain-waters (of which only part is absorbed by
the thirsty ground) and the pure waters of the springs
from the foot of the hills. The rivers did not then exist,
or were only torrents, whose waters, confined by the gulleys
and glens, are searching for a place to escape. Hence arise
those numerous lakes in the interior of great continents, of
which there are still remarkable relics in North America,
which in process of time will disappear, and become cham¬
paign countries. The most remote from the sea, unable to
contain its waters, finds an issue through some gorge of the
hills, and pours over its superfluous waters into a lower
basin, which, in its turn, discharges its contents into ano¬
ther, and the last of the chain delivers its waters by a river
into the ocean. The communication was originally begun
by a simple overflowing at the lowest part of the margin.
This made a torrent, which quickly deepened its bed ; and
this circumstance increasing its velocity, as we have seen,
would extend this deepening backward to the lake, and
draw off more of its waters. The work would go on rapid¬
ly at first, while earth and small stones only resisted the la¬
bours of nature; but these being washed away, and the
channel hollowed out to the firm rock on all sides, the ope¬
ration must go on very slowly, till the immense cascade
shall undermine what it cannot break off, and then a new
discharge will commence, and a quantity of flat ground will
emerge all round the lake. The torrent, in the mean time,
makes its way down the country, and digs a canal, which
may be called the first sketch of a river, which will deepen
and widen its bed continually. The water of several basins
Fig. 14.
one;:
ed pi
united, and running together in a great body, will, accord- T
ing to the principles which we have established, have a
much greater velocity, with the same slope, than those of the
lakes in the interior parts of the continent; and the sum of
them all united in the basin next the sea, after having
broken through its natural mound, will make a prodigious
torrent, which will dig for itself a bed so much the deeper
as it has more slope and a greater body of waters.
The formation of the first valleys, by cutting open many
springs which were formerly concealed under ground, will
add to the mass of running waters, and contribute to drain
off the waters of these basins. In course of time many of
them will disappear, and flat valleys among the mountains
and hills are the traces of their former existence.
When nature thus traces out the courses of future rivers,
it is to be expected that those streams will most deepen
their channels which in their approach to the sea receive
into their bed the greatest quantities of rain and spring-
waters, and that towards the middle of the continent they
will deepen their channels less. In these last situations
the natural slope of the fields causes the rain-water, rills,
and the little rivulets from the springs, to seek their ways
to the rivers. The ground can sink only by the flattening
of the hills and high grounds ; and this must proceed with
extreme slowness, because it is only the gentle though in¬
cessant work of the rains and springs. But the rivers, in¬
creasing in bulk and strength, and of necessity flowing over
every thing, form to themselves capacious beds in a more
yielding soil, and dig them even to the level of the ocean.
The beds of rivers by no means form themselves in one Beds
inclined plane. If we should suppose a canal AB (fig. 14)nvei
perfectly straight and horizontal at
B, where it joins with the sea, this
canal would really be an inclined
channel of greater and greater slope
as it is farther from B. This is evi¬
dent ; because gravity is directed to¬
wards the centre of the earth, and the
angle CAB contained between the
channel and the plumb-line at A is
smaller than the similar angle CDB;
and consequently the inclination to the horizon is great¬
er in A than in D. Such a canal, therefore, would make
the bed of a river; and some have thought that this was
the real form of nature’s work; but the supposition is a
whim, and it is false. No river has a slope at all approach¬
ing to this. It would be eight inches declivity in the
mile next the ocean, twenty-four inches in the second
mile, forty inches in the third, and so on in the duplicate
ratio (for the whole elevation) of the distances from the
sea. Such a river would quickly tear up its bed in the
mountains (were there any grounds high enough to receive
it), and, except its first cascade, would soon acquire a more
gentle slope. But the fact is, and it is the result of the inn
prescriptible laws of nature, that the continued track of a
river is a succession of inclined channels, whose slope dimi¬
nishes by steps as the river approaches to the sea. It is
not enough to say that this results from the natural slope
of the countries through which it flow's, which we observe
to increase in declivity as we go to the interior parts of the
continent. Were it otherw ise, the equilibrium at which
nature aims in all her operations would still produce the
gradual diminution of the slope of rivers. Without it they
could not be in a permanent train.
That we may more easily form a notion of the manner in Ho*
which the permanent course of a river is established, let US^RI
suppose a stream or rivulet s a (fig. 15) far up the country,^
makes its way through a soil perfectly uniform to the sea,
taking the course sabedef and receiving the permanent
additions of the stream g a, h b, i c, k d, l e, and that its ve¬
locity and slope in all its parts are so suited to the tenacity
fl
^ jl
Fig. 15.
X r x] R.
277
prji
SS of]
ifirme
ex.
!e.
of the soil and magnitude of its section, that neither do its
waters during the annual freshes tear up its banks or deepen
its bed, nor do they bring down from the high lands mate¬
rials which they deposit in the channel in times of smaller
velocity. Such a river may be said to be in a permanent
state, to be in conservation, or to have stability. Let us call
this state of a river its regimen, denoting by the word the
proper adjustment of the velocity of the stream to the tena¬
city of the channel. The velocity of its regimen must be
the same throughout, because it is this which regulates its
action on the bottom, which is the same from its head to
the sea. That its bed may have stability, the mean velo¬
city of the current must be constant, notwithstanding the
inequality of discharge through its different sections by the
brooks which it receives in its course, and notwithstanding
the augmentation of its section as it approaches the sea.
On the other hand, it behoved this exact regimen to com¬
mence at the mouth of the river, by the working of the
whole body of the river, in concert with the waters of the
ocean, which always keep within the same limits, and make
the ultimate level invariable. This working will begin to
dig the bed, giving it as little breadth as possible : for this
working consists chiefly in the efforts of falls and rapid
streams, which arise of themselves in every channel which
has too much slope. The bottom deepens, and the sides
remain very steep, till they are undermined and crumbled
down ; and being then diluted in the water, they are car¬
ried down the stream and deposited where the ocean checks
its speed. The banks crumble down anew, the valley or hol¬
low forms; but the section, always confined to its bottom,
cannot acquire a great breadth, and it retains a good deal of
the form of the trapezium formerly mentioned. In this man¬
ner does the regimen begin to be established from/to e.
With respect to the next part d e, the discharge or pro¬
duce is diminished by the want of the brook l e. It must
take a similar form, but its area will be diminished, in order
that its velocity may be the same ; and its mean depth d
being less than in the portion e/below, the slope must be
greater. Without these conditions we could not have the
uniform velocity, which the assumed permanency in an uni¬
form soil naturally supposes. Reasoning after the same man¬
ner tor all the portions cd,bc,ab,sa, we see that the regi¬
men will be successively established in them, and that the
slope necessary for this purpose will be greater as we ap¬
proach the river head. The vertical section or profile of the
course of the river s abed e/will therefore resemble the
hne SABCDEF which is sketched above, having its dif¬
ferent parts variously inclined to the horizontal line HF.
ouch is the process of nature to be observed in every
nver on the surface of the globe. It long appeared a kind
7 Puzz.le t0 “e theorists ; and it was this observation of the
increasing, or at least this continued velocity with smaller
slope, as the rivers increased by the addition of their tri-
u ry streams, which caused Guglielmini to have recourse
o is new principle, the energy of deep waters. We have
®.efen 'n what this energy consists. It is only a greater
quantity of motion remaining in the middle of a great stream
water after a quantity has been retarded by the sides and
Gottorn; and we see clearly, that since the addition of a
new and perhaps an equal stream does not occupy a bed of Theory,
ouble surface, the proportion of the retardations to the
remaining motion must continually diminish as a river in¬
creases by the addition of new streams. If therefore the
slope were not diminished, the regimen would be destroyed,
and the river would dig up its channel. We have a full
confirmation of this in the many works which have been
executed on the Po, which runs with rapidity through a
rich and yielding soil. About the year 1600 the waters of
the Panaro, a very considerable river, were added to the
I o Grande ; and although it brings along with it in its
freshes a vast quantity of sand and mud, it has greatly deep¬
ened the whole Tronco di Venezia from the confluence to
the sea. This point was clearly ascertained by Manfredi
about the year 1720, when the inhabitants of the valleys ad¬
jacent were alarmed by the project of bringing in the wa¬
ters of the Rheno, which then ran through the Ferrarese.
Their fears were overcome, and the Po Grande continues
to deepen its channel every day, with a prodigious advan¬
tage to the navigations; and there are several extensive
marshes which now drain off by it, after having been for
ages under water: and it is to be particularly remarked,
that the Kheno is the foulest river in its freshes of any in
that country. We insert this remark, because it may be of
great practical utility, as pointing out a method of preserv¬
ing and even improving the depth of rivers or drains in flat
countries, which is not obvious, but rather appears impro¬
per ; but it is strictly conformable to a true theory, and to
the operations of nature, which never fails to adjust every¬
thing so as to bring about an equilibrium. Whatever the
declivity of the country may have been originally, the re¬
gimen begins to be settled at the mouths of the rivers, and
the slopes are diminished in succession as we recede from
the coast. The original slopes inland may have been much
greater; but they will (when busy nature has completed
her work) be left somewhat, and only so much greater, that
the velocity may be the same notwithstanding the diminu¬
tion of the section and mean depth.
Freshes will disturb this methodical progress relative Effects of
only to the successive permanent additions; but their ef-freshes,
tects chiefly accelerate the deepening of the bed, and the
diminution of the slope, by augmenting the velocity during
their continuance. But when the regimen of the perma¬
nent additions is once established, the freshes tend chiefly
to widen the bed, without greatly deepening it: for the
aquatic plants, which have been growing and thriving du¬
ring the peaceable state of the river, are now laid along,
but not swept away, by the freshes, and protect the bottom
from their attacks ; and the stones and gravel, which must
have been left bare in a course of years, working on the
soil, will also collect in the bottom, and greatly augment its
power of resistance; and even if the floods should have
deepened the bottom some small matter, some mud will be
deposited as the velocity of the freshes diminishes, and this
will remain till the next flood.
We have supposed the soil uniform throughout the whole
course ; this seldom happens ; therefore the circumstances
which insure permanency, or the regimen of a river, may
be very different in its different parts and in different rivers.
We may say in general, that the farther that the regimen
has advanced up the stream in any river, the more slowly
will it convey its waters to the sea.
Ihere are some general circumstances in the motion of
rivers which it will be proper to take notice of just now, that
they may not interrupt our more minute examination of
their mechanism ; and their explanations w-ill then occur of
themselves as corollaries of the propositions which we shall
endeavour to demonstrate.
In a valley of small width the river always occupies the
lowest part of it; and it is observed, that this is seldom in
the middle of the valley, and is nearest to that side on which
the slope from the higher grounds is steepest, and this with-
278
RIVER.
Theory.
steepest
hills.
out regard to the line of its course. The river generally
adheres to the steepest hills, whether they advance into the
In narrow plain or retire from it. This general feature may be ob-
valleys n- ^ the whole globe< It is divided into compart-
ufthe her<? ments by great ranges of mountains; and it may be observ¬
ed, that the great rivers hold their course not very far from
them, and that their chief feeders come from the other side.
In every compartment there is a swell of the low countiy
at a distance from the bounding ridge of mountains; and
on the summit of this swell the principal feeders of the great
river have their sources.
The name valley is given with less propriety to these im¬
mense regions, and is more applicable to tracts of cham¬
paign land which the eye can take in at one view. Even
here we may observe a resemblance. It is not always in
the very lowest part of this valley that the river has its bed :
although the waters of the river flow in a channel below its
immediate banks, these banks are frequently higher than
the grounds at the foot of the hills. This is very distinctly
seen in Lower Egypt, by means of the canals which are
carried backward from the Nile for accelerating its fertiliz¬
ing inundations. When the calishes are opened to admit
the waters, it is always observed that the districts most re¬
mote are the first covered, and it is several days before the
immediately adjoining fields partake of the blessing. This
is a consequence of that general opinion of nature by which
the valleys are formed. The river in its floods is loaded
with mud, which it retains as long as it rolls rapidly along
its limited bed, tumbling its waters over and over, and tak¬
ing up in every spot as much as it deposits: but as soon as
it overflows its banks, the very enlargement of its section
diminishes the velocity of the water ; and it may be observ¬
ed still running in the track of its bed with great velocity,
while the waters on each side are stagnant at a very small
distance: therefore the water, on getting over the banks, must
deposit the heaviest, the firmest, and even the greatest part
of its burden, and must become gradually clearer as it ap¬
proaches the hills. Thus a gentle slope is given to the val¬
ley in a direction which is the reverse of what one would
expect. It is, however, almost always the case in wide val¬
leys, especially if the great river comes through a soft coun¬
try. The banks of the brooks and ditches are observed to
be deeper as they approach the river, and the merely super¬
ficial drains run backwards from it.
ucu We have already observed that the enlargement of the
of rivers is bed of a river, in its approach to the sea, is not in propor-
enlarged tjon t0 the increase of its waters. This would be the case
near the even jf the velocity continued the same; and, therefore,
sea’ since the velocity increases in consequence of the greater-
energy of a large body of water, which we now understand
distinctly, a still smaller bed is sufficient for conveying all
the water to the sea.
the water This general law is broken, however, in the immediate
being neighbourhood of the sea; because in this situation the ve-
checked by ]ocity of the water is checked by the passing flood-tides of
the tides tbe ocean> As the whole waters must still be discharged,
they require a larger bed, and the enlargement will be
chiefly in width. The sand and mud are deposited when
the motion is retarded. The depth of the mouth of the
channel is therefore diminished. It must therefore become
wider. If this be done on a coast exposed to the force of
a regular tide, which carries the waters of the ocean across
the mouth of the river, this regular enlargement of the
mouth will be the only consequence, and it will generally
widen till it washes the foot of the adjoining hills ; but if
there be no tide in the sea, or a tide which does not set
across the mouth of the river, the sands must be deposited
at the sides of the opening, and become additions to the
shore, lengthening the mouth of the channel. In this shel¬
tered situation, every trivial circumstance will cause the
river to work more on particular parts of the bottom, and
The bed
cf the
ocean.
deepen the channel there. This keeps the mud suspended The
in such parts of the channel, and it is not deposited till the '''■“■7
stream has shot farther out into the sea. It is deposited
on the sides of those deeper parts of the channel, and in¬
creases the velocity in them, and thus still farther protracts
the deposition. Rivers so situated will not only lengthen
their channels, but will divide them, and produce islands at
their mouths. A bush, a tree torn up by the roots by a
mountain torrent, and floated down the stream, will thus
inevitably produce an island; and rivers in which this is
common will be continually shifting their mouths. The
Mississippi is a most remarkable instance of this. It has a
long course through a rich soil, and disembogues itself into
the bay of Mexico, in a place where there is no passing
tide, as may be seen by comparing the hours of high water
in different places. No river that we know carries down
its stream such numbers of rooted-up trees ; they fiequently
interrupt the navigation, and render it always dangerous in
the night-time. This river is so beset with flats and shift¬
ing sands at its mouth, that the most experienced pilots are
puzzled ; and it has protruded its channel above fifty miles
in the short period that we have known it. The discharge
of the Danube is very similar : so, is that of the Nile, for
it is discharged into a still corner of the Mediterranean. It
may now be said to have acquired considerable permanen¬
cy ; but much of this is owing to human industry, which
strips it as much as possible of its subsideable matter. T he
Ganges, too, is in a situation pretty similar, and exhibits
similar phenomena. The Maragnon might be noticed as
an exception; but it is not an exception. It has flowed
very far in a level bed, and its waters come pretty clear to
Para; but, besides, there is a strong transverse tide, or ra¬
ther current, at its mouth, setting to the south-east both
during flood and ebb. I he mouth of the Po is perhaps the
most remarkable of any on the surface of this globe, and
exhibits appearances extremely singular. Its discharge is
into a sequestered corner of the Adriatic. Though there
be a more remarkable tide in this gulf than in any part of
the Mediterranean, it is still but trifling, and it either sets
directly in upon the mouth of the river or retires straight
away from it. The river has many mouths, and they shift
prodigiously. There has been a general increase of the
land very remarkable. The marshes where Venice now
stands were in the Augustan age everywhere penetrable
by the fishing-boats, and in the fifth century could only
bear a few miserable huts; now they are covered with crowds
of stately buildings. Ravenna, situated on the southern¬
most mouth of the Po, was, in the Augustan age, at the
extremity of a swamp, and the road to it was along the top
of an artificial mound, made by Augustus at an immense
expense. It was, however, a fine city, containing extensive
docks, arsenals, and other massy buildings, being the .great
military port of the empire, where Augustus laid up his
great ships of war. In the Gothic times it became almost
the capital of the western empire, and was the seat of go¬
vernment and of luxury. It must therefore be supposed
to have every accommodation of opulence, and we cannot
doubt of its having paved streets, wharfs, &c.; so that its
wealthy inhabitants were at least walking dryfooted fiorn
house to house. But now it is an Italian mile from the
sea, and surrounded with vineyards and cultivated fields,
and is accessible in every direction. All this must have
been formed by depositions from the Po, flowing throng
Lombardy loaded with the spoils of the Alps, which were
here arrested, by the reeds and bulrushes of the mars
These things are in common course ; but when wells are
dug, we come to the pavements of the ancient city, an
these pavements are all on one exact level, and they
eight feet below the surface of the sea at low water. Ibis
cannot be ascribed to the subsiding of the ancient city-
This would be irregular, and greatest among the heavy
At A V r] R.
T ory.
buildings. The tomb of Theodoric remains, and the pave-
''ment round it is on a level with all the others. The lower
story is always full of water ; so is the lower story of the
cathedral to the depth of three feet. The ornaments of both
these buildings leave no room to doubt that they were for¬
merly dry ; and such a building as the cathedral could not
sink without crumbling into pieces.
It is by no means easy to account for all this. The de¬
positions of the Po and other rivers must raise the ground;
and yet the rivers must still flow over all. We must con¬
clude that the surface of the Adriatic is by no means level,
and that it slopes like a river from the Lagoon of Venice
to the eastwaid. In all probability it even slopes consider¬
ably outwards from the shore. This will not hinder the al¬
ternations of ebb and flow tide, as will be shown in its proper
place. The whole shores of this gulf exhibit most uncom¬
mon appearances.
Rn S are The last general observation which we shall make in
Cth rt ^ P^ace ‘s’ t^at t^le surface of a river is not flat, consider-
* , ed athwart the stream, but convex ; this is owing to its mo-
279
and»e ^on- Suppose a canal of stagnant water; its surface would
cau40fit.be a perfect level. But suppose it possible, by any means,
to give the middle waters a motion in the direction of its
length, they must drag along with them the waters imme¬
diately contiguous. These will move less swiftly, and will
in like manner drag the waters without them ; and thus the
water at the sides being abstracted, the depth must be less,
and the general surface must be convex across. The fact
in a running stream is similar to this; the side waters are
withheld by the sides, and every filament is moving more
slowly than the one next it towards the middle of the river,
but faster than the adjoining filament on the land side.
This alone must produce a convexity of surface. But be¬
sides this, it is demonstrable that the pressure of a running
stream is diminished by its motion, and the diminution is
proportional to the height which would produce the velocity
with which it is gliding past the adjoining filament. This
convexity must in all cases be very small. Few rivers have
the velocity nearly equal to eight feet per second, and this
inquires a height of one foot only. An author quoted by
M. Buffon says, that he has observed on the river Aveiron
an elevation of three feet in the middle during floods; but
we suspect some error in the observation.
Wini
cours
riven
forme
§ 4. Of the Windings of Rivers.
Rivers are seldom straight in their course. Formed by
tow1hand nature> they are accommodated to every change
of circumstance. They wind around what they cannot get
over, and work their way to either side according as the
resistance of the opposite bank makes a straight course
more d1fficult; and this seemingly fortuitous rambling dis¬
tributes them more uniformly over the surface of a country,
and makes them everywhere more at hand, to receive the
numberless rills and rivulets which collect the waters of our
springs and the superfluities of our showers, and to comfort
our habitations with the many advantages which cultivation
and society can derive from their presence. In their feeble
beginnings the smallest inequality of slope or consistency
is enough to turn them aside and make them ramble through
every field, giving drink to our herds and fertility to our
sou. I he more we follow nature into the minutim of her
operations, the more must we admire the inexhaustible
rertility of her resources, and the simplicity of the means
by which she produces the most important and beneficial
enects. By thus twisting the course of our rivers into ten
thousand shapes, she keeps them long amidst our fields, and
us compensates for the declivity of the surface, which
ouid otherwise tumble them with great rapidity into the
cean, loaded with the best and richest of our soil. With¬
out this, the showers of heaven would have little influence
in supplying the waste of incessant evaporation. But as Theory,
things are, the rains are kept slowly trickling along the ^
slopmg sides of our hills and steeps, winding round every
clod, nay, every plant, which lengthens their course, dimi¬
nishes their slope, checks their speed, and thus prevents
them from quickly brushing off from every part of the sur¬
face the lightest and best of the soil. The fattest of our
lolm lands would be too steep, and the rivers would shoot
along thlough our finest meadows, hurrying every thing
away with them, and would be unfit for the purposes of in¬
land conveyance, if the inequalities of soil did not make
them change this headlong course for the more beautiful
meanders which we observe in the course of the small rivers
winding through our meadows. Those rivers are in gene¬
ral the straightest in their course which are the most rapid,
and which roll along the greatest bodies of water: such are
the Rhone, the Po, the Danube. The smaller rivers con¬
tinue more devious in their progress, till they approach the
sea, and have gathered strength from all their tributary
streams.
Every thing aims at an equilibrium, and this directs even What na-
the rambling of rivers. It is of importance to understand ture left for
the relation between the force of a river and the resistanceinan toper-
which the soil opposes to those deviations from a rectilinealforo!'
course; for it may frequently happen that the general pro¬
cedure of nature may be inconsistent with our local pur¬
poses. Man was set down on this globe, and the task of
cultivating it was given him by nature, and his chief enjoy¬
ment seems to be to struggle with the elements. He must
not find things to his mind, but he must mould them to his
own fancy. Yet even this seeming anomaly is one of na¬
ture s most beneficent laws; and his exertions must still
be made in conformity with the general train of the opera¬
tions of mechanical nature; and when we have any work
to undertake relative to the course of rivers, we must be
careful not to thwart their general rules, otherwise we shall
sooner or later be punished for their infraction. Things
will be brought back to their former state, if our operations
are inconsistent with that equilibrium which is constantly
aimed at, or some new state of things which is equivalent
will soon be induced. If a well-regulated river has been
improperly deepened in some place to answer some parti¬
cular purpose of our own, or if its breadth has been impro¬
perly augmented, we shall soon see a deposition of mud
or sand choke up our fancied improvements; because, as
we have enlarged the section without increasing the slope
or the supply, the velocity must diminish, and floating
matters must be deposited.
It is true, we frequently see permanent channels where
the forms are extremely different from that which the
waters would dig for themselves in an uniform soil, and
which approaches a good deal to the trapezium described
formerly. We see a greater breadth frequently compen¬
sate for a want of depth ; but all such deviations are a sort
of constraint, or rather are indications of inequality of soil.
Such irregular forms are the works of nature; and if they
are permanent, the equilibrium is obtained. Commonly
the bottom is harder than the sides, consisting of the coarsest
of the sand and of gravel; and therefore the necessary sec-
tion can be obtained only by increasing the width. We
are accustomed to attend chiefly to the appearances which
prognosticate mischief, and we interpret the appearances
of a permanent bed in the same wray, and frequently form
very false judgments. When wre see one bank low and
flat, and the other high and abrupt, we suppose that the
waters are passing along the first in peace, and with a gentle
stream, but that they are rapid on the other side, and are
tearing away the bank; but it is just the contrary. The
bed being permanent, things are in equilibrio, and each
bank is of a form just competent to that equilibrium. If
the soil on both sides be uniform, the stream is most rapid
280
RIVER.
Theory.
on that side where the bank is low and flat, for in no other
1 form would it withstand the action of the stream; and it
cause which can be compared with friction must be greater The:
when the stream is directed against one of the banks. It^—-*
has been worn
away till its flatness compensates for the may be very difficult to state the proportion, and it would
thp strpam. The stream on the other side occupy too much of our time to attempt it; but it is suf-
oreater force of the stream. The stream on the other side occupy too muen oi our ume u> n,, uu, n, mu-
must be more gentle, otherwise the bank could not remain ficient that we be convinced that the retardation is greater
abrupt. In short, in a state of permanency, the velocity of in this case. We see no cause to increase the mean velo-
the stream and form of the bank are just suited to each city in the elbow, and we must therefore conclude that it is
other. It is quite otherwise before the river has acquired diminished. But we are supposing that the discharge con¬
its proper regimen.
Necessity A careful consideration therefore of the general features
of attend- of rivers w'hich have settled their regimen, is of use for in-
supposing
tinues the same; the section must therefore augment, or the
channel increase its transverse dimensions. The only ques¬
tion is, In what manner it does this, and what change of
ing to na- forming us concerning their internal motions, and directing form does it affect, and what form is competent to the final
ture in re- ug ^ j^Qgj effectual methods of regulating their course
gulating
the course
of rivers.
We have already said that perpendicular brims are in¬
consistent with stability. A semicircular section is the form
which would produce the quickest train of a river whose
expense and slope are given; but the banks at B and D
(fig. 16) would crumble in,
equilibrium and the consequent permanency of the bed?
Here there is much room for conjecture. M. de Buat reasons
as follows: If we suppose that the points B and C (fig. 17)
Fig. 17.
Fig. 16.
and lie at the bottom, where
their horizontal surface would
secure them from farther
change. The bed will ac¬
quire the form GcF, of equal
section, but greater width,
and with brims less shelving.
The proportion of the velocities at A and c may be the
same with that of the velocities at A and C ; but the velo¬
city at G and F will be less than it was formerly at B, C,
or D ; and the velocity in any intermediate point E, being
somewhat between those at F and c, must be less than it
w as in any intermediate point of the semicircular bed. The
velocities will therefore decrease along the border from c
towards G and F, and the steepness of the border will aug¬
ment at the same time, till, in every point of the new bor¬
der GcF, these two circumstances will be so adjusted that
the necessary equilibrium is established.
The same thing must happen in our trapezium. The
slope of the brims may be exact, and will be retained; it
will, however, be too great anywhere below, where the
velocity is greater, and the sides will be worn away till the
banks are undermined and crumble down, and the river
will maintain its section by increasing its width. In short,
no border made up of straight lines is consistent with that
gradation of velocity which will take place whenever we de¬
part from a semicircular form. And we accordingly see,
that in all natural channels the section has a curvilineal
border, with the slope increasing gradually from the bottom
to the brim.
These observations will enable us to understand how
nature operates when the inequality of surface or of tena¬
city obliges the current to change its direction, and the
river forms an elbow.
Conditions Supposing always that the discharge continues the same,
necessary and that the mean velocity is either preserved or restored,
for a per- the following conditions are necessary for a permanent
regimen.
1. The depth of water must be greater in the elbow than
anywhere else.
2. The main stream, after having struck the concave
bank, must be reflected in an equal angle, and must then be
in the direction of the next reach of the river.
3. The angle of incidence must be proportioned to the
tenacity of the soil.
manent re¬
gimen
continue on a level, and that the points H and I at the be¬
ginning of the next reach are also on a level, it is an in¬
evitable consequence that the slope along CMI must be
greater than along BEH, because the depression of H be¬
low B is equal to that of I below C, and BEH is longer than
CMI. Therefore the velocity along the convex bank CMI
must be greater than along BEH. There may even be a
stagnation and an eddy in the contrary direction along the
concave bank. Therefore, if the form of the section were
the same as up the stream, the sides could not stand on the
convex bank. When therefore the section has attained a
permanent form, and the banks are again in equilibrio with
the action of the current, the convex bank must be much
flatter than the concave. If the water is really still on the
concave bank, that bank will be absolutely perpendicular,
nay, may overhang. Accordingly, this state of things is
matter of daily observation, and justifies our
reasoning, and entitles us to say, that this
is the nature of the internal motion of the
filaments which we cannot distinctly ob¬
serve. The water moves most rapidly along
the convex bank, and the thread of the
stream is nearest to this side. Reasoning
in this way, the section, which we may suppose to have been
originally of the form aE (fig 18), assumes the shape
MBAE.
2. Without presuming to know the mechanism of the in¬
ternal motions of fluids, we know that superficial waves are
Fis. 18.
4. I here must be in the elbow an increase of slope, or of reflected precisely as if they were elastic bodies, making the
head of water, capable of overcoming the resistance occa
sioned by the elbow,
angles of incidence and reflection equal. In as far, there¬
fore, as the superficial wave is concerned in the operation, M.
Reason- 1 he reasonableness, at least, of these conditions will ap- de Buat’s second position is just. The permanencj of the
abieness of pear from the following considerations,
these con¬
ditions. change of direction in a channel which by supposition di¬
minishes the current. The diminution arising from any fleeted in the line ES will work on the bank at S, and will be
1. It is certain that force is expended in producing this the line EP (fig. 17), which makes the angle GEP = FEN-
lanfre nf dirprtinn in n rhmnnpl whieh V»v Bnnnncitinr. if the next reach has the direction EQ, MR, the wave re-
next reach requires that its axis shall be in the direction oi
. T
RIVER.
ilema
on the
condit
and tl
reason
them.
ry. reflected in the line ST, and work again on the opposite bank
""■''at T. We know that the effect of the superficial motion is
great, and that it is the principal agent in destroying the
banks of canals. So far therefore M. de Buat is right. We
cannot say with any precision or confidence how the actions
of the under filaments are modified ; but we know no rea¬
son for not extending to the under filaments what appears
so probable with respect to the surface-water.
3. The third position is no less evident. We do not
know the mode of action of the water on the bank; . but our
general notions on this subject, confirmed by common ex¬
perience, tell us that the more obliquely a stream of water
beats on any bank, the less it tends to undermine it or wash
it away. A stiff and cohesive soil therefore will suffer no
more from being almost perpendicularly buffeted by a stream
than a friable sand would suffer from water gliding along its
face. M. de Buat thinks, from experience, that a clay bank
is not sensibly affected till the angle FEB is about thirty-
six degrees.
4. Since there are causes of retardation, and we still sup¬
pose that the discharge is kept up, and that the mean velo¬
city, which had been diminished by the enlargement of the
section, is again restored, we must grant that there is pro¬
vided, in the mechanism of these motions, an accelerating
force adequate to this effect. There can be no accelerat¬
ing force in an open stream but the superficial slope. In
the present case it is undoubtedly so; because by the deep¬
ening of the bottom where there is an elbow in the stream,
we have of necessity a counter slope. Now, all this head
of water, which must produce the augmentation of velocity
in that part of the stream which ranges round the convex
bank, will arise from the check which the water gets from
the concave bank. This occasions a gorge or swell up the
stream, enlarges a little the section at BVC; and this, by
the principle of uniform motion, will augment all the velo¬
cities, deepen the channel, and put every thing again into
its train as soon as the water gets into the next reach. The
water at the bottom of this basin has very little motion, but
it defends the bottom by this very circumstance.
Such are the notions which M. de Buat entertains of this
part of the mechanism of running waters. We cannot say
ls> that they are very satisfactory, and they are very opposite
,lf to the opinions commonly entertained on the subject. Most
persons think that the motion is most rapid and turbulent
on the side of the concave bank, and that it is owing to this
that the bank is worn away till it has become perpendicular,
and that the opposite bank is flat, because it has not been
gnawed away in this manner. With respect to this general
view of the matter, these persons may be in the right; and
when a stream is turned into a crooked and yielding chan¬
nel for the first time, this is its manner of action. But M. de
Boats aim is to investigate the circumstances which obtain
in the case of a regimen; and in this view he is undoubtedly
right as to the facts, though his mode of accounting for
these facts may be erroneous. And as this is the only use¬
ful view to be taken of the subject, it ought chiefly to be
attended to in all our attempts to procure stability to the bed
of a river, without the expensive helps of masonry, &c. If
we attempt to secure permanency by deepening on the in¬
side of the elbow, our bank will undoubtedly crumble
down, diminish the passage, and occasion a more violent
action on the hollow bank. The most effectual mean of
security is to enlarge the section; and if we do this on the
inside bank, we must do it by widening the stream very
much, that we may give a very sloping bank. Our atten¬
tion is commonly drawn to it when the hollow bank is giv-
ing wuy, and with a view to stop the ravages of the stream.
Inmgs are not now in a state of permanency, but nature
is working in her own way to bring it about. This may not
suit our purpose, and we must thwart her. The phenomena
w ich we then observe are frequently very unlike to those
VOL. XIX.
281
described in the preceding paragraphs. We see a violent Theory,
tumbling motion in the stream towards the hollow bank, ''■“""v*—'
We see an evident accumulation of water on that side, and
the point B is frequently higher than C. This regorging
of the water extends to some distance, and is of itself a
cause of greater velocity, and contributes, like a head of
stagnant water, to force the stream through the bend, and
to deepen the bottom. This is clearly the case when the
velocity is excessive, and the hollow bank able to abide the
shock. In this situation the water thus heaped up escapes
where it best can; and as the water obstructed by an ob¬
stacle put in its way escapes by the sides, and there has its
velocity increased, so here the water gorged up against the
hollow bank swells over towards the opposite side, and passes
round the convex bank with an increased velocity. It de¬
pends much on the adjustment between the velocity and
consequent accumulation, and the breadth of the stream and
the angle of the elbow, whether this augmentation of velo¬
city shall reach the convex bank; and we sometimes see the
motion very languid in that place, and even depositions of
mud and sand are made there. The whole phenomena are
too complicated to be accurately described in general terms,
even in the case of perfect regimen : for this regimen is re¬
lative to the consistence of the channel; and when this is
very great, the motions may be most violent in every quar¬
ter. But the preceding observations are of importance,
because they relate to ordinary cases and to ordinary chan¬
nels.
It is evident, from M. de Buat’s second position, that the
proper form of an elbow depends on the breadth of the
stream as well as on the radius of curvature, and that every
angle of elbow will require a certain proportion between the
width of the river and the radius of the sweep. M. de Buat
gives rules and formulae for all these purposes, and shows
that in one sweep there may be more than one reflection or
rebound. It is needless to enlarge on this matter of mere
geometrical discussion. It is with the view of enabling the
engineer to trace the windings of a river in such a manner
that there shall be no rebounds which shall direct the stream
against the sides, but preserve it always in the axis of every
reach. This is of consequence, even when the bends of
the river are to be secured by masonry or piling; for we
have seen the necessity of increasing the section, and the
tendency which the waters have to deepen the channel on
that side where the rebound is made. This tends to un¬
dermine our defences, and obliges us to give them deeper
and more solid foundations in such places. But any per¬
son accustomed to the use of the scale and compasses will
form to himself rules of practice equally sure and more ex¬
peditious than M. de Buat’s formulae.
We proceed, therefore, to what is more to our purpose, Resistance
the consideration of the resistance caused by an elbow, and caused by
the methods of providing a force capable of overcoming it.an elbow'
W e have already taken notice of the salutary consequences al11^ rno(ie
arising from the rambling course of rivers, inasmuch as itcominr it
more effectually spreads them over the face of a country.COimns 1 ‘
It is no less beneficial by diminishing their velocity. This
it does both by lengthening their course, which diminishes
the declivity, and by the very resistance which they meet
with at every bend. We derive the chief advantages from
our rivers when they no longer shoot their way from pre¬
cipice to precipice loaded with mud and sand, but peace¬
ably roll along their clear waters, purified during their gen¬
tler course, and offer themselves for all the purposes of pas¬
turage, agriculture, and navigation. The more a river winds
its way round the foot of the hills, the more is the resistance
of its bed multiplied; the more obstacles it meets with in
its way from its source to the sea, the more moderate is its
velocity; and instead of tearing up the very bowels of the
earth, and digging for itself a deep trough, along w hich it
sweeps rocks and rooted-up trees, it flows with majestic
2 N
282
R I V E H.
Theory, pace even with the surface of our cultivated grounds, which
' it embellishes and fertilizes.
We may with safety proceed on the supposition, that the
force necessary for overcoming the resistance arising from
a rebound is as the square of the velocity; and it is reason¬
able to suppose it proportional to the square of the sine
of the angle of incidence, and this for the reasons given
for adopting this measure of the general Resistance of
Fluids. It" cannot, however, claim a greater confidence
here than in that application ; and it has been shown in that
article with what uncertainty and limitations it must be re¬
ceived. We leave it to our readers to adopt either this or
the simple ratio of the sines, and shall abide by the dupli¬
cate ratio with M. de Buat, because it appears by his expe¬
riments that this law is very exactly observed in tubes in
inclinations not exceeding 40°; whereas it is in these small
angles that the application to the general resistance of fluids
is most in fault. But the correction is very simple if tins
value shall be found erroneous. There can be no doubt that
the force necessary for overcoming the resistance will in¬
crease as the number of rebounds. Therefore we may express
 n V2 sin.' I
the resistance, in general, by the formula r —
in
where r is the resistance, V the mean velocity of the stream,
sin. I the sine of the angle of incidence, n the number of equal
rebounds (that is, having equal angles of incidence), and m
is a number to be determined by experiment. M. de Buat
made many experiments on the resistance occasioned by the
bendings of pipes, none of which differed from the result of
the above formula above one part in twelve; and he con¬
cludes, that the resistance to one bend may be estimated at
V2 sin‘21. The experiment was in this form. A pipe of one
3000 1 l ,
inch diameter, and ten feet long, was formed with ten re¬
bounds of 36° each. A head of water was applied to it,
which gave the water a velocity of six feet per second.
Another pipe of the same diameter and length, but without
any bendings, was subjected to a pressure of a head of wa¬
ter, which was increased till the velocity of efflux was also
six feet per second. The additional head of water was iength. We must then find by the formula '*
inches. Another of the same diameter and length, having
one bend of 24° 34', and running eighty-five inches per se¬
cond, was compared with a straight pipe having the same
velocity, and the difference of the heads of water was of
an inch. A computation from these two experiments will give
panded into a straight line; and the third portion DE '1
serves to overcome the resistance of the bends. If, there-v"
fore, we draw the horizontal line BC, and, taking the pipe
BC out of its place, put it in the position DH, with its
mouth C in H, so that DH is equal to BC, the water will
have the same velocity in it that it had before. For
greater simplicity of argument, we may suppose that when
the pipe was inserted at B, its bends lay all in a horizontal
plane, and that when it is inserted at D, the plane in which
all its bends lie slopes only in the direction DH, and is per¬
pendicular to the plane of the figure. We repeat it, the
water will have the same velocity in the pipes BC and DH,
and the resistances will be overcome. If we now prolong
the pipe DH towards L to any distance, repeating continu¬
ally the same bendings in a series of lengths, each equal to
DH, the motion will be continued with the velocity corre¬
sponding to the pressure of the column AD ; because the
declivity of the pipe is augmented in each length equal to
DH, by a quantity precisely sufficient for overcoming all the
resistances in that length; and the true slope in these cases
is BE + ED, divided by the expanded length of the pipe
BC or DH.
The analogy which wre were enabled to establish between
the uniform motion or the train of pipes and of open streams,
entitles us now to say, that when a river has bendings,
which are regularly repeated at equal intervals, its slope is
compounded of the slope which is necessary for overcoming
the resistance of a straight channel of its whole expanded
length, agreeably to the formula for uniform motion, and of
the slope which is necessary for overcoming the resistance
arising from its bending alone.
Thus, let there be a river which, in the expanded course
of 6000 fathoms, has 10 elbows, each of which has 30° of
rebound; and let its mean velocity be 20 inches in a se¬
cond. If we should learn its whole slope in this 6000 fa¬
thoms, we must first find (by the formula of uniform mo¬
tion) the slope s which will produce the velocity of 20
inches in a straight river of this length, section, and mean
depth. Suppose this to be or ^ inches, in this whole
nV2:
the
the above result, or, in English measure, r =
V2 sin.2 I
3200
very
nearly. It is probable that this measure of the resistance is
too great; for the pipe was of uniform diameter even in the
bends: whereas, in a river properly formed, where the regi¬
men is exact, the capacity of the section of the bend is in¬
creased.
Theory ap- The application of this theory to inclined tubes and to
plied to in-0pen streams is very obvious, and very legitimate and safe.
ch!)ed Let AB (fig. 19) be the whole height of the reservoir ABIK,
tn es and ^ ^ jlorizonta]l length of a pipe, containing any
number of rebounds, equal or unequal, but all regular, that
is, constructed according to the conditions formerly men¬
tioned. The whole head of
water should be conceived as Fig. 19.
performing, or as divided into
portions which perform, three
different offices. One portion,
V2
AD impels the water in-
509
slope necessary for overcoming the resistance of ten re¬
bounds of 30° each. This we shall find to be 6f inches
in the 6000 fathoms. Therefore the river must have a
slope of 26§ inches in 6000 fathoms, or yg^oo \
slope will produce the same velocity which 20 inches, or
would do in a straight-running river of the same
length.
open
streams
to the entry of the pipe with the
velocity with which it really
moves in it; another portion 1
EB is in equilibrio with the
resistances arising from the mere length of the pipe ex-
part II.—practical inferences.
Having thus established a theory of a most importantAg
part of hydraulics, which may be confided in as a Just
presentation of nature’s procedure, we shall apply it to ie c(1
examination of the chief results of every thing which a«recolll.
has contrived for limiting the operations of nature, or mo-ni¬
difying them so as to suit our particular views. Trusting prac
to the detail which we have given of the connecting pnn-enc
ciples, and the chief circumstances which co-operate m
producing the ostensible effect; and supposing that sucn
of our readers as are interested in this subject will not
think it too much trouble to make the applications in me
same detail; we shall content ourselves with merely point¬
ing out the steps of the process, and showing their foun¬
dation in the theory itself; and frequently, in place of tn
direct analysis which the theory enables us to employ i
the solution of the problems, we shall recommend a p
cess of approximation by trial and correction, sufficicniv
accurate, and more within the reach of practical engmee •
leal We are naturally led to consider in order the following
I§fjpnees. articles.
1. The efFects of permanent additions of every kind to
the waters of a river, and the most effectual methods of pre¬
venting or removing inundations.
2. The effects of weirs, bars, sluices, and keeps of every
kind, for raising the surface of a river ; and the similar ef¬
fects of bridges, piers, and every thing which contracts the
section of the stream.
3. The nature of canals ; how they differ from rivers in
respect of origin, discharge, and regimen, and what condi¬
tions are necessary for their most perfect construction.
4. Canals for draining land, and drafts or canals of deri¬
vation from the main stream. The principles of their con¬
struction, so that they may suit their intended purposes;
and the change which they produce on the main stream,
both above and below the point of derivation.
Of the Effects of Permanent Additions to the Waters of a
River.
RIVE R.
X
283
+ ooT 13^nd L ^132-7 = nearly, and 11-448 Practical
— 2-444 _ 9-004 in place of 9, whence it is inferred thatInference8-
this last value of Vs = 11- 448 is sufficiently exact. This
may serve as a specimen of the trials by which we mav
avoid an intricate analysis.
Pros IL Given the discharge D, the slope s, and the
of the bed’ 0t permanent reSimen> to foci the dimensions
Let ar be the width and y the depth of the channel, and
D
S the area of the section.
therefore = xy. The denominator s being given, we may
Ihis must be which is
, , _    O IlldV
make Vs L Vs + 1-6 = ^B, and the formula of mean
0-1)
velocity will give V =  
which we may express thus: V = (Vd
V
— 0-3 (Vd — 0*1),
-0-
■0-3),
, • Frr? wh,at h,as ^lrcady been said’ it appears that to every which Sivcs 9^ =(Vc/—0-1); and, finally,
^iles 1 thekind °f 801 or bed tbere corresponds a certain velocity of ~~ — 0-3
V roirrpnt. tnn email :*■ a: : •„ i . J
ettedoi
pies the , j   a- ^ciuiiu veiucny or
efFedof currcat> too small to hurt it by digging it up, and too great
permaent te ao°w the deposition of the materials which it is carrying
addi! is along. Supposing this known for any particular situation, and
“e quantity of water which the channel must of necessity
tm, .n-chscbarge^we may wish to learn the smallest slope which
rnust be given to this stream, that the waters may run with
the required velocity. This suggests,
Prob. I.1 Given the discharge D of a river, and V its ve¬
locity of regimen : required the smallest slope 5, and the
dimensions of its bed.
Since the slope must be the smallest possible, the bed
must have the form which will give the greatest mean
depth d, and should therefore be the trapezium formerly
described; and its area and perimeter are the same with
those of a rectangle whose breadth is twice its height h.
These circumstances gives us the equation ^ = 2h2. For
the area of the section is twice the square of the height,
and the discharge is the product of this area and the veloci¬
ty- Therefore = h and the breadth h.
The formula of uniform motion gives s
_ 297 (Vd — 0-1)
V+I>3(Vd —0-1)'
297
VB
— 0-3
_VB
+ 0-1 =1 Vd.
Having thus obtained what we call the mean depth, -we
may suppose the section rectangular. This gives d~ Xy
x+2y
Thus we have two equations, S =z xy and d =
From which we obtain
x + 2y‘
_s
2d'
2S + —. And
L Vs + 1-6
Instead of Vd—0-1, put its equal
4
2 0 1, and every thing being known in the second
side of this equation, we easily get the value of s by a few
trials atter the following manner : Suppose that the second current W =
side isjqual to any number, such as 9. First suppose that
s whence s — 81. Then the hyperbolic logarithm
_ 8iJhJJL or V82-6 is 2-21. Therefore we have Vi
having the breadth x and area S, we have y = ~. And then
X
we may change this for the trapezium often mentioned
Ihese are the chief problems on this part of the subject
and they enable us to adjust the slope and channel of a
river which receives any number of successive permanent
additions by the influx of other streams. This last informs
us of the nse which a new supply will produce, because the
additional supply will require additional dimensions of the
1 anij j ’ and aS tb^s *s not suPPosed to increase in breadth
the addition will be in depth. The question may be pro¬
posed in the following problem. 1
Pros. III. Given the slope i, the depth and the base of
a rectangular bed (or a trapezium), and consequently the
discharge D, to find how much the section will rise if the
discharge be augmented by a given quantity.
Let /i be the height after the augmentation, and w the
width for the rectangular bed. We have in any uniform
297 + 0-1. Raising this to a square,
VB
-0-3
      V. rr ^ iio-vc; V O
been - V" 9~2'21 =6'79 5 whereas it should have
~9. Therefore say 6-79: 9=: 9: 11-9 nearly. Now
suppose_that^V« is = 11-9, whence « = 141-6. Then
~ ~ L V143-2=2-482 nearly, and 11-9—2-482
, whereas it should be 9. Now we find that changing
6h79VtiUeQ°/n8 * fr°m 9vt0 11,9 has chanSed the answer from
made a 1, 6 * 8’ a'lange °f 2'9 in our assumption has
of 0-4Oft 'wige ° 2’618 in the answer’ and bas left an error
m u 4U8. Therefore say 2-618 : 0-408 = 2-9 : 0-450 Then
taning 0-452 from 11-9,'we have, for our ne^ assumption
or vaue of Vs, 11-448, whence s — 131-1. Now 131-1
and putting for d and V their values —^— and ~ and
297 w + 2/1 w/i
mahing -rp 0-3 = K, the equation becomes —~—
- f D , mV ^ . w + 2h
~ VwAK • Raising the second member to a square,
and reducing, we obtain a cubic equation, to be solved in
the usual manner.
But the solution would be extremely complicated. We
may obtain a very expeditious and exact approximation
irom this consideration, that a small change in one of the
dimensions of the section will produce a much greater
change in the section and the discharge than in the mean
used in place ^ exanTles tlie measures are expressed in French inches. For English inches the co-efficient 307 must be
284
RIVER.
Practical depth d. Having therefore augmented the unknown
Inferences, dimension, which is here the height, make use or this to
  v   form a new mean depth, and then the new equation
  _|_0,1 will give us another value of h,
Or we might have made the same assumption by the re- Pracj |
mark also formerly made on this case, that the squares oflnMi
/297
w h '
VB
—03^
which will rarely exceed the truth by -fo. This serves (by
the same process) for finding another, which will common¬
ly be sufficiently exact. We shall illustrate this by an ex-
Let there be a river whose channel is a rectangle 150
feet wide and six feet deep, and which discharges 1500
cubic feet of water per second, having a velocity of twen¬
ty inches, and slope of or about rS of .an mc l Y1
100 fathoms. How much will it rise if it receives an ad¬
dition which triples its discharge ? and what will be its ve-
locity ?
If the velocity remained the same, its depth would be
tripled ; but we know by the general formula that its velo¬
city will be greatly increased, and therefore its depth will
not be tripled. Suppose it to be doubled, and to become
twelve feet. This will give e? == 10-34483, or 124-138
inches ; then the equation Vd—0-1 = ~ or
the discharges are nearly as the cubes of the heights, or
15002: 45002 = 63: 12-483.
And in making these first guesses, we shall do it more
exactly, by recollecting that a certain variation of the mean
depth d requires a greater variation of the height, and the
increment will be to the height nearly as half the height
to the width, as may easily be seen. Therefore, if we add
to 12-48 its Tvy th part, or its 24th part, viz. 0-52, we have
150
13 for our first assumption, exceeding the truth only an
inch and a half. We mention these circumstances, that
those who are disposed to apply these doctrines to the so¬
lution of practical cases may be at no loss when one oc¬
curs of which the regular solution requires an intricate
analysis.
It is evident that the inverse of the foregoing problems The ii
will show the effects of enlarging the section of a river, verse c
that is, will show how much its surface will be sunk by any the pit
proposed enlargement of its bed. It is therefore needlessb,lems
to propose such problems in this place. Common sense
shows;
effects
to h
directs us to make these enlargements in those parts of theenjargj
river where their effect will be greatest, that is, where it isthesec
shallowest when its breadth greatly exceeds its depth, orofthec
h —
D
w
a/B = 107-8, D = 4500 X 1728 = 7776000 cubic inches,
w = 1800 inches, ^/d — 0-1 = 11-0417,will give/t = 159-33
inches or 13-276 feet; whereas it should have been 12. I his
shows that our calculated value of d was too small. Let us
therefore increase the depth by 0-9, or make it 12-9, and re¬
peat the calculation. This will give us— 0-1 _ 11-3927,
and h = 12-867, instead of 13-276. Therefore, augment¬
ing our data, 0-9 changes our answer 0-409. If we sup¬
pose these small changes to retain their proportions, we
may conclude that if 12 be augmented by the quantity
x X 0-9, the quantity 13-276 will diminish by the quantity
x X 0-409. Therefore, that the estimated value of h may
agree with the one which results from the calculation, we
must have 12 -f- a; X 0-9 — 13-276 — xX. 0-409. This
will give a:= 0-9748; and x X 0-9 = 0-8f73;
and h = 12-8773. If we repeat the calculation with this
value of h, we shall find no change.
This value of h gives d — 131-8836 inches. If we now
compute the new velocity by dividing the new discharge
4500 by the new area 150 X 12-8773, we shall find it to be
27-95 inches, in place of 20, the former velocity.
We might have made a pretty exact first assumption,
by recollecting what was formerly observed, that when the
breadth is very great in proportion to the depth, the mean
depth differs insensibly from the real depth, or rather fol¬
lows nearly the same proportions, and that the velocities
are proportional to the square roots of the depths. Call
the first discharge d, the height h, and velocity v, and let
D, H, and V, express these things in their augmented
d r D e? D
state. We have v = V and v : V
where it is narrowest (if its depth exceed the breadth,
and in which we have which is a very rare case), or, in general, where the slope is
the smallest for a short run.
The same general principles direct us in the method ofand dir
embankments for the prevention of floods, by enabling
to ascertain the heights necessary to be given to our banks.™^
d2 D2
and v2: V2 p|i-
But by this remark «2 : V2 = h : H.
Therefore h : II —
d2
A-
D2 ,AD2
iV;""lw
He?2
A2
, andA3D2 = H3e?2,
and d2 : D2 z= A3 : H3 (a useful theorem), and H3 = -
A3D2
c/2
7a3d2 _
and II nV  
12-48.
This will evidently depend, not only on the additional ments
quantity of water which experience tells us a river brings
down during its freshes, but also on the distance at which
we place the banks from the natural banks of the river.
This is a point where mistaken economy frequently defeats
its own purpose. If we raise our embankment at some
distance from the natural banks of the river, not only will
a smaller height suffice, and consequently a smaller base,
which will make a saving in the duplicate proportion of the
height; but our wrorks will be so much the more durable
nearly, if not exactly, in the same proportion. For by thus
enlarging the additional bed which we give to the swollen
river, we diminish its velocity almost in the same pro¬
portion that we enlarge its channel, and thus diminish its
power of ruining our works. Except, therefore, in the case
of a river whose freshes are loaded with fine sand to destroy
the turf, it is always proper to place the embankment at a
considerable distance from the natural banks. Placing them
at half the breadth of the stream from its natural banks,
will nearly double its channel; and, except in the case
here mentioned, the space now detached from our fields
will afford excellent pasture.
The limits of such a work as ours will not permit us to
enter into any detail on the method of embankment, t
would require a volume to give instructions as to the ’fan¬
ner of founding, raising, and securing the dikes whic
must be raised, and a thousand circumstances which must
be attended to. But a few general observations may be
made, which naturally occur while we are considering t e
manner in which a river works in settling or altering its
channel.
It must be remarked, in the first place, that the river
will rise higher when embanked than it does while it was
allowed to spread; and it is by that means easy to con
elude to what height it will rise from the greatest heig t o
which it has been observed to rise in its floods. When a
liberty to expand over a wide valley, then it could on y
rise till it overflowed with a thickness or depth of
sufficient to produce a motion backwards into the va ej
RIVER.
tical quick enough to take off the water as fast as it was sup-
ences. plied ; and we imagine that a foot or two would suffice in
v'^'most cases. The best way for a prudent engineer will be
to observe the utmost rise remembered by the neighbours
in some gorge, where the river cannot spread out. Mea¬
sure the increased section in this place, and at the same
time recollect that the water increases in a much greater
proportion than the section; because an increase of the
hydraulic mean depth produces an increase of velocity in
nearly the duplicate proportion of the depth. But as this
augmentation of velocity will also obtain between the em¬
bankments, it will be sufficiently exact to suppose that the
section must here be increased nearly in the same propor¬
tion as at the gorge already mentioned. Neglecting this
method of information, and regulating the height of our
embankments by the greatest swell that has been observed
in the plain, will assuredly make them too low, and render
them totally useless.
A line of embankment should always be carried on by
a strict concert of the proprietors of both banks through
its whole extent. A greedy proprietor, by advancing his
own embankment beyond that of his neighbours, not only
exposes himself to risk by the working of the waters on
the angles which this will produce, but exposes his neigh¬
bours also to danger, by narrowing the section, and there¬
by raising the surface and increasing the velocity, and by
turning the stream athwart, and causing it to shoot against
the opposite bank. The whole should be as much as pos¬
sible in a line; and the general effect should be to make
the course of the stream straighter than it was before. All
bends should be made more gentle, by keeping the em¬
bankment farther from the river in all convex lines of the
natural bank, and bringing it nearer where the bank is con¬
cave. This will greatly diminish the action of the waters
on the embankment, and insure their duration. The same
maxim must be followed in fencing any brook which dis¬
charges itself into the river. The bends given at its mouth
to the two lines of embankment should be made less acute
than those of the natural brook, although by this means two
points of land are left out. And the opportunity should be
embraced of making the direction of this transverse brook
more sloping than before, that is, less athwart the direction
of the river.
It is of great consequence to cover the outside of the
dike with very compact turf closely united. If it admit
water, the interior part of the wall, which is always more
porous, becomes drenched in water, and this water acts with
its statical pressure, tending to burst the bank on the land
side, and will quickly shift it from its seat. The utmost
care should therefore be taken to make it and keep it per-
lectly tight. It should be a continued fine turf, and every
bare spot should be carefully covered with fresh sod and
rat-holes must be carefully closed up.
285
Of Straighting or Changing the Course of Rivers.
We have seen that every bending of a river requires an
^ additional slope in order to continue its train, or enable it
to convey the same quantity of water without swelling in
ind!ts be . TI>e effect of taking away any of these bends must
e- S11\k the waters of the river. It is proper, therefore,
to have it in our power to estimate these effects. It may
be desirable to gain property by taking away the sweeps
or a very winding stream ; but this may be prejudicial, by
destroying the navigation on such a river. It may also
urt the proprietors below, by increasing the velocity of the
stream, which will expose them to the risk of its overflowing,
pr o its destroying its bed, and taking a new course. Or this
increaseof velocity may be inconsistent with the regimen of
e new channel, or at least require larger dimensions than
we should have given it if ignorant of this effect.
ur principles of uniform motion enable us to answer
every question of this kind which can occur; and M. de Practical
Buat proposes several problems to this effect. The regu- Inferences,
lar solutions of them are complicated and difficult; and we^
do not think them necessary in this place, because they may
all be solved in a manner not indeed so elegant, because
indirect, but abundantly accurate, and easy to any person
familiar with those which we have already considered.
We can take the exact level across all these sweeps, and
thus obtain the whole slope. We can measure with accu¬
racy the velocity in some part of the channel which is most
remote from any bend, and where the channel itself has
the greatest regularity of form. This will give us the ex¬
pense or discharge of the river, and the mean depth con¬
nected with it. We can then examine whether this velo¬
city is precisely such as is compatible with stability in the
straight course. If it is, it is evident that if we cut off the
bends, the greater slope which this will produce will com¬
municate to the waters a velocity incompatible with the
regimen suited to this soil, unless we enlarge the width of
the stream, that is, unless we make the new channel more
capacious than the old one. We must now calculate the
dimensions of the channel which, with this increased slope,
will conduct the waters with the velocity that is necessary.
All this may be done by the foregoing problems; and we
may accomplish this most easily by steps. First, suppose the
bed the same with the old one, and calculate the velocity
for the increased slope by the general formula. Then
change one of the dimensions of the channel, so as to pro¬
duce the velocity we want, which is a very simple process.
And in doing this, the object to be kept chiefly in view is
not to make the new velocity such as will be incompatible
with the stability of the new bed.
Having accomplished this first purpose, we learn, in the
very solution, how much shallower this channel with its
greater slope will be than the former, while it discharges
all the waters. This diminution of depth must increase
the slope and the velocity, and must diminish the depth of
the river above the place where the alteration is to be made.
How far it produces these effects may be calculated by the
general formula. We then see whether the navigation will
be hurt, either in the old river up the stream, or in the new
channel. It is plain that all these points cannot be recon¬
ciled. We may make the new channel such, that it shall
leave a velocity compatible with stability, and that it shall
not diminish the depth of the river up the stream. But
having a greater slope, it must have a smaller mean depth,
and also a smaller real depth, unless we make it of a very
inconvenient form.
The same things viewed in a different light, will show us
what depression of waters may be produced by rectifying
the course of a river in order to prevent its overflowing.
And the process which we would recommend is the same
with the foregoing. We apprehend it to be quite needless
to measure the angles of rebound, in order to compute the
slope which is employed for sending the river through the
bend, with a view to supersede this by straighting the river.
It is infinitely easier and more exact to measure the levels
themselves, and then we know the effect of removing them.
Nor need we follow M. de Buat in solving problems for
diminishing the slope and velocity, and deepening the chan¬
nel of a river by bending its course. The expense of this
would in every case be enormous; and the practices which
we are about to discuss afford infinitely easier methods of
accomplishing all the purposes which are to be gained by
these changes.
Of Bars, Weirs, and Jetties, for raising the Surface of
Rivers.
We propose, under the article Water-works, to con¬
sider in sufficient practical detail all that relates to the
construction and mechanism of these and other erections
286
RIVER.
Practical
Inferences.
Problems,
examples,
and conse¬
quences of
raising the
surface of
rivers.
in water; and we confine ourselves, in this place, to the
mere effect which they will produce on the current of the
river.
We gave the name of weir or bar to a dam erected across
a river for the purpose of raising its waters, whether in or¬
der to take off a draft for a mill or to deepen the channel.
Before we can tell the effect which they will produce, we
must have a general rule for ascertaining the relation be¬
tween the height of the water above the lip of the weir or
bar, and the quantity of water which will flow over.
First, then, with respect to a weir, represented in fig. 20
and fig. 21. The latter figure more resembles their usual
Fig. 20.
Fig. 21.
form, consisting of a dam of solid masonry, or built of tim¬
ber, properly fortified with shears and banks. On the top
is set up a strong plank FR, called the wasteboard or waster,
over which the water flows. This is brought to an accu¬
rate level, of the proper height. Such voiders are fre¬
quently made in the side of a mill-course, for letting the
superfluous water run off. This is properly the waster, or
voider : it is also called an offset. The same observa¬
tions will explain all these different pieces of practice. The
following questions occur in course.
Pros. I. Given the length of an offset or wasteboard
made in the face of a reservoir of stagnant water, and the
depth of its lip under the horizontal surface of the water,
to determine the discharge, or the quantity of water which
will run over, in a second.
Let AB be the horizontal surface of the still water, and
F the lip of the wasteboard. Call the depth BF under the
surface h, and the length of the wasteboard Z. The water
is supposed to flow over into another basin or channel, so
much lower that the surface HL of the water is lower, or
at least not higher, than F.
If the water could be supported at the height BF, BF
might be considered as an orifice in the side of a vessel.
In this case, the discharge would be the same as if the
whole water were flowing with the velocity acquired from
the height fBF, or |A. And if we suppose that there is
no contraction at the orifice, the mean velocity would be
V772x|/q in English inches, per second. The
area of this orifice is Ih. Therefore the discharge would
be lh V1T2 X all being measured in inches. This is the
usual theory; but it is not an exact representation of the
manner in which the efflux really happens. The water
cannot remain at the height BF ; but in drawing towards
the wasteboard from all sides it forms a convex surface
AIH, so that the point I, where the vertical drawn from
the edge of the wasteboard meets the curve, is considerably
lower than B. But as all the mass above F is supposed
perfectly fluid, the pressure of the incumbent water is pro¬
pagated, in the opinion of M. de Buat, to the filament pass¬
ing over at F without any diminution. The same may be
said of any filament between F and I. Each tends, there¬
fore, to move in the same manner as if it were really impel¬
led through an orifice in its place. Therefore the motions
through every part of the line or plane IF are the same
as if the water were escaping through an orifice IF, made
by a sluice let down on the water, and keeping up the wa¬
ter of the reservoir to the level AB. It is beyond a doubt,
says he, that the height IF must depend on the whole
height BF, and that there must be a certain determined
proportion between them. He does not attempt to deter¬
mine this proportion theoretically, but says that his expe¬
riments ascertain it with great precision to be the propor¬
tion of one to two, or that IF is always one half of BF. He
says, however, that this determination was not by an imme¬
diate and direct measurement; he concluded it from the
comparison of the quantities of water discharged under dif¬
ferent heights of the water in the reservoir.
We cannot help thinking that this reasoning is very de¬
fective in several particulars. It cannot be inferred, from
the laws of hydrostatical pressure, that the filament at I is
pressed forward with all the weight of the column BI. The
particle I is really at the surface ; and considering it as mak¬
ing part of the surface of a running stream, it is subjected
to hardly any pressure, any more than the particles on the
surface of a cup of water held in the hand, while it is carried
round the axis of the earth and round the sun. Reasoning
according to his own principles, and availing himself of his
own discovery, he should have said that the particle at I has
an accelerating force depending on its slope only ; and then
he should have endeavoured to ascertain this slope. The mo¬
tion of the particle at I has no immediate connection with the
pressure of the column BI; and if it had, the motion would be
extremely different from what it is : for this pressure alone
would give it the velocity which M. de Buat assigns it. Nowit
is already passing through the point I with the velocity which
it has acquired in descending along the curve AI; and this
is the real state of the case. The particles are passing
through with a velocity already acquired by a sloping cur¬
rent ; and they are accelerated by the hydrostatical pressure
of the water above them. The internal mechanism of these
motions is infinitely more complex than M. de Buat here sup¬
poses ; and on this supposition, he very nearly abandons the
theory which he has so ingeniously established, and adopts
the theory of Guglielmini, which he had exploded. At the
same time, we think that he is not much mistaken when he
asserts that the motions are nearly the same as if a sluice
had been let down from the surface to I. For the filament
which passes at I has been gliding down a curved surface,
and has not been exposed to any friction. It is perhaps
the very case of hydraulics where the obstructions are the
smallest; and we should therefore expect that its motion
will be least retarded.
We have therefore no hesitation in saying, that the fila¬
ment at I is in the very state of motion which the theory
would assign to it if it were passing under a sluice, as M. de
Buat supposes. And with respect to the inferior filaments,
without attempting the very difficult task of investigating
their motions, we shall just say, that we do not see any rea¬
son for supposing that they will move slower than our author
supposes. Therefore, though we reject his theory, we ad¬
mit his experimental proposition in general; that is, we ad¬
mit that the ivhole water which passes through the plane IF
moves with the velocity (though not in the same direction)
with which it would have run through a sluice of the same
depth ; and we may proceed with his determination of the
quantity of water discharged.
If we make BC the axis of a parabola BEGK, the velo
cities of the filaments passing at I and F will be represent¬
ed by the ordinates IE and FG, and the discharge by the
area IEGF. This allows a very neat solution of the pro¬
blem. Let the quantity discharged per second be D, and
let the whole height BF be h. Let 2G be the quantity
by which we must divide the square of the mean velocity
in order to have the producing height. This will be less
than 2g, the acceleration of gravity, on account of the con-
vergency at the sides and the tendency to convergence at
the lip F. We formerly gave for its measure 702 inches,
instead of 772, and said that the inches discharged per se¬
cond from an orifice of one inch were 26*4)9, instead of - G
RIVER.
ical Let x be the distance of any filament from the horizontal
nces,line AB. An element of the orifice, therefore (for we may
give it this name), is /dx. The velocity of this element is
V2Gx, or v^G x The discharge from it is l V2Gx^ dx,
287
much on the form of the wasteboard. When it was a very Practical
thin board or considerable depth, IF was very considerably ^nferen('fs.
greater than if the board was thick, or narrow, and set on ^ J v ' ~ ^
the top of a broad dam-head, as in fig. 21.
  i ft may be proper to give the formula a form which will
and the integral of this differential or D i= / / ^/2G x2 dx correspond to any ratio which experience may discover be¬
tween BF and IF.
Thus, let IF be — BF.
n
= §£V2G x| + C. To determine the constant quantity C,
observe that M. de Buat found by experiment that IF was   f / \i\
in all cases ^ BF. Therefore D must be nothing when will be D = § Z V2G ^1 — J 3j4
The formula
x=z\hi consequently Cand the com¬
plete integral will be D = § Z ^2G F:
Now make x = h, and we have
D=|iV2G =I^V2G
But 1 —(^)2 = 06464<5, and f of this is 0431. There¬
fore, finally, D = 0-4311V2G hK _
If we now put 26*49 or 26 J for V,2G, or the velocity with
■(in-
which a head of water of one inch will impel the water over
a weir, and multiply this by 0*431, we get the following
quantity, 11*4172, or, in numbers of easy recollection, 11A-,
for the cubic inches of water per second, which runs over
every inch of a wasteboard when the edge of it is one inch
below the surface of the reservoir; and this must be multi¬
plied by A3, or by the square root of the cube of the head
of water. Thus, let the edge of the wasteboard be four inches
below the surface of the water. The cube of this is 64, of
which the square root is eight. Therefore a wasteboard of this
depth under the surface, and three feet long, will discharge
every second 8 X 36 X 11-| cubic inches of water, or 1^ cu¬
bic feet, English measure.
The following comparisons will show how much this theory
may be depended on. The first column shows the depth
of the edge of the board under the surface, the second
shows the discharge by theory, and the third the discharge
actually observed. The length of the board was 18*4 inches.
The numbers in M. de Buat’s experiments are here re¬
duced to English measure.
I). D. Theor. D. Exp.
1*778 506 524
3*199 1222 1218
4*665 2153 2155
6*753 3750 3771
E.
28*5
66*2
117*1
204*9
The last column is the cubic inches discharged in a se¬
cond by each inch of the wasteboard. The correspondence
is undoubtedly very great. The greatest error is in the
first, which may be attributed to a much smaller lateral
contraction under so small a head of water.
But it must be remarked, that the calculation proceeds
on two suppositions. The height FI is supposed 1 of BI;
and 2G is supposed 702. It is evident, that by increasing
the one and diminishing the other, nearly the same answers
may be produced, unless much greater variations of h be
examined. Both of these quantities are matters of con¬
siderable uncertainty, particularly the first; and it must be
farther remarked, that this was not measured, but deduced
from the uniformity of the experiments. We presume that
M. de Buat tried various values of G, till he found one which
gave the ratios of discharge which he observed. We beg
leave to observe, that in a set of numerous experiments
which we had access to examine, BI was uniformly much
less than ^; it was very nearly f ; and the quantity dis¬
charged was greater than what would result from M. de Buat’s
calculation. It was farther observed that IF depended very
Meantime, this theory of M. de Buat is of great value to
the practical engineer, who at present must content himself
with a very vague conjecture, or take the calculation of the
erroneous theory of Guglielmini. By that theory, the board
of three feet, at the depth of four inches, should discharge
nearly 3^ cubic feet per second, which is almost double of
what it really delivers.
We presume, therefore, that the following table will be
acceptable to practical engineers, who are not familiar with
such computations. It contains, in the first column, the depth
in English inches from the surface of the stagnant water of
a reservoir to the edge of the wasteboard. The second
column is the cubic feet of water discharged in a minute
by every inch of the wasteboard.
Depth. Discharge. Depth. Discharge.
1   0*403 10 12*748
2   1*140 11 14*707
3   2*095 12 16*758
4   3*225 13 18*895
5   4*507 14 21*117
6   5*925 15 23*419
7   7*466 16 25*800
8   9*122 17 28*258
9  10*884 18 30*786
When the depth does not exceed four inches, it will not
be exact enough to take proportional parts for the fractions
of an inch. The following method is exact.
If they be odd quarters of an inch, look in the table for
as many inches as the depth contains quarters, and take the
eighth part of the answer. Thus, for 3| inches, take the
eighth part of 23*419, which corresponds to 15 inches.
This is 2*927.
If the wasteboard is not on the face of a dam, but in a
running stream, we must augment the discharge by mul¬
tiplying the section by the velocity of the stream. But
this correction can seldom occur in practice; because in
this case the discharge is previously known, and it is h that
we want, which is the object of the next problem.
We only beg leave to add, that the experiments which
we mention as having been already made in this country,
give a result somewhat greater than this table, viz. about
iV Therefore, having obtained the answer by this table,
add to it its 16th part, and we apprehend that it will be ex¬
tremely near the truth.
When, on the other hand, we know the discharge over
a wasteboard, we can tell the depth of its edge under the
surface of the stagnant water of the reservoir, because we
have h — very nearly.
We are now in a condition to solve the problem respect¬
ing a weir across a river.
Prob. II. The discharge and section of a river being
given, it is required to determine how much the water will
be raised by a weir of the whole breadth of the river, dis¬
charging the water with a clear fall, that is, the surface of
the water in the lower channel being below the edge of
the weir.
In this case we have 2G = 731 nearly, because there
288
RIVER.
Practical will be no contraction at the sides when the weir is the
Inferences. whole breadth of the river. But, further, the water is not
now stagnant, but moving with the velocity -g, S being the
section of the river.
Therefore let a be the height of the weir from the bot¬
tom of the river, and h the height of the water above the
edo-e of the weir. We have the velocity with which the
D
-, l being the length
water approaches the weir —
of the weir or breadth of the river. Therefore the height
/ D Y
producing the primary mean velocity is '
D \ ^
The equation given a little ago will give /v-2(V ’
•431IV 2G
when the water above the weir is stagnant. Therefore,
D
Hla + h)
t D f ^ \
have^-^0.431^20) \l V2q (a + h))
when it is already moving with the velocity ^—r-ix? we
It would be
term is itself very small; and even this will be compensated, Prasu
in some degree, by the freer fall which the water will have ho¬
over the weir.
If the intended weir is not to have the whole breadth of
the river (which is seldom necessary even for the purposes
of navigation), the waters will be raised higher by the same
height of the wasteboard. The calculation is precisely the
same for this case. Only in the second term, which gives
the head of water corresponding to the velocity of the river,
l must still be taken for the whole breadth of the river,
while in the first term l is the length of the wasteboard.
Also V2G must be a little less, on account of the contrac¬
tions at the ends of the weir, unless these be avoided by
giving the masonry at the ends of the wasteboard a curved
shape on the upper side of the wasteboard. This should
not be done when the sole object of the weir is to raise
the surface of the waters. Its effect is but trifling at any
rate, when the length of the wasteboard is considerable, in
proportion to the thickness of the sheet of water flowing
over it.
The following comparisons of this rule with experiment
will give our readers some notion of its utility.1
4<SllV2Gj V/ V2g (a + h),
very troublesome to solve this equation regularly, because
the unknown quantity h is found in the second term of the
answer. But we know that the height producing the ve¬
locity above the weir is very small in comparison of h and
of a, and, if only estimated roughly, will make a very in¬
sensible change in the value of h ; and, by repeating the
operation, we can correct this value, and obtain h to any
degree of exactness.
To illustrate this by an example. Suppose a river, the
section of whose stream is 150 feet, and that it discharges
174 cubic feet of water in a second; how much will the
water's of this river be raised by a weir of the same width,
and 3 feet high.
Suppose the width to be 50 feet. This will give 3 feet
for the depth ; and we see that the water will have a clear
fall, because the lower stream will be the same as before.
The section being 150 feet, and the discharge 174, the
mean velocity is =11T6 feet rr 14 inches nearly, which
requires the height of { of an inch very nearly. This may
be taken for the second term of the value of h. Therefore
(£) v 2  
 : —I* Now V2G is, in the present case,
0'431 IV2G) 4
27*03, l is 600, and D is 174 X 1728 = 300672. There¬
fore h = 12*28 — 0*25 = 12*03 nearly. Correct this
Discharge
of the Weir
per second.
Inches.
3888
2462
1112
259
Head pro¬
ducing the
velocity at
the Weir.
Inches.
7*302
5*385
3*171
1*201
Head pro¬
ducing the
velocity
above it.
Inches.
0*625
0*350
0*116
[0*0114
Calculated
Height of
the River
above the
Wasteboard.
Inches.
6*677
5*035
3*055
1*189
Observed
Height.
Inches.
6*583
4*750
3*166
1*250
value by substituting a more accurate value of the second
term
(D \2 '
—  ) , or 0*14. This will give us h =
lV2g^a + h))
12*28 — 0*25 = 12*03 for a more accurate value, differing
from the former about j\y of an inch. It is needless to
carry the approximation farther. Thus we see that a weir
which dams up the whole of the former current of three feet
deep, will only raise the waters of this river one foot.
The same rule serves for showing how high we ought to
raise this weir in order to produce any given rise of the
waters, whether for the purposes of navigation, or for taking
off a draft to drive mills, or for any other service; for if
the breadth of the river remain the same, the water will
still flow over the weir with nearly the same depth. A
very small and hardly perceptible difference will indeed
arise from the diminution of slope occasioned by this rise,
and a consequent diminution of the velocity with which the
river approaches the weir. But this difference must always
be a small fraction of the second term of our answer ; which
It was found extremely difficult to measure the exact
height of the water in the upper stream above the waste-
board. The curvature AI extended several feet up the
stream. Indeed there must be something arbitrary in this
measurement, because the surface of the stream is not ho¬
rizontal. The deviation should be taken, not from a hori¬
zontal plane, but from the inclined surface of the river.
It is plain that a river cannot be fitted for continued na¬
vigation by weirs. These occasion interruptions; but a
few inches may sometimes be added to the wraters of a river
by a bar, which may still allow a flat-bottomed lighter or a
raft to pass over it. This is a very frequent practice in
Holland and Flanders ; and a very cheap and certain con¬
veyance of goods is there obtained by means of streams
which we would think no better than boundary ditches,
and unfit for every purpose of this kind. By means of a bar
the water is kept up a very few inches, and the stream has
free course to the sea. The shoot over the bar is prevent¬
ed by means of another bar placed a little way below it,
lying flat in the bottom of the ditch, but which may be
raised up on hinges. The lighterman makes his boat fast
to a stake immediately above the bar, raises the lower bar,
brings over his boat, again makes it fast, and, having lai
down the other bar again, proceeds on his journey. This
contrivance answers the end of a lock at a very trifling ex¬
pense ; and though it does not admit of what we are accus¬
tomed to call navigation, it gives a very sure conveyance,
which would otherwise be impossible. When the waters
can be raised by bars, so that they may be drawn off for
machinery or other purposes, they are preferable to weirs,
because they do not obstruct floating with rafts, and are
not destroyed by the ice.
Prob. III. Given the height of a bar, the depth of water
i
1 This table from M. de Buat is expressed in French measures.
Pi
Inf.
RIVER.
ical
ices
both above and below it, and the width of the river, to de¬
termine the discharge.
This is by no means so easily solved as the discharge
over a weir, and we cannot do it with the same degree of
evidence. We imagine, however, that the following^obser-
vations will not be very far from a true account of the
matter.
We may first suppose a reservoir LFBM (fig. 22) of stag¬
nant water, and that has
a wasteboard of the height Fig. 22.
AB. We may then de¬
termine, by the foregoing ^
problems, the discharge
through the plane EC.
With respect to the dis¬
charge through the part
CA, it should be equal to
the product of this part of the section by the velocity cor¬
responding to the fall EC, which is the difference of the
heights of water above and below the bar ; for, because the
difference of Ea and Cot is equal to EC, every particle a
of water in the plane CA is pressed in the direction of this
stream with the same force, viz. the weight of the column
EC. the sum of these discharges should be the whole
discharge oyer the bar; but since the bar is set up across
a running river, its discharge must be the same with that
of the river. Ihe water of the river, when it comes to the
place of the bar, has acquired some velocity by its slope or
other causes, and this corresponds to some height FE
This velocity, multiplied by the section of the river) bavin-
the height EB, should give a discharge equal to the dis¬
charge over the bar.
To avoid this complication of conditions, we may first
compute the discharge of the bar in the manner now point¬
ed out, without the consideration of the previous velocity
of the stream. This discharge will be a little too small. If
we divide it by the section FB, it will give a primary velo¬
city too small, but not far from the truth. Therefore we
shall get the height FE, by means of which we shall be
anle to determine a velocity intermediate between DG and
tH, which would correspond to a weir, as also the velocity
LH, which corresponds to the part of the section CA, which
is wholly under water. Then we correct all these quanti-
ties by repeating the operation with them instead of our
first assumptions.
M. de Buat found this computation extremely near the
hibited Ut m & cases a greater than observation ex-
We may now solve the problem in the most general terms.
• I.1*0,3- IVl G'ven the breadth, depth, and the slope of a
river, if we confine its passage by a bar or weir of a known
thegbarand t0 deteraune the rise of the waters above
The slope and dimensions of the channel bein- given
0»r formula will give us the velocity and the nuanltv of
,7™, d,sc.harge<?- The"’ ^ P™1516"1 U., find the height
heivhl!r,iabrVe ‘ I6 'V“,teb0ard' From t,le sum of these two
Heights deduct the ordinary depth of the river. The re¬
mainder is the rise of the waters. For example •
breach aT ^ ^hose ord;nary depth is 3 feet, and
breadth 40, and whose slope is 11 inch in 100 fathoms,
289
ample is M. de Boat’s, and all the measures are French.) We Practical
have also « (the height of the weir) — 72, and 2<? 724. Inferences.
Then the equation /i = f G ) s / D \2 v
VO-431/V2G/ VV%(a + A)/
be^m/‘ 7 3?'l82-. Adtl this 'o ‘he height of the weir,
o ^he depth the river above the sluice is 102-182 inches
_ 8 feet and 6-182 inches. From this take 3 feet, and there
remains 5 feet and 6-182 inches for the rise of the waters
ihere is, however, an important circumstance in this rise
of the waters, which must be distinctly understood before
we can say what are the interesting effects of this weir
I his swell extends, as we all know, to a considerable dis¬
tance up the stream, but is less sensible as w-e go awav
from the weir. What is the distance to which the swell
extends, and what increase does it produce in the depth at
different distances from the weir ?
If we suppose that the slope and the breadth of the chan¬
nel remain as before, it is plain, that as we come down the
stream from that point where the swell is insensible, the
depth of the channel increases all the way to the dam.
therefore, as the same quantity of water passes through
every section of the river, the velocity must diminish very
nearly in the same proportion that the section increases.
But this being an open stream, and therefore the velocity
being inseparably connected with the slope of the surface
it follows, that the slope of the surface must diminish all the
way from that point where the swell of the water is insen¬
sible to the dam. The surface, therefore, cannot be a
simple inclined plane, but must be concave upwards, as
represented in fig. 23,
where FKLB represents Fig- 23.
the channel of a river,
and FB the surface of " *5^“
the water running in it.
If this be kept up to A
by a weir AL, the sur¬
face will be a curve FIA,
touching the natural surface F at the beginning of the swell,
and the line AD which touches it in A will have the slope
8 corresponding to the velocity which the waters have im¬
mediately before going to the weir. We know this slope,
because we are supposed to know the discharge of the river
and its slope and other circumstances before barring it with
a dam ; and we know the height of the dam H, and there¬
fore the new velocity at A, or immediately above A, and
consequently the slope S. Therefore, drawing the horizon¬
tal lines DC, AG, it is plain that CB will be the primary
s ope of the river, and CA, the slope S corresponding to
the velocity in the immediate neighbourhood of A, be-
cause these verticals have the same horizontal distance DC.
We have therefore CB : CA = S : s very nearly, and
S s : s =z CB — CA : CA = AB : CA. there¬
fore CA =
ABxs
Hs
S — s‘
But DA = CA X S, by our
definition of slope ; therefore DA —
S — s'
,   ^ iiwn III latnoms, or
Suppose a weir on this river 6 feet high and 18 feet
Won
wide.
riveHn ffirSt, find the ^city and discharge of the
| m lts natural state; we have / = 480 inches, /i = 36,
s ~ Won- Our formula of uniform motion gives V— 23-45,
and D = 405216 cubic inches.
he contraction obtains here on the three sides of the
°r vol! xi7.G ^ therefore take V2G = 26-1. (This ex-
This is all that we can say with precision of this curve.
M. de Buat examined what would result from supposing it
an arc of a circle. In this case we should have D 4 = DF
and AF very nearly equal to 2 AD ; and as we can thus
iC •WG wko^e length FIA of the swell, and
also the distances of any part of the curve from the primi¬
tive surface FB of the river; for these will be very near¬
ly in the duplicate proportion of their distances from F.
1 hus ID will be one fourth of AB, Ac. Therefore we
should obtain the depth Id of the stream in that place.
Getting the depth of the stream, and knowing the dis¬
charge, we get the velocity, and can compare this with the
slope of the surface at I. This should be the slope of that
S n.
290
RIVER.
Practical part of the arc of the circle. Making this comparison, he
Inferences. foun(j these circumstances to be incompatible, lie touna
' that the section and swell at I, corresponding to an arc of
a circle, gave a discharge nearly one fourth too great (they
were as 405216 to 492142). Therefore the curve is sucn
that AD is greater than DF, and that it is more incurvated
at F than at A. He found, that making DA to DF as 10
to 9, and the curve FIA an arc of an ellipse whose longer
axis was vertical, would give a very nice correspondence ot
the sections, velocities, and slopes. The whole extent ot
the swell, therefore, can never be double ot AD, and must
always greatly surpass AD ; and these limits will do very
well for every practical question. Therefore, making Dr
nine tenths of AD, and drawing the chord AD, and mak¬
ing DI one half of D i, we shall be very near the truth.
Then we get the swell with sufficient precision for any point
H between F and D, by making FD2 : FH2 = ID : H/s;
and if H is between D and A, we get its distance from ie
tangent DA by a similar process. ,
It only remains to determine the swell produced in the
waters of* a river by the erection of a bridge or cleaning
sluice, which contracts the passage. This requires the so¬
lution of
Prob. V. Given the depth, breadth, and slope ot a river,
to determine the swell occasioned by the piers ot a bi idge or
sides of a cleaning sluice, which contract the passage by a
given quantity, for a given length of channel.
This swell depends on two circumstances.
1. The whole river must pass through a narrow space,
with a velocity proportionably increased ; and this requires
a certain head of water above the bridge.
2. The water, in passing the length of the piers with a
velocity greater than that corresponding to the primary
slope of the river, will require a greater slope in order to
acquire this velocity.
Let V be the velocity of the river before the erection of
the bridge, and K the quotient of the width of the river di¬
vided by the sum of the widths between the piers. If the
length of the piers, or their dimension in the direction of
the stream, is not very great, KV will nearly express the
velocity of the river under the arches ; and if we suppose
for a moment the contraction (in the sense hitherto used)
to be nothing, the height producing this velocity will be
T/’%\T2
 . But the river will not rise so high, having already
29
a slope and velocity before getting under the arches, and
V2
the height corresponding to this velocity is — ; therefore
the height for producing the augmentation of velocity is
]£2y2 y2
 . But if we make allowance for contraction, we
2g
must employ a co-efficient 2G less than 2g, and we must mul-
These are the chief questions or problems on this sub- Fra||
iect whicn occur in the practice of an engineer; and the1^* n
solutions which we have given may in every case be de-^^
pended on as very near the truth, and we are confident tent f
that the errors will never amount to one fifth of the whole the
quantity. We are equally certain, that of those who call recoil
themselves engineers, and who, without hesitation, under-meniJ
take jobs of enormous expense, not one in ten is able even
to guess at the result of such operations, unless the circum¬
stances of the case happen to coincide with those of some
other project which he has executed, or has distinctly exa¬
mined ; and very few have the sagacity and penetration
necessary for appreciating the effects of the distinguishing
circumstances which yet remain. The society established
for the encouragement of arts and manufactures could
scarcely do a more important service to the public in the line
of their institution, than by publishing in their transactions
a description of every work of this kind executed in the
kino-dom, with an account of its performance. This would
be a most valuable collection of experiments and facts.
The unlearned practitioner would find among them some¬
thing which resembles in its chief circumstances almost any
project which could occur to him in his business, and would
tell him what to expect in the case under his management;
and the intelligent engineer, assisted by mathematical know¬
ledge, and the habit of classing things together, would fre¬
quently be able to frame general rules. To a gentleman
qualified as was the Chevalier de Buat, such a collection
would be inestimable, and might suggest a theory as far
excelling his as he has excelled all other writers.
2o
tiply the height now found by . It will then become
—— pvf; (K2 — 1). This is that part of
2gJ 2G 2G v r
/K2V2
\ 2/7 2gJ 2G 2G
the swell which must produce the augmentation of velocity
With respect to what is necessary for producing the ad¬
ditional slope between the piers, let p be the natural slope
of the river (or rather the difference of level in the length
of the piers) before the erection of the bridge, and corre¬
sponding to the velocity V ; K2jo will very nearly express
the difference of superficial level for the length of the
piers, which is necessary for maintaining the velocity KV
through the same length. The increase of slope therefore is
K2p—p ~ p (K2— 1). Therefore the whole swell will be
We shall conclude this article with some observations onMoi
the methods which may be taken for rendering small rivers™®
and brooks fit for inland navigation, or at least for floatage.
We get much instruction on this subject from what hasfitfo; |
been said concerning the swell produced in a river by land
weirs, bars, or any diminution of its former section. Ourgatio
knowledge of the form which the surface of this swell affects
will furnish rules for spacing these obstructions in such a
manner, and at such distances from each other, that the
swell produced by one shall extend to the one above it.
If we know the slope, the breadth, and the depth of a
river, in the droughts of summer, and have determined on
the height of the floodgates, or keeps, which are to be set
up in its bed, it is evident that their stations are not mat¬
ters of arbitrary choice, if we would derive the greatest pos¬
sible advantage from them. .
Some rivers in Flanders and Italy are made navigable m
some sort by simple sluices, which, being shut, form maga¬
zines of water, which, being discharged by opening the
gates, raises the inferior reach enough to permit the pas¬
sage of the craft which are kept on it. After this momen¬
tary rise the keeps are shut again, the water sinks in the
lower reach, and the lighters which wrere floated throng
the shallows are now obliged to draw into those parts of the
reach where they can lie afloat till the next supply of water
from above enables them to proceed. This is a very ru e
and imperfect method, and unjustifiable at this day, w en
we know the effect of locks, or at least of double gates.
We do not mean to enter on the consideration of these con¬
trivances, and to give the methods of their construction,
in this place, but refer our readers to what has been alieacy
said on this subject in the article Navigation Inland, ana
to what will be said in the article Water-Works.
present we confine ourselves to the single point of husban
ing the different falls in the bed of the river, in such a man.
ner that there may be everywhere a sufficient depth of wa er,
and, in what we have to deliver on the subject, we s
take the form of an example to illustrate the application oi
the foregoing rules. ,
Suppose then a river forty feet wide and three feet F
RIVER.
291
, cal in the droughts of summer, with a slope of one in 4800.
I ‘ccs. This, by the formula of uniform motion, will have a velo-
' city = 23£ inches per second, and its discharge will be
405216 cubic inches, or 234^ feet. It is proposed to give
this river a depth of not less than five feet in any place, by
means of floodgates of six feet in height and eighteen feet
in width.
We first compute the height at which this body of 234£
cubic feet of water will discharge itself over the floodgates.
This we shall find by Prob. II. to be 30^ inches, to which
adding 72, the height of the gate, we have 102^ for the
whole height of the water above the floor of the gate ; the
primitive depth of the river being 3 feet, the rise or swell
5 feet 6^ inches. In the next place, we find the range or
sensible extent of this swell by Prob. I. and the observa¬
tions which accompany it. This will be found to be nearly
9177 fathoms. Now, since the primitive depth of the river
is three feet, there is only wanted two feet of addition ; and
the question is reduced to the finding what point of the
curved surface of the swell is two feet above the tangent
plane at the head of the swell, or how far this point is from
the gate. The whole extent being 9177 fathoms, and the
deviations from the tangent plane being nearly in the du¬
plicate ratio of the distances from the point of contact, we
may institute this proportion, 66^: 24 zz 91772 : 5526s.
The last term is the distance (from the head of the swell)
of that part of the surface which is two feet above the pri¬
mitive surface of the river. Therefore 9177 — 5526, or
3651 fathoms, is the distance of this part from the flood¬
gate ; and this is the distance at which the gates should be
placed from each other. No inconvenience would arise
from having them nearer, if the banks be high enough to
contain the waters; but if they are farther distant, the re¬
quired depth of water cannot be had without increasing the
height of the gates; but if reasons of conveniency should
induce us to place them nearer, the same depth may be
secured by lower gates, and no additional height will be
required for the banks. This is generally a matter of mo¬
ment, because the raising of water brings along with it the
chance of flooding the adjoining fields. Knowing the place
where the swell ceases to be sensible, we can keep the top
of the intermediate floodgate at the precise height of the
curved surface of the swell by means of the proportionality
of the deviations from the tangent to the distances from the
point of contact.
But this rule will not do for a gate which is at a greater
distance from the one above it than the 3651 fathoms
already mentioned. We know that a higher gate is requir¬
ed, producing a more extensive swell; and the one swell
does not coincide with the other, although they may both
begin from the same point A.
Nor will the curves even be si- Fig. 24.
milar, unless the thickness of
the sheet of water flowing over
the gate be increased in the same
ratio. But this is not the case,
because the produce of the river,
and therefore the thickness of the sheet of water, is constant.
But we may suppose them similar without erring more than
two or three decimals of an inch ; and then we shall have
AF : AL =/F : DL ; from which, if we take the thickness
of the sheet of water already calculated for the other gates,
there will remain the height of the gate DL.
By following these methods, instead of proceeding by
random guesses, we shall procure the greatest depth of
water at the smallest expense possible.
But there is a circumstance which must be attended to,
and which, if neglected, may in a short time render all our
works useless. These gates must frequently be open in the
time of freshes; and as this channel then has its natural
Mope increased in every reach by the great contraction of
the section in the gates, and also rolls along a greater body Practical
of water, the action of the stream on its bed must be in- Inferences,
creased by the augmentation of velocity which these cir-
cumstances will produce; and although we may say that
the general slope is necessarily secured by the cills of the
floodgates, which are paved with stone or covered with
planks, yet this will not hinder this increased current from
digging up the bottom in the intervals, undermining the
banks, and lodging the mud and earth thus carried off in
places where the current meets with any check. All these
consequences will assuredly follow if the increased velocity
is greater than what corresponds to the regimen relative to
the soil in which the river holds on its course.
In order therefore to procure durability to works of this and oflo-
kind, which are generally of enormous expense, the local cal circum-
circumstances must be most scrupulously studied. It is Stances,
not the ordinary hurried survey of an engineer that will
free us from the risk of our navigation becoming very
troublesome by the rise of the waters being diminished from
their former quantity, and banks formed at a small distance
below every sluice. We must attentively study the nature
of the soil, and discover experimentally the velocity which
is not inconsistent with the permanency of the channel. If
this be not a great deal less than that of the river when ac¬
celerated by freshes, the regimen may be preserved after
the establishment of the gate, and no great changes in the
channel will be necessary ; but if, on the other hand, the
natural velocity of the river during its freshes greatly ex¬
ceeds what is consistent with stability, we must enlarge the
width of the channel, that we may diminish the hydraulic
mean depth, and along with this the velocity. Therefore,
knowing the quantity discharged during the freshes, divide
it by the velocity of regimen, or rather by a velocity some¬
what greater (for a reason which will appear by and by),
the quotient will be the area of a new section. Then tak¬
ing the natural slope of the river for the slope which it will
preserve in this enlarged channel, and after the cills of the
floodgates have been fixed, we must calculate the hydrau¬
lic mean depth, and then the other dimensions of the chan¬
nel. And, lastly, from the known dimensions of the chan¬
nel and the discharge (which we must now compute), we
proceed to calculate the height and the distances of the
floodgates, adjusted to their widths, which must be regu¬
lated by the room which may be thought proper for the free
passage of the lighters which are to ply on the river. An
example will illustrate the whole of this process.
Suppose then a small river having a slope of two inches illustrated
in 100 fathoms, or which is a very usual declivity of by an ex-
such small streams, and whose depth in summer is two feet, ample,
but subject to floods which raise it to nine feet. Let its
breadth at the bottom be eighteen feet, and the base of its
slanting sides four thirds of their height. All of these di¬
mensions are very conformable to the ordinary course of
things. It is proposed to make this river navigable in all
seasons by means of keeps and gates placed at proper dis¬
tances ; and we want to know the dimensions of a channel
which will be permanent in a soil which begins to yield to
a velocity of eighty inches per second, but will be safe un¬
der a velocity of twenty-four.
The primitive channel having the properties of a rect¬
angular channel, its breadth during the freshes must be B
= 30 feet, or 360 inches, and its depth h nine feet or 108
inches; therefore its hydraulic mean depth d =
Bh
B + 24
= 6L88 inches. Its real velocity, therefore, during the
freshes, will be 38’9447 inches, and its discharge 1514169
cubic inches or 876£ cubic feet per second. We see there¬
fore that the natural channel will not be permanent, and will
be very quickly destroyed or changed by this great velo¬
city. We have two methods for procuring stability, viz.
292
RIVE R.
Practical diminishing the slope, or widening the bed. The first me-
Pife- ences. t]]0d will require the course to be lengthened in the pro-
portion of 242 to 38-942, or nearly of 38 to 100. The ex¬
pense of this would be enormous. The second method will
require the hydraulic mean depth to be increased nearly in
the same proportion (because the velocities are nearly as
This will evidently be much less costly and, even
Vs J
to procure convenient room for the navigation, must be
preferred.
We must now observe, that the great velocity of which
w'e are afraid obtains only during the winter floods. It
therefore we reduce this to 24? inches, it must happen that
the autumnal freshes, loaded with sand and mud, will cer¬
tainly deposit a part of it, and choke up our channel below
the floodgates. We must therefore select a mean velocity
somew hat exceeding the regimen, that it may carry off these
depositions. We shall take 27 inches, which will produce
this effect on the loose mud without endangering our chan¬
nel in any remarkable degree.
Therefore we have, by the theorem for uniform motion,
^ ^ d — O-lj. Calcu-
Hence
These being computed, the stations of the gates may be Pmcti-
assigned, which will secure four feet of w'ater behind each Inferen
in summer. We need not give these computations, hav-""
ing already exemplified them all with relation to another
297 (Vd-
V = 21 = ^ 
Vs —LVs+ 1-6
lating the divisor of this formula, we find it — 55-88 4.
■ _ 27
Vd — 0-1=  ” 5-34?83, and therefore c?
■ 0-
— 30-1-
55*884?
Having thus determined the hydraulic mean
depth, we find the area S of the section by dividing the
discharge 1514169 by the velocity 27. This gives us
56080*368. Then we get the breadth B by the formula for-
lerly given B = ^— 2S + 1802*296 inches,
Station of
the flood¬
gates, &c.
or 150*19 feet, and the depth h zz 31*115 inches
With these dimensions of the section, we are certain that
the channel will be permanent; and the cills of the flood¬
gate being all fixed agreeably to the primitive slope, we
need not fear that it will be changed in the intervals by the
action of the current. The gates being all open during the
freshes, the bottom will be cleared of the whole deposited
mud.
We must now station the floodgates along the new chan¬
nel, at such distances that we may have the depth of water
which is proper for the lighters that are to be employed in
the navigation. Suppose this to be four feet. We must
first of all learn how high the water will be kept in this new
channel during the summer droughts. There remained in
the primitive channel only twb feet, and the section in this
case had twenty feet eight inches mean width ; and the dis¬
charge corresponding to this section and slope ^s> by
the theorem of uniform motion, 130849 cubic inches per
second. To find the depth of water in the new channel
corresponding to this discharge and the same slope, we must
take the method of approximation formerly exemplified, re¬
membering that the discharge D is 130849, and the breadth
B is 1760*8 at the bottom (the slant sides being four thirds).
This examp.e not only illustrates the method of proceed¬
ing, so as to be insured of success, but also gives us a pre¬
cise instance of what must be done in a case which cannot
but frequently occur. We see what a prodigious excava¬
tion is necessary in order to obtain permanency. We have
been obliged to enlarge the primitive bed to about thrice
its former size, so that the excavation is at least two thirds
of what the other method required. The expense, how¬
ever, will still be vastly inferior to the other, both from the
nature of the work and the quantity of ground occupied.
At all events, the expense is enormous, and what could
never be repaid by the navigation, except in a very rich
and populous country.
There is another circumstance to be attended to. The
navigation of this river by sluices must be very desultory,
unless they are extremely numerous, and of small heights.
The natural surface of the swell being concave upwards, the
additions made by its different parts to the primitive height
of the river decrease rapidly as they approach to the place
A (fig. 23), where the swell terminates; and three gates,
each of w hich raises the water one foot when placed at the
proper distance from each other, will raise the water much
more than two gates at twice this distance, each raising the
water two feet. Moreover, when the elevation produced
by a floodgate is considerable, exceeding a very few inches,
the fall and current produced by the opening of the gate is
such that no boat can possibly pass up the river, and it
runs imminent risk of being overset and sunk in the at¬
tempt to go down the stream. This renders the navigation
desultory. A number of lighters collect themselves at the
gates, and w-ait their opening. They pass through as soon
as the current becomes moderate- This would not, per¬
haps, be very hurtful in a regulated navigation, if they could
then proceed on their voyage. But the boats bound up the
river must stay on the upper side of the gate which they
have just now passed, because the channel is now too shal¬
low for them to proceed. Those bound down the river can
only go to the next gate, unless it has been opened at a
time nicely adjusted to the opening of the one above it.
The passage downwards mat/, in many cases, be continued,
by very intelligent and attentive lockmen; but the passage
up must be exceedingly tedious. Nay, we may say, that
while the passage downwards is continuous, it is but in a
very few cases that the passage upward is practicable. 11
we add to these inconveniences the great danger of passes
during the freshes, while all the gates are open, and the
immense and unavoidable accumulations of ice, on occasion
even of slight frosts, we may see that this method of pro¬
curing an inland navigation is amazingly expensive, desul¬
tory, tedious, and hazardous. It did not therefore merit,
on its own account, the attention we have bestowed on it.
But the discussion was absolutely necessary, in order to
show what must be done in order to obtain effect and per¬
manency, and thus to prevent us from engaging in a pro-
These data will produce a depth of water — 6( inches. To ject which, to a person not duly and confidently informed
obtain four feet therefore behind any of the floodgates, we
must have a swell of 41| inches produced by the gate be¬
low.
We must now determine the width of passage which
must be given at the gates. This will regulate the thick¬
ness of the sheet of water which flows over them when
shut; and this, with the height of the gate, fixes the swell
is so feasible and promising. Many professional engineers
are ready, and with honest intentions, to undertake such
tasks; and by avoiding this immense expense, and content¬
ing themselves with a much narrower channel, they suc¬
ceed : witness the old navigation of the river Mersey. But
the work has no duration ; and, not having been found very
serviceable, its cessation is not matter of much regret. The
at the gate. The extent of this swell, and the elevation of work is not much spoken of during its continuance. It 1S
every point of its curved surface above the new surface of soon forgotten, as well as its failure, and engineers are found
the river, require a combination of the height of swell at the ready to engage for such another.
floodgate, with the primitive slope and the new* velocity. It wras not a very refined thought to change this imper-
li L
Int
tioi
loci
RIVE R.
Pii ical feet mode for another free from most of its inconveniences.
Jnfpces. A boat was brought up the river, through one of these
gates, only by raising the waters of the inferior reach, and
depressing those of the upper: and it could not escape ob¬
servation, that when the gates were far asunder, a vast body
of water must be discharged before this could be done, and
that it would be a great improvement to double each gate,
with a very small distance between. Thus a very small
quantity of water would fill the interval to the desired height,
and allow the boat to come through ; and this thought was
the more obvious, from a similar practice having preceded
it, viz. that of navigating a small river by means of double
bars, the lowest of which lay flat in the bottom of the river,
but could be raised up on hinges. We have mentioned
this already; and it appears to have been an old practice,
being mentioned by Stevinus in his valuable work on
sluices, published about the beginning of the seventeenth
century; yet no trace of this method is to be found of much
older dates. It occurred, however, accidentally, pretty often
in the flat countries of Holland and Flanders,’ which being
the seat of frequent wars, almost every town and village was
fortified with wet ditches, connected with the adjoining
rivers. Stevinus mentions particularly the works of Conde,
as having been long employed, with great ingenuity, for
rendering navigable a very long stretch of the Scheldt.
The boats were received into the lower part of the fossee,
which was separated from the rest by a stone batardeau,
serving to keep up the waters in the rest of the fossee about
eight feet. In this were a sluice and another dam, by which
the boats could be taken into the upper fossee, which com¬
municated with a remote part of the Scheldt, by a long
canal. This appears to be one of the earliest locks.
In the first attempt to introduce this improvement in the
navigation of rivers already kept up by weirs, which gave a
partial and interrupted navigation, it was usual to avoid the
great expense of the second dam and gate, by making the
lock altogether detached from the river, within land, and
having its basin parallel to the river, and communicating
by one end with the river above the weir, and by the other
end with the river below the w7eir, and having a floodgate
at each end. This was a most ingenious thought; and it
was a prodigious improvement, free from all the inconve¬
niences of currents, ice, &c. &c. It was called a schlussel,
or lock, with considerable propriety ; and this was the ori¬
gin of the word sluice, and of our application of its transla¬
tion lock. 1 his practice being once introduced, it was not
long before engineers found that a complete separation of
the navigation from the bed of the river wras not only the
most perfect method for obtaining a sure, easy, and unin¬
terrupted navigation, but that it wras in general the most
economical in its first construction, and subject to no risk
ot deterioration by the action of the current, which was
here entirely removed. Locked canals, therefore, have al-*
most entirely supplanted all attempts to improve the natu¬
ral beds of rivers; and this is hardly ever attempted ex-
cep1 in the flat countries, where they can hardly be said to
uilter from horizontal canals.
The attentive reader must have observed our anxiety to
render this dissertation worthy of his notice, bv making it
practically useful. We have on every occasion appealed
rom all theoretical deductions, however specious and well
supported, to fact and observation of those spontaneous
phenomena of nature which are continually passing in re¬
view before us in the motion of running waters. Resting
m is manner our whole doctrines on experiment, on the
lServ^n of what rea% happens, and what happens in a
y which we cannot or do not fully explain, these sponta-
neous operations of nature came insensibly to acquire a
Sn tv,.1' value„ln our Agination. It has also happened
course of our reflections on these subjects, that these
293
Concl
lugob
vatioii
phenomena have frequently presented themselves to our Practical
yiew in groups, not less remarkable for the extent and the lnferences*
importance of their consequences, than for the simplicity, 's,“—-v—
and frequently the seeming insignificancy, nay frivolity, of
the means employed. Our fancy has therefore been some¬
times warmed with the view of a something, an
Lns agitans molem, et niaguo se corpore miscens.
I his has sometimes made us express ourselves in a way
that is susceptible of misinterpretation, and may even lead
into a mistake of our meaning.
We therefore find ourselves obliged to declare, that bv
the term Nature, which we have so frequently used con
amove, we do not mean that indescribable idol which the
self-conceit and vanity of some philosophers or pretend¬
ed philosophers have set up and ostentatiously worshipped,
that ens rationis, that creature of the imagination, w hich
has long been the object of cool contemplation in the clo¬
set of the philosopher, and has shared his attention with
many other playthings of his ever-working fancy. I3y Na¬
ture we mean that admirable system of general laws, by
which the adored Author and Governor of the universe has
thought fit to connect the various parts of this wonderful
and goodly frame of things, and to regulate all their ope¬
rations.
We are not afraid of continually appealing to the laws
of nature ; and, as we have already observed in the article
Philosophy, we consider these general laws as the most
magnificent displays of Infinite Wisdom, and the contem¬
plation of them as the most cheering employment of our
understandings.
Igneus est illis vigor et ccelestis origo
Seminibus.
At the same time we despise the cold-hearted philosopher
who stops short here, and is satisfied, perhaps inwardly
pleased, that he has completely accounted for every thin(r
by the laws of unchanging nature; and we suspect tha't
this philosopher would analyse with the same frigid inge¬
nuity, and explain by irresistible aro^yri, the tender attach¬
ment of her whose breast he sucked, and who by many
anxious and sleepless nights preserved alive the puling in¬
fant. But let us rather listen to the words of him who was
the most sagacious observer and the most faithful inter¬
preter of nature’s laws, our illustrious countryman Sir Isaac
Newton.
“ Elegantissima haecce rerum compages non nisi consilio
et dominio entis sapientissimi et potentissimi oriri potuit.
Omnia, simili constructa consilio, suberunt unius dominio.
Hie omnia regit, non ut anima mundi, sed ut universorum
dominus. Propter dominium suum, dominus deus Travro-
ugavug nuncupatur. Deus ad servientes respicit, et deltas
est dominatio dei, non in corpus proprium, uti sentiunt qui-
bus deus est natura seu anima mundi, sed in servos. Deus
summus est ens eternum, infinitum, absolute perfectum.
Ens utcunque perfectum, at sine dominio, non est dominus
deus. Hunc cognoscimus, solummodo per proprietates ejus
et attributa. Attribuuntur ut ex phenomenis dignoscuntur.
Phenomena sunt sapientissimas et optima; reruni structura>,
atque causae finales. Hunc admiramur ob perfectiones;
hunc veneramur et colimus ob dominium.”
Our readers will probably be pleased with the following
list of authors who have treated professedly of the motions
of rivers : Guglielmini JJe Fluviis et Castellis Aquarum 
Danubius Illustratus ; Grandi De Castellis ; Zendrini De
Motu Aquarum ; Frisius De Fluviis ; Lecchi, Idrostaticai
Idraulica ; Michelotti, Sperienze Idrauliche ; Belidor, Ar¬
chitecture Hydraulique ; Bossut, Hydrodynamique ; Buat,
Hydraulique; Silberschlag, Theorie des Fleuves; Lettres
de M. L’Epinasse an P. Frisi touchanl sa Theorie des
Fleuves ; Tableau des Principales Rivieres du Monde, par
234 R O A
River- Genette ; Stevins Sur les Ecluses ; Traite des Ecluses, pai
Water Boulard, qui a remporte le Prix de VAcad, de Lyons ; Bleis-
II wyck, Dissertatio de Aggeribus ; Bossut et Viallet Sur la
Road- constrUction des Digues ; Stevin, Hydrostatica ; Tielraan
- makmg‘ van der Horst, Theatrum Machinarum Universale; De la
Lande Sur la Canaux de Navigation. Racolta di Autori
chi trattano del Moto dell’ Acque, 3 tom. 4to ; Firenze,
1723. This most valuable collection contains the writings
of Archimedes, Albizi, Galileo, Castelli, Michelini, Borelli,
Montanari, Viviani, Cassini, Guglielmini, Grandi, Manfredi,
Picard, and Narduci; and an account of the numberless
works which have been carried on in the embankment ol
the Po. A continuation of this collection, containing many
important papers, was published at Bologna in 1823, in six
R O A
volumes. Coulomb, Experiences sur la Coherence des Fluides,
&c. in volume iii. of the Memoirs of the Institute, Class of ^
Physical and Mathematical Sciences ; Girard, Essai sur le
Mouvement des Eaux courantes, Memoires sur le Canal de
I'Ourcq, and Memoires sur les Canaux de Navigation;
Prony, Nouvelle Architecture Hydraulique, and Recherches
Physico-Mathematiques sur la Theorie des Eaux courantes ;
Venturi Sur la Communication laterale du Mouvement des
Fluides ; Eytelwein, Handbuch der Mechanik und der Hy-
draulik; De Fontaine, Travaux du Fleuve du Rhin; Bi«
done, Experiences sur la Depense des Reservoirs, in volume
xxviii. of the Memoirs of the Academy of Turin ; Rennie’s
two Reports on Hydraulics, in the Transactions of the third
and fourth meetings of the British Association, (b. b. b.)
River-Water. This is generally much softer and overcome, as relating to the ultimate objects for which
better accommodated to economical purposes than spring roads are constructed, may naturally constitute the first
water. For though rivers proceed originally from springs, section of an essay on this subject; the second will natu-
vet by their rapid motion, and by being exposed during rally comprehend the best arrangement of the means for
a lone course to the influence of the sun and air, the attaining those objects, by the form and construction of
earthy and metallic salts which they contain are decom- such roads and pavements as appear to be the most eligible
nosed the acid flies off, and the terrestrial parts precipi- under various circumstances; and the third may be devot-
tate to the bottom. Rivers are also rendered softer by the ed to some historical illustrations of the principal roads
vast quantity of rain water, which, passing along the sur- which exist, or which have existed, in various parts of the
face of the earth, is conveyed into their channels. But all world.
rivers carry with them a great deal of mud and other im- Sect. I.— Of the Objects of Roads.
purities; and when they flow near large and populous towns,
they become impregnated with a number of heterogeneous The grand object of all modern roads is the accommo-
substances, in which state the water is certainly unfit for dation of wheel-carriages. The construction of footpaths
many purposes; yet, by remaining for some time at rest, all and of bridle-roads is so simple as to require very little se-
the feculencies subside, and the water becomes sufficiently parate consideration; except that, in cities and towns, the
pure for most of the common purposes of life. River-water convenience of the inhabitants requires that some pains
may be rendered still purer by filtration through sand and should be taken to avoid dust, and has generally been a
reason for employing pavements in preference to gravel
& RIVERHEAD, a town of the county of Kent, in the roads, which might in some other respects be more eligible,
lathe of Sutton and hundred of Codsheath, twenty-two For facilitating the motion of carriages, the most essen-
miles from London. The river Darent, which rises within tial requisite is to have the road as smooth, and as hard,
the parish, has given its name to it. In this parish is the and as level as possible. The wheels of carriages are prin-
elegant seat of Lord Amherst, called Montreal. Anew cipally useful in diminishing the friction of the materials;
church in the Gothic style has been lately erected and con- a dray sliding without wheels, even on a railroad of greas-
secrated. It is situated within the parish of Seven Oaks, ed and polished iron, would have to overcome a friction as
The population was in 1801, 750; in 1811, 1012; in much greater than that of the wheel on its axle, as the dia-
1821, 1216 ; and in 1831, 1420. meter of the wheel is greater than that of the axle, Hie
RIVOLI, a city of the kingdom of Sardinia, in Italy, in wheels assist us also in drawing a carriage over an obstacle;
the province of Piedmont. It is situated at the south foot for the path which the axis of the wheel describes is always
of the Alps, on the great road over those mountains by smoother and less abrupt than the surface of a rough 10a ,
way of Mount Cenis. A remarkable castle near it was on which the wheel rolls, and so much the smoother as the
long the place of residence of King Victor Amadeus, after wheel is larger, since the portions of larger circles, which
his abdication of the throne, ahd he died there in 1732. The constitute the path in question, are less curved than those
prospect from this castle, comprehending a view of the of smaller ones.
city of Turin, and the beautiful country surrounding it, is But in all common cases of roads not extremely hard, by
peculiarly exciting. The population consists of 6100 inha- far the greater part of the resistance actually exhibited by
bitants, who are occupied in the manufactures of silk, linen, a road to the motion of a carriage, is that which depends
and woollen goods, of various kinds. on the continual displacement of a portion of the materials
ROAD, in Navigation, a bay or place of anchorage, at from their inelasticity, which causes them to exert a conti-
some distance from the shore, whither vessels occasionally nual pressure on the fore part of the wheel, without rising
repair to receive intelligence, orders, or necessary supplies, behind it to propel it forwards by its re-action, as an elastic
or to wait for a fair wind. The excellence of a road con- substance would do. Hence, in a soft sand, although the
sists chiefly in its being protected from the reigning winds axles of the wheels may move in a direction perfectly hon-
and the swell of the sea, in having a good anchoring zontal, the draught becomes extremely heavy. The moie
ground, and being at a competent distance from the shore, the wheel sinks, the greater is the resistance ; and if we sup-
Those which are not sufficiently protected are termed open pose the degree of elasticity of the materials, and their ini-
roads. ' mediate resistance at different depths, to be known, we may
ROAD-MAKING. There are few departments of prac- calculate the whole effect of their action on the w'heel, an
tical mechanics in which every individual, at some period the force that is required to displace them, in the progres-
or other of his life, is more immediately interested than in sive motion of the carriage. Thus, if the materials were
the management of roads and pavements. The mechani- perfectly inelastic, acting only on the preceding half or t e
cal theory of the motions of wheel-carriages, and of the immersed portion of the wheel, and their immediate pres-
nature of the frictions and resistances that they have to sure or resistance wrere simply proportional to the deptn,
R O A D-M A K I N G.
295
d- like that of fluids, or that of elastic substances compressed,
rag. the horizontal resistance would be to the weight nearly as
two fifths of the length of the part immersed at once, in
the newly formed rut, to the diameter of the wheel; or, on
a still more probable supposition respecting the greater re¬
sistance of the more deeply-seated parts of the rut, about
half as much as this, or as about one fifth of the length of
the part immersed in the rut to the diameter. Thus, if a
coach or waggon, weighing sixty hundredweight, support¬
ed by wheels four feet in diameter, formed a new rut, an
inch deep, in a smooth road, the length of the part immers¬
ed being about fourteen inches, the resistance would be
about j^-th of the weight, upon the lowest supposition that
is at all admissible, and more probably about one ninth, or
from six to seven hundredweight at least; and if the rut
were two inches deep, the resistance would be half as much
more. But, on any supposition, the increased height, and
even the increased breadth, of the wheel, is calculated to
diminish the resistance, by diminishing the depth of the part
immersed; thus, if a wheel were made four times as high,
the length of the part immersed, considering the road as an
imperfect fluid, would be doubled, and the resistance would
be diminished, theoretically speaking, to about half of its
former magnitude ; and if the breadth were increased from
one to eight, the length of the part immersed would be di¬
minished to about a half, and the resistance would in this
case also be reduced to a half.
In soft and boggy soils, as well as in sandy roads, this
consideration is of great importance ; and the wheels em¬
ployed for removing heavy weights, in such cases, ought to
be as high and as broad as possible consistently with suffi¬
cient lightness and economy. But whether a broad, and,
at the same time, a low roller, possesses any advantages
above a narrow coach-wheel, is a matter much more ques¬
tionable : it must be remembered that a narrow wheel may
often run between stones, where a broader would have to
pass over them ; and there appears to be no theoretical rea¬
son for preferring a low roller, except with respect to a single
pair of wheels, as affording a more convenient attachment
for the shafts in a moderate inclination, which is both more
favourable to the exertion of the horses, and more effective
in overcoming the friction ; since it has been demonstrated
that the angle affording the most advantageous line of
draught is exactly the same as the inclination of a plane
along which the carriage would just begin to descend by
its own weight on the same kind of surface. In fact, how¬
ever, there is no necessity for fixing the axle-tree precisely
in the line of draught; and the principal reason for having
the fore wheels lower than the others is for the convenience
of turning the carriage more abruptly. A very accurate
practical road-maker has observed, that a good road never
suffers from narrow wheels with moderate weights not in
rapid motion, but that it is equally worn by the rapid driv¬
ing of heavy stage-coaches, and by the slow grinding of the
conical rollers of overloaded, broad-wheeled waggons.
buch being the operations of the wheels of carriages on
sandy or on rough roads, it is easy to perceive how much
the hardness and smoothness of the surface must facilitate
the draught; it is obvious also that the same qualities must
be equally conducive to the durability of the road, since
the inequalities will always cause the carriage to fall on it
with a certain impetus after being elevated by the irregu¬
larities, and the same shock which strains the carriage will
also tend to wear away the road still more where it is lowest;
and, on the other hand, the resistance of the soft materials
before the wheel will tend to tear up the road, as it causes
the wheel to thrust them before it.
It happens not very uncommonly that the interests of
the traveller and the postmaster are somewhat at variance
with respect to the qualit\es of a road. The French posti¬
lion keeps to the rough pavement as long as the aching
limbs of the ladies in the carriage will allow them to be Road-
silent, except when, in going down hill, he saves himself making.
the trouble of locking the wheel, by bringing it to the soft
edge of the ditch or kennel; and the horses of the Parisian
cabriolets, in their excursions to the suburbs, have sagacity
enough to incline always to the pavement, when their drivers
allow them to have a will of their own ; while a single horse¬
man, on the contrary, more commonly finds his steed on the
gravel road, if he happens to leave him to his own direc¬
tion. In Great Britain the roads are commonly managed
by commissioners, who have no community of interest with
the innkeepers ; on the Continent they are universally un¬
der the immediate direction of the different governments,
who also appoint the postmasters, while the carriages are
almost as uniformly the property of particular individuals,
who have no immediate influence on the management of
the roads; and this diversity may perhaps explain, in some
measure, the different systems of road-making which prevail
on the opposite sides of the channel. But it may be said
of roads as of governments, “ that which is best administer¬
ed is bestwhether a very smooth pavement not too slip¬
pery, or a very hard gravel road not worn into great ine¬
qualities.
Sect. II.— Of the Mechanical Formation of Roads.
The only strongly-marked division of the different kinds
of roads depends on their being paved or gravelled; but
each of these classes admits of considerable diversity in the
principles on which the road is constructed. The theory of
pavement appears to be extremely simple ; the stones, how¬
ever, may be either small or large ; the former being under¬
stood to be employed without previous preparation of their
shape, as in the inferior kind of work which is called “ pitch¬
ing” in the west of England ; the latter being more or less
cut to fit each other, whether in the form of thick rough
blocks, not very remote from cubes, or of flat and smooth
flagstones. In the cities of Great Britain the former are
commonly used for horse-pavements, and the latter for foot-
passengers ; but in Florence the whole breadth of the streets
is paved with flagstones placed diagonally, and in Naples
the surfaces are nearly as smooth ; in both these cases it is
necessary to roughen the stones frequently with chisels
wherever there is a hill or a bridge, in order to prevent the
horses slipping, but in both cities the horses from habit are
sufficiently sure-footed, even when running with some ra¬
pidity. In Milan both kinds of pavements are mixed in the
same streets; the smooth in two double lines, for the wheels
of carriages coming and going, and the rougher in the in¬
termediate parts, for the feet of the horses, as in the Bri¬
tish railroads. But in none of these cities is there much
heavy traffic to wear these well-arranged surfaces into such
inequalities as would probably soon be observed in the streets
of London if they were so delicately formed; although, un¬
til this deterioration actually took place, the locomotion
would be luxurious both for the horses and for the passen¬
gers, and only ruinous to the coachmakers. The Romans
used large and heavy blocks for their roads, cutting them
on the spot into such forms as enabled them to be best ad¬
justed to those of the neighbouring stones, though seldom
exactly rectangular in their surfaces; and even at Pompeii,
where the ruts are worn half through the depth of the blocks,
the bottom remains tolerably even, in a longitudinal direc¬
tion, at least as much so as would be required for carts and
other carriages of business.
Our more particular object, however, at present, is the
consideration of gravel-roads rather than of pavements ; the
word gravel being here understood to mean in general all
stone broken small, whether by nature or by art. The im¬
provement of such roads has long been a subject of great
interest with the agricultural and commercial inhabitants of
Great Britain. It was soon after the year 1700 that a part
296 R O A D-M
Itoad- of the charge of repairing roads was taken off the respective
making. parislies through which they pass, and levied on the gene-
’ * ral traveller by means of turnpike-gates ; but it was for many
years a complaint that the roads were little, if at all, funda¬
mentally improved by the expenditure of the money so rais¬
ed. This complaint is very energetically advanced in a
Dissertation concerning the present State of the High Roads
of England, especially of those near London, wherein is pro¬
posed a new Method of Repairing and Maintaining them ;
read before the Royal Society in the winter of 1736-37, by
Robert Phillips, and printed in a small separate volume.
The author’s great object is to recommend washing the
roads by a constant stream, if possible, and at any rate,
washing the materials of which they are composed. In this
respect, notwithstanding the existence of single roads so
situated that the effects of water upon them have been very
beneficially introduced, his plans for the universal employ¬
ment of water have been altogether superseded by later ex¬
perience ; but he remonstrates, with great propriety, against
the practice, which has, however, continued to prevail so
generally even of late years, of laying down large heaps of
unprepared gravel, to be gradually consolidated into a harder
mass, at the expense of the intolerable labour of the poor
animals that are obliged to grind it down. As an illustra¬
tion of the good effect of water, he mentions that even the
sediment deposited by it at the bottom of Fleetditch, which
was supposed to be a soft mud, and to require removal when
the ditch was filled up, proved in fact to be a hard gravelly
substance, which aftervrards afforded an excellent founda¬
tion for the roads and buildings supported by it.
The attention of the public has been more lately direct¬
ed to the subject of roads and carriages, by several essays
which appeared in the Communications to the Board of Ag¬
riculture ; they principally belong to the names of Beatson,
Wright, Jessop, Hall, Wilkes, Erskine, Ellis, Gumming,
Whetley, Amos, and Booth: the most remarkable are Mr
Wilkes’s Remarks on the Advantages of Concave Roads; Mr
Ellis’s on Washing Roads ; Mr Wilkes’s on Railways ; and
Mr Cumming’s on Wheel-Carriages ; showing particularly
the disadvantage of broad conical wheels, and the historical
progress of the practice of bending the line of the axes.
But all these improvements, whether real or imaginary,
have since been in a great measure superseded by the in¬
genuity and success of Mr Loudon Macadam, a gentleman
whose practice is in general principally to be applauded for
its obvious simplicity and economy, though he has also had
the merit of discovering that the simplest and cheapest
methods, in particular cases, especially in that of boggy
soils, are also the most scientific and the most effectual.
The practical observations, which are to be here inserted,
cannot therefore be so well expressed in any other form, as
in that of an abstract of Mr Macadam’s own directions.
Mr Macadam’s leading principles are (Remarks, p. 37),
“ that a road ought to be considered as an artificial flooring,
forming a strong, smooth, solid surface, at once capable of
carrying great weights, and over which carriages may pass
without meeting any impediment.”
He proceeds to give directions for repairing an old road
and for making a new one, in the form of a communication
to a committee appointed by the House of Commons, in the
year 1819, with some subsequent corrections.
No additional materials, he observes, are to be brought
upon a road, unless in any part of it there be not a quan¬
tity of clean stone equal to ten inches in thickness.
The stone already in the road, supposing it to have been
made in the usual manner, is to be loosened, and broken so
that no piece may exceed six ounces in weight; the road
is then to be laid as flat as possible, leaving only a fall of
three inches from the middle to the sides when the road
is thirty feet wide. The stones, thus loosened, are to be
dragged to the side by a strong heavy rake, with teeth two
AKIN G.
inches and a half in length, and there broken ; but the' Road: Lj
stones are never to be broken on the road itself. makin ^
When the great stones have been removed, and none arev'”,VT! I ^
left exceeding six ounces in weight, the surface is to be
made smooth by a rake, which will also settle the remain¬
ing materials into a better consistence, bringing up the
stone, and letting the dirt fall down into its place.
The road being so prepared, the stone that has been
broken by the side is then to be carefully spread over it:
this operation requires very particular attention, and the
future quality of the road will greatly depend on the man¬
ner in which it is performed ; the stone must not be laid on
in shovels-full, but scattered over the surface, one shovel-
full following another, and being spread over a considerable
space.
Only a small part of the length of the road should be
lifted in this manner at once ; that is, about two or three
yards ; five men in a gang should be employed to lift it
all across, two continually digging up and raking off the
large stones, and preparing the road for receiving them
again, and the other three breaking them at the side of the
road. It may, however, happen that the surveyor may
see cause to distribute the labour in a proportion somewhat
different.
The only proper method of breaking stones, in general,
both for effect and for economy, is in a sitting posture. The
stones are to be placed in small heaps, and women, boys,
and old men past hard labour, may sit down and break
them witn small hammers into pieces not exceeding six
ounces in weight. When the heavy work of a quarry can
be performed by men, and the lighter by their wives and
children, the stone can be obtained by contract for two
thirds of the former prices, although the stones were then
left four times as large. It has also been recommended by
Mr Macadam and others (p. 35), that the largest stone em¬
ployed should not exceed the measure of an inch in its
greatest dimensions, or, in other words, that it should be
capable of being contained in a sphere of about an inch in
diameter, which would seldom weigh more than a single
ounce.
In some cases it would be unprofitable to lift and relay a
road, even if the materials should have been originally too
large ; for example, the road betwixt Bath and Cirencester
was made of large stones, but so friable, that in lifting they
would have fallen into sand; in this case Mr Macadam
merely had the higher parts cut down, and replaced when
sifted (p. 107), and the surface kept smooth, until those
materials were gradually worn out; and they were after¬
wards replaced by stone of a better quality, properly pre¬
pared. At Egham it was necessary to remove the whole
road, in order to separate the small portion of valuable ma¬
terials from the mass of soft matter in which they were en¬
veloped, and which was carried away, at a considerable ex¬
pense, before a good road could be made. But although
freestone is by no means calculated to make a durable road, ,
yet by judicious management it may be made to form a very
good road as long as it lasts. (P. 103.) i
Whenever new stone is to be laid on a road already con¬
solidated, the hardened surface is to be loosened with a
pick, in order to enable the fresh materials to unite with
the old.
A new road, however well it may have been made, will
always receive the impressions of the carriage-wheels until
it is hardened ; a careful person must, therefore, attend the
road for some time, in order to rake in the tracks made by
the wheels ; that is, as long as any loose materials are left
that can be so employed.
It is always superfluous, and generally injurious, to add
to the broken stone any mixture of earth, clay, chalk, or
any other matter that will imbibe water and be affected by
frost, or to lay any thing whatever on the clean stone for the
R O A D-M A K I N G.
. purpose of binding it; for good stone, well broken, will al-
i g- ways combine by its own roughness into a solid substance,
with a smooth surface, that will not be affected by the vi¬
cissitudes of weather, or disfigured by the action of wheels,
which, as they pass over it without a jolt, will consequently
be incapable of doing it any considerable injury.
The experience of the year 1820 strongly confirmed the
inutility and inconvenience of employing chalk with the
stone. In January, when a hard frost was succeeded by a
sudden thaw, a great number of roads broke up, and the
wheels of the carriages penetrated into the original soil; in
particular, it was observed that all the roads of which chalk
was a component part became nearly impassable ; and even
roads made over chalky soils gave way in most places. But
not one of the roads that had been thoroughly made after
these directions was observed to give way. (P. 44-46.)
The tools required for lifting roads are, 1. Strong picks,
but short from the handle to the point; 2. small hammers,
weighing about a pound, with a face the size of a shilling,
well steeled, and with a short handle; 3. rakes, with wood¬
en heads, ten inches in length, and with iron teeth about
two and a half inches long, and very strong, for raking out
the large stones when the road is broken up, and for keep¬
ing it smooth after it has been finished, and while it is con¬
solidating ; 4. very light broad-mouthed shovels, to spread
the broken stones, and to form the road.
The whole expense of lifting and newly forming a rough
road, to the depth of four inches, has generally been from
a penny to twopence per square yard, being more or less
according to the quantity of stone to be broken. With
proper tools, and by proper arrangements, stone may be
broken for tenpence or a shilling per ton, including, in some
cases, the value of the stone itself. A very material advan¬
tage of Mr Macadam’s method is the introduction of a much
greater proportion of human labour, instead of the work of
horses ; formerly one fourth of the whole expense was paid,
in the district of Bristol, for men’s labour, and three fourths
for that of horses ; now, on the contrary, one fourth only is
paid for horses’ labour, and the other three to men, women,
and children.
Mr Macadam argues very strongly against the old opi¬
nion of the necessity of placing a quantity of large stones
as a foundation, to carry the road over a wet subsoil. He
says, that whatever be the nature of the soil, if it be pre¬
viously “ made quite dry,” and a covering impenetrable to
rain placed over it, the thickness of the covering needs only
to depend on its own capability of becoming impervious.
Large stones, he says, will constantly work up by the agi¬
tation of the traffic on the road, and leave vacuities for the
reception of water ; and the only way of keeping the stones
in their places is to have them of a uniform size. A rocky
bottom causes a road to wear out much the faster [acting,
probably, as a lower millstone in facilitating the operation
of grinding]. “ It is a known fact, that a road lasts much
onger over a morass than when made over rock. In the
neighbourhood of Bridgewater, for example, the materials
consumed on a rocky road, when compared with those which
are required for a similar road made over the naked surface
ot the soil, are in the proportion of seven to five.”
In the summer of 1819, upon some new roads made in
Scotland, more than three feet of materials, of various di¬
mensions, were laid down; and more than two thirds of
mem, according to our author, were worse than wasted.
th k an arrangement> tlle water generally penetrates to
ne bottom of the trench made to receive the road, and re¬
mains there to do mischief upon every change of weather.
Io prevent such inconveniences, it is necessary, in wet
soi s, either to make drains to lower ground, or to raise the
roa above the general level, instead of making a trench to
eceive the stones; and from the penetration of rain the
olidity of the road itself must protect it. A well-made
VOL. XIX.
297
road, not quite four inches in thickness, was found to have Itoad-
kept the earth below it dry in the parish of Ashton near making.
Bristol but six, eight, or ten inches of materials are gene-
rally required to make a firm road ; being laid on in succes¬
sive layers of about two inches in thickness, all well broken,
well cleaned, and well sized. Sometimes, indeed, a much
greater depth of stone than this is required: in a road, for
example, which was made from Lewes to Last Bourn, en¬
tirely upon Mr Macadam’s principles, as much as three feet
of materials were required in many parts before the road
could be sufficiently consolidated; it was, however, ulti¬
mately made excellent, though at an expense of not much
less than a thousand pounds a mile.
Mr Macadam maintains that the quantity of stone re¬
quired for paving is fully sufficient to make an excellent
gravel road in any part of the world ; and in almost every
case, materials equally good can be obtained for roads at a
still cheaper rate; commonly, indeed, at one tenth of the
expense of pavements. It is, however, in steep ascents that
pavements are most objectionable ; at the north end of
Blackfriars Bridge, more horses are said to fall and receive
injury than at any other place in the kingdom. In the
suburbs of Bristol the pavements have lately been convert¬
ed into roads with great success. It is probable that nei¬
ther the inhabitants of these suburbs nor their housemaids
were much consulted on the occasion, although justice seems
to require that the pedestrian order should not be altogether
sacrificed to the equestrian without their consent; but, in
fact, the inhabitants of these ci-devant streets are said to
be well satisfied with the change; and we seem in danger,
from the opposition of contending theories, of having all
the streets of our cities dug up, and many of our country
roads, on the other hand, encumbered with pavements. Mr
Macadam received a new encouragement from parliament
to the amount of L.4000.
We find some further confirmations and illustrations of
Mr Macadam’s principles and precepts in the Report of the
former Committee of the House of Commons, as reprinted <
in his Remarks.
This gentleman, it seems, arrived from America in the
year 1783, at the time when many new roads were making
in Scotland (p. 97); he was then appointed a commissioner
of the roads, and studied the subject in that capacity there;
he afterwards resided chiefly in Bristol, and was induced to
take charge of the roads of that district as a surveyor in
1816, because it was only in that situation that he could
carry his principles into practice, and make the necessary
experiments for establishing them. He observed in his
travels, that the mixture of clay and chalk with the mate¬
rials of roads was the almost universal cause of their failure;
and he convinced himself that, by a proper application of
materials, a good road might be made in every country. His
improvements have been very generally adopted in the west
and the south of England, and principally under his own di¬
rection or under that of his family. They had superintend¬
ed more than 300 miles of road, and twice as many more
had been improved by their advice and influence. Sober,
active, and well-informed sub-surveyors he considers as the
most important of all materials for a good road; and among
the extrinsic arrangements which are often required, he
thinks the union of different trusts into a single one the
most likely to be generally beneficial.
The operation of washing gravel Mr Macadam has not
found eligible, because it is more expensive than screening
or sifting, and less effectual; for about London the com¬
mon gravel is not capable of being cleaned by any ordinary
washing, though the Thames gravel, where it can be pro¬
cured, is generally clean and serviceable. Coarse gravel
broken, he says, is preferable to fine, as it consolidates more
perfectly into a single mass. The old practice of putting a
heap of unprepared gravel along the middle of the road, and
2 p
298
ROAD-MAKING.
lload-
mating.
letting it work its own way gradually to the sides, he thinks
every way reprehensible.
The objection to a very convex road is, that travellers
only use the middle of it, which is therefore worn into
three furrows by the string of horses and by the wheels; if
the road is flatter, it becomes worn more equally. Ditches,
he observes, only require to be so deep that the surface of
the water in them may be a few inches below the level of
the road ; the farmer often makes them dangerously deep,
on account of the value of the mould that is dug out of
them. Mr Macadam would prefer a bog to any other foun¬
dation for a road, provided that it would allow a man to
walk over it; and he justly observes, that the resistance to
the motion of a carriage would not be materially affected
by the foundation, if the road were well made. From
Bridgewater to Cross, a part of the road shakes when a car¬
riage passes over it; yet the consumption of materials is less
there than on the limestone rock in the neighbourhood.
He does not use any faggots in such cases, nor any stones
larger than six ounces in weight; and these never sink in
the bog, but unite into one mass like a piece of timber,
which rests on it. He makes such a road generally at
three different times; and he always prefers working in
weather not very dry. The surveyors are directed to carry
a pair of scales and a six-ounce weight in their pockets, as
a check upon the workmen.
Mr Macadam has generally found reason to approve the
usual regulation respecting carriage-wheels ; but he thinks
broad wheels less advantageous to roads than is commonly
supposed. He suggests that the tolls might always be fairly
made proportional to the exact number of horses employed ;
except that the waggoners should be encouraged to harness
thern in pairs rather than in a line. The conical form of
broad wheels he thinks very injurious.
Clean flints from the sea-side are among the best mate¬
rials for roads, and might often be procured cheap by ca¬
nals ; granite chippings also, brought as ballast, are excel¬
lent; and when the middle of the road has been well made
with good stones, the sides may often be left for a few feet
less abundantly provided with them, as they are naturally
much less exposed to wear.
Of the other evidence produced to the committee of the
House of Commons, there is much that gives us valuable
information respecting the economy of horses and carriages
in general, and some that deserves to be noticed, as afford¬
ing partial exceptions to the universal adoption of the sys¬
tem introduced by Mr Macadam.
Mr Waterhouse observes (p. 85), that stage-coach horses
generally last about four years in the neighbourhood of
London, and about six in remoter parts. He agrees with
Mr Macadam, that a very slight convexity is better for a
road than a greater ; that roads in wet situations often re¬
quire underdraining; and that the gravel near London is
too often used without being sufficiently cleaned. Mr
Horne’s horses generally wear out in about three years.
The “ light” coaches, with their loads, generally weigh about
two tons and a half; the coach one, the passengers one, and
the luggage a half. The Uxbridge road, he says, is general¬
ly heavy, because it lies lower than the neighbouring land,
and is not sufficiently drained. Mr Fames reports that the
Guildford road is so much improved by the introduction of
flints instead of gravel, that sixteen miles are as easily per¬
formed on it by his horses as twelve were before the alte¬
ration. Mr Farey explains the principle upon which some
of the roads about London are watered in winter; it is in
order to soften the tenacious mud that is formed upon the
surface, to prevent its adhering to the carriage-wheels, and
to enable it to be scraped off with ease. He says that
about Whitechapel it has been found very advantageous
for the heavy traffic to have the middle of the road paved;
and he thinks that two lines of pavement, one on each side,
would be preferable to a single one, in order that the wag¬
goners might walk at the sides of the road, leaving the
middle for lighter carriages. He would have a road fifty-s
five feet wide, elevated about twelve inches in the middle.
Broad wheels, he thinks, are seldom so flat as to bear on their
whole surface at once, being commonly rather conoidal
than conical; so that they differ less in their effect from
narrower wheels than is commonly supposed. Mr Walker
adheres to the old opinion, that in soft soils a road ought to
be founded on bushes or “ bavins;” that is, where they can
be expected to remain always wet, so as not to be liable to
a very speedy decay. He observes, that if a road does not
possess some considerable convexity at first, it will wear
concave, and collect mud; the elevation, he thinks, should
be about one thirtieth of the breadth. Mr. Telford informs
the committee (p. 188) that the declivity of the Welsh roads
was formerly in many places one inch in ten; and in some
one in eight, and even one in six; but that the modem
road scarcely ever rises above an inch in thirty; and that
the utmost ascent in the whole line is one in seventeen for
about two hundred yards. With respect to the weight of
the stones, he agrees with Mr Macadam, that they ought
not to exceed six or eight ounces ; and that gravel is best
cleaned by riddling it repeatedly, and leaving it to dry in
the intervals.
Sect. Ill Of the Roads of different Ages and Countries.
The Romans appear to have been beyond comparison
the greatest road-makers of the ancient or the modern world.
The story told by Montaigne (iii. vi. p. 206) of a road in
Peru, from Quito to Cuzco, 300 leagues long and twenty-
five paces broad, made of stones ten feet square, with a run¬
ning stream and a row of trees on each side, seems to have
been considerably exaggerated; and it is not very clear
whether the stones he mentions were used for the road or
for the houses of entertainment built at intervals by its side;
nor have the “ rocks cut through” and “ mountains levelled”
been very particularly noticed by more recent travellers in
that country. In Italy only, the Romans are said to have
made more than 14,000 miles of road, w hich w as generally
executed with great care and labour; and many of their
roads still remain as the foundation of the most favourite
routes of Italian travellers. The more than Roman despot
of modern times w as as much a Roman in his road-making
as in the selfish character of his general policy ; and in pro¬
portion to the duration of his dynasty, he performed more
than all the Appii and Flaminii of antiquity. Whatever
his merits may have been, the beneficial effects of his mea¬
sures remain ; and those who have profited by his improve¬
ments have no right to criticise his motives with too great
severity.
Of the great roads diverging from the gates of ancient
Rome, about twelve have been enumerated by antiquaries,
and twelve more branched off from these at a small distance
from the city ; eighteen others commenced in different
parts of Italy, and in the whole there are at least fifty, which
have been distinguished by appropriate names, without in¬
cluding the military roads through the distant provinces;
such, tor example, as in England were distinguished by the
name of streets, of which many traces yet remain indiffer¬
ent parts of the country.
Directly to the sea the Romans travelled by the Ostian
road ; along its shores to the north-west by the Aurelian,
and to the south-east by the Appian. Next within the
Aurelian was the Flaminian, then the Salarian, the Nomen-
tanian, the Tiburtine, the Praenestine, the Lavican, and
the Latin ; and then the Appian, which wras the most an¬
cient of all, having been made as far as Capua, in the 442d
year of the city, accompanied to a considerable distance by
an aqueduct. The Aurelian road was made in the year
512 ; the Flaminian about 533.
R O A D-M A K I N G.
5
. ma
I. The Flaminian road still affords the great northern
approach to Rome by the Porta del Popolo ; it led to Fo-
^ ligno, Ancona, and Rimini, and was continued by the Emi-
Uan to Bologna, and thence to Aquilegia, near Venice ;
the present mountain route from Bologna to Rome is still
facilitated by the remains of the ancient structures. Be¬
sides the Emilian road, the Flaminian was also connected
with the Cassian, leading to Modena; the Claudian, to
Arezzo, Florence, and Lucca: there were also six other
branches of less note, each named after its founder.
II. III. The Salarian and the Nomentanian roads lay
to the east of the Flaminian; the former, from the Porta
Salara, led through the country of the Sabines by Rieti to
Hadria; the latter, from the Porta Sant’Agnese, went north¬
eastwards to Nomentum.
IV. The Tiburtine road led from the Porta Tiburtina,
now San Lorenzo, to Tivoli, with a branch on the right
called the Gabian. The large blocks which were employ¬
ed to form this road, near the town of Tivoli, in ascending
from the river, are still in their ancient places ; they are
accurately fitted together, and present a surface sufficiently
smooth, after having been in use for about two thousand
years.
V. VI. VII. The three next in order all met at Anagnia,
twenty-four miles beyond Praeneste or Palestrina. The
Prcenestine, from the Esquiline gate, now called Porta
Maggiore, on account of the magnitude of the ruins of the
aqueduct of Clodius, with which it is incorporated, led by
Aquinum to Praeneste; the Lavican led from the same
gate, more to the right, by way of Beneventum; and the
Latin road, from the Porta Latina, went first to Compitum,
and from Anagnia proceeded to join the Appian near Capua.
VIII. The Appian road is as well known from the minute
description of Horace’s progress in his journey to Brundu-
sium, as from the eagerness with which a modern traveller
reckons the stages that he has completed, on his way to
Naples, without a visit from the banditti that infest it. The
original extent of this road, from the Colosseum to Capua,
was 142 Roman miles; and it was continued 238 miles
further to Brundusium by Julius Caesar. It was construct¬
ed with large stones, or rather rocks, joined together with
great care; and it is said to have had a foot-pavement two
feet wide on each side, besides the agger, or principal mass
of stones in the middle, and the two marginal parts, which
were probably unpaved.
IX. The Ostian road led from the Porta di San Paolo,
near the Tiber, in a straight line to the mouth of that river.
X. The Aurelian, from the Porta Aurelia, a gate which
was near the Moles Adrian!, or Castle of Sant’ Angelo, led
by Laurentum to Centumcellae or Civita Vecchia, to Genoa,
and thence by Susa, across the Montcenis, as far as Aries
in Provence. This seems to have been the oldest passage
into the Gauls; it was improved by Pompey the Great
undei the name of the Strata Romana. Several other pas¬
sages over the Alps are also particularized in the Itinerary
of Antonine on the roads from Milan to Arles ; from Milan
to Vienne in Dauphine, either by the Grecian or by the
Cottian Alps, the former north, the latter south of Mont¬
cenis; from Milan to Strasburg; and from Milan to Mentz.
XI. XII. The Triumphal road began from the Capitol,
and went over the Tiber into the country beyond the pre¬
sent site of the Vatican. We may consider as the last of
the twelve great roads, originating from Rome, the Colla-
twe, leading due north from the Porta Pinciana on the
Monte Pincio.
Among the less remarkable roads about the metropolis
°u i anc‘en^ world were also the Campanian, the new and
t ie old Valerian, both leading by Tivoli to the Adriatic;
the Tusculan, the Alban, the Ardeatine, on the right of
the Appian ; the Laurentine, a little more to the right,
Pliny’s villa being mentioned as accessible from either of
these last; the Portuensis, from the Porta Portuese Tras-
teverina, leading to Ostia; and the Aurelia Nova, begin¬
ning from the Porta Janiculi, now Porta San Pancrazio,
and leading towards Civita Vecchia.
Whether on the foundations of the ancient roads, or in
any new lines that have been prepared in modern times
by the magnificence of the pontiffs or of the princes, the
great roads of Italy are at present almost universally well
made and well repaired. In Lombardy, indeed, and through¬
out the immense plain that extends from the Alps to the
Apennines, they are quite as good, in summer at least, as
those in England. The cross roads of Italy are, however,
greatly neglected; for it is in fact almost exclusively in Great
Britain that private and individual exertion supersedes the
necessity of public munificence. The intercourse of Italy
with the rest of Europe has been greatly facilitated by the
improvements made in the two great passages over the
Alps by the authority of Bonaparte. The more useful of
these improvements are probably those which have been
effected on the southern side of Montcenis, since they en¬
able the traveller to pass w ith little danger or difficulty at all
seasons of the year ; the more magnificent are the works at
the Simplon, which, however, are not completely secure from
the danger of avalanches, whenever fresh snow is lying on
the ground. The Apennine portion of the Aurelian road
has also been greatly improved by some still more recent
operations, so that carriages may now pass with comparative
ease and safety from Lucca to Genoa; though, for one
stage, near Sestri, it is not thought advisable for the travel¬
lers to retain their seats within them.
The general declivity of the new road over Montcenis is
one inch in fifteen or twenty; and it is never greater in the
steepest part, that is, in the fourth and fifth turns that wind
up over Lanslebourg, than one in twelve.1 The road over
the Simplon was executed jointly by the French and Ita¬
lians, under the government of Bonaparte, from 1801 to
1805. The greatest declivity is one inch in twenty-nine ;
so that an English stage coachman might trot his horses up
almost the whole way. The longest gallery or tunnel is
about 500 feet under ground.
The roads in France are generally rough in their origi¬
nal formation, and still rougher from want of care in repair¬
ing them, as the traveller feels to his cost in passing over
the primitive mountains in the south of that country, where
the roads are certainly very different from those which are
made by Macadam across a bog ; although some of the more
recent French and Flemish pavements, as long as they re¬
main unimpaired, are truly excellent; the new pavement
between Cologne and Brussels, for example, is far more
perfect than some of the unpaved parts of the continuation
of the same line of road to Calais, although the civil post¬
masters are in the habit of congratulating their English
guests on the “ fine gravel road” they will have to pass over.
In Germany they have few pavements; and the roads, ex¬
cept in sandy countries, are generally kept, or keep them¬
selves, in good repair; that is, in the south and the west of
Germany. Mr Cripps informs us, that the great roads in
Sweden are beautiful; they are very slightly convex, and
made of granite broken to the size of a walnut. The Irish
roads, according to Mr Edgeworth, are generally better
than the English; the Scotish, Macadam thinks worse,
though the materials are better ; but in many parts of Scot¬
land the roads appear to be more than sufficiently good for
the commerce of the country.
Bergier, Histoire des Grands Chemins de VEmpire Ro-
299
Iload-
making.
Berrien, Notice Jlistorique et Descriptive sur la Houte de Montcenis.
300 ROB ROB
Itoan main, 2 vols. 4to, Brussels, 1728; died in 1622. Consi-
II derations on Roads, 8vo, Lond. 1734. Phillips’s Disserta-
Robertson. t^on concerning the High Roads, 8vo, Lond. 1737. Ho-
mer’s Inquiry into the State of the Roads, 1767. Lambert
on the best Ascent of Roads, Ac. Berl. 1776. Meister on
the Shortest Roads to Different Places, N. Comm. Gott.
1777. Edgeworth on Roads and Carriages. Edgeworth
on Railroads. Young’s Natural Philosophy, ii. p. 203,
Instruments for Making and Cleaning Roads. Communica¬
tions to the Board of Agricultui'e, i. 1797, p. 119, Beat-
son; 162, Wright; 176, Joseph ; 183, Hall; 199, Wilkes
on Concave Roads; Erskine on Iron Roads; 205, Wright
on Watering Roads near London ; 207, Ellis on Washing
Roads; ii. 1800, p. 353, Gumming on Broad Wheels;
474, Wilkes on Railways; vi. 1808, p. 182, Whetley;
p. 464, Amos on Wheels; vii. 1811, p. 10, Gumming on
the Origin of Bent Axle-Trees; p. 30, Booth on Wheel-
Carriages. Paterson’s Practical Treatise. Quarterly Re¬
view, May 1820, xxiii. p. 96. Macadam’s Remarks on
the Present System of Road-making, with Observations
deduced from Practice and Experience, with a view to a
Revision of the Existing Laws, and the Introduction of Im¬
provement in the Method of Making, Repairing, and Pre¬
serving Roads, and Defending the Road Funds from Mis¬
application, 6th edit. Lond. 1822, 8vo. (l. l.)
ROAN, in the manege. A roan horse is one of a bay,
sorrel, or black colour, with gray or white spots interspersed
very thick. When this party-coloured coat is accompanied
with a black head and black extremities, he is called a
roan horse with a blackamoor’s head; and if the same mix¬
ture is predominant upon a deep sorrel, he is called claret-
roan.
ROANNE, an arrondissement of the department of the
Loire, in France, which extends over 628 square miles. It
comprehends ten cantons, divided into 108 communes,
with 124,871 inhabitants. The capital is the city of the
same name on the left bank of the Loire, which is so far
navigable. It is a well-built city, with broad streets, good
houses, and fine quays on the bank of the stream, and con¬
tains 9910 inhabitants, who are employed in making linen,
cotton, and woollen goods, buttons, gilt ware, and jewel¬
lery. It is a place of great transit commerce, from being
the chief depot between Paris and Lyons, where the goods
produced in the southern provinces can be transmitted to
the capital by means of rivers and canals.
ROANOAK, an island of North America, near the
coast of North Carolina. Here the English first attempt¬
ed to settle in 1585, but were obliged to leave it for want
of provisions. Long. 75. 0. E. Lat. 35. 40. N.
Roanoak, a river of North America, which rises in Vir¬
ginia, runs through Carolina, and at length falls into the
sea, where it forms a long narrow bay called Albemarle
Sound.
ROBERT’S Isles, two large islands in the Pacific
Ocean, with several smaller islets in their neighbourhood,
discovered by Lieutenant Hergest in 1792. Long. 219.
47. E. Lat. 7. 53. S.
ROBERTSON, William, one of the greatest histo¬
rians of modern times, was the son of the Rev. William
Robertson, minister of Borthwick, in the county of Edin¬
burgh, and of Eleanor, the daughter of David Pitcairne,
Esq. of Dreghorn. He was descended from the Robert¬
sons of Gladney, a branch of the family which for many
generations has possessed the estate of Struan in Perthshire.
He was born at Borthwick in the year 1721, and received
his early education at Dalkeith school, under Mr Leslie, a
classical teacher of much reputation. In 1733 his father be¬
came one of the ministers of Old Greyfriar’s Church in Edin¬
burgh, and towards the close of the same year, the son com¬
menced his academical studies. He speedily distinguish¬
ed himself as a young man of superior talents and attain¬
ments. He obtained his license in 1741, and in 1743 he wasRober M
appointed minister of Gladsmuir in the county of Hadding-
ton. In 1758 he was translated to Lady Tester’s parish
in Edinburgh, and other preferments speedily followed.
In 1759 he was appointed chaplain of Stirling Castle; in
1761, one of his Majesty’s chaplains in ordinary; and in
1762 he was elected principal of the university. In 1764
the office of historiographer to the king for Scotland was
revived in his favour, and was accompanied with a salary
of two hundred pounds a year. The emoluments arising
from this accumulation of offices far exceeded what any
Presbyterian clergyman in Scotland had previously enjoyed.
About the period of his translation to Edinburgh he was
created D. D.
We find it difficult to ascertain at what period were first
unfolded the great and singular talents which destined Dr
Robertson to be one of the first writers that rescued this
island from the reproach of not having any good historians.
We are, however, assured, that before the publication of
any of his literary performances, even from his first appear¬
ance in public life, his abilities had begun to attract the
notice of observing men ; and to his more intimate friends
he discovered marks of such high-minded ambition, as, se¬
conded by those abilities, could not have failed to carry
him to the first honours of his profession, in whatever sphere
he had been placed, and whatever opposition he might
have had to encounter.
The first theatre that offered for the display of his ta¬
lents was the General Assembly of the Church of Scot¬
land. It is the annual meetings of this court that produce
to view men who would otherwise remain in the deepest
obscurity. There the humble pastor, whose lot has been
cast in the remotest corner of the Highland wilds, feels
himself, for a time, on a footing of equality with the first
citizen in the kingdom : he can there dispute with him the
prize of eloquence, the most flattering distinction to a libe¬
ral mind ; a distinction which is naturally sought after with
the greater eagerness in that assembly, as the simple esta¬
blishment of the Church of Scotland has rendered it the
only pre-eminence to which the greatest part of its mem¬
bers can ever hope to attain.
From the moment Dr Robertson first appeared in this
assembly, he became the object of universal attention and
applause. His speeches were marked with the same manly
and persuasive eloquence that distinguishes his historical
compositions; and it was observed by all, that while his
young rivals in oratory contented themselves with opening
a cause, or delivering a studied harangue, he showed equal
ability to start objections or to reply ; and that even his
most unpremeditated effusions were not unadorned with
those harmonious and seemingly measured periods which
have been so much admired in his works of labour and re¬
flection. He soon came to be considered as the ablest sup¬
porter of the cause which he chose to espouse, and was now
the unrivalled leader of one of the great parties which have
long divided the church of which he was a member. When
we reflect upon this circumstance, and consider how much
mankind are the same in every society, we shall be the less
surprised to find in the literary works of Dr Robertson an
acquaintance with the human heart, and a knowledge of
the world, which we in vain look for in many other histo¬
rians. The man who has spent his life in the difficult task
of conducting the deliberations of a popular assembly, m
regulating the- passions, the interests, the prejudices, of a
numerous faction, has advantages over the mere man of
letters, which no ability, no study, no second-hand infor¬
mation, can ever compensate.
The first work which extended his reputation beyond
the walls of the General Assembly was a sermon preached
at Edinburgh in 17*8 before the Society for Propagating
Christian Knowledge, the subject of which was, “ The State
ROB
tson. of the World at the Appearance of Jesus Christ.” The in-
—genuity with which a multiplicity of detached circumstances
are there collected, and shown to tend to one single point,
afforded a fair promise of those peculiar powers which he so
conspicuously displayed in his historical works. This ser¬
mon, which was immediately published, did great honour
to the author; and it is probably to the reputation which
he thus acquired, that we are to attribute the unanimity
with which he was called to be one of the ministers of
Edinburgh.
In 1759, he published, in two volumes quarto, “ The His¬
tory of Scotland during the reigns of Queen Mary, and of
King James VI. till his accession to the Crown of England,
with a Review of the Scots History previous to that period.”
This work, in its structure, is one of the most complete of
all modern histories. It is not a dry jejune narrative of
events, destitute of ornament; nor is it a mere frothy re¬
lation, all glow and colouring. The historian discovers
sufficient powers of imagination to engage the reader’s at¬
tention, with a due proportion of judgment to check the
exuberance of fancy. The arrangement of his work is ad¬
mirable, and his descriptions are animated. His style is
copious, nervous, and correct. He has displayed consum¬
mate skill in rendering such passages of our history as are
familiar to our recollection agreeable and entertaining. He
has embellished old materials with all the elegance of mo¬
dern dress. He has very judiciously avoided too circum¬
stantial a detail of trite facts. His narratives are succinct
and spirited ; his reflections copious, frequent, and general¬
ly pertinent. His sentiments respecting the guilt of Mary
have indeed been warmly controverted by Tytler, Stuart,
and Whitaker; and, till" the publication of Mr Laing’s
Dissertation on the same subject, the general opinion
seemed to be that their victory was complete. Dr Robert¬
son was no rancorous or malignant enemy of the unfortu¬
nate queen. While relating what he doubtless believed,
he makes every possible allowance for Mary from the cir¬
cumstances in which she was placed; and his history will
be read with pleasure by candid men of all parties as long
as the language in which it is composed shall continue to
be understood.
In 1769, Dr Robertson published, in three volumes quarto,
“ The History of the Reign of the Emperor Charles V. with
a View of the Progress of Society in Europe from the Sub¬
version of the Roman Empire to the beginning of the six¬
teenth century.” The vast and general importance of the
period which this history comprises, together with the re¬
putation which the historian had deservedly acquired, co¬
operated to raise such high expectations in the public, that
no work perhaps was ever more impatiently expected, or
perused with greater avidity. The first volume, which
contains an able and eloquent view of the progress of so-
ciety, is a very valuable part of the work; for it serves not
only as a key to the pages that follow, but may be consi¬
dered as a general introduction to the study of the history of
that period, in which the several powers of Europe were
tormed into one great political system, in which each took
a station, in which it long remained, with less alterations
than could have been expected, after the shocks occasioned
y so many internal revolutions and so many foreign wars.
Dt the history itself, it may be sufficient to observe, that it
has secured to the author a place among the greatest his¬
torians of modern times. It is distinguished by elegance of
expression, depth of discernment, and correctness of judg¬
ment. The characters are drawn with singular skill. They
are not contrasted by a studied antithesis, but by an oppo¬
sition which results from a very acute and penetrating in¬
sight into the real merits of each character, fairly deduced
trom the several circumstances of his conduct exemplified
in the history. For this work the author received L.4500
sterling.
ROB
301
In 1779, Dr Robertson published “ The History of Ame-Robertson,
rica,’ in two volumes quarto. This celebrated work mayx■“■“■Y'■,*,,'
with great propriety be considered as a sequel to the pre¬
ceding history, from the close of the fifteenth century we
date the most splendid era in the annals of modern times.
Discoveries were then made, the influence of which de¬
scended to posterity ; and events happened that gave a
new direction to the spirit of nations. To the inhabitants
of Europe, America was in every respect a new world.
There the face of the earth changed its appearance. The
plants and trees and animals were strange, and nature
seemed no longer the same. A continent opened that ap¬
peared to have recently come from the hands of the Crea¬
tor, and which showed lakes, rivers, and mountains on a
grander scale, and the vegetable kingdom in greater mag¬
nificence, than in the other quarters of the globe, but the
animal tribes in a state of degradation, few in number, de¬
generated in kind, imperfect, and unfinished. The human
species in the earliest stage of its progress, vast and numer¬
ous nations in the rudest form of the savage state which
philosophers have contemplated, and two great empires in
the lowest degree of civilization which any records have
transmitted to our review, presented to the philosophic eye
at this period the most fruitful subject of speculation that
was to be found in the annals of history. The discovery of
the New' World, moreover, was not only a curious spectacle
to the philosopher, but, by the change which it effected, an
interesting spectacle to the human race. When Columbus
set sail for unknown lands, he little expected that he was
to make a revolution in the system of human affairs, and
to influence the future destiny of Europe. The importance
and celebrity therefore of the subject had attracted the at¬
tention of philosophers and historians. Views and sketches
of the New World had been given by able writers, and
splendid portions of the American story had been adorned
with all the beauties of eloquence. But previously to the
appearance of Dr Robertson’s history, no author had beL
stowed the mature and profound investigation w'hich such
a subject required, or had exhibited that complete narra¬
tion and perfect whole w hich it is the province of the his¬
torian to transmit to posterity. And as the subject upon
which the author entered was grand, his execution was
masterly. The character of his former works was imme¬
diately discerned in this. They had been read with un¬
common admiration. When the History of Scotland was
first published, and the author altogether unknown, Lord
Chesterfield pronounced it to be equal in eloquence and
beauty to the production of Livy, the purest and most clas¬
sical of all the Roman historians. His literary reputation
was not confined to his own country : the testimony of Eu¬
rope was soon added to the voice of Britain. It may in¬
deed be mentioned, as the characteristic quality of the au¬
thor’s manner, that he possessed in no common degree that
supported elevation which is suitable to compositions of
the higher class; and in his History of America he dis¬
played that happy union of strength and grace which be¬
comes the majesty of the historic muse. In the fourth book
ot his first volume, which contains a description of America
when first discovered, and a philosophical inquiry into the
manners and policy of its ancient inhabitants, he displays
moreover so much patient investigation and sound philoso¬
phy, abounds in such beautiful or interesting description,
and exhibits such variety and copiousness of elegant writing,
that future times will probably refer to it as that part of his
works which gives the best idea of his genius, and is the
most finished of all his productions.
In 1787 appeared a translation of Clavigero’s History of
Mexico; in which work the author hazarded various re¬
flections, tending in several instances to impeach the credit
of Dr Robertson’s History of America. This attack in¬
duced the learned historian to revise his work, and to in-
302
ROB
Roberval- quire into the truth of the charges brought against it by the
lian Lines, historian of New Spain ; and this he appears to have done
with a becoming attention to the importance of the facts
that are controverted, and to the common interests of truth.
The result he published in 1788, under the title of “ Ad¬
ditions and Corrections to the former Editions of Dr Ro¬
bertson’s History of America.” In many of the disputed
passages, he fully answered Clavigero and vindicated him¬
self ; in others he candidly submitted to correction, and thus
gave additional value to his own work.
The literary labours of Dr Robertson appear to have been
terminated in 1791, by the publication of “ An Historical
Disquisition concerning the Knowledge which the Ancients
had of India, and the Progress of Trade with that country
prior to the Discovery of the Passage to it by the Cape of
Good Hope; with an Appendix, containing Observations
on the Civil Polity, the Laws, and Judicial Proceedings,
the Arts, the Sciences, and Religious Institutions of the
Indians.” The perusal of Major Rennell’s Memoir, for il¬
lustrating his map of Hindustan, suggested to Robertson
the design of examining more fully than he had done in
his History of America, into the knowledge which the an¬
cients had of India, and of considering what is certain, what
is obscure, and what is fabulous, in their accounts of that
remote country. Of his various performances, this is not
that of which the design is the most extensive, or the exe¬
cution the most elaborate; but in his historical disquisition
we perceive the same patient assiduity in collecting his
materials, the same discernment in arranging them, the
same perspicuity of narrative, and the same power of illus¬
tration, which so eminently distinguish his other writings,
and which have long rendered them the delight of the Bri¬
tish reader at home, and an honour to British literature
abroad.
His truly useful life was closed on the 11th of June
179;3, at Grange-House near Edinburgh, after a lingering
illness, which he endured with exemplary fortitude and re¬
signation. He had attained the age of seventy-two. It
may be justly observed of him, that no man lived more re¬
spected, or died more sincerely lamented. Indefatigable in
his literary researches, and possessing from nature a sound
and vigorous understanding, he acquired a store of useful
knowledge, which afforded ample scope for the exertion of
his extraordinary abilities, and raised him to the most dis¬
tinguished eminence in the republic of letters. As a minis¬
ter of the gospel, he was a faithful pastor, and justly merited
the esteem and veneration of his flock. In a word, he may
be pronounced to be one of the most perfect characters of
the age; and his name will be a lasting honour to the island
that gave him birth. His conversation was cheerful, enter¬
taining, and instructive ; his manners affable, pleasing, and
endearing.
The account of his Life and Writings, published by Mr
Dugald Stewart, is one of the noblest pieces of biography
that any language can boast of. It was published in a se¬
parate form, and likewise accompanies the later editions of
his wmrks.
Dr Robertson left a widow and a numerous family in
prosperous circumstances. In 1751 he had married Mary
the daughter of Mr Nisbet, one of the ministers of Edin¬
burgh, and this domestic union had been productive of
much happiness. His eldest son, the late Lord Robertson,
was for many years a judge of the Court of Session. Two
of his sons belonged to the military profession. His eldest
daughter was the wife of Mr Brydone the celebrated tra¬
veller, and the mother of the present Countess of Minto.
Another daughter married John Russell, Esq. w riter to the
signet. Lord Brougham is the grandson of Dr Robertson’s
sister.
ROBERV ALLIAN Lines, a name given to certain lines
used for the transformation of figures, so called from Ro-
ROB
berval, the inventor of them. These lines are the bounda-
ries of lines infinitely extended in length, yet equal to other
spaces which are terminated on all sides. It is observed by ^
the Abbe Gallois, that the method of transforming figures"
which is explained at the end of Roberval’s treatise of In¬
divisibles, was the same with that afterwards published by
James Gregory in his Geometric/, Universalis, and also by
Dr Barrow in his Lectiones Geometricce ; and that it appears
from Torricelli’s letter, that Roberval was the inventor of
this method of transforming figures, by means of certain
lines called by Torricelli, for that reason, Robervallian lines.
The same author adds, that J. Gregory probably first- learn¬
ed this method at Padua in the year 1668 ; for the method
was known in Italy in 1646, although the book w as not pub¬
lished till 1692. David Gregory endeavoured to refute this
account, in vindication of his uncle James. His answer
appeared in the Philosophical Transactions for 1694, and
Gallois rejoined in the Memoirs of the French Academy
for 1703; so that it remains in a state of uncertainty to
which of the two we are to ascribe the invention.
ROBIGUS and ROBIGO, a Roman god and goddess,
who joined in the preservation of corn from blight. Their
festival was kept on the 25th of April.
ROBINS, Benjamin, an ingenious mathematician, was
born at Bath in 1707. Llis parents were Quakers of low
condition, and consequently w^ere unable to have him much
instructed in human learning; but his own propensity to
science having procured him a recommendation to Dr Pem¬
berton at London, by his assistance, while he attained the
sublimer parts of mathematical knowledge, he commenced
teacher of the mathematics. But the business of teaching,
which required confinement, not suiting his active disposi¬
tion, he gradually declined it, and engaged in business that
required more exercise. Hence he tried many laborious
experiments in gunnery, from the persuasion that the re¬
sistance of the air has a much greater influence on swift
projectiles than is generally imagined. Hence also he was
led to consider the mechanic arts that depend on mathe¬
matical principles ; as the construction of mills, the build¬
ing of bridges, the draining of fens, the rendering of rivers
navigable, and the making of harbours. Among other arts,
fortification much engaged his attention ; and he met with
opportunities of perfecting himself by viewing the principal
strong places of Flanders, in some tours which he made with
persons of distinction.
Upon his return from one of these excursions, he found
the learned amused with Dr Berkeley’s work entitled “ Ihe
Analyst,” in which an attempt was made to explode the
method of fluxions. Mr Robins was therefore advised to
clear up this subject by giving a distinct account of Sir Isaac
Newton’s doctrines, in such a manner as to obviate ah the
objections that had been made, without naming them. Ac¬
cordingly he published, in 1735, “A Discourse concerning
the Nature and Certainty of Sir Isaac Newton’s Method of
Fluxions and, some exceptions being made to his manner
of defending Newton, he afterwards wrote two or three ad¬
ditional discourses. In 1738, he defended the same great
philosopher against an objection contained in a note at the
end of Baxter’s Matho, sive Cosmotheoria puerilis ; and the
following year printed Remarks on Euler’s Treatise of Mo¬
tion, on Dr Smith’s System of Optics, and on Dr J«y‘n;s
Discourse of distinct and indistinct Vision, annexed to Smith s
work. In the mean while, Mr Robins did not solely con¬
fine himself to mathematical subjects; for in 1739 he pub¬
lished, without his name, three pamphlets on political af¬
fairs. Two of them, relating to the convention and nego-
ciation with Spain, were so highly esteemed as to occasion
his being employed in a very honourable post: on a com¬
mittee being appointed to examine into the past conduct
of Sir Robert Walpole, he was chosen their secretary-
In 1742, Mr Robins published a small treatise-entitled
‘son
ROB
“ New Principles of Gunnery,” containing the result of
nicany experiments; and a discourse being published in the
Philosophical Transactions, in order to invalidate some of
his opinions, he thought proper, in an account which he
gave of his book in the same Transactions, to take notice
of those experiments. In consequence of this discussion,
several of his Dissertations on the Resistance of Air were
read, and the experiments exhibited before the Royal So¬
ciety, for which he was presented by that honourable body
with a gold medal.
In GIB appeared Lord Anson’s Voyage round the
World, which, though Mr Walter’s name is in the title, has
been generally thought to be the work of Robins. Walter,
chaplain on board the Centurion, had brought it down to
his departure from Macao for England, when he proposed
to print the work by subscription. It was however, it is
said, thought proper that an able judge should review and
correct it, and Robins was appointed ; when, upon exami¬
nation, it w'as resolved that the whole should be written by
Robins, and that Walter’s papers should only serve as ma¬
terials. Hence the introduction entire, and many disser¬
tations in the body of the work, it is said, wrere composed
by him, without receiving the least assistance from Walter’s
manuscript, which chiefly related to the wind and the w ea¬
ther, the currents, courses, bearings, distances, the qualities
of the ground on which they anchored, and such particulars
as generally fill up a sailor’s account. No production of
this kind ever met with a more favourable reception : four
large impressions were sold within a twelvemonth ; and it
has been translated into most of the languages of Europe.
The fifth edition, printed at London in 1749, was revised
and corrected by Robins himself. In the corrigenda and
addenda to the first volume of the Biographia Britannica,
printed in the beginning of the fourth volume of that work’
it is however stated that Robins was only consulted with
respect to the disposition of the drawings, "and that he had
left England before the book was printed. Whether this
be the fact, as it is asserted to be by the widow of Mr Wal¬
ter, it is not for us to determine.
Robins was soon afterwards desired to compose an apo¬
logy for the unfortunate affair at Prestonpans. It was pre¬
fixed as a preface to “ The Report of the Proceedings of
the Board of General Officers on their Examination into
the conduct of Lieutenant-General Sir John Copeand
this preface was esteemed a masterpiece in its kind. He
afterwards, through the interest of Lord Anson, contributed
to the improvements made in the Royal Observatory at
Greenwich. Having thus established his reputation, he
vas offered the choice of two considerable employments;
either to go to Paris as one of the commissaries for adjust-
i'ig the limits of Acadia, or to be engineer-general to the
Last India Company. He chose the latter, and arrived in
l ie East Indies in 1750 ; but the climate not agreeing with
ns constitution, he died there the year following.
ROBINSON, Sir Richard, Lord Rokeby°and arch¬
bishop of Armagh, was immediately descended from the Ro¬
binsons of Rokeby in the north riding of the county of York,
and was born in 1709. He was educated at Westminster
school, Rom whence he was elected to Christ Church, Ox-
lonl, m 1726. I„ 1733 he took the degree of A. and
»i r48 that of D. D. Dr Blackbume, archbishop of York,
appointed him his chaplain, and collated him first to the
rectory of Elton in the east riding of Yorkshire, and next
to the prebend of Grindall in the cathedral of York. In
'bC he attended the duke of Dorset, lord-lieutenant of
Ireland, to that kingdom, as his first chaplain, and the same
year was promoted to the bishopric of Killala. A family
connechon with the earl of Holdernesse, secretary of state,
he earl of Sandwich and other noblemen related to
thT6 ftirTt P™8?6018 of staining to the first
>Dmty m the Irish church. Accordingly, in 1759 he was
ROB
303
translated (o the united sees of Leighlin and Ferns, and in Robison.
1761 to Kildare. 1 he duke of Northumberland being ap- 's—
pointed to the lieutenancy of Ireland in 1765, he was ad¬
vanced to the primacy of Armagh, made lord-almoner, and
vice-chancellor of the university of Dublin. When Lord
Harcourt was lord-lieutenant of Ireland in 1777, the king
was pleased, by privy seal at St James’s, February 6th, and
by patent at Dublin the 26th of the same month, to create
him Baron Rokeby of Armagh, with remainder to Matthew
Robinson of West Layton, Esq.; and in 1783 he was ap¬
pointed prelate of the most illustrious order of St Patrick.
On the deatn of the duke of Rutland, lord-lieutenant of
Ireland, in 1787, he was nominated one of the lords-justices
of that kingdom. Sir William Robinson, his brother, dyino-
in 1785, the primate succeeded to the title of baronet. He
was the survivor in the direct male line of the Robinsons
of Rokeby, being the eighth in descent from William of
Kendal. His grace died at Clifton near Bristol in the end
of October 1794.
ROBISON, John, a distinguished professor of natural
philosophy, born in 1739 at Boghall, in the parish of Bal-
dernock and county of Stirling, was a younger son of John
Robison, Esq. who had formerly been a merchant at Glas¬
gow, and had retired to live in considerable affluence on
his estate at Boghall, not far from that city.
He was of a family sufficiently respectable to enable his
son at a subsequent period to prove himself, to the satis¬
faction of the court of St Petersburg, a gentleman born. As
a younger brother, that son was originally intended for the
church, and went at an early age, according to the custom
of Scotland, in 1 756, to enter as a student in the university
of Glasgow, so that he was initiated almost in the rudiments
of Grecian literature under the able instruction of Dr Moor,
the well-known professor of Greek; and he acquired such
a knowledge of the classical languages as served to consti¬
tute him a correct scholar through life. He pursued his
studies with so much attention as to obtain the approbation
of his teachers and the admiration of his contemporaries,
who were delighted with the originality and ingenuity of
Ins conversation, though he did not himself reflect with per¬
fect satisfaction upon the degree of application which he
had exerted in his academical education. He took the de¬
gree of Master of Arts in 1756, having studied mathema¬
tics under Dr Robert feimson, and Amoral philosophy under
Dr Adam Smith. The example of so correct and rigid a
follower of the ancient methods of demonstration as Dr
Simson, must unquestionably have exercised considerable
influence on his yet unformed taste in mathematics; but
he seems to have had a natural preference, either from the
constitution of his mind, or from some previously acquired
habits of thinking, for the geometrical method ; for we are
informed that “ he first attracted the regard of Dr Simson
by owning his dislike of algebra, and by returning a neat
geometrical solution of a problem which had been given
out to the class in an algebraical form ; with this mode of
solution the professor was delighted, though the pupil can¬
didly acknowledged that it had been adopted only because
he could not solve the problem in the manner required of
the class.”
In the course of his studies, he had imbibed an insupe¬
rable aversion to the pursuit of his original objects in the
church ; not certainly from any want of religious feeling,
or from a dislike to the kind of life that was intended for
him, but probably from some difficulties that had occurred
to him respecting particular points of doctrine or of prac¬
tice. He was therefore compelled to provide himself with
some other occupation ; and he readily accepted the offer
of some of his friends in 1758, to recommend him to Dr
Blair, a prebendary of Westminster, who had formed a
scheme for sending Prince Edward, the young duke of
York, to complete his professional education at sea, in com-
304
Robison.
ROBISON.
pany with a son of Admiral Knowles ; and Mr Robison was
to have instructed his royal highness in mathematics and
navigation. On his arrival in London, he was much dis¬
appointed to find that the expedition had never been seri¬
ously intended ; and he readily accepted an engagement to
attend young Knowles as a private tutor, when he went as
a midshipman on board of the Neptune of ninety guns, with
Admiral Saunders, who had the command of a force in¬
tended to co-operate with General Wolfe in the reduction
of Quebec ; and upon the appointment of his friend as a
lieutenant on board of the Royal William, Robison was
himself rated as a midshipman in that ship.
The fleet arrived on the coast of America in April 1 ;
in May they got up the river, and Mr Robison was one ol
a party of 100 seamen draughted from the Royal 'William
into the admiral’s ship, under the command of Lieutenant
Knowles. In this capacity he had an opportunity of seeing
considerable service, and of making some surveys of the
river and of the neighbouring country ; an employment for
which he was perfectly qualified, both as a geometrician and
a draughtsman. He also remarked the effect of the aurora
borealis on the compass, which had been noticed by Mairan
and Wargentin some years before, but which was then not
commonly known. After the battle which was signalized
by the victory and death of the gallant W olte, the Royal
William sailed with his body to Europe, and arrived at Spit-
head in November. The next year she was sent to cruise
off Cape Finisterre; but in six months she was obliged to
return home, from having the greater part of the men dis¬
abled by the scurvy.
He used to consider the twro years that he spent on board
of the Royal William as the happiest of his life ; and no in-
siderable part of his gratification was derived from the study
of seamanship as he saw it practised under the auspices of
Captain Hugh Pigot. He did not, however, acquire any
firm attachment to the mode of life which he had tempo¬
rarily adopted; he was rather disposed to resume his aca¬
demical pursuits, and he had overcome his earlier objec¬
tions to the ecclesiastical profession. He could not, how¬
ever, refuse the kindly invitation of Admiral Knowles to
come and live with him in the country, and to assist him
in some important experiments which he w as making upon
mechanical and nautical subjects.
In the month of February 1762, Lieutenant Knowdes
w'as appointed to the Peregrine sloop, of twenty guns, and
Mr Robison accompanied him with the hope of becoming
a purser. He visited Lisbon and several other parts of
Portugal; but he found a cruise in a small ship 'much less
convenient and agreeable than in a large one, and, fortu¬
nately for himself and for mankind, he finally quitted the
Peregrine and the naval service in June, and returned to
live with Admiral Knowles, who soon after recommended
him as a proper person to take charge of Harrison’s time¬
keeper, which had been completed by the labour of thirty-
five years, after many unsuccessful experiments, and which
was now sent out by desire of the Board of Longitude to
the West Indies, under the care of young Harrison and of
Mr Robison. The rate of the chronometer was ascertained
at Portsmouth the 6th November 1762, and it indicated at
Port Royal, in Jamaica, a difference of time amounting to
5h 2m 47s, which is only four seconds less than the true
longitude. After a few days the observers had a prompt
opportunity of returning home by the Merlin sloop, which
was sent to Europe with despatches. The voyage was most
disastrous with respect to wand and weather, and at last the
ship took fire ; but she arrived safe at Portsmouth in March,
and on the 2d of April the watch gave 1 lh 58m 61s, instead
of 12h, for the time of mean noon, so that the error, after
six months, was only lm 53^s, amounting to no more than
about twenty miles of distance.
Mr Robison received, upon his return, the afflicting in¬
telligence of the total loss of the Peregrine, wdnch had foun- Itobi;
dered at sea with her commander and the whole of the ship’s''—v
company. He was also greatly disappointed in the failure
of some hopes which had been held out to him from the Ad¬
miralty and the Board of Longitude ; though in fact there
is little reason for the public to regret that he was not gra¬
tified with the pursership, which he claimed as the reward
of his services. He was indeed afterwards actually made a
purser by Lord Sandwich, in 1763; but he then declined
accepting the appointment. His biographers very naturally
complain of the neglect of those boards which ought to
have recompensed him ; but certainly the Board of Longi¬
tude had no power whatever, and probably not much influ¬
ence, in the appointment of a purser ; and, after all, the
delay of a year or two was nothing very uncommon in the
navy.
He had now no other resource than to return to Glas¬
gow, and to resume his academical pursuits with renewed
energy. It was from this time that he dated his serious ap¬
plication to his studies. He became extremely intimate with
Dr Reid and Dr Alexander Wilson; and he had the advan¬
tage of being a witness of two of the greatest steps in the
improvement of physical science that have been made in
modern times, Dr Black’s experimental theory of heat, and
Mr Watt’s invention of a new steam-engine. Dr Black
was the first that determined the quantity of heat required
for the conversion of ice into water: Mr Watt, who was
settled as a mathematical instrument-maker at Glasgow, had
been employed in repairing a working model of Newcomen’s
engine for one of the professors of the university; and it
was the difficulty of supplying this model with steam that
suggested to Mr Watt the eligibility of having a separate
condenser, and that led him, In conjunction with Dr Black,
to a knowledge of the quantity of heat consumed in evapo¬
ration.
Amid the enthusiasm which is always inspired by the
progress of scientific discovery and of practical improve¬
ment, Mr Robison found every encouragement and every
facility for the pursuit of his favourite objects. He was re¬
commended by Dr Black, upon his removal to Edinburgh
in 1766, as his successor in the lectureship of chemistry,
though without the appointment of a professor. He took
charge, also, of the education of Mr Macdowall of Garth-
land, and of Mr Charles Knowles, afterwards Sir Charles.
Admiral Knowles was soon after recommended by the Bri¬
tish government to the empress of Russia, in order to effect
a reformation in her navy, having been employed on a simi¬
lar service in Portugal almost fifty years before; he had al¬
ways been a firm friend to Mr Robison, and now engaged
him on this mission, with a salary of L.250 a year; and
they proceeded together to St Petersburg in December
1770. Being hospitably entertained on their way by the
prince bishop of Liege, whom they found to constitute,
with his chapter and all his servants, a lodge of freemasons,
Mr Robison w as easily persuaded to become one of that fra¬
ternity : in a few days he wras made an apprentice, and by de¬
grees attained the rank of Scottish master, as he has himsel
related in his publication upon the subject. He continued
nearly two years at St Petersburg, still acting in the capa¬
city of private secretary to Sir Charles, who was appointe
president of the Board of Admiralty, much to the advantage
of the Russian navy, though his improvements were fre¬
quently retarded by the prejudices of the native officers.
Mr Robison was then appointed inspector general of t e
corps of marine cadets at Cronstadt, with a double salarj,
and with the rank of lieutenant-colonel. His duty was
to receive the report of about forty teachers and professors,
respecting the studies of 400 young noblemen, who were
their pupils, and to class them according to his judgmen
of their merits ; but he had himself nothing to teach, nor
could he have had much occasion for “lecturing fluenty
ROBISON.
>n. in the Russian language,” though he was introduced by his
—' friend KutusofF to the Grand Duke Paul as a proficient in
that language; but to the empress he was not personally
known. At Petersburg he could have lived without regretting
his country, in the society of such men as Euler and Alpi-
nus, admired by the Russians, and beloved by the British;
but Cronstadt in winter was deplorably melancholy; and in
1773 he was induced, without much difficulty, to make
some little pecuniary sacrifice in accepting the professor¬
ship of natural philosophy at Edinburgh, which had become
vacant by the death of Dr Russell, and to which he had
been recommended by Dr Robertson, then principal of the
university. His determination was not disapproved by the
Russian government, who granted him a pension of about
L.80 a year for life ; but it was only paid as long as three
or four young men, who had accompanied him as pupils,
continued to reside at Edinburgh ; some discontent having
been expressed because he did not keep up a correspond¬
ence with the academy on the improvement of maritime
education.
He arrived at Edinburgh in September 1774. He mar¬
ried soon afterwards, and continued to reside in that city for
the remaining thirty years of his life, paying only an annual
visit to his native place, wdiere he possessed a part of the
paternal estate ; not being solicitous to extend it, although
“ he did not diminish it otherwise than as it had been dimi¬
nished befoi e, that is, in making provision for younger
children. His predecessor had been very judicious and
successful as a lecturer, though not a mathematician of the
highest order: he had himself more practical knowledge
and experience in mechanics, and was better acquainted
with the foreign mathematicians, who had naturally fallen
under his notice during his residence on the continent. His
lectures were considered by most of his pupils as somewhat
too difficult to be follow’ed ; a complaint which, if it did not
depend on their own want of preparatory information, arose
perhaps rather more from the hasty manner of his enuncia¬
tion than from the abstruseness of his matter. “ The sin-
gular facility of his own apprehension,” says Professor Play¬
fair, made him judge too favourably of the same power in
others. To understand his lectures completely was, on ac¬
count of the rapidity and the uniform flow of his discourse,
not a very easy task, even for men tolerably familiar with
the subject. On this account his lectures were less popu¬
lar than might have been expected from such a combina¬
tion of talents as the author of them possessed.” This in¬
convenience was increased “ by the small number of expe¬
riments he introduced, and a view that he took of natural
philosophy, which left but a very subordinate place for them
to occupy. An experiment, he would very truly observe,
does not establish a general proposition, and never can do
more than prove a particular factbut he seems to have
earned this principle to some little excess: it is, in fact, the
illustration, and not the proof, of general principles that is
ie object of a public exhibition of experiments; and it is
very doubtful whether Archimedes, or Newton, or Leibnitz,
or Euler, would have been very successful as showmen. With
respect, however, to “ accuracy of definition, to clearness,
orevity, and elegance of demonstration, and even to neat¬
ness and precision in experiments,” Professor Robison was
very successful; his course extended “ to every branch of
Physics and of mixed mathematics,” and entered so fully
mto the detail of each particular division of the subjects,
nat a more perfect system of academical instruction is
not easily to be imagined.” Nothing, in short, was wanting,
out so much previous knowledge of mathematics in his pu-
pi s as he thought he had a right to expect, though his ex¬
pectations were too rarely fulfilled.
305
4 he Philosophical Society of Edinburgh had almost been Robison,
suffered to sink into oblivion after the publication of the
third volume of its Essays, in 1756. Professor Robison be¬
came a member of it soon after his return from Russia, and
was chosen secretary of the new society upon its formation
by royal charter in 1783, when it incorporated with itself
the whole of the surviving members of the former society.
In 1 /98 he received the compliment of a degree of Doctor
of Laws from the university of New Jersey ; and a similar
honour was paid him at Glasgow the year after. In 1800
he was elected, as successor to Dr Black, on the list of the
foreign members of the Royal Academy of Sciences of St
Petersburg.
In 1785 he was attacked by a severe disorder, from
which he was never afterwards wholly free, though it pro¬
duced little inconvenience besides pam, with some depres¬
sion of spirits, which was, however, attributed rather to the
closeness of his application than to the immediate effect of
the disease, which was a glandular induration. For many
years he was obliged to obtain the assistance of substitutes
in the delivery of his lectures; but towards the end of his
life he was able again to perform the duties of the profes¬
sorship in person. He continued his literary labours with
little intermission, and was most happy in the care and at¬
tention of his wife and children, whose virtues he found the
best alleviation of his sufferings. He took a slight cold,
after giving a lecture, on the 28th of January 1805, and
died on the 30th.
1. It was comparatively late in life that Professor Robi¬
son assumed the character of an author, having communi¬
cated to the Royal Society of Edinburgh, in 1786, a paper
on the Determination of the Orbit and Motion of the Geor-
gium Sidus, which was published in the Edinburgh Trans¬
actions, vol. i. He had observed the opposition of the
planet with an equatorial telescope only, and he had com¬
puted the elements of its orbit with greater accuracy than
any other astronomer had then done ; although bis suspi¬
cion of the effect of such a planet on the motions of Jupiter
and Saturn has not been confirmed by later investigations,
the irregularities of these planets, on the contrary, having
been otherwise explained.
2. A second paper, published in the same collection, vol.
ii. p. 82, relates to the Motion of Light, as affected by re¬
fracting or reflecting substances which are themselves in
motion. The author corrects some errors of Boscovich, who
had miscalculated the effect of a water-telescope ; but he
seems to agree with Dr Wilson in the suggestion of another
experiment of a similar nature, which, to say the least, is
wholly superfluous.
3. The most important, beyond all comparison, of Pro¬
fessor Robison’s scientific publications, are the articles
which he communicated from time to time to the third edi¬
tion of the Encyclopaedia Britannica, and to its Supplement.
It was under the care of Mr Colin Macfarquhar that the
first twelve volumes of that edition of this work were pub¬
lished;1 and upon his death, in 1793, the task of continu¬
ing it was committed to Dr Gleig, to whom Professor Ro¬
bison became a most essential co-operator, and from that
time “ the work ceased to be a mere compilation.” The
first of his contributions, according to Professor Playfair,
was the article Optics, but it is probable he only revised
and enlarged that article: it was followed by Philoso¬
phy, which he wrote jointly with Dr Gleig; by Physics,
Pneumatics, Precession, Projectiles, Pumps, Resist¬
ance, Rivers, Roof, Rope-making, Rotation, Seaman¬
ship, Signal, Sound, Specific Gravity, Statics, Steam,
Steam-Engine, Steelyard, Strength,Telescope,Tide,
Trumpet, Variation, and Water-works ; and in the
vol. xix ^ e^ition tlie Encyclopaedia Britannica consisted of eighteen volumes; the Supplement to it of two volumes.
2 Q
306
ROBISON.
Robison. Supplement, by Arch, Astronomy, Boscovich, Carpen-
sy^ try, Centre, Dynamics, Electricity, Impulsion, In¬
volution, Machinery, Magnetism, Mechanics, Per¬
cussion, Pianoforte, Position, Temperament, Thun¬
der, Trumpet, Tschirnhaus, and Watch-work. Not¬
withstanding some degree of prolixity and want of arrange¬
ment, which could scarcely be avoided in the preparation
of original articles for such a mode of publication, the whole
of them, taken together, undeniably exhibit a more com¬
plete view of the modern improvements of physical science
than had ever before been in the possession of the British
public; and display such a combination of acquired know¬
ledge with original power of reasoning, as has fallen to the
lot of a few only of the most favoured of mankind.
4. It is not altogether with so high approbation that his
friends and his biographers have mentioned a work, of a
nature rather political than philosophical, entitled Proofs of
a Conspiracy against all the Religions and Governments of
Europe, Edinb. 1797, 8vo ; though it went through several
editions. The principal part of the book consists of the
history of the Illuminati and the German Union, whom he
considers as having become the chief agents in a plot first
formed by the freemasons, at the suggestion of some ex-
jesuit, who proposed for their model the internal economy
of the order which he had quitted ; and whatever founda¬
tion this outline may have had in truth, there is no doubt
that the manner in which Professor Robison has filled it
up, betrays a degree of credulity extremely remarkable in
a person used to calm reasoning and philosophical demon¬
stration : for example, in the admission of a story told by
an anonvmous German author, that the minister Turgot
was the protector of a society that met at Baron d Hol-
bach’s, for the purpose of examining the brains of living
children, in order to discover the principle of vitality. He
does not accuse the English freemasons of having partici¬
pated in the conspiracy ; but he considers the continental
lodges as having been universally implicated in it.
5. After the death of Dr Black, in 1799, he undertook to
superintend the publication of his Lectures on Chemistry,
wdiich appeared in 1803, 2 vols. 4to. And this task, which
was rather laborious than difficult, he executed with equal
zeal and ability. He endeavoured to reduce to their just
estimate the comparative pretensions of the French and
British chemists, though he is somewhat puritanically se¬
vere in criticizing the literal meaning of the compliments
paid to Black by Lavoisier, on which he founds a charge of
insincerity.
6. His last publication was the first volume of a series
which was to form a complete system, entitled Elements of
Mechanical Philosophy, Edinb. 1804, 8vo. It comprehended
only Dynamics and Astronomy, and it never became very
popular: it was too difficult for the many, who wished for
general and philosophical notions only, and not sufficiently
precise and demonstrative for the few, who wanted practi¬
cal and numerical results. In attempting to combine the
separate merits of the Exposition du Systeme du Monde,
and of the Mecanique Celeste, the author sacrificed both
the popular simplicity of the former, and the mathematical
perfection of the latter. A few inaccuracies, which ought
not to escape the attention of the reader of the work, have
been pointed out in the Imperial Review for March 1805;
a journal long since discontinued.
7. The contents of the volume last mentioned, together
with some manuscripts intended to have formed part of a
second, and the greater part of the articles furnished by
Professor Robison to the Encyclopaedia, were collected
into a System of Mechanical Philosophy, with Notes, by
David Brewster, LL. D. Edinb. 1822, 4 vols. 8vo ; a spirit¬
ed bookseller in London having undertaken the risk of the
publication. 1. The first volume begins with the articles
Dynamics, Projectiles, Corpuscular Forces, Capil¬
lary Attraction, Boscovich’s Theory, and Rotation, Rohiso,'
all as remodelled for the Elements ; then follow Strength V'1J’ y’'
of Materials, Carpentry, Roof, Construction of
Arches, Construction of Centres. 2. The article
Steam-Engine is enriched with notes and an appendix
by the late Mr Watt: the next is Machinery, then Re¬
sistance of Fluids, Rivers, Water-works, Pumps. 3.
Astronomy, Telescope, Pneumatics. 4. Electrici¬
ty, Magnetism, Variation, Temperament, Trumpet,
Watch-work, and Seamanship. The notes are not nu¬
merous, and the editor's principal labour has been to re¬
trench some passages that appeared to him superfluous
when the papers were to stand as parts of such a collection.
« Although Dr Robison’s name,” says Dr Brewster in his
preface, “ cannot be associated with the great discoveries
of the century which he adorned, yet the memory of his
talents and his virtues will be long cherished by his coun¬
try. Imbued with the genuine spirit of the philosophy
which he taught, he was one of the warmest patrons of ge¬
nius wherever it was found. His mind was nobly elevated
above the mean jealousies of rival ambition, and his love of
science and of justice was too ardent to allow him either to
depreciate the labours of others, or to transfer them to
himself. To these great qualities as a philosopher, Dr Ro¬
bison added all the more estimable endowments of domes¬
tic and of social life. His friendship was at all times ge¬
nerous and sincere. His piety was ardent and unosten¬
tatious. His patriotism was of the most pure and exalted
character ; and, like the immortal Newton, whose memory
he cherished with a peculiar reverence, he was pre-emi¬
nently entitled to the high distinction of a Christian, patriot,
and philosopher.” His person was handsome, and his phy¬
siognomy prepossessing; and he appears to have been en¬
dowed with an extraordinary combination of talents, even
exclusively of those which were called into immediate ac¬
tivity in his professional pursuits; for he was a good lin¬
guist, an excellent draughtsman, and an accomplished mu¬
sician. His conversation was always energetic and inte¬
resting, and sometimes even poetical; and his liberality of
sentiment was only limited by his regard for what he con¬
sidered as the best interests of mankind.
A short account of his life was published in 1802, by a
contributor to the Philosophical Magazine, who, among
other inaccuracies, thought himself at liberty to assert that
he was an admirer of the algebraical form of representation,
in preference to the geometrical. His friend Dr Gleig
soon after stepped forward to correct these mistakes, in
the Antijacobin Review for 1802, and his letter was copied
into the Philosophical Magazine. He asserts, from his own
knowledge, that even yet Professor Robison “ delights
much more in geometry than in any of the modes of alge¬
bra, assigning as the reason of his preference, that in the
longest demonstration the geometrician has always clear
and adequate ideas, which the most expert algebraist can
very seldom have.” It may perhaps be asserted, on the
other hand, that the same reasoning would lead us always
to employ actual multiplication or division, in preference
to the use of logarithms or of a sliding rule ; and that the
whole of the magic of calculation depends on the abstrac¬
tion of the results from the numerous and separately unim¬
portant steps by which they are obtained ; but the having
once seen those steps clearly is certainly of great import¬
ance to the process of reasoning, even when the memory
no longer retains them ; and no mathematician of correc
taste can study the ancient geometricians without admiring
the elegance and precision of their method, even amidst tie
pedantry which too frequently envelopes their expressions,
and without being grateful for their punctuality in collect¬
ing their results into the very convenient form of distinc
propositions, and in making such references from each pro^
position to the foundations on which it depends, as to en
5 •lH»
ROC
lioh mts able him readily to trace back their steps to the most ele-
. mentary principles; which is scarcely possible in any of the
Bod‘-wt works of the most modern school of analysis. Professor
Robison, however, seems rarely to have cultivated the higher
mathematics for their own sake only, or any further than as
they could be applied to the study of the phenomena of na¬
ture, or to the practice of the combinations of art: in fact,
without some such limitation, there would be no track to
guide us in the pathless regions of quantity and number,
and their endless relations and functions. But besides the
utility of the pure mathematics as a branch of early educa¬
tion, in exercising and fortifying the powers of the mind, it
is impossible to foresee with certainty how much of mathe¬
matics may be wanted by the natural philosopher in any
given investigation ; and Professor Robison, as well as many
others of his countrymen, would certainly have been the
better for the possession of a little more, as the author of the
criticisms in the Imperial Review has already had occasion
to remark.
Philosophical Magazine, xiii.; Dr Gleig, in Antijacobin
Magazine, xi. 1802; Stark’s Biographia Scotica ; Aikin’s
General Biography, viii. Lond. 1813, 4to; Playfair, in
Edinb. Irans. vii. 1815, p.495; Chalmers’s Biographical
Dictionary, xxv. Lond. 1816, 8vo. (l. l.)
ROBORANTS,in Pharmacy, medicines which strength¬
en the parts, and give new vigour to the constitution.
ROCAB, a small seaport of Hadramaut, in Arabia, on
the Indian Ocean, thirty miles south-south-west of Sahar.
ROCHDALE, a market-town of the county of Lancas¬
ter, in the hundred of Salford, 197 miles from London and
twelve from Manchester. It is situated in a fine valley on
the river Roche, and is overlooked by the church, which
stands on an eminence ascended by 118 steps. The hills
around it abound in excellent coal. The chief occupation
is the manufacture of flannels and other woollen goods. The
parish is large, and contains twelve townships, two of which
are in the west riding of Yorkshire. The population of the
ten in Lancashire amounted in 1801 to 29,954, in 1811 to
45,227, in 1821 to 48,112, and in 1831 to 58,441 ; that of
the Yorkshire part amounted in 1831 to 15,997. By the
parliamentary reform bill this town has received the privi¬
lege of electing one member to the House of Commons,
but it has no municipal corporation.
ROCHE-BERNARD, a town of France, in the depart¬
ment of Morbihan, and arrondissement of Vannes. It is si¬
tuated on the river Vilaine, and contains 1380 inhabitants;
but within the parish are 6670 persons, who are chiefly em¬
ployed in making flaxen thread and linen goods.
ROCHECHOUART, an arrondissement of the depart¬
ment of the Upper Vienne, in France. It extends over 286
square miles, comprehends five cantons, divided into twen¬
ty-nine communes, and contains 48,818 inhabitants. The
capital is the town of the same name, on the banks of the
nver Grenne. It contains 4123 inhabitants. Long. 0.45.
E. Lat. 45. 43. N.
ROCHEFORT, an arrondissement of the department of
the Lower Charente, in France, which extends over 257
square miles. It comprises four cantons, divided into forty-
two communes, and in 1836 contained 51,727 inhabitants.
he capital is a city of the same name, about six miles from
the mouth of the river Charente. The harbour is conve-
ment and secure, and constantly contains many men of war.
Ihe wharfs are very well contrived, and vessels can take in
or discharge the guns and other stores with great facility.
It was first made a naval arsenal by Louis XIV. The city
is surrounded with walls, and the harbour defended by strong
orts. It is a regular, well-built city, with broad streets,
containing five churches, a naval hospital, a school of navi¬
gation, and fine docks. There were, in 1836, 15,441 inha¬
bitants, besides a garrison in the handsome barracks. There
are establishments for making china, for refining sugar, and
ROC
307
Long. 0. 2.54. Rochefou-
cault
manufactories of ropes, cables, and sailcloth
W. Lat. 45. 16. 10. N.
n/rR^HEFOUCAULT, Francis Duke de la, prince of^ II
Marsillac, governor of Poitou, was born in 1603. He was Rochestt>r
the son of Francis, the first duke of Rochefoucault, and '
was distinguished equally by his courage and his wit. These
shining qualities endeared him to all the nobility at court,
who were ambitious of decorating themselves at once with
the laurels of Mars and of Apollo. He wrote two excel-
lent works; the one a book of Maxims, which, Voltaire says,
has contributed more than any thing else to form the taste
of the French nation ; and the other, Memoirs of the Re¬
gency of Queen Anne of Austria. It was partly at the in¬
stigation of the beautiful duchess de Longueville, to whom
he had long been attached, that the duke de Rochefoucault
engaged in the civil wars, in which he signalized himself,
particularly at the battle of St Antoine. After the civil
wars were ended, he thought of nothing but enjoying the
calm pleasures of friendship and literature. His house be¬
came the rendezvous of every person of genius in Paris and
\ ersailles. Racine, Boileau, and Savigne, found in his con¬
versation charms which they sought for in vain elsewhere.
He was not, however, with all his elegance and genius, a
member of the French Academy. The necessity of mak-
ing a public speech on the day of his reception was the
only cause that he did not claim admittance. This noble¬
man, with all the courage he had displayed upon various
critical occasions, and with his superiority of birth and un¬
derstanding over the common run of men, did not think
himself capable of facing an audience to utter only four lines
in public, without being out of countenance. He died at
Paris in 1680, aged sixty-eight, leaving behind him a cha¬
racter which has been variously drawn by those who during
his life were proud of his friendship.
ROCHELLE, an arrondissement of the department of
the Lower Charente, in France, extending over 282 square
miles. It comprehends seven cantons, divided into fifty-five
communes, and in 1836 contained 78,797 inhabitants. The
capital is the city of the same name, the seat of the depart¬
mental government and of the courts of law. It is on the
sea-shore, is strongly fortified, and has a convenient and se¬
cure harbour defended by two forts. It is the seat of a bishop,
has a cathedral, one Protestant and five Catholic churches,
and in the year 1836 had 14,857 inhabitants, who are tra¬
ders in wine, brandy, salt, and other domestic products, and
in all kinds of colonial articles. It is celebrated for its long
siege when held by the Protestants in 1628, which was
continued for thirteen months, and was attended with dread¬
ful sufferings. Long. 1. 14. 17. W. Lat. 46. 9. 33. N.
ROCHESTER, an ancient city in the county of Kent,
thirty miles from London. It is commonly supposed to have
been founded by the ancient Britons. In the time of the
Romans it was one of their military stations, but did not
attain any great celebrity until more than a century after
the arrival of the Saxons, who in the reign of King Ethel-
bert, constituted it the seat of a bishop, and it was consider¬
ed as a most important military station. By the Britons it
was known under the name of Dourbrys; the Romans called
it Durobrivw, which the Saxons changed to Roffcaster, from
which its present name has been derived. It is situated on
the river Medway, a stream which, rising in the centre of
Kent, becomes navigable at Maidstone, and increases, till,
near Rochester, it is affected by the tides, which reach
it from the Thames at the Nore. At Rochester is the first
bridge over that fine stream. This bridge, built in the
reign of King John, with the exception of the bridges in
London, was long deemed superior to any other in the
kingdom in height, strength, and elegance. It consists of
eleven arches, three of which have been rebuilt, and the
whole, by modern improvement, widened and beautified,
and ornamented with balustrades, panels, and bold copings.
308 ROC
Rochester. The largest arch is forty feet span, and the otlieis thirty
feet. The length is 560 feet, and the breadth twenty-four
feet between the parapets. The river Medway is capable
of receiving the largest vessels up to Rochester, but few
are moored off the city, as Chatham, a mile lower down the
river, is more convenient from the vicinity to the naval ar¬
senal and the docks.
The ancient castle is an interesting object to all antiqua¬
ries. It stands on the south-west side of the city, on such
an elevated spot that it can be seen at thirty miles distance.
The streets of this city have no peculiar feature, except the
narrowness and length ; for in fact it consists chiefly of a
single street, which is a continuation of Stroud towards the
west and of Chatham towards the east, forming two rows of
moderate houses, more than two miles from one end to the
other, with a few short streets or lanes leading from them
southward. With the exception of the cathedral, hereafter
to be noticed, the town-hall is the most remarkable edifice :
it was built in 1687. It is a handsome structure, with a
spacious entrance-hall and staircase, the ceilings of both
which are very curiously ornamented. Here the city business
is transacted; and at the back part is the city jail. I here
is a free school, several charitable institutions, a custom¬
house, and a market-house. The diocese of Rochester is the
smallest in the kingdom. It had a cathedral as early as the
year 600, which was destroyed by Ethelbert, king of Mercia,
in 676 ; and a few years after the city suffered much by the
incursions of the Danes, but appears to have recovered some
degree of respectability by the accession of King Athelstan,
who appointed masters of the mint to superintend the coin¬
age of money. The cathedral had been dilapidated at the
Norman conquest; but Gundulph, who was removed from
Normandy to fill the see, acquired money sufficient to re¬
build the sacred edifice, though he died in 1094, before it
was finished. Like most of the more ancient ecclesiastical^
erections, its plan is an improvement on the basilica of
Rome, and it is built in the form of the cross of Christ,
with a massive square tower at the point of intersection.
The interior space to the west of the cross was the nave or
body of the church, which represented the ship of St Peter :
this part is more ancient than the nave of any other cathe¬
dral in the kingdom, and still retains most of the peculiar
features of the style in which it was originally built, and is
indeed one of the most interesting specimens of Norman
architecture. The whole length of this nave is a hundred
and fifty feet, and its breadth between the pillars thirty-
three feet, and from one wall to the other seventy-five feet.
The choir has an ascent of ten steps, and is a hundred and
fifty-six feet in length. The western front of the cathedral,
one of the most perfect specimens of Anglo-Norman archi¬
tecture, was constructed with consummate ability at a pe¬
riod when the art had arrived at a high point of perfection.
The centre door is formed of a semicircular arch, composed
of rich mouldings, and is supported by four pillars, with capi¬
tals of wreathed foliage. Two of these pillars take the form
of Caryatides, and present statues of King Henry I. and his
queen Matilda, the daughter of Malcolm III. king of Scot¬
land, being undoubtedly two of the most ancient statues
remaining in England. This building presents many other
objects of very high interest to the student and the admirer
of ancient architecture. The cathedral contains but few
monuments, and none with any striking peculiarity.
Rochester is not a place of much trade, except what
arises from the great number of travellers passing through
it in their way by Dover to and from the continent. The
chief occupation is a considerable oyster-fishery, from beds
in the river Medway, which river is under the concurrent
jurisdiction of its own corporate body, and that of the lord-
mayor and aldermen of London. The latter body make
periodical visits of conservancy by water, and on such oc¬
casions the two corporations indulge together in sumptuous
ROC
festivity. For municipal purposes, the city is divided into Rochf*
three wards, and is governed by a mayor, six aldermen, and l|
seventeen councillors. The recorder and justices of the
peace are appointed by the crown. The city returns two
members to parliament. There is a well-supplied market
on Fridays, and several annual fairs. The population amount¬
ed in 1821 to 8795, and in 1831 to 9811.
ROCHFORD, a market-town of the county of Essex,
in the hundred of the same name, thirty-nine miles from
London. It is situated on a small river that empties itself
into the Crouch. It has a good market on Thursday. The
population amounted in 1801 to 1228, in 1811 to 1214, in
1821 to 1382, and in 1831 to 1256.
ROCKET, an artificial fire-work, consisting of a cylin¬
drical case of paper, filled with a composition of certain
combustible ingredients; which, being tied to a stick,
mounts into the air, and then bursts. See Pyrotechny.
ROCKY Mountains, a great mountain chain which
traverses the western part of North America, extending
from about latitude 70° north to Mexico, where it is con¬
tinued by the Cordilleras of the Andes. These ranges are
considered as forming part of one vast chain, which in South
America, near the equator, attains its greatest elevation.
At the Isthmus of Panama it is so low as nearly to dis¬
appear ; but this is in conformity with the narrowness of
the land in that quarter, and but for a short space. This
slight interruption is not sufficient to entitle us to consi¬
der the continuity as broken, so that we have in the western
hemisphere one great mountain range extending along both
continents, from the Polar Sea on the north, to Cape Horn
on the south, a distance of more than one hundred and
twenty degrees of latitude, without including the windings.
The eastern side of North America is traversed by a simi¬
lar range of mountains called the Alleghanies, which stretch
along in continued and parallel lines; but the extent,
breadth, and height of the Rocky Mountains are much
greater than those of the former. It is however supposed
that the Rocky Mountains extend along the western part
of the continent, at about the same distance from the Pa¬
cific Ocean that the Alleghanies on the eastern side extend
from the Atlantic Ocean. Although but partially explored,
the primitive character of the Rocky Mountains is clearly
established. Their eastern sides are covered to the height
of two hundred or three hundred feet, with a sandstone
consisting of the ruins of the granitic rocks upon which it
reposes, where disintegration was apparently effected by
the gradual agency of an ancient ocean, once occupying
the immense plain or basin now extending eastward from
the base of these mountains to the chain of the Allegha¬
nies. They have not however been sufficiently explored
to admit our advancing any scientific details in regard to
them. Many of the detached mountains and prominent
peaks have not yet been either named, classified, or de¬
scribed. It does not appear that many of them rise above
the region of perpetual refrigeration. But we have the
concurrent testimony of Lewis and Clarke, as well as others,
that in latitude 47c north, immense quantities of snow are
on their summits, between the Missouri and Columbia, in
the months of June and July. They are seen like a vast
rampart rising from the grassy plains, stretching from north
to south. Sometimes their aspect is that of continue
ranges of a grayish colour, rising into the blue of the at¬
mosphere, above the region of the clouds. A great num¬
ber are black, ragged, and precipitous; and their bases are
strewn with immense boulders and fragments of rock, de¬
tached by earthquakes and the elements. From this iron-
bound and precipitous character they probably receive
the appellation of Rocky Mountains. Some of the pea s
are supposed to be twelve or thirteen thousand feet in
height; and the general range is considerably higher than
any other in North America, with the exception of t e
(Ifroy
Jliez.
ROD
Cordilleras. It is not certainly known whether any of them
are volcanic. Pumice stones are often seen floating on the
Mississippi, and still oftener on the Missouri. These are
generally of a reddish yellow, or flame colour, and are
amongst the largest and finest specimens of this substance
to be met with. Some assert that they proceed from hills
of burning coal, but we never heard of hills of burning coal
ever yielding such a product. They are entirely a volcanic
production, and beyond doubt are either discharged from
craters at present active, or are washed away by the moun¬
tain torrents, from places which were formerly the scene of
such phenomena. Mica is also abundantly carried along
by the waters which flow from the Rocky Mountains. The
great rivers that are discharged from their eastern and west¬
ern declivities wind among the mountains, the Arkansas on
the east, and the Oregon or Columbia on the west, more
than a hundred leagues before they issue into the plains.
In following the beds of such streams, travellers passthrough
the range without much difficulty, so that the reports of the
early travellers that they presented a high, continuous, and
almost impassable barrier, are incorrect. Various leaders
of expeditions have passed them at different points, and
affirm that they found no such formidable and insurmount¬
able barriers, the mention of which was wont to deter
traders from attempting to cross from east to west or from
west to east by this route. Following the river Platt, which
is one of the principal southern branches of the Missouri,
the traveller finds a road even to Lake Buenaventura, on
the Pacific plains, that needs little labour to adapt it to the
passage of horses and waggons. The acclivity is nowhere
so great as to exceed an ascent of three degrees.
This vast range has been divided into the Rocky, Chepy-
wan, and Masserne Mountains, on what ground is not ex¬
actly known. The ranges on the south, at the sources of
the Arkansas, and running thence towards the Gulf of
Mexico, are called the Masserne Mountains. A single peak
of this ridge, seen as a landmark for immense distances
over the subjacent plains, is called Mount Pike, a very ap¬
propriate name. It is described as of incomparable gran-
eur in appearance, and has been differently estimated at
from seven to ten thousand feet in height. On the ridges
of the Rocky Mountains, the Colorado of the Pacific, the
iio del Norte of Mexico, the Roche-jaune or Yellow-stone
ot the Missouri, and the Arkansas and Red River of the
Mississippi, streams which have outlets at such immense
distances apart, all have their origin. Many accounts have
been given of the appearance of silver and other metals in
me Rocky Mountains, but they have been too partially ex¬
plored to entitle us to pronounce on the extent or value of
the veins.
ROC ROY, an arrondissement of France, in the depart¬
ment of the Ardennes, which extends over 295 square
mi es. It comprehends five cantons and sixty-eight com¬
munes, and the population in 1836 amounted to 46,156.
be capital is a fortified city of the same name, situated in
h^Qftuo-0fu\W00d* h contains 600 houses, and in 1836
' inhabitants. It is celebrated for its siege in 1643,
4 9fi tke"frr the SPaniards by the great Conde. Long.
4- 26. 32. E. Lat. 49. 55. 36. N.
RODEZ, an arrondissement of the department of the
jvveyron, m France, which extends over 797 square miles,
t comprehends eleven cantons, divided into sixty-nine
communes and in 1836 contained 99,704 inhabitants. The
ST , Clty of the same name’ and seat of the de-
par mental government and courts of law. It is the seat of a
ROD
309
hishnn „ iT A “““ La Ui mw. it is tne seat ot a
nop, and has a fine cathedral, with a tower 250 feet high,
18 a Prominent object at more than forty miles distance.
exchan^ IT a lyceum’ a hospital, and an
rnnr, "C- )Vlth inhabitants, extensively employed as
cutlerv mit5Sl anid havinS manufactures of thin woollens,
cutlery, and leather. Long. 2. 29. 5. E. Lat. 44. 21. N.
„ Brydges> Lord Rodney, was born Rodney
n the 19th of February 1718. He was the descendant of1
an ancient family, and was related to the duke of Chandos.
His father Henry Rodney obtained, at the age of fourteen,
a commission as cornet of horse; but having quitted the
army after a short period of service, he settled at Walton-
upon-Tharnes, and married Mary, eldest daughter and co¬
heiress of Sir Henry Newton, envoy extraordinary to the
grand duke of Tuscany, and afterwards judge of the court
of admiralty. Through the interest of the duke, who usu-
afly attended the king on his journeys to and from Hano¬
ver, Mr Rodney obtained the command of the royal yacht •
und fmving on one of these occasions been asked what mark
of favour he would wish the king to confer upon him, he
requested that his majesty would stand sponsor for his
son. Such a request was easily granted ; and accordingly
ins second son was named after his royal and noble god¬
fathers. °
At a very early age he was sent to Harrow school; and
having quitted it at the age of twelve, he received from the
king a letter of service, the last ever granted, and went to
sea. On the Newfoundland station he served for six years
with Admiral Medley. On the 15th of February 1739 he
was made lieutenant in the Dolphin, by Admiral Haddock,
m the Mediterranean, and served successively in the Essex,
• i .S kovereign, and Namur. Admiral Mathews having
in 1142 appointed him to the Plymouth of sixty-four guns,
he convoyed three hundred sail of the Lisbon trade through
the midst of the French fleet, then cruising in the channel;
and for his conduct on this occasion he received the warm¬
est thanks of the merchants. In the rank of captain he was
confirmed by the admiralty, and was appointed to the com¬
mand ot the Sheerness, in which he continued for eighteen
months. He was then removed to the Ludlow Castle, of
forty guns. In this ship he fought and took the great St
Maloes privateer, of forty guns, and one hundred men above
his own complement. From this period till December 1745,
he was employed in various pieces of service, which afford¬
ed him no particular opportunities of obtaining distinction.
Haying been appointed to the Centurion, he for two years
cruised in the North Sea; and on that station he com¬
manded while the pretender was in Edinburgh, and until
the arrival ot Admiral Byng. He was now promoted to the
command of the Eagle, of sixty-four guns; and in 1747 he
was despatched in a small squadron for the purpose of in¬
tercepting the French fleet, homeward-bound from St Do-
ndnS'0- fbe 20th ot June they fell in with this fleet
oft Cape Ortegal. The French men-of-war deserted their
convoy during the night, and no fewer than forty-eight
merchantmen were captured. Rodney afterwards joined
the squadron of Admiral Hawke, and bore a distinguished
part in the action off Finisterre on the 14th of October in
the same year. Near the close of this war, a small squa¬
dron, of which the Eagle was one, fell in with a Spanish
fleet from the West Indies, consisting of twelve sail of the
line with a rich convoy, and, notwithstanding their own in-
fenoiity, they took from them six sail of merchantmen.
Captain Rodney was appointed to the Rainbow in March
1/^8, and was soon afterwards sent as governor and com-
mander-in-chief on the Newfoundland station. This was
his first appearance with the rank of commodore. He had
Received particular instructions to discover, if possible, an
island in the Western Ocean, said to be in lat. 49. N., about
three hundred leagues from Britain. After cruising four¬
teen days to no purpose, he sailed for St John’s, the seat of
his government. In this station he continued till the month
of October 1752, w'hen he returned home to take his seat
in parliament, having been elected for the borough of
Saltash.
In May 1757 he sailed in the Dublin, of seventy-four
guns, with Hawke’s expedition for the bombardment of
310
ROD
Rodney. Rochefort; and in February 1758, with Boscawen in the
-y'—' expedition against Louisbourg. On the 19th of May 17o9
he was promoted to the rank of rear-admiral, and was im¬
mediately appointed to the command of a small squadron
destined to bombard Havre de Grace. This service he
performed in a very effectual manner; and having continu¬
ed to keep the sea'till the close of the ensuing year, he re¬
turned to Britain. In 1761 he was elected member of
parliament for Penryn. On the 6th of October he hoisted
his flag on board the Marlborough, having been appointed
commander-in-chief at Barbadoes and the Leeward Islands,
and to conduct the naval operations of the armament des¬
tined for the attack of Martinique. This island, together
with St Lucia, was speedily reduced.
The admiral returned home on the 12th of August 1763.
On the 21st of the preceding October he had been made
vice- admiral of the blue. In 1764 he was created a ba¬
ronet, and during the following year was appointed gover¬
nor of Greenwich Hospital. In 1768 he was returned to
parliament for Northampton. On the 18th of October
1770 he became vice-admiral of the white, and on the 24th
of October 1771 vice-admiral of the red. During the lat¬
ter year, on the 23d of January, he had been appointed
commander-in-chief at Jamaica, and with this command
was not permitted to retain the office of governor. Having
returned to Britain, he struck his flag at Portsmouth on the
4th of September 1774.
Being inattentive, as many seamen are, to the rules of
economy, his circumstances became so embarrassed that he
was obliged to fly from his country, with very slight hopes
of ever being able to return. He was in France when the
ill-advised policy of that court prompted them to take a
decided part with America against Great Britain ; and it is
said that some men in power, no strangers to the desperate
state of Sir George’s affairs, offered him a high command
in the French navy, if he would carry arms against his own
country. This offer he rejected with becoming indigna¬
tion. Soon after this gallant behaviour, the duke de Char¬
tres, afterwards the infamous Orleans, told Sir George that
he was himself to have a command in the fleet to be op¬
posed to that under the command of his countryman Kep-
pel; and with an insulting air asked him what he thought
would be the consequence of their meeting. “ lhat my
countryman will carry your highness with him to learn
English,” was the high-spirited reply. These statements
do not perhaps rest on sufficient authority; but we Jearn
from his own correspondence, that Marechal Biron express¬
ed his willingness to advance whatever sum he might re¬
quire, even to the amount of two thousand pounds. Hav¬
ing accepted a loan of a thousand louis, he was in 1778 en¬
abled to pay his bills in Paris, and to revisit his own coun¬
try. He was speedily enabled to discharge this debt, and
to make a satisfactory arrangement with his creditors.
On the 1st of October 1779, Rodney was appointed com-
mander-in-chief of Barbadoes and the Leeward Islands.
His first exploit after this appointment was on the 8th of
January ensuing, when he took sixteen Spanish transports,
together with seven ships and vessels of war, which had
left St Sebastian’s a week before. On the 16th of the
same month he fell in with the Spanish fleet, consisting of
eleven sail of the line, under the command of Don Juan de
Langara; of which one was blown up during the engage¬
ment, five were taken and carried into Gibraltar, among
which was the admiral’s ship, and the rest were much shat¬
tered. In April the same year, he fell in with the French
fleet under the command of Admiral Guichen, at Mar¬
tinique, whom he compelled to fight, and whom he com-
ROE
pletely beat; though, from the shattered state of his own
fleet, and the unwillingness of the enemy to risk another
action, he took none of their ships. The successful efforts
of the gallant admiral during the year 1780 were generally
applauded through the nation. He received the thanks of
both houses of parliament, and addresses of thanks from
various parts of Great Britain, and the islands to which his
victories were more particularly serviceable. In December
the same year, he made an unsuccessful attempt, together
with General Vaughan, on St Vincent’s. In 1781, he con¬
tinued his exertions, with much success, in defending the
West India Islands; and, along with the above-named ge¬
neral, he conquered St Eustatius, on which occasion his
conduct to the inhabitants has been much, though perhaps
unjustly, censured. The island was certainly a nest of con¬
traband traders. On the 12th of April 1782, he came to a
close action with the French fleet under Count de Grasse;
during which he sunk one ship and took five, of which the
admiral’s ship, the Ville de Paris, was one. On the 22d of
May, the thanks of both houses of parliament were voted
to the admiral, his officers, and seamen, for this brilliant
and decisive victory. He was appointed vice-admiral of
Great Britain, and was raised to the peerage by the title of
Baron Rodney of Stoke in Somersetshire. The House
of Commons voted him an’annual pension of L.2000. In
the year 1793 this pension was permanently settled on the
title ; and in 1806 a pension of L.1000 Irish was granted to
his grandson for life. Having been superseded, very ungra¬
ciously, in his command, Lord Rodney once more steered
a homeward course. He landed at Bristol on the 15th of
September 1782, and next day proceeded to join his family
at Purbrook near Portsmouth. He survived for ten years,
having died on the 24th of May 1792, after he had com¬
pleted the seventy-fourth year of his age.1
Lord Rodney had been twice married ; first to the sister
of the earl of Northampton, and next to the daughter of
John Clies, Esq. With her he did not reside for several
years before his death. He was succeeded in his title and
estates by his son George, who married, in 1781, Martha,
daughter of the Right Hon. Alderman Harley, by whom
he had issue.
RODOSTO, a city of Turkey in Europe, in the pro¬
vince of Galipoli. It is situated on a small gulf of the same
name, on the Sea of Marmora. It is strongly fortified, and
well built, having, for a Turkish town, broad streets. It is
the seat of a Greek archbishop, has five Greek and two Ar¬
menian churches, many mosques, baths, and caravanserais,
4000 houses, and 16,000 inhabitants. It is a place of con¬
siderable trade, chiefly in the products of the surrounding
district. Long. 27. 20. 5. E. Lat. 40. 58. 34. N.
ROE, the seed or spawn of fish. See Ichthyology.
ROEBUCK, John, was born at Sheffield in Yorkshire
in the year 1718. His father was a manufacturer of Shef¬
field goods, and by his ability and industry acquired a con¬
siderable fortune. He intended John to follow his own
lucrative employment; but he was powerfully attached to
other pursuits, and his father did not discourage his rising
genius, but gave him a liberal education. After an ele¬
mentary training, he was placed under the tuition or
Doddridge, by whose instructions he was rapidly improvec
in many branches of useful knowledge. Having complete
his studies at the academy, he was afterwards sent to t e
university of Edinburgh, where he studied medicine, an
chemistry, which then began to attract some attention i
Scotland. He was much distinguished among his telto
students by his logical and metaphysical acuteness, and >
great ingenuity in his arguments. Here he formed an a
Rodo^
Rofrbiii
1 The Life and Correspondence of the late Admiral Lord Rodney,
author married Lord Rodney’s youngest daughter.
By Major-General Mundy. Land. 1830, 2 vols. 8vo. Tk
R, ier.
ROE
quaintance with Dr Robertson, Mr Hume, and other lite¬
rary characters.
Having completed his medical course at Edinburgh, he
afterwards spent some time at the university of Leyden,
where in 1743 he took the degree of M. D. He began
to practise as a physician at Birmingham, a place which was
then making rapid progress in arts, manufactures, and po¬
pulation, and where a favourable opening was presented to
him by the death of an aged physician.
The extensive use of sulphuric acid in chemistry led many
to various methods of obtaining it; and Dr Roebuck at ¬
tempted to prepare it in such a manner as to reduce the
price, for which purpose he substituted leaden vessels in
the room of glass; and he had the good fortune to effect
his benevolent design. Of this useful article he establish¬
ed a manufactory at Prestonpans in the year 1749, which
was opposed by Dr Ward, but without success, as Roe¬
bucks discovery did not come within Ward’s patent. Dr
Roebuck and his partner retained the advantages of their
industry and ingenuity for a number of years, supplying
the public with sulphuric acid at a much cheaper rate than
had been formerly done. He found it expedient to relin¬
quish his medical profession, and he resided in Scotland
during the greater part of the year. He made some dis¬
coveries in the smelting of ironstone, greatly facilitating
that process by using pit-coal instead of charcoal. He and
his partner therefore projected a very extensive manufac¬
tory of iron, for which they soon procured a sufficient capi-
talj as their friends had much confidence in their integrity
and abilities. Dr Roebuck at length made choice of a'spot
on the banks of the river Carron, as the most advantageous
situation for the establishment of their manufactory, abun¬
dance of ironstone, limestone, and coal, being found in its
immediate vicinity. The preparations for this establish¬
ment were finished in the end of the year 1759; the first
furnace was blown on the 1st of January 1760 ; and a se¬
cond was soon afterwards erected.
These works turned the attention of Dr Roebuck to the
state of coal in the neighbourhood, and to the means of
procuring the extraordinary supplies which the iron-works
might require. He therefore became lessee of the exten-
siye coal and salt works at Borrowstownness, the property
of the duke of Hamilton ; in which he sunk, in the course
of a few years, not only his own, and a considerable part of
nis wife’s fortune, but the regular profits of his more suc¬
cessful works ; and, what distressed him above every thing
else, the great sums of money which he borrowed from his
relations and friends, without the prospect of ever being
able to repay them. This ruinous adventure cut off for
ever the flattering prospects of an independent fortune
winch his family had once cherished; and he drew from
his colliery only a moderate annual support, for which he
was indebted to the indulgence of his creditors. Some
years before his death, he was seized with a disorder that
required a dangerous operation, and this he bore with his
usual spirit and resolution. He was restored to a consider¬
able share of his wonted health and activity ; but its effects
never wholly left him. He visited his works till within 'a
w \vee so his decease, in order to give instructions to
ms clerks and overseers, and was confined to bed only a
lew days. He departed this life on the 17th of July 1794,
last nmg 3 118 faCulties’ sPirit> and g°od humour, to the
ROEMER, Olaus, a celebrated Danish mathematician
WaS born at ArIlusen in Jutland, in the
Jt ar IbM, and was sent to the university of Copenhagen
, e a?e of eighteen. By his assiduous application to the
Y of astronomy and mathematics, he became so emi-
E lA tho,se fences, that Picard was astonished and de-
hi Hi J h™; wben making observations in the north,
by the order of Louis XIV. He was prevailed on to ac-
R O G
311
company Picard to France, and being presented to the Itoermond
king, he was chosen the dauphin’s tutor in the study of ma- II
thematics. He was afterwards united with Picard and Cas- Boger de
sini in making astronomical observations, and became a- oveten*
member of the Academy of Sciences in 1672. His disco- “
veries acquired him great reputation during his ten years’
lesidence at Paris; and he did not scruple to assert, that
PiCard and Cassini took the merit of many things which
belonged exclusively to himself. Roemer was the first per¬
son who discovered the velocity with which light moves, by
means of the eclipses of Jupiter’s satellites, determining it
to be about seven or eight minutes in coming from the sun
to the earth. This opinion was opposed by many, but it
was afterwards demonstrated in a most ingenious manner
by Dr Bradley.
Christian V. king of Denmark, recalled Roemer to his
native country in the year 1681, when he was appointed
professor of astronomy at Copenhagen. He was also em¬
ployed in the reformation of the coin and architecture of
the country, in regulating the weights and measures, and
in laying out the high roads throughout the kingdom ; and
his conduct was truly creditable to himself, and gave the
greatest satisfaction to his royal employer. The conse¬
quence was that the king bestowed many dignities upon
him, and among others appointed him chancellor of the ex¬
chequer. In fine, he was made councillor of state and bur¬
gomaster of Copenhagen under Frederic IV. who suc¬
ceeded the king already mentioned. While Roemer was
engaged in preparing to publish the result of his observa¬
tions, he was cut off on the 19th of September 1710, when
about sixty-six years of age. Horrebow, his disciple, made
up this loss, by publishing in 4to, in 1753, when professor of
astronomy at Copenhagen, various observations of Roemer,
with his method of observing, under the title of Basis As¬
tronomies. He had printed various astronomical observa¬
tions and pieces in several volumes of the Memoirs of the
Royal Academy of Sciences at Paris.
ROERMOND, or Ruremonde, one of the circles into
which the province of Limburg is divided. It contains six
cantons. The capital is the city of the same name, which
stands on the left bank of the Maas, where the river Roer
falls into it.. It is fortified, but not strongly, and contains
4480 inhabitants, who make woollen cloths and carry on
trade by the river. Long. 5. 53. 54. E. Lat. 51. 11. 48. N.
ROGA, in Antiquity, a present which the emperors made
to the senators, magistrates, and even to the people ; and
the popes and patriarchs to their clergy. These rogse were
distributed by the emperors on the first day of the year, on
their birthday, or on the natalis dies of the cities; and by
the popes and patriarchs in passion-week. Roga is also
used for the common pay of the soldiers.
ROGATION, Rogatio, in Roman jurisprudence, a de¬
mand made by the consuls or tribunes of the Roman people,
when a law was proposed to be passed. Rogatio is also
used for the decree itself made in consequence of the
people’s giving their assent to this demand; to distinguish
it from a senatus consultum, or decree of the senate.
Rogation- Week, the week immediately succeeding Whit¬
sunday ; so called from the three feasts therein, viz. on Mon-
day, I uesday, and Wednesday.
ROGER de Hoveden, a learned man of the thirteenth
century, was born in Yorkshire, most probably at the town
of that name, now called Bowden, some time in the reign
of Henry I. After he had received the first parts of edu¬
cation in his native country, he studied the civil and canon
laws, which were then become the most fashionable and
lucrative branches of education. He was appointed domestic
chaplain to Henry II. who employed him to transact seve¬
ral ecclesiastical affairs, in which he acquitted himself with
honour. But his most meritorious work was, his Annals of
England from a. d. 731, when Bede’s Ecclesiastical History
312
ROE
ROE
1
Rohan.
RogonaU ends, to a. D. 1202. This work, which is one of the most
gunge voluminous of our ancient histories, is more valuable for the
sincerity with which it is written, and the great variety of
, facts which it contains, than for the beauty of its style or
the regularity of its arrangement.
ROGONATGUNGE, a town of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Bengal, district of Pachete, 136 miles west-north¬
west from Calcutta. Long. 86. 20. E. Lat. 23. 1-5. N.
ROGONATPOOR, a town of Hindustan, province of
Bengal, district of Pachete, 130 miles north-west from Cal¬
cutta. Long. 86. 44. E. Lat. 23. 32. N.
ROHAN, Henry Duke of, peer of France, and prince
of Leon, was born at the Chateau de Blein, in Brittany, in
1579. Henry IV. under whose eye he gave distinguished
proofs of his bravery at the siege of Amiens, when only six¬
teen years of age, loved him with as much affection as if he
had been his own son. After the death of Henry, he be¬
came chief of the Calvinists in France; and was equally
formidable for his genius as his sword. In defence of the
civil and religious rights of his party, he maintained three
wars against Louis XIII. The first, which terminated to
the advantage of the Protestants, broke out when that
prince wished to establish the Romish religion in Bearn ;
the second, because of the siege which Cardinal de Riche¬
lieu ordered to be laid to Rochelle; and the third, when
that place was besieged a second time. The consequences
of this war are sufficiently known : Rochelle surrendered,
and the duke de Rohan, perceiving, that after the taking of
this place, the majority of his party were endeavouring to
make up matters with the court, succeeded in procuring
for them a general peace in 1629, upon very honourable
and advantageous terms. There is a very particular anec¬
dote of him, extracted from the Memoirs of the Duchess of
Rohan, Margaret of Bethune, daughter of the famous Sully.
While the duke de Rohan was at Venice, a proposal was
made to him from the Porte, that for 200,000 crowns, and an
annual tribute of 20,000, the grand signior would give him
the island of Cyprus, and fully invest him with the dignity
and prerogatives of king. The duke was warmly inclined
to comply with this proposal, and to settle in the island the
Protestant families of France and Germany. He negoci-
ated this business at the Porte by means of the intervention
of the patriarch Cyril, with whom he had much correspon¬
dence ; but different circumstances, and in particular the
death of the patriarch, contributed to break off the treaty.
The republic of Venice chose Rohan for their commander
in chief against the Imperialists ; but Louis XIII. took him
from the Venetians, and sent him ambassador into Switzer¬
land, and into the Grisons. He wished to assist these people
in bringing back La Valteline under their obedience, the
revolt of which the Spaniards and Imperialists encouraged.
Rohan, being declared general of the Grisons, after many
victories drove the German and Spanish troops entirely from
La Valteline in 1633. He again defeated the Spaniards in
1636, at the banks of the lake of Come. France, not think¬
ing it proper to withdraw her troops, the Grisons rose up
in arms, and the duke de Rohan, not satisfied with the con¬
duct of the court, entered into a special treaty with them on
the 28th of March 1637. This hero, fearing the resentment
of Cardinal de Richelieu, retired to Geneva, with a view to
join his friend the duke of Saxe-Weimar, who wished him
to undertake the command of his army, then ready to en¬
gage the Imperialists near Rhinfeldt. Although he de¬
clined this honour, yet he took the command of the regiment
of Nassau, with which he threw the enemy into confusion;
but was himself wounded, 28th February 1638, and died of
his wounds the 13th of April following, at the age of fifty-
nine. He wrote several interesting performances : 1. The
Interests of Princes, printed at Cologne in 1666, in 12mo;
in which work he fully examines the public interests of all
the princes of Europe. 2. The Perfect General, or an
Abridgement of the Wars from Caesar’s Commentaries, in Kohai,
12mo. Here he makes it appear, that a knowledge of the
1CI||
tactics of the ancients might be of much use to the moderns,
3. A Treatise on the Corruption of the Ancient Militia.
4. A Treatise on the Government of the thirteen Pro*
vinces. 5. Memoirs; the best edition of which is in two
vols. 12mo. They contain the history of France from 1610
to 1629. 6. A Collection of some Political Discourses on
State Affairs, from 1612 to 1629, 8vo, Paris, 1644, 1693,
1755; with the Memoirs and Letters of Henry Duke de
Rohan relative to the War of La Valteline, three vols. 12mo,
Geneva, 1757. This was the first edition which appeared
of these curious memoirs: we owe it to the great attention
and diligence of Baron de Zurlauben, who published them
from different authentic manuscripts. He likewise orna¬
mented this edition with geographical, historical, and gene¬
alogical notes, and a preface, which contains an abridged
but highly interesting life of the duke de Rohan, author of
the memoirs.
ROHAULT, James, a celebrated Cartesian philosopher,
was the son of a merchant of Amiens, where he was bom
in 1620. He became well skilled in the mathematics, and
taught them at Paris. He died at Paris in 1675. He wrote
in French, 1. A Treatise on Natural Philosophy; 2. The
Elements of Mathematics; 3. A Treatise on Mechanics,
which is very curious ; 4. Philosophical Conversations, and
other works. His Physics have been translated into Latin
by Dr Samuel Clarke, with notes, in which the Cartesian
errors are corrected upon the Newtonian system.
ROHILCUND, in Sanscrit Kuttair or Kuttaher, an ex¬
tensive and valuable district of Hindustan, situated between
the rivers Ganges and Goggra, and between the twenty-
eighth and thirtieth degrees of north latitude, and from
seventy-eight to eighty east longitude. It is extremely
well watered by the rivers Ganges and Ramgunga. The
latter traverses the country throughout its whole extent,
and joins the Ganges at Kanoge. Many smaller streams
intersect the country, and contribute to its fertility, being
distributed by means of canals and reservoirs. Water is
also found by digging a foot under ground. With all these
advantages, this country is remarkably fertile, and was ex¬
tremely productive and well cultivated under its native so¬
vereigns, though, when it was ceded to the British in 1801
by the nabob of Oude, it was in a state of desolation, ow¬
ing to his tyranny and extortion. It abundantly produces
grain of all sorts, sugar-cane, indigo, cotton, and tobacco.
It also contains large forests of valuable timber, the wood
of which is floated down the Dewah or Goggra, which issues
from the Kemaon Mountains, and runs past the town of Pilh-
beet, and is thence embarked for Patna, Calcutta, and other
large towns in the south. Its chief towns are Bareilly, Bis-
sowly, Budavon, Moradabad, Owlah, Pillibeet, Rampore,
Sumbul, with several others. In the early history of the
Mogul empire, Rohilcund is celebrated as a very flourishing
country, and of great political importance; and in many
parts are still to be seen the remains of magnificent edifices,
palaces, gardens, mosques, colleges, and mausoleums. In
more recent times this district was occupied by a number
of Afghans of the tribe of Roh or Rohillas. The founders
of the dynasty wrere two brothers, named Shah Aalum, and
Hussein Khan, who quitted Afghanistan about the year 1673)
and settled in this country, where they pursued some in¬
considerable employments under the Emperor Aurungzebe.
Their descendants acquired possession of a considerable ter¬
ritory, which they ruled with prudence and moderation; an
their territories were cultivated like a garden. A quarre
ensued between them and the nabob of Oude, to whose ven¬
geance they were consigned by the British, who sent troops
to aid in their extermination, under the understood condition
that they were to share in the spoil. They were defeate
by the British troops; and their country, given up to fire an
y-T
ioll-
ilin.
■r-J
R O L
sword, was most cruelly wasted. Under Fyzoola Khan, one
of the sons of Aly Mohammed, the country was in a most
flourishing condition; and several of the Rohilla chiefs re¬
sided in each of the large towns, where they lived in a
princely and hospitable manner, and gave every protection
and encouragement to the farmers, so that the revenue
amounted to a million sterling; but under the waste and
ruin of this cruel invasion the revenue decreased in the
course of twenty years to L.400,000, and the country went
gradually to ruin. The country was transferred to the Bri¬
tish in 1801, and is now governed by a civil establishment
of officers stationed at Bareilly.
ROLL, or Roller, is a piece of wood, iron, brass, &c.
of a cylindrical form, used in the construction of several
machines, and in several works and manufactures.
HOLLAND, an island in the Southern Ocean, discover¬
ed by Kerguelen in 1773, about nine miles in circumfe¬
rence. Long. 68. 43. E. Lat. 48. 37. N.
ROLLI, Paul, an Italian poet, was born at Rome in
1687. He was the son of an architect, and a pupil of the
celebrated Gravina, who inspired him with a taste for learn¬
ing and poetry. An intelligent and learned English peer,
having brought him to London, introduced him to the royal
family as a master of the Tuscan language. Rolli remained
in England till the death of Queen Caroline his protectress,
and the patroness of literature in general. He returned to
Italy in 1747, where he died in 1767, in the eightieth year
of his age, leaving behind him a very curious collection in
natural history, with a valuable and well-chosen library.
His principal works first appeared in London in 1735 in
8vo. They consist of odes in blank verse, elegies, songs,
and other poems, after the manner of Catullus. A collection
of his epigrams was printed at Florence in 1776, in 8vo, to
which is prefixed an account of his life by Fondini. What
Martial said of his own collection may be said of this, “ that
there are few good, but many indifferent or bad pieces in
it.” Rolli, however, bore the character of one of the best
Italian poets of his age. During his stay in London he
procured editions of several authors of his own country,
fhe principal of these were the Satires of Ariosto, the bur¬
lesque works of Berni, Varchi, &c. two vols. in 8vo ; the
Decameron of Boccace, 1727, in 4to and folio, in which he
)as faithfully copied the celebrated and valuable edition
published by the Juntas in 1527 ; and, lastly, of the ele-
gant Lucretia of Marchetti, which was printed at London
ilk . 8vo, through the influence and attention of Rolli.
us edition is beautiful; but the work is thought to be of
a pernicious tendency. He likewise translated into Italian
verse the Paradise Lost of Milton, printed at London in
o io m 1735 ; and the Odes of Anacreon, London, 1739,
in 8vo.
.1 OLLIN, Charles, a celebrated French writer, was
ie son of a cutler at Paris, and was born there on the 30th
anuary leei. jje studied at the College du Plessis, in
n 1C e. Stained an exhibition through the interest of a
dUnn 1Ctl,?e n!onk wkom he had served at table, and who
flip rVere, ^ some marks of genius. Here he acquired
a narf^i ° ^ Gobinet, principal of the college, who had
nitv a^.^steem for him. After having studied huma-
t]1p o , Philosophy, he applied to divinity three years at
satisfipH °T ;,but ke did not prosecute this study, and was
Prof "V ruling the tonsure. He afterwards became
ceeded H° rbet1°“c his own college; and in 1688 suc-
Royai p ,<;rsan> his master, as professor of eloquence in the
with man ever exercised the functions of it
R O L
313
brate^ater e<^at ’ 'le often made Latin orations to cele-
accomnalTr^16 events °f the times, and frequently
and esteemed t P°ems’ which were generally read
versity and L An • 4 b® was ehosen rector of the uni-
was ther a m ^ COat‘.nued in that office two years, which
yol, xix ar* °* ^tinction. By virtue of his office, he
spoke the annual panegyric upon Louis XIV. He made Rollin.
many very useful regulations in the university; and parti-
cularly revived the study of the Greek language, which was
then much neglected. He substituted academical exercises
in the place of tragedies ; and introduced the practice which
had been formerly observed, of causing the students to get
by heart passages of Scripture. He was a man of indefati¬
gable application, and trained innumerable persons, who did
honour to the church, the state, and the army. The first
president Portail was pleased one day to reproach Rollin in
a jocular strain, as if he exceeded even himself in doing
business; to whom Rollin replied, with that plainness and
sincerity which was natural to him, “ It becomes you well,
sir, to reproach me with this ; it is this habit of labour in
me which has distinguished you in the place of advocate-
general, which has raised you to that of first president; you
owe the greatness of your fortune to me.”
Upon the expiration of the rectorship, Cardinal Noailles
engaged him to superintend the studies of his nephews, who
were in the College of Laon ; and in this office he was agree¬
ably employed, when, in 1699, he was with great reluctance
made coadjutor to the principal of the College of Beauvais.
This college was then a kind of desert, inhabited by very
few students, and without any regular discipline ; but Rol-
lin’s great industry soon repeopled it, and raised it to that
credit which it long retained. In this situation he con¬
tinued till 1712; when the war between the Jesuits and the
Jansenists drawing towards a crisis, he fell a sacrifice to
the prevalence of the former. Father le Tellier, the king’s
confessor, a furious agent of the Jesuits, infused into his
master prejudices against Rollin, whose connection with
Cardinal de Noailles would alone have sufficed to make
him a Jansenist; and on this account he lost his share
in the principality of Beauvais. No man, however, could
thus have suffered a smaller loss than Rollin, who had
every thing left that was necessary to make him happy ;
retirement, books, and enough for his support. He now
began to be employed upon Quinctilian ; an author whom
he justly valued, and could not without uneasiness see ne¬
glected. He retrenched in him whatever he thought rather
curious than useful for the instruction of youth ; he placed
summaries or contents at the head of each chapter, and he
accompanied the text with short and select notes. His edi¬
tion appeared in 1715, in two vols. 12mo, with an elegant
preface explaining his method and views.
In 1710, the university of Paris, willing to have a head
suitable to the importance of their interests in a very criti¬
cal conjuncture of affairs, chose Rollin again rector; but he
was displaced in about two months by a lettre de cachet.
The university had presented to the parliament a petition,
in which it protested against taking any part in the adjust¬
ment of the late disputes; and their being congratulated
in a public oration by Rollin on this step, occasioned the
letter, which ordered them to choose a rector of more mo¬
deration. Whatever the university might suffer by the re¬
moval of Rollin, the public was probably a gainer; for he
now applied himself to the composition of his Treatise on
the Manner of Studying and Teaching the Belles Lettres,
which was published in octavo, two volumes in 1726, and
two more in 1728.
This work, though greatly deficient in order, and dis¬
playing neither depth nor philosophy, has been exceedingly
successful; and its success encouraged its author to under¬
take another work of equal use and entertainment; his
“ Ancient History of the Egyptians, Carthaginians, Assy¬
rians, Babylonians, Medes and Persians, Macedonians, and
Greeks,” which he finished in thirteen volumes 8vo, and
published between 1730 and 1738. Voltaire, after having
observed that Rollin was “ the first member of the univer¬
sity of Paris who wrote French with dignity and correct¬
ness,” says of this work, that “ though the last volumes,
2 R
314
R O L
Jlollin.
which were written in too great a hurry, are not equal to
• the first, it is nevertheless the best compilation that had
yet appeared in any language; because it is seldom that
compilers are eloquent, and Rollin was remarkably so.”
This is perhaps saying too much. In this work there are
indeed some passages very well handled; but they are only
such as he had taken from the ancient authors, in doing
justice to whom he was always very happy. The reader
will easily discover in this work the same attachment to re¬
ligion, the same desire for the public good, and the same
love of virtue, which appear in that on the belles lettres.
But it is to be lamented that his chronology is neither exact
nor consistent; that he states facts inaccurately ; that he
has not sufficiently examined the exaggerations of ancient
historians ; that he often interrupts the most solemn nar¬
rations with mere trifles; and that his style is not uniform.
Nothing can be more noble and more refined than his re¬
flections ; but they are strewed with too sparing a hand,
and want that lively and laconic turn on account of which
the historians of antiquity are read with so much pleasure.
There is a visible negligence in his diction with regard to
grammatical usage, and the choice of his expressions, which
he does not at all times select with sufficient taste, al¬
though, on the whole, he writes well, and has preserved
himself free from many of the faults of modern authors.
While the last volumes of his Ancient History were print¬
ing, he published the first of his Roman History, which he
lived to carry on, through the eighth and into part of the
ninth, to the war against the Cimbri, about seventy years
before the battle of Actium. Mr Crevier, the worthy dis¬
ciple of Rollin, continued the history to the battle of Ac¬
tium, which closes the tenth volume ; and afterwards com¬
pleted the original plan of Rollin in sixteen volumes 12mo,
which was, to bring it down from the foundation of the
city to the reign of Constantine the Great. This work had
not so great success as his Ancient History. It is alter¬
nately diffuse and barren ; and the greatest advantage of
the work is, that there are several passages from Livy trans¬
lated with great elegance into French. He also published
a Latin translation of some of the theological writings re¬
lative to the disputes of the times in which he lived. Rol¬
lin was one of the most zealous adherents of the Abbe
Paris ; and before the enclosure of the cemetery of St Me-
dard, this distinguished character might have been often
seen praying at his tomb. This he confesses in his Letters.
He published also Smaller Pieces, containing different Let¬
ters, Latin harangues, discourses, complimentary addresses,
&c. Paris, 1771, two volumes 12mo. The collection is va¬
luable for some good pieces which it contains, for the fa¬
vourable opinion wdiich it exhibits of solid probity, sound
reason, and the zeal of the author for the progress of virtue
and the preservation of taste. The Latin of Rollin is very
correct, and much after the Ciceronian style, and embel¬
lished with most judicious thoughts and agreeable images.
Full of the reading of the ancients, from which he brought
quotations with as much propriety as plenty, he expressed
himself with much spirit. His Latin poems are likewise
entitled to commendation.
This excellent person died in 1741. He had been named
by the king a member of the Academy of Inscriptions and
Belles Lettres in 1701; but as he had not then brought
the College of Beauvais into repute, and found he had more
business upon his hands than was consistent with a decent
attendance upon the functions of an academician, he beg¬
ged the privileges of a veteran, which where honourably
granted him. Nevertheless, he maintained his connections
with the academy, attended their assemblies as often as he
could, laid the plan of his Ancient History before them,
and demanded an academician for his censor. Rollin was
a man of an admirable composition ; very ingenious, con¬
summate in polite learning, of rigid morals, and eminently
R O L
pious. His religion however carried him into the territo- Eli
ries of superstition ; and he wanted nothing but a mixture
of philosophy in his nature to make him a very perfect cha-,
racter. Nothing could be more benign, more pacific, more
sweet, more moderate, than Rollin’s temper. He showed,
it must be owned, some zeal for the cause of Jansenism j
but in all other respects he was exceedingly moderate. The
celebrated poet Rousseau conceived such a veneration for
him, that he came out of banishment incognito to Paris, on
purpose to visit him, and pay his respects to him. He looked
upon his histories, not only as the best models of the his¬
toric kind, but as a complete system of politics and morals,
and a most instructive school, in which princes as well as
subjects might learn all their duties.
ROLLING, the motion by which a ship rocks from side
to side like a cradle, by the agitation of the waves.
ROLLO, the conqueror of Normandy, was a Norwegian
duke, banished from his country by Harold Harfager (who
conquered Norway in 870) on account of the piracies he
exercised. He first retired with his fleet among the islands
of the Hebrides to the north-west of Scotland, whither the
flower of the Norwegian nobility had fled for refuge ever
since Harold had become master of the whole kingdom.
He was there received with open arms by those warriors,
who, eager for conquest and revenge, waited only for a
chief to undertake some glorious enterprise. Rollo, placing
himself at their head, and seeing his power formidable, sail¬
ed towards England, which had long been a field open on
all sides to the violence of the northern nations. But the
great Alfred had some years before established such order
in his part of the island, that Rollo, after several fruitless
attempts, despaired of forming there such a settlement as
should make him amends for the loss of his own country.
He pretended, therefore, to have had a supernatural dream,
which promised him a glorious fortune in France, and which
served at least to support the ardour of his followers. The
weakness of the government in that kingdom, and the con¬
fusion in which it was involved, were still more persuasive
reasons to insure them of success. Having therefore sailed up
the Seine to Rouen, he immediately took that capital of the
province, then called Neustria, and making it his magazine
of arms, he advanced to Paris, to which he laid siege in form.
This war at length ended in the entire cession of Neustria,
which Charles the Simple was obliged to give up to Rollo
and his Normans in order to purchase a peace. Rollo re¬
ceived it in perpetuity to himself and his posterity, as a
feudal duchy dependent on the crown of France. A de¬
scription of the interview^ between Charles and this new
duke gives us a curious picture of the manners of these
Normans; for the latter would not take the oath of fealty
to his sovereign lord any other way than by placing his
hands within those of the king; and absolutely refused to
kiss his feet, as custom then required. It was with great
difficulty that he was prevailed on to let one of his warriors
perform this ceremony in his stead ; but the officer to whom
Rollo deputed this service suddenly raised the king’s foot
so high, that he overturned him on his back; a piece o
rudeness which was only laughed at: to such a degree
were the Normans feared, and Charles despised.^ Rollo was
soon afterwards persuaded to embrace Christianity, and ie
was baptized with much ceremony by the archbishop o
Rouen, in the cathedral of that city. As soon as he saw
himself in full possession of Normandy, he exhibited such
virtues as rendered the province happy, and deserve to
make his former outrages forgotten. Religious, wise, ant
liberal, this captain of pirates became, after Alfred, the
greatest and most humane prince of his time.
ROLLOCK, Robert, the first principal of the univer¬
sity of Edinburgh, was the son of David Rollock of Powis,
in the vicinity of Stirling. He was born in the year
and was taught the rudiments of the Latin tongue by a per-
R O L
h. son then eminent in his profession. From school he was
—^sent to the university of St Andrews, where his progress was
so rapid, that he was made professor of philosophy soon
after he took the degree of A. M.
The magistrates of Edinburgh having petitioned the king
to found a university in that city, they obtained a charter,
by which they were allowed all the privileges of a univer¬
sity, which wras built in 1582, and Mr Rollock was chosen
principal and professor of divinity. He was soon famous
in the university on account of his lectures, and among his
countrymen at large for his persuasive mode of preaching.
In the year 1593, Rollock and others were appointed by
parliament to confer with the popish lords ; and in the fol¬
lowing year he was one of those made choice of by the
General Assembly to present his majesty with a paper en¬
titled “The dangers which, through the impunity of ex¬
communicated papists, traffickers with the Spaniards, and
other enemies of the religion and state, are imminent to the
true religion professed within this realm, his majesty’s per¬
son, crown, and liberty of this our native country.” * Their
zeal against popery was carried to excess, and they seem
to have been of opinion, that it w'as incumbent on the civil
magistrate to punish idolatry with death. In the year 1595,
he.was empowered, along with others, to visit the different
universities in Scotland, with a view to inquire into the
doctrine and practice of the different masters, the discipline
adopted by them, and the state of their rents and living,
which they were ordered to report to the next General As¬
sembly.
He was chosen moderator of the General Assembly in the
year 1597, at which period he was fortunate enough to ob¬
tain the redress of several glaring abuses. The greater part
of his life was spent in conducting the affairs of the church,
yet Spotswood assures us that he would rather have pre¬
ferred retirement and study. Indeed the feebleness of his
constitution was not equal to the hurry and bustle of pub¬
lic life, and it led him to prefer the retirement of study.
He was very much affected with the stone, the pains of
which he bore with the fortitude and resignation of a Chris¬
tian. He died at Edinburgh on the last day of February
1598, in the forty-third year of his age. Short as his life
was, he published many works, of which the following is a
catalogue. A Commentary on the first book of Beza’s
Questions; on St Paul’s Epistle to the Ephesians; on the
prophet Daniel; a Logical Analysis of St Paul’s Epistle to
the Romans; some Questions and Answers concerning the
Covenant of Grace and the Sacraments; a Treatise of Eftec-
tual Calling; a Commentary on the Epistles of Paul to the
Ihessalonians and Philemon; on fifteen select Psalms; on
the Gospel of St John, with a Harmony of the four Evan¬
gelists upon the Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus
Christ; certain Sermons on several places of St Paul’s
Epistles; a Commentary on the Epistle to the Colossians;
a Logical Analysis of the Epistle to the Hebrews ; of the
Epistle to the Galatians; a Commentary upon the first tw o
chapters of the first Epistle of St Peter; a Treatise of Jus-
ihcation, and another of Excommunication. All these,
except the Sermons, were written in Latin. Of the pious
and learned author, a more particular account may be found
m trV0lume Printed under the subsequent title : “ De Vita
et Morte Roberti Rollok, Academiae Edinburgenae Prima-
ni, JNarrationes, auctoribus Georgio Robertson et Henrico
Charteris.” _ Edinb. 1826, 4to. Robertson’s biographical
tiact was originally published in 1599. That of Charteris
was printed from a manuscript in the public library of the
university. :
KOLPAH, . town of Northern Hindustan, and capital
a istrict ot the same name, in the province of Nepaul.
IS ^ y country, governed by a chief, who pays an
Ut. 29 22U« the ra-iah of NePaul- Long. 82. 5. E.
It O M
315
ROMA Isle, in the Eastern Seas, about forty miles in Roman
circumference. Long. 127. 30. E. Lat. 7. 35. N. Catholics.
ROMAN CA1HOLICS. Under the head History
(Ecclesiastical) will be found an account of the rise
and progress of that religious system which, before the six-
teentn century, held undisputed sway in what was called
the Christian world. Under the head Reformation is
given a history of the successful struggles made by several
of the states ot Europe to deliver themselves from priestly
domination; and for a view of the theological tenets of the
Roman Catholics, we may refer to the articles Pope, Po¬
pery, Purgatory, &c. It only remains that we shortly
notice the extent to which the Roman Catholic faith prevails
in the world at the present day, and the political state of its
adherents in our own country.
There is no country where popery is the established reli
gion, in the same sense in which the Churches of England
and Scotland are the established religion of Britain. The
Catholic clergy everywhere claim independent, if not su¬
preme authority,, and never form any political alliance with
the state. In some countries, how'ever, popery is not only
the religion of the government, but also exclusively, or al¬
most exclusively, of the people; and to that extent it may
be called the established religion of the state. In others,
the people are divided between the catholic and the pro-
testant faith, and both are recognised by the government.
I he cruelty and oppression which have been perpetrated by
religious zealots, ambitious priests, and crafty rulers, under
the sacred name of religion, have given occasion to the infidel
and the scoffer to cast on Christianity itself the reproach
which is due only to fanaticism and bigotry. To this reproach
both Catholic and Protestant are liable ; but there can be no
doubt, that in the efforts of the Church of Rome to maintain
its ancient dominion over the human mind, it has been more
unscrupulous in the use of persecution than the Protestant
powers. Flappily, however, the fierceness of persecution has
now greatly abated in catholic countries; and, on the other
hand, Catholics are tolerated in every protestant state.
In France the Charte gives freedom of worship to all reli- France,
gions; but about 14-15 ths of the people belong to the Catholic
Church, the small remainder being Protestants.
In Switzerland, outer Appenzell, almost the whole of Berne, Switzer-
Basel, Schaffhausen, Vaud, and Neufchatel, the greater part land,
of Glarus, Grisons, Aargau, Thurgau, and Geneva, and the
minority in Friburg, Soleure, and St. Gall, profess Calvinism.
Catholicism isprofessed exclusively in Lucerne, Uri, Schwitz,
Unterwrald, Zug, inner Appenzell, Fessin, and Valais; by
the majority in Friburg, Soleure, and St. Gall; and by the
minority in the other cantons. About 12-20ths of the Swiss
are Protestant; the remainder Catholics.
In Belgium all religions are freely professed; butcatho-Belgium,
licism is the religion of almost the entire nation.
In Holland all religions are professed with equal freedom; Holland,
but Calvinism is the religion of the state. The Catholics
are comparatively few.
In Germany Catholicism and protestantism are so mixed, Germany,
that it is scarcely possible to assign them definite limits, or
approximate to their relative numbers. Protestantism,
however, prevails mostly in the northern and south-western
parts of the country; popery in the south-east, south, and
west. Their numbers are not far from being equal.
In the Austrian empire popery is the dominant religion, Austrian
and professed by the great majority of the inhabitants. Empire.
In Prussia protestantism is the government religion; but Prussia,
the professors of all religions enjoy freedom of worship, and
almost equal rights. Lutheranism is professed by the great
majority in East Prussia, Brandenburg, Pomerania, and
Saxony; popery in the Westphalian and Rhenish provinces,
and the grand-duchy of Posen. Silesiaand West Prussia are Denmark,
almost equally divided. Sweden,and
In Denmark, Sweden, and Noway, Lutheranism is the Norway.
ROMAN CATHOLICS.
316
Roman state religion, but all others are tolerated. The Catholics
Catholics. are few jn number.
Catholics abound in Russia, but mostly in the Polish pro-
Ilussia. vinces, where they are not only freely tolerated, but enjoy
every political right in common with other subjects. Their
number may amount to about 12,000,000, or l-5th of the
population of the empire.
Italy, 1° Italy, Spain, and Portugal, popery is dominant and
Spain, and exclusive ; but other religions, though not legally tolerated,
Portugal. are not now persecuted.
Turkey, In Turkey and Greece popery is fully tolerated, but pro-
Greece. fessed by few if by any of the natives.
America. In America popery is the dominant religion of all the
late Spanish and Portuguese colonies. In some of them no
other religion is tolerated by law, but nobody is persecuted
for professing any other. In the United States of North
America, there are about 800,000 Catholics. In Lower
Canada, they form the majority of the population.
Britain. In Great Britain popery is now not merely tolerated, but
Roman Catholics are admitted to equal, or nearly equal, po¬
litical rights with Protestants.
In 1837, the total number of Catholics throughout the
world, was reckoned by Adrien Balbi at 139,000,000, out
of 737,000,000, which he considers to be the total popula¬
tion of the globe.
Before the passing of the various Roman Catholic Eman¬
cipation Acts, the Catholics in Great Britain and Ireland were
subjected to a system of stringent penal laws. The laws in
force against them, previously to the Act 18 Geo. III. cap.
60; and 31 Geo. III. cap. 32, may be divided into three
classes: 1. Those respecting persons professing popery.
2. Those respecting popish recusants convict. 3. Those re¬
specting popish priests.
I. Persons professing popery, besides the penalties for
not attending their parish church, were disabled from taking
their lands by either descent or purchase, after eighteen years
of age, until they renounced their errors; were obliged at
twenty-one to register their estates before acquired, and all
future conveyances and wills relating to them ; were inca¬
pable of presenting to anyadvowson, or granting to any other
person any avoidance of the same ; might not keep or teach
any school under pain of perpetual imprisonment; and if they
willingly heard or said mass, they forfeited for the one 100,
and for the other 200 marks, and were to suffer a year’s
imprisonment. If any evil industry was used to rivet the
errors of popery upon those who already professed it; if any
person sent another abroad to be educated in popery, or to
reside in any religious house for that purpose, or contributed
to his maintenance when there, the sent, the sender, and the
contributor, were disabled to sue in law or equity, to be ex¬
ecutor or administrators to any person, or to bear any office
in the realm, and forfeited all their goods and chattels, and
likewise all their real estate for life. Where these errors
were aggravated by apostacy or perversion, where a person
was reconciled to the see of Rome, or procured others to
be reconciled, the offence amounted to high treason.
II. Popish recusants convicted in a court of law of not
attending the service of the Church *of England, were sub¬
ject to the following disabilities, penalties, and forfeitures,
over and above those before mentioned. They were con¬
sidered as persons excommunicated; they could hold no of¬
fice or employment; if they kept arms in their houses, the
same might be seized by the Justices of the Peace; they
might not come within ten miles of London, under the penalty
of L 100; could bring no action at lawor suit in equity; were
not allowed to travel above five miles from home, unless by
licence, upon pain of forfeiting all their goods; and they
might not come to court under the penalty of L.100. No
marriage or burial of such recusant, or baptism of his child,
should be had otherwise than by the ministers of the Church
of England, under other severe penalties. A married woman,
when recusant, forfeited two-thirds of her dower or join- R® ,
ture, and might not be executrix, or administratrix to her Catllj
husband, or have any part of his goods; and during the^ »
coverture might be kept in prison, unless her husband re¬
deemed her at the rate of L.10 a month, or the third part of
all his lands. And, lastly, as a femme couverte (married wo¬
man) recusant might be imprisoned, so all others must,
within three months after conviction, either submit, and re¬
nounce their errors, or, if required so to do by four justices,
abjure and renounce the realm ; and if they did not depart,
or if they returned without the king’s licence, they should
be guilty of felony, without benefit of clergy. There was
also an inferior kind of recusancy, (refusing to make the de¬
claration against popery enjoined by Act 30 Car. II. cap.
2, when tendered by the proper magistrate,) which, if the
party resided within ten miles of London, made him an ab¬
solute recusant convict; or, if at a greater distance, sus¬
pended him from having any seat in Parliament, keeping
arms in his house, or any horse above the value of L.5.
III. Popish priests were placed in a still more slavish si¬
tuation. For, by statute 11 and 12 Wil. III. c. 4, popish
priests or bishops celebrating mass, and exercising any part
of their functions in England, except in the houses of am¬
bassadors, were liable to perpetual imprisonment. And by
the statute 27 Eliz. c. 2, any popish priest born in the
dominions of the crown of England, who should come
hither from beyond sea, or should be in England without
conforming, and taking the oaths, was guilty of high trea¬
son ; and all persons harbouring him were guilty of felony
without benefit of clergy.
The first amendment of these inhuman laws, which affix
an everlasting stain on the British name, was effected by
the statute 18 Geo. III. c. 60. With regard to such
papists as should duly take the oath therein prescribed, of
allegiance to his Majesty, abjuration of the Pretender, re¬
nunciation of the Pope’s civil power, and abhorrence of the
doctrines of destroying and not keeping faith with heretics,
and deposing or murdering princes excommunicated by au¬
thority of the see of Rome, the statute 11 and 12 W. III.
was repealed, so far as it disabled them from purchasing or
inheriting, or authorized the apprehending or prosecuting
of the popish clergy, or subjected them or any teachers of
youth to perpetual imprisonment. By the statute 31 Geo.
III. c. 32. all the restrictions and penalties above enume¬
rated, were removed from those Catholics who were willing
to comply with the requisitions of that statute, which were,
that they must appear at some of the courts of Westmins¬
ter, or at the quarter sessions held for the county, city, or
place where they might reside, and make and subscribe a
declaration that they professed the Roman Catholic reli¬
gion, and also an oath exactly similar to that required by
18 Geo. III. c. 60. On this declaration and oath being
duly made by any Roman Catholic, the officer of the court
was authorised to grant him a certificate; and such of¬
ficer was required yearly to transmit to the Privy Council
lists of all persons who had thus qualified themselves with¬
in the year in his court. Roman Catholics thus qualified
were not to be prosecuted under any statute for not re¬
pairing to a parish church, nor for attending or perform¬
ing mass or other ceremonies of the Church of Rome. But
no Roman Catholic minister was to officiate in any place
of worship having a steeple and bell, or at any funeral in
a churchyard, or was to wear the habits of his order, ex¬
cept in a place allowed by the statute, or in a private house
where there should not be more than five persons besides
the family. No person who had qualified was to be prose¬
cuted for instructing youth, except in an endowed school,
or in one of the English universities ; or in the case of re¬
ceiving into his school the child of any Protestant father;
and no Roman Catholic was to keep a school until his or her
name should be recorded as a teacher at the sessions.
F
£
Oatht
taken i
Romar
Cathol
membe
Parlia¬
ment
ROMAN CATHOLICS. 317
n Bat no religious order was to be established; and everv thp Pi-nt-pcfonf- r> ^ ,
cs* endowment of a school or college by a Roman Catholic United Kingdom • a." l"l°l r0,test:l|lt government m the Roman
-^should still be superstitions and unlawful. And no pe son God profef teTti’fv a„J d°e 1 li ^ V’/'16 TT* ,°f C‘,holiCS-
should thenceforth be summoned to take the oath ofKpre- ckration anVev^^ ?°. mak/ t,1‘S de-'
macy, and the declaration against transubstantiation. Nor senseofthe wordsof thisoath wit’hn t,tPam.and ordmary
should Roman Catholics who had qualified, be removable .ion, or mS ^
r.at-^sor^Et'.ss j—sa1: ct.fi?
and estates, or to enrol their deeds and wills; and every Ro- House of Commons. embers of the
man Catholic who had qualified, might be permitted to act Roman Catholics may hold civil and militarv offires nn.
as a barrister, attorney, or notary. Still, however, Roman der his Majesty, except the office of I ord Hioh PL i"
Catho tcs could not sit in parliament, because every mem- lor of Great Britain and Ireland, Lord Lieutenant oflre"
her of parliament was required to take the oath of supre- land, or High Commissioner to the GeS AsSnblv
macy, and repeat and subscribe the declaration against the Church of Scotland. J
transubstantiation. Nor could they vote at elections for Roman Catholics to be eligible to become members of
members of the House of Commons in Great Britain, be- lay corporations, upon taking die oath Sv rnoffited
cause, before voting, they must have taken the oath of su- and such other oaths as may now by law be^eaS of
to v^te^atelectio^r^hot^^^hey^mild^cdsirhi^iariiame^nt! °f Sud’
Most of the remaining restrictions upon Roman Catho¬
lics were removed by the Act 10 Geo. IV. cap. 7, entitled,
“ An Act for the relief of his Majesty’s Roman Catholic
subjects,” and passed 13th April 1829. By this act it was
provided that all the preceding enactments (except as here¬
inafter excepted) should be repealed ; and that from and
after the commencement of the act, it should be lawful for
any person professing the Roman Catholic religion, being jects
a peer, or a member of the House of Commons^to sit and
vote in either House, upon taking and subscribing the fol¬
lowing oath, instead of the oath of supremacy, allegiance,
and abjuration:
6 i d° sincerely promise and swear, that I will be
members are not to vote or join in the presentation or ap¬
pointments to any ecclesiastical benefice.
No oath to be required from any Roman Catholic to en¬
able him to hold any real or personal property, other than
such as may be tendered to any other subjects ; and the
oath to be taken by Roman Catholic naval and military
officers, to be taken at the same time, and in the same
manner as the oaths now required by law from other sub¬
lets.
I he Roman Catholic faith in Ireland is professed by
moie than Jour-fifths of the people, or, as ascertained in
1834, 6,427,712, out of a total population of 7,943,940;
and in Great Britain, though the numbers are not pre-
faithful, and bear Jrue SS “f.OM.OOO“by
• t ^ defend him to the utmost of my power, some they are even estimated at little short of 2 000 000^
^against all conspiracies and attempts whatever, which shall and according to the Catholic Directory the number of
do ™ urZT h;S pers0n’ TT °r drity! and 1 wiU R°ma" Catl>“lte in EngTand S WdeS!r 1839
my utmost endeavour to disclose and make known to amounted to 453 ; in Scotland, to 79; or, altogether in Great
Majesty, his heirs and successors, all treasons and traitor- Britain, to 532. Of that number no less than^O are in I an
IV.3TdoIihhf ry be-fTed againSt him °r cashire alone, and 29 in Yorkshire ^wlftle RutlaiM^ncJ1!^^-
and d;fenff J d? faithfulJy promise to maintain, support, ingdon are the only counties of England where there is none.
d’ t?le utmost of my power, the succession of Besides numerous smaller seminaries thev nossess ten ml
fo succfssion(: by - Act entitled, ‘ An Act leges; viz. St. Edmund’s, Old HaU Green^ Ware in Hert
• , urther limitation of the Crown, and better secur- fordsbire ; Ushaw, Durham ; St. Mary’s Birmingham • Sf
,Vd!ffri^ts ami liberties of the subject,’is, and stands Peter’s and St. Paul’s, both at Prior Park Bath - Stonv-
tlie heirs° of b Pri,"CfS SoPhia’E1ectress of Hanover, and hurst, Lancashire; Ampleforth, York; St. Gregory’s’, Down-
renoundmfpb? b°dy» bemg Protestants; hereby utterly side, Bath; German College, Broadway, WorJstershire •
1—? abjU?ng -any obedience or allegiance un- St. Mary’s, at Blairs, on Decide, Aberdeenshi^Tnd a new
crown ofthLPreaSlm-C^dindo0fPnbtenfnig & ^ the Col!e.ge been nearly finished at Sutton Coldfield, Lan-
an article of mv faith a u|tber declareJ tllat it is not cashire. They already number eighteen nunneries and con-
abiiirp th f t ,’ nd tbat 1 do renounce, reject, and vents : Mecklegate bar, York ; Hammersmith Middlesex •
tdbvZ1111011’ ^ prinT excTmunicated 0r de- Bish°P,s Winchester; Taumto^Lodge, Somer^t •
Rome ma h ?°^e’ any otber authority of the see of New Hall, Chelmsford, Essex; Spettisbury House Bland-
:ieirTS,UbjeCt? ?.rby ?rd 5 Stanbrook Hal1’ WorcesterTcav^^^
tha^Sope of Rome -hatId0 ^ Pordshire 5 Clare L«dge, Yorkshire; St. Mary’s Priory,
Person, state or notentatehlthnr T*™’ Vrd&te’ Leamington, Warwickshire; Ashton Hall, Staffordshire;
poral or civil iurisdtetSn gh ^ ^ ^ Llanherne, South Cornwall; Carmel House, Darlington,
nence^directly'or^tedirertlv^^th' s^).eriordy’ 01i.Pre-emi- Durham; Court House, Bridgewater, Somerset; Slles-
that I will defend to the f hlS ^ m‘ 1*° SWfr b°Use’ Westbury, Wiltshire ; Hartbury Court, Gloucester;
ment of nronertv v.hhte n 1 f my Settle“ Presentation, Manchester ; St. Margaret’s, Edinburgh,
laws: and I do herehv d;« ]S' rea,^n’ as estabhshed by the In Ireland the Roman Catholics have a regular hierarchy
jure any intention to Jnhvert h!’ 1SaV0w’ ^nd solemnly ab- of archbishops, bishops, deans, &c., and have under them
ment, as settled hv 1 • e P^esent cburch establish- an establishment of upwards of 2000 parochial clergy,
lemdv sw® fh,?yT Lan W“h,n *hlS realm ! and “0 s°- E"gla"d « divided into four, and Scotlank into three &.
which I am or mav he1 neve^ ®xfr^ise any privilege to tricts, each under the superintendence of a vicar apostolic,
y ecome entitled, to disturb or weaken bearing the title of a bishop inpartibus ethnicorum.
318
/
ROMANCE.
Romance. j)R< Johnson has defined Romance, in its primary sense,
t0 ke <! a miiitary fable of the middle ages ; a tale of wild
amforHn a<^vent;ures in love antl chivalry.” But although this defi-
of tlmword n*^on expresses correctly the ordinary idea of the word,
romance, it is not sufficiently comprehensive to answer our present
purpose. A composition may be a legitimate romance, yet
neither refer to love nor chivalry—to war nor to the mid¬
dle ages. The “ wild adventures” are almost the only abso¬
lutely essential ingredient in Johnson’s definition. We would
be rather inclined to describe a Romance as “ a fictitious
narrative in prose or verse ; the interest of which turns up¬
on marvellous and uncommon incidents ;” being thus op¬
posed to the kindred term Novel, which Johnson has de¬
scribed as “a smooth tale, generally of love ;” but which we
would rather define as “afictitious narrative, differing from
the romance, because the events are accommodated to the
ordinary train of human events, and the modern state of so¬
ciety.” Assuming these definitions, it is evident, from the
nature of the distinction adopted, that there may exist com¬
positions which it is difficult to assign precisely or exclu¬
sively to the one class or other; and which, in fact, partake
of the nature of both. But the distinction will be found
broad enough to answer all general and useful purposes.
The word Romance, in its original meaning, was far from
corresponding with the definition now assigned. On the
contrary, it signified merely one or other of the popular dia¬
lects of Europe, founded, as almost all these dialects were,
upon the Roman tongue, that is, upon the Latin. The name
of romance was indiscriminately given to the Italian, to the
Spanish, even, in one remarkable instance at least,1 to the
English language. But it was especially applied to the
compound language of France ; in which the Gothic dialect
of the Franks, the Celtic of the ancient Gauls, and the clas¬
sical Latin, formed the ingredients. Thus Robert De
Brunne:
though, undoubtedly by slow degrees, the very name of ro-
maunt, or romance, came to be transferred from the languages
itself to that peculiar style of composition in which it was
so much employed, and which so commonly referred to it.
How early a transference so natural took place, we have no
exact means of knowing ; but the best authority assures us,
that the word was used in its modern sense so early as the
reign of Edward III. Chaucer, unable to sleep during the
night, informs us, that, in order to pass the time,
“ All is calde geste Inglis,
That en this language spoken is—
Frankis speech is caled Romance.
So sayis clerkis and men of France.”
At a period so early as 1150, it plainly appears that the Ro¬
mance language was distinguished from the Latin, and that
translations were made from the one into the other ; for an
ancient romance on the subject of Alexander, quoted by
Fauchet, says it was written by a learned clerk,
“ Qui de Latin la trest, et en Roman la mit."
The most noted romances of the middle ages were usually
composed in the romance or French language, which was,
in a peculiar degree, the speech of love and chivalry; and
those which are written in English always affect to refer to
some French original, which usually, at least, if not in all in¬
stances, must be supposed to have a real existence. Hence,
the frequent recurrence of the phrase,
“ As in romance we read
Or,
Right as the romaunt us tells
and equivalent phrases, well known to all who have at any
time perused such compositions. Thus, very naturally,
“ Upon my bed I sate upright;
And bade one reehin me a boke,
A Romaunce, and it me took
To read and drive the night away.”
The book described as a romance contained, as we are in¬
formed,
“ -  Fables
That clerkis had, in old time,
And other poets, put in rhyme.’
And the author tells us a little lower,
“ This book ne spake but of such things,
Of Queens’ lives and of Kings.”
The volume proves to be no other than Ovid’s Metamor¬
phoses; and Chaucer, by applying to it the name of romance,
sufficiently establishes that the word was, in his time, cor¬
rectly employed under the modern acceptation.
Having thus accounted for the derivation of the word,
our investigation divides itself into three principal branches,
though of unequal extent. In the first of these we propose
to inquire into the general history and origin of this pecu¬
liar species of composition, and particularly of romances
relating to European chivalry, which necessarily form the
most interesting object of our inquiry. In the second, we
shall give some brief account of the history of the romance
of chivalry in the different states of Europe. Thirdly, we
propose to notice cursorily the various kinds of romantic
composition by which the ancient romances of chivalry were
followed and superseded, and with these notices to conclude
the article.
I. In the views taken by Hurd, Percy, and other older Gerw
authorities, of the origin and history of romantic fiction, their
attentions were so exclusively fixed upon the romance olromaI1
chivalry alone, that they appear to have forgotten that, how¬
ever interesting and peculiar, it formed only one species of
a very numerous and extensive genus. The progress of ro¬
mance, in fact, keeps pace with that of society, which can¬
not long exist, even in the simplest state, without exhibit¬
ing some specimens of this attractive style of composition.
It is not meant by this assertion, that in early ages such
narratives were invented, in the character of mere fictions,
devised to beguile the leisure of those who had time
enough to read and attend to them. On the contrary, ro¬
mance and real history have the same common origin, ft
is the aim of the former to maintain as long as possible the
mask of veracity ; and indeed the traditional memorials ot
all earlier ages partake in such a varied and doubtful degree
of the qualities essential to those opposite lines of composi¬
tion, that they form a mixed class between them; and may
be termed either romantic histories, or historical romances,
1 This curious passage was detected by the industry of Ritson in Giraldus Cambrensis, “ Ah aqua iUa optima, qua Scotiice vocata esc
Imioth ; Brittanicc, Weird; Romane vero Scotte-Wattre." Here the various names assigned to the Frith of Forth are given in tn®
Gaelic or Earse, the British or Welsh; and the phrase Roman is applied to the ordinary language of England. But it would be difficult
to shew another instance of the English language being termed Roman or Romance.
ROMANCE.
lomn e. according to the proportion in which their truth is debased
grv Vby fiction, or their fiction mingled with truth.
A moment’s glance at the origin of society will satisfy the
reader why this can hardly be otherwise. The father of an
isolated family, destined one day to rise into a tribe, and
in further progress of time to expand into a nation, may,
indeed, narrate to his descendants the circumstances which
detached him from the society of his brethren, and drove
him to form a solitary settlement in the wilderness, with
no other deviation from truth, on the part of the narrator,
than arises from the infidelity of memory, or the exag¬
gerations of vanity. But when the tale of the patriarch
is related by his children, and again by his descendants
of the third and fourth generation, the facts it contains
are apt to assume a very different aspect. The vanity
of the tribe augments the simple annals from one cause;
the love of the marvellous, so natural to the human mind,
contributes its means of sophistication from another ; while,
sometimes, the king and the priest find their interest in
casting a holy and sacred gloom and mystery over the early
period in which their power arose. And thus altered and
sophisticated from so many different motives, the real ad¬
ventures of the founder of the tribe bear as little proportion
to the legend recited among his children, as the famous hut
of Loretto bears to the highly ornamented church with which
superstition has surrounded and enchased it. Thus the de¬
finition which we have given of Romance as a fictitious nar¬
rative turning upon the marvellous or the supernatural, might,
in a large sense, be said to embrace
quicquid Gracia mendax
319
Audet in historia,
or, in fine, the mythological and fabulous history of all early
nations.
It is also important to remark, that poetry, or rather
verse, rhythm at least of some sort or other, is originally
selected as the best vehicle for these traditional histories.
Its principal recommendation is probably the greater faci¬
lity with which metrical narratives are retained in the me¬
mory, a point of the last consequence, until the art of writ¬
ing is generally introduced ; since the construction of the
verse itself forms an artificial association with the sense, the
one of which seldom fails to recall the other to recollection.
But the medium of verse, at first adopted merely to aid the
memory, becomes soon valuable on account of its other
qualities. The march or measure of the stanza is gratify¬
ing to the ear, and, like a natural strain of melody, can be
restrained or accelerated, so as to correspond with the tone
of feeling which the words convey; while the recurrence of
the necessary measure, rhythm or rhyme, is perpetually gra-
tifying the hearer by a sense of difficulty overcome. Verse
being thus adopted as the vehicle of traditional history, there
needs but the existence of a single man of genius, in order
to carry the composition a step higher in the scale of liter¬
ature than that of which we are treating. In proportion to
tue skill which he attains in his art, the fancy and inge¬
nuity of the artist himself are excited; the simple narrative
transmitted to him by ruder rhymers is increased in length;
is decorated with the graces of language, amplified in detail,
and rendered interesting by description; until the brief and
barren original bears as little resemblance to the finished
piece, as the Iliad of Homer to the evanescent traditions,
out of which the blind bard wove his tale of Troy Divine.
Hence, the opinion expressed by the ingenious Percy, and
assented to by Ritson himself. When about to present to
Ins readers an excellent analysis of the old romance of Ly-
bms Disconius, and making several remarks on the artifi¬
cial management of the story, the Bishop observes, that “ if
in epic poem may be defined a fable related by a poet to
excite admiration and inspire virtue, by representing the Romance-
action of some one hero favoured by Heaven, who executes
a great design in spite of all the obstacles that oppose him,
I know not why we should withhold the name of epic poem
from the piece which I am about to analyse.”1
Yet although this levelling proposition has been laid down
By Percy, and assented to by Ritson (writers who have fewr
opinions in common,) and although, upon so general a view
of the subject, the Iliad) or even the Odyssey of Homer,
might be degraded into the class of romances, as Le Beau
Deconnu is elevated into that of epic poems, there lies in
ordinary speech, and in common sense, as wide a distinc¬
tion between these two classes of compositipn, as there is
betwixt the rude mystery or morality of the middle ages,
and the regular drama by which these were succeeded.
Where the art and the ornaments of the poet chiefly attract
our attention; where each part of the narrative bears a due
proportion to the others, and the whole draws gradually to¬
wards a final and satisfactory conclusion ; where the charac¬
ters are sketched with force, and sustained with precision;
where the narrative is enlivened and adorned with so much,
and no more, of poetical ornament and description, as may
adorn, without impeding its progress; where this art and
taste are displayed, supported, at the same time, by a suffi¬
cient tone of genius, and art of composition, the work pro¬
duced must be termed an epic poem, and the author may
claim his seat upon the high and honoured throne occupied
by Homer, Virgil, and Milton. On the other hand, when a
story languishes in tedious and minute details, and relies for
the interest which it proposes to excite, rather upon the wild
excursions of an unbridled fancy, than upon the skill of the
poet; when the supernatural and the extraordinary are re¬
lied upon exclusively as the supports of the interest, the au¬
thor, though his production may be distinguished by occa¬
sional flashes of genius, and though it may be interesting to
the historian, as containing some minute fragments of real
events, and still more so to the antiquary, from the light
which it throws upon ancient manners, is still no more than a
humble romancer, and his work must rank amongst those
rude ornaments of a dark age, which are at present the sub¬
ject of our consideration. Betwixt the extremes of the two
classes of composition, there must, no doubt, exist many
works, which partake in some degree of the character of
both ; and after having assigned most of them, each to their
proper class, according as they are distinguished by regu¬
larity of composition and poetical talent, or, on the contrary,
by extravagance of imagination, and irregularity of detail,
there may still remain some, in which these properties are
so equally balanced, that it may be difficult to say to
which class they belong. But although this may be the case
in a very few instances, our taste and habits readily acknow¬
ledge as complete and absolute a difference betwixt the
epopeia and romance, as can exist betwixt two distinct
species of the same generic class.
We have said of romance, that it first appears in the form
of metrical history, professes to be a narrative of real facts,
and is, indeed, nearly allied to such history as an early state
of society affords; which is always exaggerated by the pre¬
judices and partialities of the tribe to which it belongs, as
well as deeply marked by their idolatry and superstition.
These it becomes the trade of the romancers still more to
exaggerate, until tbe thread of truth can scarce be discern
ed in the web of fable which involves it; and we are com¬
pelled to renounce all hope of deriving serious or authentic
information from the materials upon which the compounders
of fiction have been so long at work, from one generation to
another, that they have at length obliterated the very sha¬
dow of reality or even probability.
The view we have given of the origin of romance will be
Reliques of Ancient English Poetry, III. xxvii. The Prelate is citing a discourse on epic poetry, prefixed to Telemachus.
320
ROMANCE.
Romance, found to agree with the facts which the researches of so protecting genius, the saint is under the protection not only Rc^
'manv active investigators of this curious subject have been of the whole heavenly host, but of some one divine patron or"
* . ^ in i .. j :n V»ic wYiorin} miviliaTv. Lastly, the eon-
able to ascertain. It is found, for example, and we will patroness^ who is his especial auxiliary. Lastly, the con
1
produce instances in viewing the progress of romance in par- elusion of the romance, which usually assigns to the cham-
" . ^ ^ 5> r _ c 5, fair vpalm. an abundant succession, and a train of
Temporal
and spi¬
ritual ro-
ticular countries, that the earliest productions of this sort, pion a fair realm, an —- , . „ • , u
known to exist, are short narrations or ballads, which were happy years, consigns to the martyr his fane and altar upon
probably sung on solemn or festive occasions, recording the earth, and in heaven his seat among saints and angels, and
deeds and praises of some famed champion of the tribe and his share in a blessed eternity. It remains but to say, that
country, or perhaps the history of some remarkable victory the style and language of these two classes do ot greatly
ignll defeat, calculated to interest the audience by the =
associations which the song awakens. These poems, of Bt™*™
which very few can now be supposed to exist, are not with- and their incidents from similar sources; so that, having
. „ , J r _u .i. /-.Kcovp noticed the existence of the spiritual romance, it is unneces-
out flashes of genius, but brief, rude, and often obscure,  - .. ^
from real antiquity or affected sublimity of diction. The sary for the present to prosecute this subject farther,
song on the battle of Brunanburgh, preserved in the Saxon
Chronicle, is a genuine and curious example of this abori¬
ginal style of poetry.
Even at this early period,1 there may be observed a dis¬
tinction betwixt what may be called the Temporal and Spi¬
ritual romances; the first destined to the celebration ot
Another early and natural division of these works of fic- Coc,, ,
tion seems to have arranged them into Serious and ComicahmA
The former were by far the most numerous, and examples
of the latter are in most countries comparatively rare. Such
a class, however, existed, as proper romances, even if we
hold the comic romance distinct from the Contes and Fab-
worldly glory ; the second to recording the deaths of mar,
tyrs and the miracles of saints; both which themes unques¬
tionably met with an almost equally favourable reception
from their hearers. But although most nations possess, in
their early species of literature, specimens of both kinds of
romance, the proportion of each, as was naturally to have
been expected, differs according as the genius of the people
amongst whom they occur leaned towards devotion or mi¬
litary enterprise. Thus, of the Saxon specimens of poetry,
which manuscripts still afford us, a very large proportion is
devotional, amongst which are several examples of the spi¬
ritual romance, but very few, indeed, of those respecting
warfare or chivalry. On the other hand, the Norman lan¬
guage, though rich in examples of both kinds of romances,
is particularly abundant in that which relates to battle and
warlike adventure. The Christian Saxons had become
comparatively pacific, while the Normans were certainly
accounted the most martial people in Europe.
However different the spiritual romance may be from
liaux of the French, and from such jocular English narra¬
tives as the Wife Lapt in MoraVs Skin, The Friar and the
Boy, and similar humorous tales; of which the reader will
find many examples in Ritson’s Ancient English Poetry,
and in other collections. The scene of these gestes being
laid in low, or at least in ordinary life, they approach in their
nature more nearly to the class of novels, and may perhaps
be considered as the earliest specimens of that kind of com¬
position. But the proper comic romance was that in which
the high terms and knightly adventures of chivalry were bur¬
lesqued, by ascribing them to clowns or others of a low and
mean degree. Such compositions formed, as it were, a parody on
the serious romance, to which they bore the same proportion as
the antimasque, studiously filled with grotesque, absurd, and
extravagant characters, “ entering,” as the stage direction
usually informs us, “ to a confused music,” bore to the mas¬
que itself, where all was dignified, noble, stately, and har¬
monious.
An excellent example of the comic romance is the Tour-
the temporal in scope and tendency, the nature of the two nament of Tottenham, printed in Piercy s Reliques, in which
-. , A J m mi 1 _/•     J., lol-nrr r\Yl C% fit tnPCP
compositions did not otherwise greatly differ. The struc
ture of verse and style of composition was the same; and
the induction, even when the most serious subject was un¬
dertaken, exactly resembled that with which minstrels in¬
troduced their idle tales, and often contained allusions to
them.
begins,
Warton quotes a poem on the Passions, which
I hereth one lutele tale, that Ich eu wille telle,
As wi vyndeth hit invrite in the godspelle,
Nuz hit nouht of Carlemeyne ne of the Duzpere,
Ac of Criste’s thruurynge, &c.
The temporal romances, on the other hand, often com¬
menced by such invocations of the Deity, as would only
have been in place when a much more solemn subject was
to be agitated. The exordium of the Romance of Eerwn-
a number of clowns are introduced practising one of these
warlike games, which were the exclusive prerogative of the
warlike and noble. They are represented making vows to
the swan, the peacock, and the ladies ; riding a tilt on their
clumsy cart horses, and encountering each other with plough¬
shares and flails; whilst their defensive armour consisted of
great wooden bowls and troughs, by way of helmets and
cuirasses. The learned editor seems to have thought this
singular composition was like Don Quixote, with which he
compares it, a premeditated effort of satire, written to ex¬
pose the grave and fantastic manners of the serious romance.
This is considering the matter too deeply, and ascribing to
the author a more critical purpose than he was probably ca¬
pable of conceiving. It is more natural to suppose that his
only ambition was to raise a laugh, by ascribing to the vul-
bras may serve as an example of a custom almost universal; gar the manners and exercises of the noble and valiant; as
God in glorye of mightis moost in the well-known farce of High Life Below Stairs, the n-
That all things made in sapience, dicule is not directed against the manners described,
By virtue of Word and Holy Gooste, against the menials w ho aftect those that are only befitting
Giving to men great excellence, &c. their superiors. The Hunting of the Hare, published in the
The distresses and dangers which the knight endured for collection formed by the late industrious and accurate Mr.
the sake of obtaining earthly fame and his mistress’s favour, Weber, is a comic romance of the same order. A yeoman
the saint or martyr was exposed to for the purpose of secur- informs the inhabitants of a country hamlet that he has foun
ing his rank in heaven, and the favour of some beloved and a hare sitting, and invites them to come to course her. They
peculiar patron saint. If the earthly champion is in peril from attend, accordingly, with all the curs and mastiffs of their
monsters, dragons, and enchantments, the spiritual hero is village, and the unsportsman-like manner in which the in-
represented as liable to the constant assaults of the whole experienced huntsmen and their irregular pack conduc
invisible world, headed by the ancient dragon himself. If themselves, forms the interest of the piece. It can hardly
the knight is succoured at need by some favouring fairy or be supposed the satire is directed against the sport of hunt-
I i
The religious romances of Barlaam and Jehosephat were composed by John of Damascus in the eighth century.
t
asten
inane
ROMANCE.
ce. ing itself; since the whole ridicule arises out of Hip wfmt nf rt,,*- i p l
the necessary knowledge of its rules, incident to the io-nor m uiv m fi ^ 6 ae ° trac itl0n :as not Passed through Romance,
ance and inexperience of the clowns who undertook to Irac' S, tL f ’ f f S°me °ne’ t0 indulSe own propensity>
tise an art peculiar to gentlemen. The ancient poertv of Id audiJn" ’ °r ^ by n°rlty the attention «f
Scotland furnishes several examples of this ludicrous style anocrvnl’ il invclfcn6" ^ 11° ,rneagre chromcle with his own
of romantic composition; as the Tournament at the Drum hattlel • tli,. . * •nS’ ^kirmishes are magnified into great
and the Justing of Watson and Barbour bv Sir David a\nrt nf 1 ■ amPlon 0 a remote aSe's exaggerated into
Lindsay. It probable that thes “;’ncoh,tre ^ and subZSe ZmIT^ 1’°“
sometimes acted in earnest; at least Kin<>-Tames T is neenc. fi • ,, . 1 P lod in number, and magnified
ed of witnessing such practical jests • “sometimes present th n ft,1’ in<)1| (’ cUjd to his successes against
the e‘irs'"_(Sir Anthony Weidon’s c°uri * i i? Fw8,oT"'«pt!
confine to the romance of the middle ages. It is indeed
true that this species of composition is common to al¬
most all nations, and that even if we deem the Biad and
Odyssey compositions too dignified by the strain of poetry in
which they are composed to bear the name of metrical ro¬
mances ; yet we have the pastoral romance of Daphnis and
UUoe, and the historical romance of Thcagenes and Chari-
dect, which are sufficiently accurate specimens of that style
of composition. The Milesian fables and the romances of
Antomus Diogenes, described by Photius, could they be
recovered, would also be found to belong to the same class.
It is impossible to avoid noticing that the Sybarites, whose
luxurious habits seem to have been intellectual, as well as
sensual, were peculiarly addicted to the perusal of the Mile¬
sian fables; from which we may conclude that they were
not of that severe kind which inspired high thoughts and
martial virtues. But there would be little advantage deriv¬
ed from extending our researches into the ages of classical
antiquity respecting a class of compositions which, though
they existed then, as in almost every stage of society, were
neither so numerous nor of such high repute as to consti-
tute any considerable portion of that literature.
Want of space also may entitle us to dismiss the consider¬
ation of the Oriental romances, unless in so far as in the
nowned nephew of Charlemagne, of whom romance speaks
so much, and history so little; and whose fall, with the chi¬
valry of Charles the great in the pass of lioncesvalles, has ■’
given rise to such clouds of romantic fiction, that its very
name has been for ever associated with it. The remark¬
able passage has been often quoted from the Brut of Wace
an Anglo-Norman metrical chronicle.
Taillefer, qui moult bien chantout
Sur un cheval qui tost alout,
Devant le Due alout chantant
De Karlemaigne et de Rollant,
Dt d’Oliver et des vassals,
Qui morurent en Reneevals.
Which may be thus rendered :
Taillefer, who sung both well and loud,
Came mounted on a courser proud ;
Before the Duke the minstrel sprung,
And loud of Charles and Roland sung,
Of Oliver and champions mo,
Who died at fatal Ron^evaux.
I his champion possessed the sleight-of-hand of the juggler,
as well as tne art of the minstrel. He tossed up his sw-ord
''iShly *third' “FtH
^ pSrir"s:-= rn
" 3 4~iuroofpr! '“F? °t our ide“
Arabian Tales approach strictlv to d/o fb ra T °S f T^i ’“’“““r added b?the invention of those
mances of chivalry ; although in o-enenl thpUaC C\ ? 1(|’ )p,10 unt^ertook t0 cater for the public taste in such matters,
lowed to exceed &e more lame norf ^ ^ nameS °f kin^ and champ ions, which had first
less vivacity of invention and in their more chy?18 t” fUnt> Cau^bt t^e.national ear’ were stiH retained, in order to se-
to the marvellous. Several specimens of thP n,^ tendency care attentlon> and the same assertions of authenticity, and
are also to be found mingled with those which° reference to real history, were stoutly made both in the
and we have the best and most nosirivp o L:110us > commencement and in the course of the narrative. Each
recital of these seductive fictTons is a 2s the ^ “T" presently be seen, came at length to adopt to it-
ment as fosanatin'2nd ^ "Tf Self & Cyde °f ,!eroes like those ofth^ ^ a ^rt of com-
East, as the perusa? of printed romancef and 16 p,'<iperty to a11 minstrels who chose to make use of them,
the European public. But a nfinutc invc ct 2e " fTg U"?er1 the Condition alwaY^ that the general character as-
particular species of romance would lead fga 10n Ult0 l!iiS crioetl }° each individual hero was preserved with some de-
field, already'sufficiency ^xfiensive for p IWmT ^ff^ency. Tims, in the romances of The Bound
our plan confines it. " inits to which Gawain is usually represented as courteous; Kay
The European Romancp ^ ■*. • , . as rude and boastful; Mordred as treacherous; and Sir
ani-y 418 we wm t
2 s
VOL. XIX.
322
ROMANCE.
Romance, mance, Gan, or Ganelon of Mayence, is always represented
~ 'as a faithless traitor engaged in intrigues for the destruc¬
tion of Christianity ; Roland as brave, unsuspicious, devot¬
edly loyal, and somewhat simple in his disposition; Renaud,
or Rinaldo, is painted with all the properties of a borderer,
valiant, alert, ingenious, rapacious and unscrupulous. The
same conventional distinctions may be traced in the history
of the Nibelung, a composition of Scandinavian origin, which
has supplied matter for so many Teutonic adventurers. Meis-
ter Hildebrand, Etzel, Theodorick, and the champion Hogan,
as well asChrimhelda and the females introduced, have the
same individuality of character, which is ascribed, in Homer s
immortal writings, to the wise Ulysses, the brave but relentless
Achilles, his more gentle friend Patroclus, Sarpedon, the fa¬
vourite of the gods, and Hector, the protector oi mankind. It
was not permitted to the invention of a Greek poet to make
Ajax a dwarf, or Teucer a giant, Thersites a hero, or Dio-
medes a coward; and it seems to have been under similar
restrictions respecting consistency that the ancient roman¬
cers exercised their ingenuity upon the materials supplied
them by their predecessors. But, in other respects, the
whole store of romantic history and tradition was free to all
as a joint stock in trade, on which each had a right to draw
as suited his particular purposes. He was at liberty not
only to select a hero out of known and established names
which had been the theme of others, but to imagine a new
personage of his own pure fancy, and combine him with the
heroes of Arthur’s Table or Charlemagne’s Court, in the
way which best suited his fancy. He was permitted to ex¬
cite new wars against those bulwarks of Christendom, in¬
vade them with fresh and innumerable hosts of Saracens,
-educe them to the last extremity, drive them from their
thrones, and lead them into captivity, and again to relieve
their persons, and restore their sovereignty, by events and
agents totally unknown in their former story.
In the characters thus assigned to the individual person¬
ages of romantic fiction, it is possible there might be some
slight foundation in remote tradition, as there were also
probably some real grounds for the existence of such per¬
sons, and perhaps for a very few of the leading circum¬
stances attributed to them. But these realities only exist
as the few grains of wheat in the bushel of chaff, incapable
of being winnowed out, or cleared from the mass of fiction
with which each new romancer had in his turn overwhelm¬
ed them. So that romance, though certainly deriving its
first original from the pure fount of history, is supplied, dur¬
ing the course of a very few generations, with so many tri¬
butes from the imagination, that at length the very name
comes to be used to distinguish works of pure fiction.
When so popular a department of poetry has attained
this decided character, it becomes time to inquire who were
the composers of these numerous, lengthened, and once ad¬
mired narratives which are called metrical romances, and
from whence they drew their authority. Both these sub¬
jects of discussion have been the source of great controversy
among antiquaries; a class of men who, be it said with their
forgiveness, are apt to be both positive and polemical upon
the very points which are least susceptible of proof, and
which are least valuable if the truth could be ascertained ;
and which, therefore, we would gladly have seen handled
with more diffidence, and better temper, in proportion to
their uncertainty.
The late venerable Dr. Percy, Bishop of Dromore, led the
way unwarily to this dire controversy, by ascribing the compo¬
sition of our ancient heroic songs and metrical legends, in ra¬
ther too liberal language, to the minstrels, that class of men
by wrhom they were generally recited. This excellent per¬
son, to whose memory the lovers of our ancient lyre must
always remain so deeply indebted, did not, on publishing his
The Min¬
strels.
work nearly fifty years ago, see the rigid necessity of ob¬
serving the utmost and most accurate precision either ink.
his transcripts or his definitions. The study which he wish¬
ed to introduce was a new one; it was his object to place
it before the public in an engaging and interesting form;
and, in consideration of his having obtained this important
point, we ought to make every allowance not only for slight
inaccuracies, but for some hasty conclusions, aud even ex¬
aggerations, with which he was induced to garnish his la¬
bour of love. He defined the minstrels, to whose labours
he chiefly ascribed the metrical compositions on which he
desired to fix the attention of the public, as “ an order of
men in the middle ages, who subsisted by the arts of poetry
and music, and sung to the harp verses composed by them¬
selves or others.”1 In a very learned and elegant essay
upon the text thus announced, the reverend Prelate in a
great measure supported the definition which he had laid
down ; although it may be thought that, in the first editions
at least, he has been anxious to view the profession of the
minstrels on their fairest and most brilliant side ; and to as¬
sign to them a higher station in society than a general re¬
view of all the passages connected with them will permit
us to give to a class of persons who either lived a vagrant
life, dependent on the precarious taste of the public for a
hard-earned maintenance, or, at best, were retained as a
part of the menial retinue of some haughty baron, and in a
great measure identified with his musical band.
The late acute, industrious, and ingenious Mr. Joseph
Ritson, whose severe accuracy was connected with an un¬
happy eagerness and irritability of temper, took advantage
of the exaggerations occasionally to be found in the Bishop’s
Account of Ancient Minstrelsy, and assailed him with terms
which may be termed any thing but courteous. Without
finding an excuse either in the novelty of the studies in
which Percy had led the way, or in the vivacity of imagin¬
ation which he did not himself share, he proceeded to arraign
each trivial inaccuracy as a gross fraud, and every deduc¬
tion which he considered to be erroneous as a wilful un¬
truth, fit to be stigmatised with the broadest appellation by
which falsehood can be distinguished. Yet there is so lit¬
tle room for this extreme loss of temper, that, upon a recent
perusal of both these ingenious essays, we were surprised
to find that the reverend editor of the JReliques, and the ac¬
curate antiquary, have differed so very little as, in essential
facts, they appear to have done. Quotations are, indeed,
made by both with no sparing hand, and hot arguments;
and, on one side at least, hard words are unsparingly em¬
ployed ; while, as is said to happen in theological polemics,
the contest grows warmer in proportion as the ground con¬
cerning which it is carried on is narrower and more insig¬
nificant. Their systems, in reality, do not essentially differ.
Ritson is chiefly offended at the sweeping conclusion in
which Percy states the minstrels as subsisting by the arts
of poetry and music, and reciting to the harp verses com¬
posed by themselves and others. He shows very success¬
fully that this definition is considerably too extensive, and
that the term minstrel comprehended, of old, not merely
those who recited to the harp or other instrument romances
and ballads, but others who were distinguished by tbeir
skill in instrumental music only ; and, moreover, that jug¬
glers, sleight-of-hand performers, dancers, tumblers, and sue
like subordinate artists, who were introduced to help a«ay
the tedious hours in an ancient feudal castle, were also com¬
prehended under the general term of minstrel. But althoug
he distinctly proves that Percy’s definition applied only
one class of the persons termed minstrels, those, namely,w 10
sung or recited verses, and in many cases of their own com
position; the bishop’s position remains unassailable, m 80
far as relates to one general class, and these the most lS
1 Essay on Ancient Minstrels in England prefixed to the first volume of Bishop Percy’s Eeliques.
ROMANCE.
florc* ;e. tinguished during the middle ages. All minstrels did not
f^use the harp, and recite or compose romantic poetry ; but
it cannot be denied that such was the occupation of the
most eminent of the order. This Ritson has rather ad¬
mitted than denied'; and the number of quotations which
his industry has brought together, rendered such an admis¬
sion inevitable.
Indeed, the slightest acquaintance with ancient romances
of the metrical class, shows us that they were composed for
the express purpose of being recited, or, more properly,
chaunted to some simple tune or cadence for the amuse¬
ment of a large audience. Our ancestors, as they were
circumscribed in knowledge, were also more limited in con¬
versational powers than their enlightened descendants; and
it seems probable, that in their public festivals, there was
great advantage found in the presence of a minstrel who
should recite some popular composition on their favourite
subjects of love and war, to prevent those pauses of discourse
which sometimes fall heavily on a company, even of the
present accomplished age, and to supply an agreeable train
of ideas to those guests who had few of their own. It is,
therefore, almost constantly insinuated, that the romance
was to be chaunted or recited to a large and festive society ;
and in some part or other of the piece, generally at the
opening, there is a request of attention on the part of the
performer; and hence, the perpetual “ Lythe and listen
lordings free,” which in those, or equivalent words, forms
the introduction to so many romances. As, for example,
in the old poem of Guy and Colbrand, the minstrel speaks
of his own occupation:
When meat and drink is great plentye,
Then lords and ladyes still will be,
And sit and solace lythe ;
Then it is time for mee to speake,
Of kern knights and kempes greate,
Such carping for to kythe.
Chaucer, also, in his rhyme of Sir Thopas, assigns to the
minstrels of his hero’s household the same duty of reciting
! romances of spiritual or secular heroes, for the good knight’s .
pastime while arming himself for battie :
“ Do cum,” he sayd, “ my minestrales,
And jestours for to tellen tales
Anon in min arming,
Of romaunces that ben reales,
Of popes and of cardinales,
And eke of love-longing.”
Not to multiply quotations, we will only add one of some
importance, which must have escaped Ritson’s researches;
tor his editorial integrity was such, as rendered him incap¬
able of suppressing evidence on either side of the question.
In the old romance or legend of True Thomas and the
yueen of Elfland, Thomas the Rhymer, himself a minstrel,
is gifted by the Queen of the Faery with the faculties of
music and song. The answer of Thomas is not only con¬
clusive as to the minstrel’s custom of recitation, but shows
that it was esteemed the highest branch of his profession,
and superior as such to mere instrumental music :
To harp and carp Thomas wheresoever ye gon,
Thomas take the these with the” - 
“ Harping,” he said, “ ken I non,
for tong is chefe of Mynstralse.”1
We, therefore, arrive at the legitimate conclusion, that al-
i°ugn, under the general term minstrels, were compre-
323
hended many who probably entertained the public only with Romance,
instrumental performances, with ribald tales, with jugglery,v — —
or farcical representations, yet one class amongst them, and
that a numerous one, made poetical recitation their chief,
if not their exclusive occupation. The memory of these
men was, in the general case, the depository of the pieces
which they recited ; and hence, although a number of their
romances still survive, very many more have doubtless fallen
into oblivion.
That the minstrels were also the authors of many of
these poems, and that they altered and enlarged others, is
a matter which can scarcely be doubted, when it is proved
that they were the ordinary reciters of them. It was as
natural for a minstrel to become a poet or composer of
romances, as for a player to be a dramatic author, or a mu¬
sician a composer of music. Whatever individual among a
class, w hose trade it was to recite poetry, felt the least degree
of poetical enthusiasm in a profession so peculiarly calculated
to inspire it, must, from that very impulse, have become an
original author, or translator at least; thus giving novelty
to his recitations, and acquiring additional profit and fame.
Bishop Percy, therefore, states the case fairly in the fol¬
lowing passage : 11 It can hardly be expected that vve should
be able to produce regular and unbroken annals of the min¬
strel art and its professors, or have sufficient information,
whether every minstrel or bard composed himself, or only
repeated, the songs he chaunted. Some probably did the
one and some the other; and it would have been wonder¬
ful indeed, if men, whose peculiar profession it wras, and
who devoted their time and talents to entertain their hear¬
ers with poetical compositions, were peculiarly deprived of
all poetical genius themselves, and had been under a phy¬
sical incapacity of composing those common popular rhymes,
which were the usual subjects of their recitation.”2 While,
however, we acquiesce in the proposition, that the minstrels
composed many, perhaps the greater part of the metrical
romances which theysung, it is evident they were frequently
assisted in the task by others who, though not belonging to
this profession, were prompted by leisure and inclination to
enter upon the literary or poetical department as amateurs.
These very often belonged to the clerical profession, amongst
whom relaxation of discipline, abundance of spare time, and
impatience of the routine of ceremonious duties, often led
individuals into worse occupations than the listening to or
composing metrical romances. It was in vain that both
the poems and the minstrels who recited them were, by
statute, debarred from entering the more rigid monasteries.
Both found their way frequently to the refectory, and w ere
made more welcome than brethren of their own profes¬
sion ; as we may learn from a memorable Gest, in which
two poor travelling priests, who had been received into a
monastery wdth acclamation, under the mistaken idea of their
being minstrels, are turned out in disgrace, when it is dis¬
covered that they were indeed capable of furnishing spiri¬
tual instruction, but understood none of the entertaining
arts with which the hospitality of their convent might have
been repaid by itinerant bards.
Nay, besides a truant disposition to a forbidden task,
many of the grave authors may have alleged, in their owm
defence, that the connexion between history and romance
was not in their day entirely dissolved. Some eminent
men exercised themselves in both kinds of composition ; as,
for example, Maitre Wace, canon of Caen, in Normandy,
who, besides the metrical chronicle of Le Brut, containing
* Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, vol. ii. p. 27.
on the Ancient Minstrels, p. 30.
position of^Slr^ tlle Gbronicle of Bertrand Guesclin, distinctly attributes the most renowned romances to the corn-
after enumerating Arthur SUn^‘ AS thf Passage will be afterwards more fully quoted, we must here only say, that
merating Arthut, Launcelot, Godfrey, Roland, and other champions, he sums up his account of them as being the heroes
De quoi cils minestriers font les nobles romans.
324
ROMANCE.
Romance, the earliest history of England, and other historical legends,
wrote, in 1155, the Homan de Chevalier de Lyon, probably
the same translated under the title of Ywain and Gawain.
Lambert li Cors, and Benoit de Saint-Maur, seem both to
have been of the clerical order; and, perhaps, Chretien de
Troyes, a most voluminous author of romance, was of the
same profession. Indeed, the extreme length of many ro¬
mances being much greater than any minstrel could under¬
take to sing at one or even many sittings, may induce us
to refer them to men of a more sedentary occupation than
those wandering poets. The religious romances were, in
all probability, the works of such churchmen as might wish
to reconcile an agreeable occupation with their religious
profession. All which circumstances must be received as
exceptions from the general proposition, that the romances
in metre were the composition of the minstrels by whom
they were recited or sung, though they must still leave
Percy’s proposition to a certain extent unimpeached.
To explain the history of Romance, it is necessary to di¬
gress a little further concerning the condition of the min¬
strels by whom these compositions were often made, and,
generally speaking, preserved and recited. And here, it
must be confessed, that the venerable Prelate has, perhaps,
suffered his love of antiquity, and his desire to ennoble the
productions of the middle ages, a little to overcolour the
importance and respectability of the minstrel tribe; although
his opponent Ritson has, on the other hand, seized on all
circumstances and inferences which could be adduced to
prove the degradation of the minstrel character, without
attending to the particulars by which these depreciating
circumstances were qualified. In fact, neither of these ex¬
cellent antiquaries has cast a general or philosophical glance
on the necessary condition of a set of men who were by
profession the instruments of the pleasure of others during
a period of society such as was presented in the middle
ages.
In a very early period of civilisation, ere the division of
tribes had been generally adopted, and while each tribe may
be yet considered as one great family, and the nation as an
union of such independent tribes, the poetical art, so nearly
allied to that of oratory or persuasion, is found to ascertain
to its professors a very high rank. Poets are then the historians
and often the priests of the tribe. Their command of lan¬
guage, then in its infancy, excites not merely pleasure, but
enthusiasm and admiration. When separated into a distinct
class, as was the case with the Celtic bards, and, perhaps,
with the skalds of Scandinavia, they rank high in the scale
of society, and we not only find kings and nobles listening
to them with admiration, but emulous of their art, and de¬
sirous to be enrolled among their numbers. Several of the
most renowned northern kings and champions valued them¬
selves as much upon their powers of poetry as on their mar¬
tial exploits ; and of the Welsh princes, the Irish kings,
and the Highland chiefs of Scotland, very many practised
the arts of poetry and music. Llwarch Hen was a prince of
the Cymraig, Brian Boromhe, a harper and a musician, and
without resorting to the questionable authenticity of Ossian,
several instances of the same kind might be produced in
the Highlands.
But, in process of time, when the classes of society come
to assume their usual gradation with respect to each other,
the rank of professional poets is uniformly found to sink
gradually in the scale, along with that of all others whose
trade it is to contribute mere amusement. The profes¬
sional poet, like the player or the musician, becomes the
companion and soother only of idle and convivial hours ;
his presence would be unbecoming on occasions of gravity
and importance; and his art is accounted at best an amus¬
ing but useless luxury. Although the intellectual plea¬
sure derived from poetry or from the exhibition of the
drama be of a different and much higher class than that
derived from the accordance of sounds, or from the exhi- Ro
bition of feats of dexterity, still it will be found that the
opinions and often the laws of society, while individuals of
these classes are cherished and held in the highest esti¬
mation, have degraded the professions themselves among its
idle, dissolute, and useless appendages. Although it may
be accounted ungrateful in mankind thus to reward the
instruments of their highest enjoyments, yet some jus¬
tification is usually to be drawn from the manners of the
classes who were thus lowered in public opinion. It must
be remembered, that, as professors of this joyous science,
as it was called, the minstrels stood in direct opposition to
the more severe part of the Catholics, and to the monks in
particular, whose vows bound them to practise virtues of
the ascetic order, and to look upon every thing as profane
which was connected with mere worldly pleasure. The
manners of the minstrels themselves gave but too much
room for clerical censure. They were the usual assistants
at scenes, not merely of conviviality, but of license ; and as
the companions and encouragers of revelling and excess,
they became contemptible in the eyes, not only of the aged
and the serious, but of the libertine himself, when his de¬
bauch palled on his recollection. The minstrels, no doubt,
like their brethren of the stage, sought an apology in the
corrupted taste and manners of their audience, with which
they were obliged to comply, under the true but melancholy
condition that
—they who live to please must please to live.
But this very necessity, rendered more degrading by their
increasing numbers and decreasing reputation, only accele¬
rated the total downfall of their order, and the general dis¬
credit and neglect into which they had fallen. The statute
of the 39th of Queen Elizabeth, passed at the close of the
sixteenth century, ranks those dishonoured sons of song
among rogues and vagabonds, and appoints them to be
punished as such ; and the occupation, though a vestige of
it was long retained in the habits of travelling ballad-sing¬
ers and musicians, sunk into total neglect and contempt.
Of this we shall have to speak hereafter ; our business be¬
ing at present with those romances, which, while still in
the zenith of their reputation, were the means by which the
minstrels, at least the better and higher class amongst them,
recommended themselves to the favour of their noble pa¬
trons, and of the audiences whom they addressed.
It maybe presumed, that, although the class of minstrels,
like all who merely depend upon gratifying the public, car¬
ried in their very occupation the evils which first infected,
and finally altogether depraved their reputation; yet, in the
earlier ages, their duties were more honourably estimated,
and some attempts were made to introduce into their mot¬
ley body the character of a regular establishment, subjected
to discipline and subordination. Several individuals, both
of France and England, bore the title of king of minstrels,
and were invested probably with some authority over the
others. The serjeant of minstrels is also mentioned; and
Edward IV. seems to have attempted to form a guild or
exclusive corporation of minstrels. John of Gaunt, at an
earlier period, established (between jest and earnest, per¬
haps) a court baron of minstrels, to be held at Tilbury.
There is no reason, however, to suppose that the influence
of their establishments went far in restraining the licence
of a body of artists so unruly as well as numerous.
It is not, indeed, surprising that individuals, -whose ta¬
lents in the arts of music or of the stage rise to the highest
order, should, in a special degree, attain the regard and
affection of the powerful, acquire wealth, and rise to con¬
sideration ; for, in such professions, very high prizes are
assigned only to pre-eminent excellence ; while ordinary or
inferior practisers of the same art may be said to draw in
the lottery something worse than a mere blank. Garrick, in
ROMANCE.
Ror, ce. his chariot, and whose company was courted for his wit and
talent, was, after all, by profession, the same with the un¬
fortunate stroller, whom the British laws condemn as a va¬
gabond, and to whose dead body other countries refuse even
the last rites of Christianity. In the same manner it is
i
their age, monarchs entertained their domestic minstrels,-
those persons might be admitted to the most flattering in¬
timacy with their royal masters; sleep within the royal
chamber, amass considerable fortunes, found hospitals,3
and receive rewards singularly over-proportioned to the
perquisites of the graver professions ;4 and even practise in
company with their royal masters the pleasing arts of poetry
and music, which all are so desirous of attaining whilst,
at the same time, those who ranked lower in the same pro¬
fession were struggling with difficulty to gain a precarious
subsistence, and incurring all the disgrace usually attached
to a vagabond life and a dubious character. In the fine
arts, pai ticularly, excellence is demanded, and mere medi¬
ocrity is held contemptible; and, while the favour with
which the former is loaded, sometimes seems disproportion-
ed to the utility of the art itself, nothing can exceed the
scorn poured out on those who expose themselves by un¬
dertaking arts which they are unable to practise with suc¬
cess. Self-conceit, however, love of an idle life, and a va¬
riety of combined motives, never fail to recruit the lower
orders of such idle professions with individuals by whose
perfoi mances, and often by their private characters, the
art which they have rashly adopted can only be discredited
without any corresponding advantage to themselves. It
is not, therefore, surprising that, while such distinguished
325
fame in arms to copy the valiant acts of the Paladins of Romance.
Charles, and the Knights of the Round Table, narrated in
romances ; and it cannot be denied, that those high tales,
in w inch the virtues of generosity, bravery, devotion to his
istress, and zeal for the Catholic religion, were carried to
easy to suppose that, when in compliance with the taste of the greatest height^f romantic ^ 7lif.ion\we!’e cfried t0
tteir age, monarch, entertained their domestic minstrels,- of the hero, united with the scenefp^glundTem
were of the highest importance in affecting the character of
Hf/p- !fbu rL" kniShts of romance were so com-
1 etely identified with those of real history, that graver his¬
torians quote the actions of the former in illustration of,
and as a corollary to the real events which they narrate.7
1 he virtues recommended in romance were, however, only
of that overstrained and extravagant cast which consisted
with the spirit of chivalry. Great bodily strength, and per¬
fection in all martial exercises, was the universal accom¬
plishment inalienable from the character of the hero, and
which each romancer had it in his power to confer. It was
also easily in the composer’s power to devise dangers, and
to free his hero from them by the exertion of valour equal¬
ly extravagant. But it was more difficult to frame a story
which should illustrate the manners as well as the feats of
chivalry; or to devise the means of evincing that devotion
to duty, and that disinterested desire to sacrifice all to faith
and honour;—that noble spirit of achievement which la¬
boured for others more than itself—-which form, perhaps,
the fairest side of the system under which the noble youths
of the middle ages were trained up. The sentiments of
chivalry, as we have explained in our article on that sub¬
ject, were founded on the most pure and honourable prin¬
ciples, but unfortunately carried into hyperbole and extra-
L'harac
nd sty
he ro-
nances
hivalry
examples of the contrary appeared amongst individifals the v U untoj’tun^tely earned into hyperbole and extra-
Respecting the style of their composition Du Cane-e in. eehnSs’ whlch really existed in the society of the
lfforms us, that the minstrels sometimes devoted their strains andWt^8’ maSmfied a"d exaggerated by the writers
to flatter the great, and sino-Te Pr^ and reciters of romance; and these given as resemblances of
by whom they were protected rwhiKe ols at thrsame the vlmbTib ’ T"’ ^ 'i116" ''T5 the ^lass by ^ich
ended to their hearers the
path of virtue and nobleness, and pointed out the pursuits
by which the heroes of romance had rendered themselves
renowned in song.6 He quotes from the romance of Ber¬
trand Guesclin, the injunction on these who would rise to
and enhanced each other.
I he romances, therefore, exhibited the same system of
manners which existed in the nobles of the age. the cha¬
racter of a true son of chivalry w'as raised to such a pitch
? WTJ™ 0—7 — three vi„s
bey of Hyde. e without rent. Henry I. had a minstrel called Galfnd, who received an annuity from the ab-
foZ^Lie',S:b'', P'i"°e'S expediti<"' “ ,be Ho,7 I-* *>«•< -itbi. hi, tent, and catne to hi, assistance when an
thatprince."0^ a,'d °f S"nt i” L°ndo„, wa, founded in the reign of Henry I. by Royer or Raher, a minstrel of
and SfLTst^ "> minstrels of Lord Clinton for songs, harping,
: *”d Ms? o,"y
modi scurramm erat PriSfpe^non^lS dultolTudlcri^obiS-rTrerer'80 veI ■’'"""‘"'S, appeliamns. Po.ro ejus-
bus, non sine assentatione, cum cantilenis et musicis instrumentis demulcere vanls.avorum' adeoque ipsorum Principum laudi-
explicata et jucunda narratione commemorabant aut suavi vocis inflertinnp fun Ite^dum etlam virorum msignium et heroum gesta, aut
bis nuererant ludicris, nobilium animos ad virtutem capessendam et surnmniMm'^116 deca.ntabant> (luo Slc dominorum, cieterorumque qui
Gallos Bardorum ministerium, ut auctor est Tacitus Npoup pnlm .virorum imitationem accenderent: quod fuit olim apud
Henncus Yalesius ad 15. Ammiani Chronicon Bertrandi ^uesclini: '0S a imsieUls> veterum Gallorum Bardos fuisse pluribus probat
Qui yeut avoir renom des bons et des vaillans,
II doit aler souvent a la pluie et an champ,
Et estre en la bataille, ainsy que fu Rollans,
Les quatre fils Haimon et Charlon li plus grans,
Li Dus Lions de Bourges, et Guion de Gormans,
r^erceval li Galois, Lancelot et Tristans,
Alexandres, Artus, Godefroy li sachans,
7 De 1u°y cils menestriers font les nobles Romans.
be Celtic hero, Fin°Mac & ¥i8b,.an(f chief, when, in commending the prowess of Bruce in battle, he likened him to
be romance of Alexander. ’ yS> 6 might 10 rn0re mannerly fashion have compared him to Gaudifer, a champion celebrated in
326
ROMANCE.
Romance, of ideal and impossible perfection, that those who emulated
'such renown were usually contented to stop far short of the
mark. The most adventurous and unshaken valour, a mind
capable of the highest flights of romantic generosity, a heart
which was devoted to the will of some fair idol, on whom
his deeds were to reflect glory, and whose love was to re¬
ward all his toils ; these were attributes which all aspired
to exhibit who sought to rank high in the annals of chival¬
ry ; and such were the virtues which the minstrels cele¬
brated. But, like the temper of a tamed lion, the fierce
and dissolute spirit of the age often shewed itself through
the fair varnish of this artificial system of manners. The
valour of the hero was often stained by acts of cruelty, or
freaks of rash desperation; his courtesy and munificence
became solemn foppery and wild profusion ; his love to his
lady often demanded and received a requital inconsistent
with the honour of the object; and those who affected to
found their attachment on the purest and most delicate
metaphysical principles, carried on their actual intercourse
with a license altogether inconsistent with their sublime
pretensions. Such were the real manners of the middle
ages, and we find them so depicted in these ancient legends.
°So high was the national excitation in consequence of
the romantic atmosphere in which they seemed to breathe,
that the knights and squires of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries imitated the wildest and most extravagant em¬
prises of the heroes of romance ; and, like them, took on
themselves the most extraordinary adventures to shew their
own gallantry, and do most honour to the ladies of their
hearts. The females of rank, erected into a species of god¬
desses in public, and often degraded as much below their
proper dignity in more private intercourse, equalled in their
extravagances the youth of the other sex. A singular
picture is given by Knyghton of the damsels-errant who
attended upon the solemn festivals of chivalry, in quest, it
may reasonably be supposed, of such adventures as are very
likely to be met with by such females as think proper to
seek them. “ These tournaments are attended by many
ladies of the first rank and greatest beauty, but not always
of the most untainted reputation. These ladies are dressed
in party-coloured tunics, one-half of one colour and the
other half of another ; their lirripipes, or tippets, are very
short; their caps remarkably little, and wrapt about their
heads with cords ; their girdles and pouches are ornamented
with gold and silver; and they wear short swords, called
daggers, before them, a little below their navels ; they are
mounted on the finest horses, with the richest furniture.
Thus equipped, they ride from place to place in quest of
tournaments, by which they dissipate their fortunes, and
sometimes ruin their reputation.”—(Knyghton, quoted in
Henry’s History, vol. viii. p. 402.)
The minstrels, or those who aided them in the composi¬
tion of the romances, which it was their profession to re¬
cite, roused to rivalry by the unceasing demand for their
compositions, endeavoured emulously to render them more
attractive by subjects of new and varied interest, or by mar¬
vellous incidents which their predecessors were strangers to.
Much labour has been bestowed, somewhat unprofitably, in
endeavouring to ascertain the sources from which they drew
the embellishments of their tales, when the hearers began
to be tired of the unvaried recital of battle and tournament
which had satisfied the simplicity of a former age. Percy
has contended for the northern Sagas as the unquestionable
origin of the romance of the middle ages. Warton con¬
ceived that the Oriental fables, borrowed by those minstrels
who visited Spain, or who in great numbers attended the
crusades, gave the principal distinctive colouring to those
remarkable compositions ; and a later system, patronised by
later authors, has derived them, in a great measure, from
the fragments of classical superstition, which continued to be E
preserved after the fall of the Roman empire. All those
systems seem to be inaccurate, in so far as they have been
adopted, exclusively of each other, and of the general pro¬
position, that fables of a nature similar to the romances of
chilvalry, modified according to manners and state of so¬
ciety, must necessarily be invented in every part of the
world, for the same reason that grass grows upon the sur¬
face of the soil in every climate and in every country. “ In
reality,” says Mr. Southey, who has treated this subject with
his usual ability, “ mythological and romantic tales are cur¬
rent among all savages of whom we have any full account;
for man has his intellectual as well as his bodily appetites,
and these things are the food of his imagination and faith.
They are found wherever there is language and discourse
of reason ; in other words, wherever there is man. And in
similar stages of civilization, or states of society, the fictions
of different people will bear a corresponding resemblance,
notwithstanding the difference of time and scene.”1
To this it may be added, that the usual appearances and
productions of nature offer to the fancy, in every part of the
world, the same means of diversifying fictitious narrative by
the introduction of prodigies. If in any romance we en¬
counter the description of an elephant, we may reasonably
conclude that a phenomenon, unknown in Europe, must
have been borrowed from the east; but whosoever has seen
a serpent and a bird, may easily aggravate the terrors of the
former by conferring on a fictitious monster the wings of the
latter; and whoever has seen or heard of a wolf, or lion, and
an eagle, may, by a similar exertion of invention, imagine a
griffin or hippogriff. It is imputing great poverty to the
human imagination, to suppose that the speciosa miracula,
which are found to exist in different parts of the world, must
necessarily be derived from some common source; and per¬
haps we should not err more grossly in supposing that the
various kinds of boats, skiffs, and rafts, upon which men have
dared the ocean on so many various shores, have been all
originally derived from the vessel of the Argonauts.
On the other hand, there are various romantic incidents
and inventions of a nature so peculiar, that we may boldly,
and at once, refer them to some particular and special ori¬
gin. The tale of Flora and Blanchejleur, for example,
could only be invented in the east, where the scene is laid,
and the manners of which are observed with some accuracy.
That of Orfeo and Heurodis, on the contrary, is the classi¬
cal history of Orpheus and Eurydice, with the Gothic ma¬
chinery of the elves or fairies, substituted for the infernal
regions. But notwithstanding these and many other in¬
stances in which the subjects or leading incidents of ro¬
mance can be distinctly traced to British or Armorican tra¬
ditions, to the tales and history of classic antiquity, to the
wild fables and rich imagery of Arabia, or to those darker
and sterner themes which were first treated of by the Skalds
of the north, it would be assuming greatly too much upon
such grounds to ascribe the derivation of romantic fiction,
exclusively to any one of these sources. In fact, the foun¬
dation of these fables lies deep in human nature, and the
superstructures have been imitated from various authorities
by those who, living by the pleasure which their lays of chi¬
valry afforded to their audience, were especially anxious to
recommend them by novelty of every kind ; and were un¬
doubtedly highly gratified when the report of travellers, or
pilgrims, or perhaps their own intercourse with minstrels ot
other nations, enabled them to vary their usual narrations
with circumstances yet unheard in bower and hall. Romance,
therefore, was like a compound metal, derived from various
mines, and in the different specimens of which, one metal or
other was alternately predominant; and viewed in this light
the ingenious theories of those learned antiquaries, who have
1 Preface to Southey's edition of the Morte D'Arthw. Load. 1817, 2 vols. 4to.
romance.
327
# — Ox* l
,ce. endeavoured to seek the origin of this style of fiction in one In the vear 128fi tr • % - » . • -n
of these sources alone, to the exclusion of all othere, seem as averred^m.iH W f Hamault had, it is IWr<*.
vain as thatof travellers affecting to trace the propeS rf Sals of Ed3 aS?l t,'n ‘0 c' preSe"lat *he ■>“1-'-^.^
» the Nile to various different springs, all of which are o^ned S„ was hZ^Hv ” Z- CTSe °f t t0“r throuSh Eri-
, to he accessary to forrn the fuS nrajLty of his cu^ b^tWCSetSS ^,Bu“
’K
nai
'   I— 1“ ' vy‘ vnv.li til tj tt
to be accessary to form the full majesty of his current.
As the fashion of all things passes away, the metrical ro¬
mances began gradually to decline in public estimation, pro¬
bably on account of the depreciated character of the minstrels
by whom they were recited. Tradition, says Ritson, is an
alchemy, which converts gold into lead ; and there is little
doubt, that, in passing from mouth to mouth, and from age
to age, the most approved metrical romances became gradu¬
ally corrupted by the defect of memory of some reciters and
the interpolations of others ; since few comparatively can be
supposed to have had recourse to the manuscripts in which
some have been preserved. Neither were the reciters in
the latter, as in the former times, supplied with new produc¬
tions of interest and merit. Tlie composition of the me¬
trical romance was gradually abandoned to persons of an in¬
ferior class. I he art of stringing together in loose verse a
number of unconnected adventures, was too easy not to be
practised by many who only succeeded to such a degree as
was discreditable to the art, by shewing that mere medio¬
crity was sufficient to exercise it. And the licentious cha¬
racter, as well as the great number of those who, under the
various names of glee-men, minstrels, and the like, travers¬
ed the country, and subsisted by this idle trade, brought
themselves and their occupation into still greater contempt
and disregard. T\ ith them, the long recitations formerly
made at the tables of the great, wrere gradually banished in¬
to more vulgar society.
But though the form of those narratives underwent a
change of fashion, the appetite for the fictions themselves
continued as ardent as ever; and the prose romances which
succeeded, and finally superseded those composed in verse,
had a large and permanent share of popularity. This was,
no doubt, in a great degree owing to the important inven-
Ron of printing, which has so much contributed to alter the
destinies of the world. The metrical romances, though in
some instances sent to the press, were not very fit to be pub¬
lished in this form. The dull amplifications which passed
well enough in the course of a half-heard recitation, be¬
came intolerable when subjected to the eye; and the public
taste gradually growing more fastidious as the language be¬
came more copious, and the system of manners more com¬
plicated, graces of style and variety of sentiment were de¬
manded instead of a naked and unadorned tale of wonders.
I tie authors of the_ prose romance endeavoured, to the best
? it oeeiiik, -Durtimer, Dc-
cause founded by a certain Burtimericus, a monarch of whom
our annals are silent, but who had gained, in that place, a
victory over the heathens of Germany. Here a cabinet,
which was inclosed in a private recess, had been lately dis¬
covered within the massive walls of an ancient tower, and
was found to contain a Grecian manuscript, along with a
royal crown. The abbot had sent the latter to kino- Ed¬
ward, and the Count of Hainault with difficulty obtained
possession of the manuscript. He had it rendered from
Greek into Latin by a monk of the abbey of Saint Lande-
Jain, and from that language it is said to have been trans¬
lated into French by the author, who gives it to the world
in honour of the blessed Virgin, and for the edification of
nobleness and chivalry.
By such details, the authors of the prose romances en¬
deavoured to obtain for their works a credit for authentici¬
ty which had been denied to the rhythmical legends. But
in this particular they did great injustice to their contemn¬
ed predecessors, whose reputations they murdered in order
to rob them with impunity. Whatever fragments or sha¬
dowings of true history may yet remain hidden under the
mass of accumulated fable, which had been heaped on them
during successive ages, must undoubtedly be sought in the
metrical romances; and according to the view of the subiect
which we have already given, the more the works approach
m Point of antiquity to the period where the story is laid, the
more are we likely to find those historical traditions in some¬
thing approaching to an authentic state. But those who
wrote under the imaginary names of Rusticien de Puise,
Robert de Borron, and the like, usually seized upon the sub¬
ject of some old minstrel; and, recomposing the whole
narrative after their own fashion, with additional characters
and adventures, totally obliterated in that operation any
shades which remained of the first, and probably authen¬
tic tradition, which was the original source of the ela¬
borate fiction. Amplification was especially employed by
the prose romancers, who, having once got hold of a subiect,
seem never to have parted with it until their power of in¬
vention was completely exhausted. The metrical roman¬
ces, in some instances, indeed, ran to great length, but were
much exceeded in that particular by the folios which were
wiitten on the same or similar topics by their prose succes¬
sors. Probably the latter judiciously reflected that a book
their skill, to satisfy this nZlv awakened and mnr 6 fl T\ , ?bably *6 latter judiciously reflected that a book
Ld thr f^ ^—sisthe minstrel in the fui1
Poetic uariltr K in ,, "'l'0’ “T’ th<i reader ^ be di^d to inquire, can
Pretended to have recourse Tso^ have been the real authors of those prolixworks, who, shroud-
don, to which their metrical nredeoessors h .1C in orma’ ing themselves under borrowed names, derived no renown
They refer almost alwavs to T £in ^ n° from their Iabours’ if successful, and who, certainly, in the
originals, which certainly had no ’existon^P^ G'ree.k lnfant state of the press, were not rewarded with any emolu-
J*ttle doubt that the venerable names of thp nil ^ 1 'Ti? 18 m1ent’ I his question cannot, perhaps, be very satisfacto-
are invented, as well as the sunnosed oriirinnl aut)j.0r1S [lly ans^er.ed 5 but we may reasonably suspect that the long
fhey are said to have translated their narratives r° ™,whic)h llours °,f leisure which the cloister permitted to its votaries,
lowing account of the discoverv of T n /* often passed away in this manner; and the conjec-
tieux mdliflue et tres vlaimnte ^ e^ante ture is rendered more probable, when it is observed that
Perceforest (printed at Paris in 1528 hv C ^ niatters are introduced into those works which have an espe-
*ay serve toshow that modern StrJ GalIl0tfdl1l P.re>) dal connection with sacred history, and with the traditions
who invented the^omlrTnl ^ \ T .the ^St °f the Church- Thus, in the curious romance of ffuon de
to the world as the contents of V.Cmg th<\ir works ihurdeaux, a sort of second part is added to that delight-
^Pt- In frie abridgment to IT7 T™' ful history’ in which the hero visits the terrestrial paradise,
can give but a faint picture of the * mimfte!!^ in?J[ted’encounters the first murderer Cain, in the peformance of his
author announces Ss nretendpd rf 5 WJ.lcb Penance> with more matter to the same purpose, not likely
forms an admiraX examplf of the He w ^ f^ ^ 7^ f0 0CCU/ J0 the Pagination of a layman ; besides, that the
example of the he with a circumstance, laity of the period were in general too busy and too igno-
328
II O M A N C E.
Romance, rant to engage in literary tasks of any kind. The mystical
' portion of the romance of the Hound Table seems derived
from the same source. It may also be mentioned, that the au¬
dacious, and sometimes blasphemous assertions', which claim¬
ed for these fictions the credit due even to theinspired writ¬
ings themselves, were likely to originate amongst Roman
Catholic churchmen, who were but too familiar with such
forgeries for the purpose of authenticating the legends of
their superstition. One almost incredible instance of this
impious specious of imposture occurs in the history of the
Samt Graa/, which curious mixture of mysticism and chival¬
ry is ascribed by the unfearing and unblushing writer to the
second person of the Trinity.
Churchmen, however, were by no means the only authors
of these legends, although the Sires Clercs, as they were
sometimes termed, who were accounted the chronicles of
the times in which they lived, were usually in orders; and
although it appears that it was upon them that the com¬
mands of the soveregins whom they served often imposed
the task of producing new romancesunder the usual disguise
of ancient chronicles translated from the learned languages,
or otherwise collected from the ruins of antiquity. As edu¬
cation became improved, and knowledge began to be more
generally diffused, individuals among the laity, and those of
no mean rank, began to feel the necessity, as it may be
called, of putting into a permanent form the “thick-coming
fancies” which gleam along the imagination of men of ge¬
nius. Sir Thomas Malony, who compiled xheMorte IT Arthur
from French originals, was a person of honour and worship;
and Lord Berners, the excellent translator of Froissart, and
author of a romance called The Chevalier de la Cygne, is
an illustrious example that a nobleman of high estimation
did not think his time misemployed on this species of com¬
position. Some literary fame must therefore have attended
these efforts; and perhaps less eminent authors might, in
the latter ages, receive some pecuniary advantages. The
translator of Perceforest, formerly mentioned, who appears
to have been an Englishman or Fleming, in his address to
the warlike and invincible nobility of France, holds the lan¬
guage of a professional author, who expected some advan¬
tage besides that of pleasing those whom he addressed ; and
who expresses proportional gratitude for the favourable re¬
ception of his former feeble attempts to please them. It is
possible, therefore, that the publishers, these lions of liter¬
ature, had begun already to admit the authors into some
share of their earnings. Other printers, like the venerable
Caxton, compiled themselves, or translated from other lan¬
guages, the romances which they sent to the press ; thus
uniting in their own persons the three separate departments
of author, printer, and publisher.
The prose romance did not, in the general conduct of the
story, where digressions are heaped on digressions, without
the least respect to the principal narrative, greatly differ
from that of their metrical predecessors, being to the full
as tedious and inartificial; nay, more so, in proportion as
the new romances were longer than the old. In the trans¬
ference from verse to prose, and the amplification which the
scenes underwent in the process, many strong, forcible, and
energetic touches of their original author have been weak¬
ened, or altogether lost; and the reader misses with regret
some of the redeeming bursts of rude poetry which, in the me¬
trical romance, make amends for many hundred lines of bald
and rude versification. But, on the other hand, the prose ro¬
mances were written for a more advanced stage of society,
and by authors whose language was much more copious,
and who certainly belonged to a more educated class than
the ancient minstrels. Men were no longer satisfied with
hearing of hard battles and direful wounds; they demand¬
ed at the hand of those who professed to entertain them,
some insight into nature, or at least into manners; some tie- I
scription of external scenery, and a greater regard to pro-'s.
bability both in respect of the characters which are intro¬
duced, and the events which are narrated. These new de¬
mands the prose romances endeavoured to supply to the
best of their power. There was some attention shewn to
relieve their story, by the introduction of new characters,
and to illustrate these personages by characteristic dialogue.
The lovers conversed with each other in the terms of me¬
taphysical gallantry, which were used in real life; and from
being a mere rhapsody of warlike feats, the romance began
to assume the nobler and more artificial form of a picture
of manners. It is in the prose folios of Lancelot du Lac,
Perceforest, and others, that antiquaries find recorded the
most exact accounts of fights, tournaments, feasts, and other
magnificent displays of chivalric splendour ; and as they de¬
scend into more minute description than the historians of
the time thought worthy of their pains, they are a mine
from which the painful student may extract much valuable
information. This, however, is not the full extent of their
merit. These ancient books, amid many pages of dull re¬
petition and uninteresting dialogue, and notwithstanding the
langour of an inartificial, protracted, and confused story, ex¬
hibit from time to time passages of deep interest, and situa¬
tions of much novelty, as well as specimens of spirited and
masculine writing. The general reader, who dreads the
labour of winnowing out these valuable passages from the
sterile chaff through which they are scattered, will receive
an excellent idea of the beauties and defects of the romance
from Tressan’s Corps d!Extraits de Romans de Chevalerie,
from Mr. Ellis’s Specimens of Early English Romances,
and Mr. Dunlop’s History of Fiction.
These works continued to furnish the amusement of the
most polished courts in Europe, so long as the manners and
habits of chivalry continued to animate them. Even the
sagacious Catherine of Medicis considered the romance of
Perceforest as the work best qualified to form the manners
and amuse the leisure of a young prince; since she impress¬
ed on Charles IX. the necessity of study ing it with attention.
But by degrees the progress of new opinions in religion, the
promulgation of a stricter code of morality, together with
the important and animating discussions which began to be
carried on by means of the press, diverted the public atten¬
tion from these antiquated legends. The Protestants of
England, and the Huguenots of France, were rigorous in
their censure of books of chivalry, in proportion as they had
been patronized formerly under the Catholic system; perhaps
because they helped to arrest men’s thoughts from more serious
subjects of occupation. The learned Ascham thus inveighs
against the romance of MorteDArthur, and at the same time
acquaints us with its having passed out of fashion : “ In our
forefathers’tyme, when papestrie,asastandyngpoole,covere
and overflowed all Englande, fewe bookes were read in our
tongue, savyng certaine bookes ofchivalrie,as they said for pas¬
time and pleasure; which, as some say, were made in monaste¬
ries by idle monks, or wanton chanons. As, for example,
Morte iyArthur, the whole pleasure of which booke standetn
in two speciall poyntes, in open manslaughter, and bold baw-
drye : in which booke they are counted the noblest knightes
thatdokill most men without anyquarrell, and commit foulest
adulteries by sutlest shiftes; as Sir Launcelote, with the wi e
of King Arthur his master; Sir Tristram, with the wife of King
Marke his uncle; Sir Lamerocke, with the wife of King
Lote, that was his own aunt. This is good stuffe for wise
men to laughe at, or honest men to take pleasure at. >e
know, when God’s Bible was banished the court, and h
3Iorte D’Arthur received into the prince’s chamber.
The brave and religious La Noue is not more favourab e
to the perusal of x’omances than the learned Ascham; a
J Works of Roger Aschurn, p. 254. 4to. edition.
ROMANCE.
329
tributing to the public taste for these comoositions the dp~ nQ„ai Qf • i , , , . ,
cay of morality amongst the French nobility. “ The ancient those ‘tnrrin*, y.Peri^» debased by the intermixture of Romance.
fables whose relikes doe yet remain, namdy, Z„S ^ l0Ve °f the ™derful' —
the T.nhP. Pierrofnroet tLo*™™ w. _ Jr  l earfy^ introduces mto the annals of an infant country. There
the Lake, Pierceforest, Tristram, Giron the Courteous, and
such others, doe beare witnesse of this olde vanitie; here¬
with were men fed for the space of 500 yeeres, untill our
language growing more polished, and our mindes more tick¬
lish, they were driven to invent some nouelties wherewith
to delight us. Thus came ye bookes of Amadis into light
I ^ a'11 AlllcXlIL L/wUlibiy« A iicrc
are, however, very many of the sagas, indeed by far the
greater number of those now known to exist, which must
be considered as falling rather under the class of fictitious
than of real narratives ; and which, therefore, belong to our
present subject of inquiry. The Omm/inger Saga, the
among us in this last age. But to say y® truth Svaine bred ^ , ^a\ Priggvason, the Eyrbyg-
the, and France new clothed the in gay garments. In v® cal- whil^thp8^ot iers’ m.ay be considered as histori-
daies of Henrie the Second did they beare the chiefest swav of the Nihpl umerous narratives referring to the history
f !d*r ‘i;any t tu then, r&as ,ha
eTxpeSar?7,oasUior ^
whereof some, after they l,ad learned to amL n^eeeh' hf£ fnt "’ b°ld “7 fen ex-
their teeth watered, so desirous were they even to taste of hold orce^11 f™* raPl(l description,
some small morsels of the delicacies therein most livelieand the indomitable ° eirov^n; arir' whdst they remind us of
naturally represented.”2 The gallant IdTeZl nrocelds at Can^ b fUraSe ?nd Pa''enl endurance of the hardy
considerible length to refute thrSuS of Ihosewho ST .'w" V‘ °T theJ.h»"»u-' a"d terror of Eu-
contended that these books were intended as a spur to the characterised ter^ns'trefcffortsof .f^151"8 s,),le wl’,icl1
practice of arms and honourable exercises amomrst vnnth ir. p minstrel efforts of their successors, whe-
fnd labours hard to shew that they teach Tshonest nrac-' he f nm'6 °1 8 fa' In ;h\pine forests als0- a"d
tices both in lore and in arms. It is impossible to suppress a the reliones 0 110 rlnrt l> tIlere were nursed, amid
smile when we find such an author as La Noue denouncimr rartpr mnr Pa^anism’ ^ny traditions of a cha-
the introduction of spells, witchcrafts, and enchantments in? nerstition - and th nt 6 1 lan.the ^abl®s of epical su-
to these volumes, not because such themes are absurd and failed not tn tr f Se/hfi S!00my imagination of the skalds
nonsensical, but because the representing such benehcen" S of inou rv which h ?i r r°ma;i1C ta,eS', ^
enchanters as Alquife and Urganda is, in fact a vindication manv W 1 A V b en 1° Wldely SPread through Ger-
of those who traffic with the powers of darkness- and that elected stnrph^ ^ b5gun to.tbrow m’icb bgbt on tbis ne-
.hose who love te read abouf sorceries aud eTcC^l
Romai
of the
ferenten
tries ol u
rope.
Northe
romanc
become, by degrees, familiarized with those devilish mys¬
teries, and may at length be induced to have recourse to
them in good earnest.
The romances of chivalry did not, howrever, sink into
tain, it must, however, be remarked, that although the
north possesses champions and romances of its own, un¬
known to southern song, yet, in a later age, the inhabitants
composition, and overwhelmed with the ridicule r>f Per +E ■ • j ." . ^ ‘ bas indeed quoted
vantes, sunk by dem-eerinto utter contem„.7d „br C h ex,ste,’ce ?s depreciating the pretensions of the north-
's f™»d to exist! and the corresponding question, i'rl'wl’a! and^onstmT/enga^T”/’ ''.n'8 c™t.l^°.,],s ,t0 France. Germanic
feemefoXrol^&ot teT °ther S0Untrie5f WUh 7' ^ ^ “t&n, ^"0"
ataterials common toThe whole ’ C made USe °f “ etr'y partaker in the stores which it afforded.’ The Mini
Scandinavia, as was to be exnecfpd Eo c c i nesmgeis of the Holy Empire were a race no less cherish-
sidered as the richest country m Eurone In •6 I at t lan !,he broubadours of Provence, or the Minstrels of
corresponding with the character of romanpp?”01611?^ 68 ^0rm.andy ’ and no less active in availing themselves of
composed entirely in poetry or rhythm sometimpr-metimeS !ndlge,nous traditions, or importing those of other coun-
and much more frecmentlv’in a rnixtnr’p nf es 111 prose, tries, in order to add to their stock of romantic fiction,
and lyrical effusions Their well known ^n’narrftlvf’ Gotfrit of Strasburg composed many thousand lines up¬
held a high rank^ t'heir courtrand^cornicils^3^^*?1',balds ^ the P°Pular SubjeCt of Sir Tristrem ’ and ^hers have
ter of a good poet was scarcely second to that f 6 ch^Tac" been ecluaI1y copious, both as translators and as original au-
leader, and many oTthe^ost celebrated0chamnV>a S T ^ T" Vari°US Subjects connected with Fr^ch ro-
tiouslv PneEvo,, .1 ...... , . . , . mPlons ambi- mance ; but Germany possessed materials, partly borrowed
from Scandinavia, partly peculiar to her own traditional his¬
tory, as well as to that of the Roman empire, which they
applied to the construction of a cycle of heroes as famous
tioiKlv p , many 01'the most celebrated champions"arabi-
tiousiy endeavoured to unite both in their own persons.
history6SagaS °r taleS aPProach to the credit of real
y, nd were unquestionably meant as such, though,
as
VOL. xix.
1 The Politicke and Militarie Discourses of the Lord De La Now®, pp. 87, 88. 4to. Loud. 1587.
2 T
ROMANCE.
in Teutonic song as those of Arthur and of Charlemagne in
France and Britain.
As in all other cases of the kind, a real conqueror, the
fame of whose exploits survived in tradition, was adopted
as the central object, around whom were to be assembled a
set of champions, and with whose history was to be inter¬
woven the various feats of courage which they performed,
and the adventures which they underwent. Theodorick
King of the Goths, called in these romantic legends Dide-
rick of Bern (i. c. Verona,) was selected for this purpose by
the German Minnesingers. Among the principal person¬
ages introduced are Ezzel, King of the Huns, who is no
other than the celebrated Attila ; and Gunter, King of Bur¬
gundy, who is identified with a Guntacher of history who
really held that kingdom. The good knight Wolfram von
Eschenbach seems to have been the first who assembled
the scattered traditions and minstrel tales concerning these
sovereigns into one large volume of German verse, entitled
Heldenbuch, or the Book of Heroes. In this the author
has availed himself of the unlimited licence of a romancer ;
and has connected with the history of Diderick and his chi¬
valry a number of detached legends which had certainly a
of the classical Italians, until Boiardo, Berni, Pulci, and, Row,
above all, the divine Ariosto, condescended to use them as^
the basis of their well-known romantic poems; and thus
the fictitious narratives originally composed in metre, and
afterwards rewritten in prose, were anew decorated with the
honours of verse. The romantic poets of Italy did not even
disdain to imitate the rambling, diffuse, and episodical style
proper to the old romance ; and Ariosto, in particular, al¬
though he torments the reader’s attention, by digressing
from one adventure to another, delights us, upon frequent
perusals, by the extreme ingenuity with which he gathers
up the broken ends of his narrative, and finally weaves them
all handsomely together in the same piece. But the merits
and faults of romantic poetry form themselves the fruitful
subject of a long essay. We here only notice the origin of
those celebrated works, as a species of composition arising
out of the old romance, though surpassing it in regularity,
as well as in all the beauties of style and diction.
With Spain the idea of romance was particularly con-Span>
nected ; and the associations which are formed upon per- Portu j
using the immortal work of Cervantes, induce us foralongrom“
time to believe that the country of Don Quixote must be
separate and independent existence. Such is the tale of the very cradle of romantic fiction. Yet, if we speak of
Sigurd the Horny, which has the appearance of having ori- priority of date, Spain was amongst the last nations in Eu-
ginally been a Norse saga. An analysis of this singular rope with whom romance became popular. It was not in¬
piece was published by Mr. Weber, in a work entitled 11- deed possible that, among a people speaking so noble and
lustrations of Northern Antiquities from the earlier Teuto- poetical a language, engaged in constant wars, which called
nic and Scandinavian Romances; and the subject has been forth at once their courage and their genius, there should
fully illustrated by the publications of the learned Von der
Hagen in Germany, and those of the Hon. William Herbert.
It is here only necessary to say, that Theodorick, like
Charlemagne and Arthur, is considered in the romance as
a monarch more celebrated for the valorous achievements
of the brotherhood of chivalry whom he has drawn around
him, than for his own, though neither deficient in strength
nor courage. His principal followers have each their dis¬
criminatory and peculiar attributes. Meister Hildebrand,
the Nestor of the band, is, like the Maugis of Charlemagne’s
heroes, a magician as well as a champion. Hogan, or Ha
not exist many historical and romantic ballads descriptive
of their rencounters with the Moors. But their native poets
seem to have been too much engaged with the events of
their own age, and of that which had just preceded it,
to permit of their seeking subjects in the regions of pure
fiction ; and we have not heard of a Spanish metrical ro¬
mance, unless the poems describing the adventures of the
Cid should be supposed to have any affinity to that class
of composition. The Peninsula, however, though late in
adopting the prevailing taste for romantic fiction, gave ori¬
gin to one particular class, which was at least as popular as
lia’.ian
Diance.
gan, begot betwixt a mortal and a sea-goblin, is the fierce any which had preceded it. Amadis de Gaul, the produc
Achilles of the confederation. It is the uniform custom of tion, it would seem, of Vasco de Lobeira, a Portuguese
the romancers to conclude by a general and overwhelming knight, who lived in the fourteenth century, gave a new
catastrophe, which destroys the whole ring of chivalry turn to the tales of chivalry, and threw into the shade the
whose feats they had commemorated. The ruin which French prose romances, which, until the appearance of this
Roncesvalles brought to the Paladins of Charlemagne, and distinguished work, had been the most popular in Europe,
the fatal battle of Camlan to the Knights of the Round Ta- The author of Amadis, in order, perhaps, to facilitate
ble, fell upon the warriors of Diderick through the revenge- the other changes which he introduced, and to avoid rush¬
ful treachery of Crimhilda, the wife of Ezzel; who, in re- ing against preconceived ideas of events or character, laid
venge for the death of her first husband, and in her inor- aside the worn-out features of Arthur and Charlemagne,
dinate desire to possess the treasures of the Niflunga or and imagined to himself a new dynasty both of sovereigns
Burgundians, brought destruction on all those celebrated and of heroes, to whom he ascribed a style of manners much
champions. Mr. Weber observes that these German fic- more refined, and sentiments much more artificial, than had
tions differ from the romances of French chivalry, in the occurred to the authors of Perceval or Perceforest. Lo-
greater ferocity and less refinement of sentiment ascribed beira had also taste enough to perceive, that some unity or
to the heroes ; and also in their employing to a great extent design would be a great improvement on the old romance,
the machinery of the Duergar, or dwarfs, a subterranean where one adventure is strung to another with little con-
people to whom the Heldenbuch ascribes much strength nection from the beginning to the end of the volume; which
and subtilty, as well as profound skill in the magic art, and thus concluded, not because the plot was winded up, but be-
who seem, to a certain extent, the predecessors of the Eu- cause the author’s invention, or the printer’s patience, was
ropean fairy. exhausted. In the work of the Portuguese author, on the
Italy, so long the seat of classical learning, and where contrary, he proposes a certain end, to advance or retard
that learning was first revived, seems never to have strong- which all the incidents of the work have direct reference,
ly embraced the taste for the Gothic romance. They re- This is the marriage of Amadis with Oriana, against which
ceived, indeed, the forms and institutions of chivalry, but the a thousand difficulties are raised by rivals, giants, sorcerers,
Italians seem to have been in a considerable degree stran- and all the race of evil powers unfavourable to chivalry,
gers to its spirit, and not to have become deeply enamour- whilst these obstacles are removed by the valour of the
ed of its literature. There is an old romance of chivalry hero, and constancy of the heroine, succoured on their part
proper to Italy, called Guerino the Wretched, but we doubt by those friendly sages, and blameless sorceresses, whose
if even this be of indigenous growth. Indeed, when they intervention gave so much alarm to the tender-conscience
did adopt from the French the fashionable tales of Charle- De la Noue. Lobeira also displayed considerable attention
magne and his Paladins, these did not attract the attention to the pleasure which arises frtm the contrast of character,
mce
Freni
Rom
and to relieve that of Amadis, who is the very essence of
—- chivalrous constancy, he has introduced Don Galaor, his
brother, a gay libertine in love, whose adventures form a
contrast with those of his more serious relative. Above all,
the Amadis displays an attention to the style and conver¬
sation of the piece, which, although its effects are now ex¬
aggerated and ridiculous, was doubtless at the time con¬
sidered as the pitch of elegance ; and here were, for the first
time, introduced those hyperbolical compliments, and that
inflated and complicated structure of language, the sense of
which walks as in a masquerade.
The Amadis at first consisted only of four books, and in
that limited shape may be considered as a very well con¬
ducted story; but additions were speedily made which ex¬
tended the number to twenty-four; containing the history
of Amadis subsequent to his obtaining possession of Oriana,
and down to his death, as also of his numerous descend¬
ants. The theme was not yet exhausted; for, as the an¬
cient romancers, when they commenced a new work, chose
for their hero some newly invented Paladin of Charlemagne,
or knight of King Arthur, so did their successors adopt a
new descendant of the family of Amadis, whose genealogy
was thus multiplied to a prodigious degree. For an account of
Esplandian, Florimond of Greece, Palmerin of England,
and the other romances of this class, the reader must be
referred to the valuable labours of Mr. Southey, who has
abridged both Amadis and Palmerin, with the most accu¬
rate attention to the style and manners of the original. The
books Amadis became so very popular, as to supersede
the elder romances almost entirely, even at the court of
France, where, according to La Noue, already quoted, they
were introduced about the reign of Henry II. It was against
tfie extravagance of these fictions in character and in style,
that the satire of Cervantes was chiefly directed ; and "'al¬
most all the library of Don Quixote belongs to this class of
romances, which, no doubt, his adventures contributed much
to put out of fashion.
In every point of view, France must be considered as the
country in which chivalry and romance flourished in the
ugliest perfection ; and the originals of almost all the early
romances, whether in prose or in verse, whether relating to
the history of Arthur or of Charlemagne, are to be found
in the French language; and other countries possess only
translations from thence. This will not be so surprising
when it is recollected, that these earlier romances were writ¬
ten, not only for the use of the French, but of the English
themselves, among whom French was the prevailing'lan-
guage during the reigns of the Anglo-Norman monarchs.
indeed, it has been ingeniously supposed, and not without
much apparent probability, that the fame of Arthur was
taken by the French minstrels for the foundation of their
stones in honour of the English kings, who reigned over
tiie supposed dominions of that British hero ; while, on the
otner hand, the minstrels who repaired to the coast of France,
celebrated the prowess of Charlemagne and his twelve peers
as a subject more gratifying to those who sat upon his throne.
is> perhaps, some objection to this ingenious theory, that,
as we have already seen, the battle of Hastings was opened
nLlmin?,re\Who SUng the war-sonff of Poland, the ne-
wbh iv (:haSerif gn,e ’ 80 that the Norman duke brought
la ! '? ? Elnglai,ld the tales that are supposed, at a much
oOhe w ‘Vin«“ls.reViVed t0 S0°the theDati0"a,l'ride
J1™*6 French minstrels came originally by the traditional
so Inno- con.cernint5 Arthur and Merlin, on which they wrought
tain gpnd S01largeIy> must> we fear, always remain uncer-
not- fnr t<r c16 SaX°nS We may conclude they had them
a ’u , lSaxons were the very enemies against whom
Arth„r employed his good sword excalibar, that is to say,
inr,,!”; °r S'lch a "'eaP°n- We
ed, that the British, like all the branches of the Celtic
ROMANCE.
SSI
race, were much attached to poetry and music, which the Romance
2mS0UM ^ ,CS r°c anfient P°etry in Wales’ Roland, andx 
e Highlands of Scotland, sufficiently evince. Arthur, a
name famous amongst them, with some traditions concerning
the sage Merlin may have floated either in Armorica, or
among the half-British of the borders of Scotland, and of
Cumbeiland ; and thus preserved, may have reached the
ear of the Norman minstrels, either in their newly con-
quered dominions, or through their neighbours of Brittany.
A theme of this sort once discovered, and found acceptable
to the popular ear, gave rise, of course, to a thousand imi¬
tations ; and gradually drew around it a cloud of fiction
which, embellished by such poetry as the minstrels could
produce, arranged itself by degrees into a system of fabu-
Jous history, as the congregated vapours touched by the
setting sun, assume the form of battlements and towers.
We know that the history of Sir Tristrem, first versified by
1 homas the Rhymer of Erceldoune, was derived from Welsh
traditions, though told by a Saxon poet. In fact, it may
be easily supposed, that the romancers of that early period
w ere more eager to acquire popular subjects than delicately
scrupulous of borrowing from their neighbours; and when
the foundation-stone was once laid, each subsequent min¬
strel brought his contribution to the building. The idea
of an association of knights assembled around one mighty
sovereign, was so flattering to all the ruling princes of Eu-
rope, that almost all of them endeavoured to put themselves
at the head of some similar institution, and the various orders
of chivalry are to be traced to this origin. The historical
foundation of this huge superstructure is almost imperceptible.
Mr. lurner has shewn that the evidence rather inclines to
prove the actual existence of King Arthur; and the names
^aWj in'j 118 ^phew, and of Genuera, his faithful spouse,
of Mordred, and Merlin, were preserved by Welsh tradition.
1 o the same source may be referred the loves of Tristrem
and Isolde, which, although a separate story, has become,
in the later romances, amalgamated with that of Arthur.
But there can be little doubt that all beyond the bare names
of the heroes owes its existence to the imagination of the
romancers.
It wfight be thought that the romances referring to the
feats of Charlemagne ought to contain more historical truth
than those concerning Arthur; since the former relate to a
well-known monarch and conqueror, the latter to a person¬
age of a very doubtful and shadowv existence. But the
romances concerning both are equally fabulous. Charles
had, indeed, an officer named Roland, who was slain with
ot.ier nobles in the field of Roncesvalles, fighting,not against
the baracens or Spaniards, but against the Gascons. This
is the only point upon which the real history of Charle¬
magne coincides with that invented for him by romancers.
oland was prefect of Bretagne, and his memory was long-
preserved in the war-song wdiich bore his name. A fabu-
ous chronicler, calling himself Turpin, compiled, in or about
the eleventh century, a romantic history of Charlemagne ;
hut it may be doubted whether, in some instances, he has
not availed himself of the fictions already devised by the
early romancers, while to those who succeeded them his
annals afforded matter for new figments. The personal
character of Charlemagne has suffered considerably in the
hands of the romantic authors, although they exaggerated
his power and his victories. He is represented as fond of
flattery, irritable in his temper, ungrateful for the services
rendered him by his most worthy paladins, and a perpetual
dupe to the treacherous artifices of Count Gam, or Gane-
lon, of Mayence; a renegade, to whom the romancers im¬
pute the defeat at Roncesvalles, and all the other misfor¬
tunes of the reign of Charles. This unfavourable view of
the prince, although it may bear some features of royalty,
neither resembles the real character of the conqueror of the
Saxons and Lombards, nor can be easily reconciled with the
332
ROMANCE.
Romance, idea, that he was introduced to flatter the personal vanity
the princes of the Valois race, by a portrait of their great
predecessor.
The circumstance that Roland was a lieutenant of Brit¬
tany, and the certainty that Marie borrowed from that coun¬
try the incidents out of which she composed her lays, seems
to fortify the theory, that the French minstrels obtained
from that country much of their most valuable materials ;
and that, after all that has been said and supposed, the history
of Arthur probably reached them through the same channel.
The Latin writers of the middle ages afforded the French
romancers the themes of those metrical legends which they
have composed on subjects of classical fame.
The honour of the prose romances of chivalry, exclusive
always of the books of Amadis, belongs entirely to the
French, and the curious volumes which are now the object
of so much research amongst collectors, are almost univer¬
sally printed at Paris.
English England, so often conquered, yet fated to receive an ac-
fomance. cession of strength from each new subjugation, cannot boast
much of ancient literature of any kind; and, in the depart¬
ment of which we treat, was totally inferior to France. The
Saxons had, no doubt, romances (taking the word in its ge¬
neral acceptation); and Mr. Turner, to whose researches
we are so much indebted, has given us the abridgment of
one entitled Caedmon, in which the hero, whose adventures
are told much after the manner of the ancient Norse Sagas,
encounters, defeats, and finally slays an evil being called
Grendel, who, except in his being subject to death, seems
a creature of a supernatural description. But the literature
of the Saxons was destroyed by the success of William the
Conqueror, and the Norman knights and barons, among
whom England was in a great measure divided, sought
amusement, not in the lays of the vanquished, but in those
composed in their own language. In this point of view,
England, as a country, may lay claim to many of the French
romances, which were written, indeed, in that language,
but for the benefit of the court and nobles of England, by
whom French was still spoken. When the two languages
began to assimilate together, and to form the mixed dialect
termed the Anglo-Norman, we have good authority for say¬
ing that it was easily applied to the purpose of romantic
fiction, and recited in the presence of the nobility.
Robert de Brunne,who composed his History of England
about this time, has this remarkable passage, which we give,
along with the commentary of the editor of Sir Tristrem,
as it is peculiarly illustrative of the subject we are inquiring
into.
Als thai haf wryten and sayd,
Haf I alle in myn Inglis layd,
In symple speche as I couthe,
That is lightest in manne’s mouthe.
I mad noght for no disours,
Ne for no seggours, no harpours,
Bot for the luf of symple men,
That strange Inglis cannot ken ;
For many it ere that strange Inglis,
In ryme wate never what it is ;
And bot thai wist what it mente,
Ellis methought it were alle schentc.
I made it not for to be praysed,
Bot at the lewed men were aysed.
If it were made in ryme couwee,
Or in strangere, or enterlace,
That rede Inglis it ere inowe
That couthe not haf coppled a kowe,
That outher in cowee or in baston
Sum suld haf ben fordon ;
So that fele men that it herde
Suld not witte ho we that it ferde.
I see in song, in sedgeyng tale.
Of Erceldoun and of Kendale,
Non tham sayis as thai tlum wroght, R, ,
And in ther saying it semes noght. \
That may thou here in Sir Tristrem,
Over gestes it has the steem,
Over all that is or was,
If men it sayd as made Thomas.
Bot I here it no man so say,
That of some copple som is away.
So thare fayre saying here beforne,
Is thare travayle nere forlorne ;
Thai sayd it for pride and nobleye,
That were not suylke as thei,
And alle that thai wild overwhere,
Alle that ilk wille now forfare.
Thai sayd it in so quainte Inglis,
That manyone wate not what it is.
Therfore heuyed wele the more
In strange ryme to travayle sore.
And my wit was oure thynne,
So strange speche to travayle in;
And forsoth I couth noght
So strange Inglis as thai wroght,
And men besoght me many a tyme
To turne it bot in light ryme.
Thai seyd, if I in strange ryme it turn.
To here it manyon suld skorne ;
For in it ere names fulle selcouthe,
That ere not used now in mouthe.
And tberfore, for the comonalte.
That blythely wild listen to me.
On light lange I it began,
For luf of the lewed man.
“ This passage requires some commentary, as the sense
has been generally mistaken. Robert de Brunne does not
mean, as has been supposed, that the minstrels who re¬
peated Thomas’s romance of Sir Tristrem, disguised the
meaning by putting it into quainte Inglis ; but, on the
contrary, that Kendal and Thomas of Erceldoune did them¬
selves use such quainte Inglis, that those who repeated
the story were unable to understand it, or to make it intel¬
ligible to their hearers. Above all, he complains that, by
writing an intricate and complicated stanza, as ‘ ryme cowee,
strangere, or entrelacej it was difficult for the diseurs to re¬
collect the poem ; and of Sir Tristrem, in particular, he
avers, that he never heard a perfect recital, because of some
one ‘ copple’ or stanza, a part was always omitted. Hence
he argues at length, that he himself, writing not for the min¬
strel or harper, nor to acquire personal fame, but solely to
instruct the ignorant in the history of their country, does
well in chusing a simple structure of verse, which they can
retain correctly on their memory, and a style which is po¬
pular and easily understood. Besides which, he hints at
the ridicule he might draw on his poem, should he intro¬
duce the uncouth names of his personages into a courtly or
refined strain of verse. They were
Great names, but hard in verse to stand.
While he arrogates praise to himself for his choice, he ex¬
cuses Thomas of Erceldoune and Kendale for using a more
ambitious and ornate kind of poetry. They wrote, he says,
for pride (fame) and for nobles, not such as these my igno¬
rant hearers.”1
If the editor of Sir Tristrem be correct in his commen¬
tary, there existed in the time of Robert de Brunne, min¬
strels or poets who composed English poetry to be recite
in the presence of the great, and who, for that purpose, use
a singularly difficult stanza, which was very apt to be mu¬
tilated in recitation. Sir Tristrem, even as it now exists,
shows likewise that considerable art was resorted to in con
structing the stanza, and has, from beginning to end, a con¬
cise, quaint, abstract turn of expression, more like the Sax¬
on poetry, than the simple, bald, and diffuse details ot t e
French minstrel. Besides Sir Tristrem, there remain, we
Sir Tristrem, Introduction, pp. 61-65. Edin. 1804.
^Eifeace
conceive, at least two other examples of “ gestes written in
quainte Inglis” composed, namely, according to fixed and
complicated rules of verse, and with much attention to the
language, though the effect produced is far from pleasing.
They are both of Scottish origin, which may be explained,
byrecollecting, that in the Saxon provinces of Scotland, as
well as at the court, Norman was never generally used; and
therefore it is probable that the English language was more
cultivated in that country at an early period, than in England
itself, where, among the higher orders, it was for a long time
superseded by t hat of the French conquerors. These roman¬
ces, entitled Sir Gawain, and Sir Gologras, and Sir Ga-
leran of Galloway, have all the appearance of being original
compositions, and display considerable poetical effort. ^But
theuncouth use of words dragged in for the sake of alliteration,
and used in secondary and oblique meanings, renders them
extremely harsh in construction, as well as obscure in meaning
In England it would seem that the difficulties pointed out
by De Brunne, early threw out of fashion this ornate kind
of composition; and the English minstrels had no readier re¬
source than translating from the French, who supplied their
language at the same time with the phrases of chivalry
which did not exist in English. These compositions pre¬
sented many facilities to the minstrel. He could, if pos¬
sessed of the slightest invention, add to them at pleasure,
and they might as easily be abridged when memory failed,
or occasion required. Accordingly, translations from the
french fill up the list of English romance. They are ge¬
nerally written in short lines rhyming together; though
often, by way of variety, the third and sixth lines are made
to rhyme together, and the poem is thus divided into stanzas
of three couplets each. In almost all of these legends, re¬
ference is made to “the romance,” that is, some composi¬
tion in the French language, as to the original authority.
ay, w nc i is very singular, tales where the subjects appear
to beof English growth, seem to have yet existed in French
ere they were translated into the language of the country
o which the heroes belonged. This seems to have been
the case with Hornchild, with Guy of Warwick, with Be-
f Hampton, all of which appear to belong originally to
England; yet are their earliest histories found in the French
anguage, or at least the vernacular versions refer to such
or their authority. Even the romance of Richard, Eng¬
land s own Cceur de Lion, has perpetual references to the
tnrtli i0ngina froJm,which was tra»slated. It must na-
.1 ^ ,e supposed that these translations were inferior to
thaf°f?gina S 5 an^ whether ^ was owing to this cause, or
mnrW c.(JmPosltl,on of these rhymes was attended with too
Coml^Cl ,y’-and S° feI1 int° the hands of very Inferior
thoTv Tw rtainYand is proved by the highest au-
honty, that of Chaucer himself, that even in his time these
y.ngroman^had fallen into great contempt. The Rime
Wl1llch,that P°et Introduces as a parody, un-
ed hv ’0 the rhythmical romances oftheage,is interrupt-
»e52 6 Harry,Bililly> wi* the strongest and most
Zllt l expressions of total and absolute contempt. But
of skill lmnstrels were censured by De Brunne, for lack
bratdi] " TrP’ fd the P0ems Which they recited were
censure ofPl [hyminSs>” by the far more formidable
ral mmt h heir accePtation with the public in gene-
evidence of Z Pu.bll.catl0nos of Ritson and Weber bear
doubtless oJT P°P atlty- Some or,ginal compositions
not ni.mpr among so many translations, but they are
Sir Eqer and ^ Preserved* The poem of
bas no^FrPn U ^ ?™me’ which seems of Scottish origin,
Df the Sauirp °y^ina ;nnor has any been discovered either
iamour L °f Low Degree, Sir Eglamour, Sir Plein-
So But the French derivation of the
The m- ,feSirend,ers 11 probable that such may exist,
mstrels and their compositions seem to have fallen
R O M A N C E.
338
S1 nlr ContemPt ab®ut the time of Henry VIII. There Romance
urd Sh!»rS P’^ r0!their condition in the person ofRich-
sffin if"^ 'V8 '^P088'1516 t0 read witll°ut compas-
he author nfTb K ^ the PreSerVer at fea«t, if not
at wSl Sif p TCCQeb«rated !er°ic ballad of C/lev!/ Chace>
atwbichSirFhihp Sidneys heart was wont to beat as at
mbbedUnon°Da petw TtiS luckless minstrel had been
robbed on Dunsmore Heath, and, shame to tell, he was
ever h !° perSUade the Public that a son of the Muses had
i i b I60! Possessed of the sixty pounds which he aver-
red he had lost on the occasion. The account he gives of
enough C ”POn hlS SpintS 18 melancholy’ and yet ridiculous
After my robbery my memory was so decayde,
I hat I colde neather syng, nor talke, my wytts wer so dismayde,
My audacitie was gone, and all my myrry tawk :
1 her ys sum heare have sene me as myrry as a hawke •
Rut nowe I am so trublyde with phansis in my mynde’
that I cannot play the myrry knave, accordyng to my kynd.
Yet to tak thought, I perseve, ys not the next waye ^
1 o bring me out of det, my creditors to paye.
I may well say that I hade but well hape,
For to lose about threscore pounde at a clape.
The losse of my mony did not greve me so sore,
Rut the talke of the pyple dyde greve me moch mor.
bum sayde I was not robde, I was but a lyeng knave,
II was not possyble for a mynstrell so much mony to have.
In dede, to say the truthe, that ys ryght well knowene,
1 hat I nevei had so moche mony ol myn owene,
Rut I had frendds in London, whos namys I can declare,
f hat at all tyms wold lende me cc.lds. worth of ware,
And sum agayn such frendship I fouude,
That tbei wold lend me in mony nyn or tene pownde.
1 he occasion why I cam in dete I shall make relacion,
My wyffm dede ys a sylk woman be her occupacion,
.And lynen cloths most chefly was her greatyste trayd,
And at faris and merkytts she solde sale-ware that she made ;
As shertts, smockys, partlytts, hede clothes, and othar thinggs,
As sylk thredd, and eggyngs, skims, bandds, and strings.
From T/ie Chant of Richard Sheale,
British Bibliographer, No. xiii. p. 101.
Elsewhere, Sheale hints that he had trusted to his harp,
and to the well known poverty attached to those who used
that instrument, to bear him safe through Dunsmore Heath.
At length the order of English minstrels was formally put
down by the act 39th of Queen Elizabeth, classing them
w ith sturdy beggars and vagabonds ; in which disgraceful
fellow ship they only existed in the capacity of fiddlers, who
accompanied their instrument with their voice. Such a
character is introduced in the play of Monsieur Thomas,
as the “ poor fiddler who says his songs.” The metrical
romances which they recited also fell into disrepute, though
some of the more popular, sadly abridged and adulterated,
continued to be published in chap, books, as they are called.
About fifty or sixty years since, a person acquired the nick¬
name ol Roseival and Lilian, from singing that romance
about the streets of Edinburgh, which is probably the very
last instance of the proper minstrel craft.
If the meti ical romances of England can boast of few
original compositions, they can show yet fewer examples of
the prose romance. Sir Thomas Malory, indeed, compiled,
from various French authorities, his celebrated Morte cCAr¬
thur, indisputably the best prose romance the language can
boast. I here is also Arthur of Little Britain; and the
Lord Berners compiled the romance of the Knight of the
Swan. The books of Amadis were likewise translated in¬
to English ; but it may be doubted whether the country in
general ever took that deep interest in the perusal of these
records of love and honour with which they were greeted
in Franee. Their number was fewer ; and the attention
paid to them in a country where great political questions
began to be agitated, was much less than when the feudal
system still continued in its full vigour.
HI. We should now say something on those various kinds
834
Romance.
ROMANCE.
Pastoral
romance.
Heroic ro¬
mances.
of romantic fictions which succeeded to the romance of chi¬
valry. But we can only notice briefly works which have
long slumbered in oblivion, and which certainly are not wor¬
thy to have their slumbers disturbed.
Even in the time of Cervantes, the pastoral romance,
founded upon the Diana of George of Monte Mayor, was
prevailing to such an extent as made it worthy ot his satire.
It was, indeed, a system still more remote from common
sense and reality than that of chivalry itself For the max¬
ims of chivalry, high-strained and absurd as they are, did
actually influence living beings, and even the fate of king¬
doms. If Amadis de Gaul was a fiction, the Chevalier
Bayard was a real person. But the existence of an Arca¬
dia, a pastoral region, in which a certain fantastic sort of
personages, desperately in love, and thinking of nothing else
but their mistresses, played upon pipes, and wrote sonnets
from morning to night, yet were supposed all the while to
be tending their flocks, was too monstrously absurd to be
long credited or tolerated.
A numerous, and once most popular class of fictions, was
that entitled the heroic romance of the seventeenth century.
If the ancient romance of chivalry has a right to be call¬
ed the parent of those select and beautiful fictions which
the genius of the Italian poets has enriched with such pe¬
culiar charms, another of its direct descendants, the he¬
roic romance of the seventeenth century, is, with few ex¬
ceptions, the most dull and tedious species of composition
that ever obtained temporary popularity. The old romance
of Heliodorus, entitled Theagenes and Chariclea, supplied
perhaps the earliest model of this style of composition ;
but it was from the romances of chivalry that it derives its
most peculiar characteristics. A man of a fantastic imagi¬
nation, Honore d’Urfe, led the way in this style of con>po-_
sition. Being willing to record certain love intrigues of
a complicated nature which had taken place in his own
family, and among his friends, he imagined to himself a
species of Arcadia on the banks of the Lignon, who live for
love, and for love alone. There are two principal stories,
said to represent the family history of D’Urfe and his bro¬
ther, with about thirty episodes, in which the gallantries and Ry
intrigues of Henry IV.’s court are presented under borrow-'
ed names. Considered by itself, this is but an example of
the pastoral romance; but it was so popular that three cele¬
brated French authors, Gomberville, Calprenede, and Ma¬
dame Scuderi, seized the pen, and composed in emulation
many interminable folios of heroic romance. In these in¬
sipid performances, a conventional character, and a set of
family manners and features, are ascribed to the heroes and
heroines, although selected from distant ages, and various
quarters of the world. The heroines are, without excep¬
tion, models of beauty and perfection ; and, so well per¬
suaded of it themselves, that to approach them with the
most humble declaration of love, was a crime sufficient to de¬
serve the penalty of banishment from their presence; and it
is well if the doom were softened to the audacious lover, by
permission, or command to live, without which, absence and
death were to be accounted synonymous. On the other hand,
the heroes, whatever kingdoms they have to govern, or other
earthly duties to perform, live through these folios for love
alone ; and the most extraordinary revolutions which can
agitate the world, are ascribed to the charms of a Mandana,
or a Statira, acting upon the crazy understanding of their
lovers. Nothing can be so uninteresting as the frigid ex¬
travagance with which these lovers express their passion;
or, in their own phrase, nothing can be more freezing than
their flames, more creeping than their flights of love.
Yet the line of metaphysical gallantry which they exhibit¬
ed, had its date, and a long one, both in France and
England. In the latter country they continued to be read
by our grandmothers during the Augustan age of English;
and while Addison was amusing the world with his wit, and
Pope by his poetry, the ladies were reading Clelia, Cleo¬
patra, and the Grand Cyrus. The fashion did not decay till
about the reign of George I.; and even more lately, Mrs. Len*
nox, patronized by Dr. Johnson, wrote a very good imita¬
tion of Cervantes, entitled The Female Quixote, which had
those works for its basis. They are nowr totally forgotten.
(n. n. d.)
it
MODERN ROMANCE AND NOVEL.
Itise of
no'iel
writing in
England.
We alluded in the commencement of this essay, to the
division of fictitious narratives in prose, into two classes ;
the romance, in which the interest of the narrative turns
chiefly on marvellous and uncommon incidents; and the
novel, in which the events are accommodated to the ordin¬
ary train of human events, and the modern state of society.
The rise of this last department of fictitious composition
in England, takes place about the commencement of the
eighteenth century ; and its coincidence with the decline
of the drama is remarkable. The novel aspired, in fact, to
perform for a reading and refined age, what the drama had
done for a ruder and more excitable period; to embody
the spirit of the times in pictures at once amusing and ac¬
curate, and in the form best calculated to awaken attention
and interest in those to whom they are addressed. In the
earlier periods of a national literature, while the poetical
and imaginative spirit of the time takes the direction of the
long prose romance, the task of painting manners, and sa¬
tirizing follies, and displaying the comic oddities of charac¬
ter, is most efficiently performed by the drama. Its strength,
terseness, and brevity, with the aid of action and scenery,
present the manners living as they rise, with abundance of
force at least, and probably, for a time, with sufficient fidel¬
ity. But as society becomes more decorous, and peculiar¬
ities of manners less marked, the pictures exhibited by the
The novel stage are apt to become less true; for dramatic effect appears
a stihstitute to demand something more stimulating than reality affords ;
for the and hence the drama, with a pardonable leaning to the prin-
<ii mna. ciple of stage effect, often continues to reproduce the man-
ners, vices, and humours of a preceding age, long after they
have ceased to exist, merely because they are found better
adapted to that broad and strongly-coloured delineation
in which it chiefly deals. Thus, though the age of Van-
burgh, Congreve, and Wycherley, was probably not a very
moral age, and the tone even of its polite conversation, would
probably appear somewhat questionable to modern ears,
there seems to be no reason to believe’that the universal
profligacy of manners, and boundless licence of conversa¬
tion which are exhibited in the comedies of these writers,
really characterised the period at which they wrote. Their
Wildairs, Sir John Brutes, Lady Touchwoods, and Mrs.
Frails, are conventional reproductions of those wild gallants
and demireps which figure in the licentious dramas of Dry-
den and Shadwell. They represented the manners and the
morals of an age gone by; and the audiences who tolerat¬
ed these indecencies for the sake of the wit by which they
w ere occasionally redeemed, would have been revolted by
their exaggeration and incorrectness, if they had looked
upon them as exhibitions of society as it existed. The drama,
then, had ceased to be the mirror in which the age could
contemplate itself, and exhibited the license of a masquE
or the extravagance of a caricature, much more than the
sobriety of actual life, or the fidelity of a portrait. Besides,
there are many lesser traits of character, many sentiments
and feelings, which are not at all dramatic, and which had
therefore been overlooked by writers for the stage, yet m
themselves highly interesting and curious, and capable, when
judiciously employed, of exercising a strong influence on
the feelings. These become more prominent, and stan
out in brighter relief, as the restraints of civilization gradu-
if
It O M A N C E.
Fie of
the vel
will t
R mce. ally throw into the background the wilder passions and
~ ’more stormy impulses of our nature, until they acquire an
importance which not only justifies, but renders their in¬
troduction into any fictitious narrative which represents the
peculiarities of the time, necessary ; and for this purpose,
the calm and even march of the novel, and the detailed de¬
velopment both of sentiment and incident which it allows,
is found to be admirably adapted. It is in the works of our
novelists, therefore, rather than our dramatists, and in those
passages in our essayists of Queen Anne’s time, in which
they treat of past fashions, manners, whims, and humours, that
we must look for the changes which society has undergone,
and from which we must try to realize to ourselves the
features which it exhibited at any particular period.
The novel, then, affords a wider field for accurate and
limn complete delineation of passions and feelings than the
the jama, drama, and certainly one more in harmony with the dis¬
positions of a modern public. In powerful effects no doubt
it cannot compete with the stage. The whole range of
novel or romance contains nothing, for instance, which In its
tremendous impression, can be compared with the explo¬
sion of passion in the third act of Othello ; but, on the other
hand, it has greatly the advantage in the impression of veri¬
similitude which it leaves behind, produced by the accu¬
mulation of many particulars and minute traits of charac¬
ter; in pleasing interchanges of action and repose ; in the
delineation of emotions, which the drama, speaking only to
the eye and the ear, cannot lay before us ; in the descrip¬
tions of external scenery, which, in the hand of a writer of
genius, are far more effective, when presented in words to
the imagination, than when counterfeited to the eye upon
the stage, even by all the united resources of the scene-
painter and the mechanist; and which, from the strong con¬
nection which exists between the state of our feelings and
external influences, are found in the hands of a judicious
may be said to indicate a class of fictions dealing more with Romance,
calm feenngs, and with manners and humours, than with
strong passions, and deriving its interest more from the pro¬
bability than the marvellous nature of its incidents, this de-
nition is not to be taken too literally ; for there are many
works which we might call novels, in as much as the scene
is laid m modern times, and the general course of the inci¬
dents is that of every-day life, but in which the even tenor
o the stoiy is occasionally broken by scenes of powerful
passion, or incidents of a mysterious and terrible character,
elevating the composition for the time into the sphere of
the romantic; so that perhaps the word tale, as a middle
term between the others, would most appropriately describe
them. It has been doubted whether, although such a union
of the common-place with the extraordinary, be not unfre-
quently met with in the course of real life, a more cau¬
tious separation of these elements would not, on the whole,
be most favourable to the effect of a narrative as a work of
art; and whether the attempt to blend them, does not pro¬
duce in fiction, something of that illegitimate effect which
is the result of the melo-drama on the stage. It is certain,
however, that the tendency for some time past, and parti¬
cularly since the school of fiction introduced by Sir Walter
Scott, has been towards a mixture of the novel and ro¬
mance in the same composition, so that broad comedy is
often found alternating with the pathetic, the gaiety of a
ball-room with midnight murders upon lonely heaths, and
the disclosure of some piece of fashionable scandal standing
side by side with the discovery of some secret and fearful crime.
In the hands of our great masters of fiction, we admit the
fine effect which these occasionally produce. Judiciously
arranged, these opposites are the light and shadow of the
composition ; but even in our greatest modern novelist, we
could point out not a few instances in which this sort of
contrast is carried too far ; while in many of his imitators, it
“hTf f°r deepenT‘he Per- is 80 “-i "echa’nically
as in painting relief and effect are obtained by the tone
and character of the background against which the figures
are opposed. Another advantage obtained by the sub¬
stitution of narrative fiction for the drama, was, that a much
wider licence was obtained in the conduct of the plot. A
good plot is no doubt as essential to the novel as the drama ;
but the kind of plot which may be used with effect in each,
and the manner in which the incidents are to be conducted,
differ materially. A play in which every scene does not
grow out of the preceding, and lead directly into the next,
with a visible progress of plot, is in that respect faulty. On
the contrary, in the novel and romance, as in real life, much
is admissible which is episodical, which does not directly
help forward nor produce the catastrophe, but merely tends
to bring out some point of character in the personages re¬
presented, or to increase the air of verisimilitude in the main
* I?* a aPPearance °P minute and literal correctness
m the details. In the novel or romance, too, it has been
generally remarked that the catastrophe maybe made to turn
upon accident, but that this is inadmissible in the drama.1
thus the catastrophe in the Bride of Lammermoor, where
ttavenswood is swallowed up by a quicksand, is singularly
grand m romance, but would be inadmissible in a drama.
And on the same principle, Schiller has, in his Fiesco,
ught himself compelled to deviate from the actual truth
o history, and to ascribe the Count’s death, not to an acci-
~mble from a plank, but to the hand of the repub-
\y . n !; ernna- In a novel, the real catastrophe would have
f jT tar morf impressive in its moral effect than the ima-
Belifi
f the
l>ve] an
'niitiice
g ary one ; but Schiller held, and we think rightly, that in
Alth^ v.0t^in^ must be acciclenf’ but every thing result.
ough> a8 compared with the romance, the term novel
that the discharge of cannon will be followed by soft music.
When the declining popularity of the pastoral and
heroic romance of the seventeenth century, suggested the
necessity of opening a new vein in fiction, it is probable
that the stilted, unnatural, and exaggerated character of
those effete compositions led the public taste, by a natural
recoil of feeling, into the opposite extreme, viz. the selec¬
tion of topics and characters from common, and even from
vulgar life, and a literal adherence to nature, even at the risk
of the sacrifice of art. For we pass over the tiresome and
licentious love stories of Mrs. Aphra Behn, with the just re- Mrs
mark of Sir Richard Steele, that the lady appears to have
“understood the practical part of love better than the specu¬
lative, as well as those of her imitator, Mrs. Heywood, in Mrs. Hey
which the struggle between the high sentimental character "ood-
of the heroic romance, and the growing taste for a style of
portraiture more true to the life, is very obvious, and come
at once to the writer by whom the inspiration of reality was
carried to its greatest perfection.
Defoe, (1661—1731) without high imagination, with no Defoe,
power of raising the passions, with little pathos and no
eloquence, had yet that peculiar genius which enabled
him to excel within the peculiar department which he
chose for himself; that of counterfeiting homely truth by
fiction, and forging, as it were, the handwriting of nature
herself, with a dexterity which defied detection. Whether
Defoe was led to the selection of his peculiar themes, by
a real sympathy with roguery, (and his conduct in regard to
the well-known imposture of Mrs. Veal’s Ghost would jus¬
tify us in believing him to be like Gil Bias, “ tant soi peu
friponor by the influence of the Spanish romances of
roguery, such as Lazaro de Tormes, Marcos de Obregon,
See some valuable papers on Art in Fiction, ascribed, we believe with justice, to Sir L. JBulwer. Monthly Chronicle, Nos. Land ii.
336
ROMANCE.
Romance, and Gusman d’Alfarache, with some of which it is highly
'probable that he was acquainted through translations; or
whether his strong vulgar likenesses of seafaring personages,
half privateer, half mariner, and his fondness for the deli¬
neation of equivocal characters of all kinds, arose from his
familiarity with the one class, through his residence at Lime-
house, and his acquaintance with Dampier,—and with the
other, from his long and frequent imprisonments;—it is cer¬
tain that though he had no intention of favouring immorality,
he yet enters upon the delineation of personages, and scenes
of roguery, low profligacy and vice, with a degree of curiosity
and complacency, and dwells upon them with a fondness
and minuteness of detail, altogether uncommon, and not a
little unaccountable in a person who in his opinions sa¬
voured of the puritan. This strange labour of love, and study
of the morbid anatomy of society, has resulted in a seiies of
night pieces from the haunts of crime, which, though sombre
and gloomy in a high degree, and little suited to a cultivated
taste, nay, indeed, frequently producing on the mind the pain¬
ful effect of a real chapter from the Newgate Calendar, yet
display the most wonderful invention and keeping in all their
parts, and a coherence and dexterity of adaptation to each
other, which render the ordinary testsby which we endeavour
to discriminate a fictitious from a real narrative, inadequate
or altogether inapplicable to these singular compositions of
Defoe." Whatever might be the motive of his humility of
choice, Defoe, like many of his favourite heroes, was per¬
fectly contented to take up his abode in the back settle¬
ments of fiction, and was most at home in that Alsatia of Ro¬
mance, the purlieus of which, by common consent, his more
ambitious predecessors had sedulously avoided, as discre¬
ditable or dangerous. The transition from their refined
Orondates’ and Statiras’, to the society of the Captain Jack
and Moll Flanders of Defoe, is, to use a phrase of Sterne,
like turning from Alexander the Great to Alexander the cop¬
persmith. In his novels, we rarely meet with any thing more
exalted or respectable, than masters of trading vessels, deal¬
ers in small wares, supercargoes, or, it may be, pickpockets,
pirates, candidates for the plantations, or emeriti who have
already obtained that distinction. In the foreground, we
have the cabin, the night cellar, the haunts of fraud, or the
round-house; in the distance, Newgate, or Execution Dock.
There can be but one opinion, however, as to the wonderful
air of veracity, resembling that of a deposition upon oath,
which Defoe "has imparted to his fictitious creations, and
which his genius effects, mainly by accumulation of details,
non vi sed soepe cadendo ; often even by the introduction of a
multitude of irrelevant particulars and repetitions, just as
in the conversation of uneducated persons in real life. Ac¬
cordingly the result, as a simulacrum of reality, is one of
magical deception. Lord Chatham, it is well known, took
his Memoirs of a Cavalier for a real history ; Dr. Mead be¬
lieved his Journal of the Plague to be the work of a medi¬
cal man, and his impudent but most plausible history of the
apparition of Mrs. Veal, being received by many sober-mind¬
ed persons as an actual apocalypse from the spiritual world,
was the means, as is well known, of disposing of an unsale¬
able edition of Drelincourt upon death.
But notwithstanding this peculiar power of stamping the
impression of reality upon the coinage of his imagination,
v/hich, to say the truth, was seldom of the finest metals, it
may be safely affirmed, that but for his Robinson Crusoe,
Defoe would scarcely now be remembered as a writer of
fiction. The charm of that work, the first part of which ap¬
peared in 1719, is, that it emancipates us from those low
haunts and questionable society with which his other novels
make us acquainted. We escape from the fumes of to¬
bacco and strong waters, to breathe a purer air on that lone
island placed far amidst the melancholy main, where he has
imprisoned his shipwrecked mariner; and while Defoe’s unri¬
valled power of inventing a series of probable minutiae, both
Robinson
Crusoe.
in the way of reflexion and incident, enables him to con- Rw ■(,
duct with consummate skill, what we may call the self-edu-t
cation of Crusoe in his solitude,—the process by which he
adapts himself to his situation, and the gradual triumphs
which, by his ingenuity and patience, he obtains over the
difficulties and privations by which he is surrounded, till he
changes desolation into comfort;—the imagination of the
writer is visibly raised beyond its usual grovelling level
by the romance of the situation which he describes. His
genius imbibes the spirit of the place ; it imparts to the
cave of the sailor, something of the seclusion and purity of
a hermitage ; till the simple train of reflections which he
puts into the mouth of his uneducated mariner, upon the
sublimity and awfulness of solitude, impress the mind more
than the most eloquent declamation. It is a fine proof
how completely Defoe has succeeded in interesting us for
the solitary being to whom he has given a poetical life, and
attuned the mind of his readers to that sentiment of silence
and unbroken repose which is breathed over the scene of
his imprisonment,—“ where all the air a solemn stillness
holds,” that after a time the least incident which threatens
to disturb the security of the cave, or the solitude of the
island, assumes importance in our eyes, and the groan of an
old goat expiring in a cave, or the print of a man’s foot in
the sand, awaken a feeling of suspense and anxiety which
many a writer has in vain laboured to excite by a prodigal
expenditure of the machinery oi terror.
That Robinson Crusoe may be considered in a great mea¬
sure as a fortunate accident, and that its main charm arises
from the more poetical and refined character which the na¬
ture of the story and its locality almost necessarily impress¬
ed upon it, is indeed evident from the visible inferiority of
the second part, where the seclusion of the scene is broken
in upon, and Defoe peoples the island with his usual retinue
of planters and ship’s captains ; a production which scarcely
rises above the level of his Captain Singleton.
The application of the same principle of producing effect by
minuteness of detail rather than by grasp, or the selection
of a few marking traits, is visible in our next great novelist,
Richardson (1689-1761,) but the principle is applied in aR»
different and higher way. Defoe was satisfied with weaving
chains of probable incidents, which might be fitted to any
character, or at least any character of a given class, such
as a mariner or a merchant, a planter or a pickpocket. He
did not care, at all events he did not labour, to indivi¬
dualize character. Crusoe, his most finished portrait, is
still only the average representative of all shipwrecked ma¬
riners ; his reflections and his struggles, embody the hopes,
fears, and efforts, of all men left to maintain a solitary war¬
fare with difficulties. So his Captain Jack, born a gentle¬
man and bred a pickpocket, has nothing to separate him
from other enfans perdus of the same class. But Richard¬
son aspired to the creation rather of probable character than
probable incident; and to this he applied the same system
of accumulating minute traits of words, thoughts, and ac¬
tions, and reiterating small touches, and minute lights an
shadings, which Defoe had done to the creation of masses
of coherent and plausible events. In the latter department,
indeed, he is probably neither remarkable for success nor
failure. Occasionally, and particularly in his Sir Char es
Grandison, he outrages both patience and probability in no
inconsiderable degree ; and so little progress does J?ar'
rative make, that as Johnson remarked to Erskine, “ Were
you to read Richardson for the story, your impatience wou
be so fretted, you would go hang yourself.” But even m
the most successful portion of his plots, there is no chance
of our mistaking fiction for fact; the artist does not disap*
pear behind his creations as in the case of Defoe. e
very form, too, in which his novels are cast, that of a senes
of correspondence, however favourable to the display ®
traits of character, and minute dissection of sentiment,
ROMANCE.
337
&sotea"lf 1,16 ronTsj,f whr,re she«R—•
managed to any great extent though the poi’office^S S S?Zr ‘ nS ^ ~
in many cases it remains a mystery how such matters came admit in the cold remark of D’Alemhert «7 , , " ,
,0 be committed to paper at all. and least of all under the Sonne a imi'er, mJZnPasj^TaT^»ur
circumstances m which they are supposed to be recorded by It is not often that with thU feminineXracter of intel
it UrrS^rrrtmo" tmr °f'he reVenUe '^7 ^ T
laws, lorimuaoie corresponaents. and terrible cast is found united, and vet Richardson has
There is in the mind of Richardson a very remarkable proved his mastery over the higher passions not less than
union of feminine testes with masculine vigour. Early ac- his minute study of sentiment Ind nfannem in the cLnl
customed peculiarly to court the society of females, the sion of C/arissJHarlowe. To apply to h m "lm enithet of
depository of their gossip, the confident of their love se- the Shakspeare of prose fiction wh.Vh E 1 k ePlthet/)f
crets, the complete letter-writer of a little knot of young DTsLliTextrava^am. ^ A^olitary^creahon^f thisTiiuk
highly pathetic and morally impressive as it is, is but a nar¬
row basis on which-to rest the claims of the novelist to such
a title. But the conception of the noble character of Clarissa Clarissa
Harlowe, set off by such a foil as is afforded by that of Love- Harlowe.
   1   xicnc 1V1JUL Ui ^UUIlg
ladies when only thirteen years of age, the deference which
he thus acquired for their tastes, and the insight he obtain¬
ed into their habits of thinking, though probably springing,
as Johnson believed, very much from his own vanity and
love of praise, appear ,o have been of the utmost u'se hme, peihi; tLe pfc”
him mhis novels, in winch so much of the interest rests and insinuating libertine ever drawn, find certainlv as Seat
upon the female characteis, and in the minute dissection an imnrovement on that of ,l,„ i c_ ,7 ,
upon the female characters, and in the minute dissection
and study of emotions and sentiments in which women are
either die chief actors or sufferers. The traces of this in¬
fluence appear constantly, and sometimes in excess, in the
minute accuracy with which he dwells, in description, upon
an improvement on that of the Lothario from which it was
drawn, as Rowes’ hero had been on the vulgar rake of
Massinger,) and the closing scenes of that novel, are at all
events sufficient to place Richardson among the great
writers of fiction ; among the few who have formed a
t.,„se little particulars of looks, and voice, and g^efS stilkteg and^l oTe?,™ wMch^ey W
turns of speech, which men in their correspondence irene-  A,, ey ,ve. W10ught
turns of speech, which men in their correspondence gene¬
rally overlook, but which women note with such care, and
interpret with such sagacity; in the complacency with which
he dwells on the details of robes and wedding dresses, which
are conceived in the spirit of a waiting-woman, and execut-
out with a corresponding felicity and power. It is not the
common-place idea of a woman of virtue foiling the schemes
of a seducer, which Richardson has undertaken to illustrate:
in the case of a lady like Clarissa, of birth, education, and
good feelings, Mrs. Barbauld says truly, that would have
edivi,,, the learning if a man-millinlr; and'whichT^ ta Sen pe™
the minute description given by Lovelace of Clarissas’ dress but it is the dignity, the deep inlerest he hi Tent to X
in tlT ptece 6 °P<!ment’!lre OCCaSIOna,,y '"troduced character, even in that situation of personal dishonour, with
The more favourable results of these tastes are exhibited ioTnect Z ideatfZgZaZn.^. tS VZIZ"
in the wonderful familiarity he evinces with the feelings and says Mrs. Barbauld x “ in viro-in n.,rRv L ir
syinpathiesof women ; for though,in his notions of perfection, Son ifflTngly pit hoSC* TnP nXZmTthitZflv
to deiZ fnnerT r°rf ’ "e of an?thfr aSe often see cause has been attechid to the idea of unblemishedThifity but
nlicidv O hi RlChardT S fandarrd,’. we may trust im- ^vvas reserved for Richardson to overcome all circumstances
phcitly to his accuracy, when he is delineating the move- of dishonour and disgrace, and to throw a splendour round
ents of passion in the female breast, the revolutions of the violated virgin more radiant than she possessed in her
between feeling and delicacy. In first bloom. He has drawn the triumph ^
(lelileTt n P°f S Tn m°re than,in ^^corresponding he has drawn it uncontaminated, untarnished, and incapable
l lk!8 ? we acknowledge the justice of mingling with pollution.” P
ot the remark which Sir Walter Scott applies to his por-
traits generally, that “ in his survey of the heart, he left
neither head, bay, nor inlet behind him, until he had traced
its soundings, and laid it down in his chart with all its mi
The other novels of Richardson, Parae/a, and Sir Charles Pamela.
Crandison, are ofan inferior order to Clarissa. Pamela, his
first work, besides the questionable character of some of its
highly coloured scenes, the license of which leads one to smile
Lttet Ibf "?S’* Tie “o^cttonT p„i'„eteSd°„Uufbb; EbauSdTha/.SeTo0
seen him make his passage by the shortest course. It was
the misfortune of Richardson, that, like nervous men in
company, or like painters who go on retouching till the pic¬
ture becomes loaded, he never knew when to have done,
either with a character or a conversation. He was unskilful,
as D Israeli remarks, in the art of writing, and “ could never
Jay Ins pen down while his inkhorn supplied it.” Even as re
like one who knows her price, and that her purity is pro¬
tected more by the chance of securing a rich husband, and
the prospect of “ the gilded coach and dappled Flanders
mares, which she sees in perspective, than by any idea that
virtue is its own reward.
Least of all, is it possible to relish Sir CharlesGrandison, Sir Charles
• Wr*tten,Vpon an.entirely wrong plan; a system of Grandison.
home, it is &cer’tain that he^i^h ffT ^ Tm' mal\bo™nS’ moralizing hero, “ content to dwell in de-
is much from this d v ’ Probably cencies for ever;” a hero whose worst trial, as Sir Walter
extremes particukrlv in E' l °i ’ sr e’ to ^cott observes, is the embarrassment of choosing between
ted unless* the Sr ZX ri 7™ ’ l‘r (':Grand‘s0’‘! females, both handsome, accomplished, and in love with
he olTE vZ = Zs S, ,.WOok 0" ‘h? Syfem of him; a gentfe"teu who detests thi theory of duelling on
lecaZZ 3T fy 5lricWaner Sc0U’ Who Ch,°se k Christian Principles, but reconciles the practice of it to hU
_te«sltecoukuIeep for half an hour at any ttme during conscience, because his skill in swordsmanship tdways e„!
vOL. XIX.
1 Richardson’s Life and Correspondence, vol. i. Introduction.
2 u
338
ROMANCE
Romance ables him to disarm his adversary without endangering the tivated them by different means. As Fielding was the faith- Em
hfe of ehher; a principle which makes the morality not less ful and graphic painter of all the common features of charao—J
are or eiuiei , t „ i , a i   ?  tEca pvtrnnrflinarv and the eccentric were the necu-
Fielding.
than the prudence of fighting to depend upon a man’s cun¬
ning of fence. .
A strong contrast to the subtlety, the fine perception, and
the power over the passions evinced by Richardson, is pre¬
sented by his rival Fielding, (1707-1754,) who, with no
command of the pathetic, no great share of wit, and no
taste for that minute analysis of sentiment and wire-drawing
of description in which our English Marivaux indulges, has
yet maintained a more general and permanent popularity,
by a combination of qualities well suited for the purpose. His
grasp of observation led him to select with unerring sagacity,
the leading traits of ordinary character, and to epitomize
ter, so the extraordinary and the eccentric were the pecu¬
liar appanage of Smollett. He either did not feel sufficiently
the charm of the natural in character, and its power of end¬
less recombination in the hands of a great artist, or he doubt¬
ed his own powers, at least in comparison with Fielding, of
extracting novelty from such simple materials. But the
sphere of humorous exaggeration appeared to be open to
him, without the awe of a predecessor, or the dread of a ri¬
val ; on that, therefore, he concentrated his powers of mind,
neglecting in a great measure the other requisites of fic¬
tion ; and undoubtedly with a success, which leaves him,
within the province which he was the first to occupy, and
His with the occupation of which he was content, still the un¬
fed of delineation admits of such variety and contrast, that disputed sovereign, ho one has ever yet equalled h,m ,n
in fact it excludes none but the highest and most poetical ele- the observation, or where that does not serve his purpose,
ments, in which Fielding had neither power of observation or the creation of oddities and exceptional characters which
conception. His flow of animal spirits and healthy vivacity of never did or could exist, but still with just enough ofhu-
manner contrast strangely with theDutch finishing of Rich- manity about them, to give us an interest m their eccentric
ardson’s pencilling, but are as well suited to the active, out- movements, or m the invention of combinations of burlesque
of-door scenes which Fielding loved to draw, in his pictures incidents not always of the best odour, which his fertile
of imbroglios at ale-houses, and the stirring life of the road,
as the pains-taking inventories of Richardson were to his
still-life interiors, and the drowsy monotony of the occupa¬
tions of their inhabitants. To these he added, at least in
Tom Jones his great work, Tom Jones, the charm of a plot of unrivalled
fancy showers forth spontaneously as from a cornucopia;
mistakes, rencounters, equivoques, whimsicalities of speech or
action, all generally the best calculated to bring out in high
raised and ludicrous relief the comic aberrations of the cha¬
racter represented, and to develope its latent madness; and
neverfailing, at all events, to produce that result which Smol
’ . 1 . .  n loff cooTviprl fiir mnrp studious to attain than that of “ounrins
to bear upon the catastrophe in a manner equally unexpect
ed and simple, a grave humour, and power of quiet satire
unmixed with caricature, in which he is equally superior
to Richardson and to Smollett. And with his other requi¬
sites he combined a knowledge of English life, both in its
better features and its deformities, by which we mean, of
the essential qualities of men, as modified at that time by the
accidents of situation, education, and pursuits,—the result,
lett seemed far more studious to attain than that of “purging
the passions by pity or terror ;” namely, the excitement of
a broad-grin mirth, and “ laughter holding both his sides.”
That the characters, where they have any decided features
at all, are generally caricatures; for instance, that such com¬
modores and lieutenants as Trunnion and Hatchway, never
floated even under the primitive flag of Benbow; that the ab¬
surdities of Pallet are painted an inch thick ; that by no hu-
accidents ot situation, euucation, anu puisuns,—uie icsun., 1 , i ,• c
perhaps, of a long, and not always reputable experience,— man possibility con d such an accumulationof comic d.saste
f .1. , , i Si  * i r r„™„i  Eoiro hpfallpn tho rharartprs of the tale. mav. andindeedmust
Amelia.
to which Richardson, surrounded by a circle of female gos¬
sips, and weaving out his materials in his quiet back shop,
purely from the stores of his imagination, can make but
slender pretension.
Amelia, much as it was admired by Johnson, is greatly
inferior to Tom Jones. If the tone of the latter be far from
high, that of Amelia is creeping and vulgar in no ordinary
have befallen the characters of the tale, may, and indeed must
be granted, even by Smollett’s warmest admirers. But if, fol¬
lowing Smollett’s own example, we throw' nature mainly out
of the question, and look to what seems to have been his real
aim,theobjection of wrantofverisimilitude,whileitmayretain
its truth, seems to lose half its force, and, we may add. wholly
its powrer of conviction. It is in vain to point out the extrava-
l ox simeua is creeuinu aim vumai m im y — r   - , T , •    „„
degree. Booth has Jones’ vices with an additional shade of gance of the scene where Jolter, in ari agony of terror, on
meanness. Half the plot turns on the embarrassments of hearing the direction given to put on the dead ig i s i
, , , . * 7 111 i. A   -4-^™ Polme rmoa thrmirrh tnp Of 3 mathematical
debt and contrivances to make both ends meet; and one or
other of the characters is generally in a spunging house.
Such, too, is the infirmity of human nature, that we really
find it difficult to preserve a. sufficiently romantic respect
for the heroine, pretty and amiable as she is, when the
saucepan is seldom out of her hand.
“ Nec tantum veneris quantum studiosa culime.”
storm off Calais, goes through the steps of a mathematical
proposition with infinite fervour, instead of a prayer ; or to
criticise the manoeuvres of Trunnion, tacking his way to
church on his wedding day in consequence of ahead wind;—
when the reader cannot see the force of the objection, through
tears of laughter. In that consummation which he chiefly
aimed at, and in which he rarely fails, Smollett has gained
his end :—solvuntur risu tabula', ; the sense of the improba-
Smollett.
The finish is put to the whole by the accident which mars bility of the conceptions is lost in the irrepressible mernmen
even the personal attractions of the heroine ; for though the which they occasion.
public were willing to regard Clarissa, after the outrage to Humour, then, was the quality in which Smollett feltmni-
her honour, with undiminished sympathy, it is certain they self strongest; character, incident, the excitement of the fee-
have not been equally indulgent to Amelia, after the misfor- ings, were obviously with him minor considerations.
tune of the broken nose. is no difficulty in discriminating his style of humour from tna
We have already, how'ever, in our biographical notice of of Fielding. Fielding’s iscalmer, chaster, perhaps of a higher
Fielding, quoted so amply from Sir Walter Scott’s critique kind than Smollett’s, but it certainly has not its breadU
upon his genius and works, that instead of pursuing an ex- force, and felicity. As Smollett could hardly have create^
hausted theme, we refer our readers to that article. in its main features so gentle a humourist as Parson Adani--,
The name of Fielding always suggests that of his rival so he probably could have scarcely imagined a stroke of «
Smollett (1721-1724,) though, as writers of fiction, they mour sodelicateand appropriate tothecharacter,as whent e
rather admit of being contrasted than compared. They Parson offers to walk ten miles to fetch his sermon against a
have, in fact, very few, if any, points in common ; agreeing nity,in order to convince his auditorof his total freedom n° ^
only perhaps in a preference for the delineation of the comic, that vice. But neither, on the other hand, could he have ina^
or the common, over the impassioned and poetical. They gined the feast after the manner of the ancients, the appantio^
chose different departments in novel writing, and they cul- of Pipes to the Commodore, the terrors of Pallet on leainin0
r
ROMANCE.
:e. the supposed conditions of his emancipation from the Bastille, imperfection of
^ orthe ludicrous concatenation of mischances which beset the phrcu Clinker in f °tS’faV°iUr °f that of Hum' Romance*
luckless inmates of the Inn in Flanders « doing or suffSng.” Sally evoked S fP o'.’,' c0U?,h "0t °f much art>is  —
Some scenes of this sort, in which Fielding enters into com- ?u% STnedSthe usTl Illf A F™"?-1 i'™'
petition with Smollett, such as those at the Inn at Upton, lett never fails to lav befiiro ,?* ! 5’ “ 0lidltles w,“':l! Smol-
are among the least successful in his novels. The effort to most pleasing of h s performances1" WhifeT018’ A ‘S the
raise the waters, the malice prepense in the preparation of rank with the very best of hispvtr.v Lesfaha;g0 may
the comic machinery, is too obvious ; and after all, though of character and ‘less' of canV^S *S^CeS’there 18 ,m°re
he creates abundance of confusion, he raises but few smiles, hearted, Matthew Bramble “ fro"ty but kMv^’h5'"'
In another quality, though he has but rarely availed him- personage he has painted • andThnn^ fE i? y’ h m any
self of his powers in this respect, Smollett far surpassed Field- is dashed with fihh without 1™ he h^m°ur’as uslual>
ing; we mean in his power of exciting the emotions of ter- Smollett seems always to have thnnUht ? °f W Jlch indeed
ror, orthe sublime. From scenes of this kind, Fielding, know- the tale is entirely free from thalindeoene^r PU;^ncy’
mg the prosaic turn of his own mind, and the limits of his both Soderici Random zni Peregrin A*
invention, kept at a respectful distance; Smollett, who felt think, too, that Smollett had thT™2 f / We rather
within himself the spirit of a poet, has occasionally ventur- novel that species of the h„mn ment of originating in this
edupon them, and with complete success. The robber scene snellino- md whirl <1 '.mo,irous anses froiR bad
in 4 old woman's hut in FaOom, thiujh oft™ &
tated since, still remains one of the most impressive and agi- no doubt in itself yet caoSite as Smollett ^ °f hui?ou’:
tatmg night pieces of its kind; and the sublimity of the situ- powerfully aiding le iSus effec” F0Ved’ °f
ation on ship board, where Random sits chained to the poop Equal genius though fir more dof r a u a-
during an engagement, covered with the blood and brains of visible in Sterne,’ (1713-1768) the first twotY afFeCtatl0,n’15 Sterne-
^wounded, and screaming in delirium, has been often Tn,ram
The morality of Smollett and Fielding is nearly on a par; site^n aenoUrTwouldTeStSheedtWtereha,? eSSfntial r.eclui"
with this difference, that the slight dash of generosity which is Sterne within the protection Sltdefoilfon S? h°f
infused into the blackguardism ofTom Jones, while it renders has none to tell; at all events he teUs it not But
him more natural, makes him at the same time more danger- plot good for ” says Baves « eveemt L ’ a 18 f,
ous than the selfish and often ruffianly heroes of Smollett; and Sterne adonfed the ,ing ,n good thinSs>
whom we despise or dislike, even while laughing at the crue Hcense Afthe ennH 8- Ki ^ ^tlSt in its Ml
frolics in which they indulge. The heroes of the latter are not f a cd T °f the Glghth Volume’ Tristram
mere animals,good-natured or savage,as the fit strikesthem; to fulfil his threat of ca^ying onhTsworkhVed
the heroines, with the exception perhaps of Aurelia Darnel getable diet thmno-h nc" ^ b> the aid of a ve-
in Sir Lancelot Greaves, the weakest of SmolleFs works fear wou d » b,! I ^ m0re’ he we
have been justly described asobjects rather o^ppetiteS sLX work o«s LTnterafe™' Sterne’S
haiCafXmre^v^rmlr*^ ThecluewhichSterneehieflyfoUowsthroughthemazesof
piisiialii
‘ng) on the contrary both in his Tnm Tnncc \ 'a r • e^si y as Smollett himself. But, like Fielding, he preferred
singularly attentive to regularity of nkn -md^ ^ T’13 i16 lurnou1r wbich arises from bringing out by light and
-erous evolution and windimr on of his r] 1° ,le, dex' ^aPPy touches, and as if unconsciously, the secrets of cha-
?arded as of vital importance. From the veiw rn ' 16 r6' rlaCt,Cr ’ onlywith this difference in his favour, that with Sterne
Rent we perceive that he kemw his i ^ or”menc^- the humour is steeped insensibility. Flowing, as it does, as
| ’iew, « and sees as W a toZ tL enTofaT^ F ^ ^ the heart as the head’ R aPeaks lo to the affec-
ittention to symmetry and tendenev of all th* • t US [IOnS ’ ca m smiles nPPle over the countenance as we read,
vards the cataSSJ’ hk Vpsf '"7h ad the incidents but tears are in the next degree. Thus, in Sterne, humour’
ermed a prose epic • it is at ■ 11 f eGn n0t inaPdy and feeling heighten and set off each other ; the pathetic rises
ion of the prbcfpL; of he in gentle reIiefout of the background of theP comic' and
| endered applicable to the manner of th" ^ thfy ^ d be S,mks Sraccfully and imperceptibly back into it again. It is
option ought perhaps to he n d c ?r I°ne eX' this> for instance’ which gives so irresistible a charm to the
g PeihapS t0 be niade from thls remark on the story of Le Fevre, and th? Corporal’s account in the ffitchen
340
ROMANCE.
Romance, of the death of Tristram’s elder brother, enforced by the
^ eloquent stroke of dropping the hat, as if a lump ot clay
had been kneaded into the crown of it. There is nothing
sneering, nothing unkindly, nothing that revolts the better
feelings in his playful irony. Circum pracordia ludit.
That of Swift and Voltaire is blighting like an east wind;
the sympathies of the heart close themselves up against it;
but beneath the genial and balmy humour of Cervantes
and Sterne, they relax and blow like flowers expanding be¬
neath the west wind in spring. .
The wonderful resources of characteristic invention, and
the very finest perception of the limits of true humour, are
shown in the contrasted characters of the two brothers, the
main personages in the history ; the man of pure intellect,
restless, nervous, eloquent, hair-splitting, half-crazed by
learned theories, which he insists on carrying into action,
craving sympathy, and yet courting discussion, as deli¬
neated in the elder Shandy; and the man of pure good
nature and benevolence, as drawn in Toby; without learn¬
ing, with no head for reasoning, but with a heart always
in the right place; eloquent too, in his way, when his feel¬
ings are touched, or his favourite pursuits depreciated, (wit¬
ness his animated and beautiful defence of his reasons for
prolonging the war) chaste as a woman, gentle, haimless
and credulous as a child ; riding his hobby, in shoit, in so
captivating a manner, that, if the truth were told, most o
his readers are in their hearts inclined to mount along with
him. There are few, wre suppose, who have not been se¬
duced into something of his own mania by the scene
on the bowling green, when he discovers the ingeni¬
ous invention by which Trim, having converted the jack-
boots into mortars, is directing a hot tire from these engines
against the counterscarp of Lisle ; when the tobacco pipes,
withdrawn from the mouth of the corporal, are gradually
insinuated into his own, merely to try them; and puff
succeeds puff, till the enthusiast is swept into the torrent of
a furious cannonade. Nothing, too, can be at once more
humourous or characteristic than that scene where Toby
mistakes the elder Shandy’s quotation from Sulpicius conso¬
latory letter to Cicero, for a real account of his brother s trip
to the Levant, a stroke of humour so natural in the circum¬
stances, and yet so original, that it would of itself be suffi¬
cient to prove that Sterne was a man of genius.
The two great defects of Sterne, as noticed by Sir Walter
Scott, are his affectation and his indefensible indecency.
For his plagiarisms from other authors, we regard as of lit¬
tle importance. So ingeniously are they turned to account,
and so much in general does Sterne improve what he bor¬
rows, that he may fairly claim in them that right of property
which the civil law allowed in articles where the labour be¬
stowed by the borrower exceeded the intrinsic value of the
material on which it was bestowed. It must be confessed,
however, that few writers have carried their coolness and
assurance in this respect so far as Sterne has done, who, not
content with denouncing the plagiarisms of authors, has ac¬
tually stolen from Burton the passage in which he exposes
the iniquities of his neighbours.
But the other objections less admit of defence. The af¬
fectation of Sterne is the more to be regretted, because his
manner in its happiest moods is the very perfection of a
lively, spirited, spoken style, idiomatic, imaginative, pliant,
and varied. “ Writing, when properly managed,” he him¬
self observes, “ is but a different name for conversation.”
Unfortunately he did not always conform his practice to his
precept. He is sometimes fade in his sentimentality, and
aiming after a sort of false sublime in his imagery. Some
portions of the story of Maria are examples of the first; the
well-known personification of the recording angel in the
close of Le Fevre, is an instance of the second. Still more
unworthy of Sterne are those quackeries of the black page
and the white one, the sudden transitions and affected open¬
ings of the chapters, with other harlequinades of authorship, Bo
which are carried to excess in Tristram Shandy.
The indecency of Sterne is more obtrusive and indefen¬
sible than that of either Fielding or Smollett; whose highly-
coloured scenes seem to be the result of an unchecked ima¬
gination, running on heedless whether its course lie through
purity or filth. Sterne, on the other hand, goes coldly and
deliberately in search of impurity; seeks for it in books,
refines upon it, mixes it up with his reflections, and is
continually insinuating some equivoque or double enten¬
dre into scenes where we can ill bear with such adultera¬
tion.
Richardson, Fielding, Smollett, and Sterne, are the four Go! s
great novelists of this period (the reign of George II.) which
was pre-eminently the age of novel-writing in England. For
though we should indeed be sorry to undervalue the merits
of Goldsmith, or the charm of his Vicar of Wakefield, we
cannot quite rank the powers displayed in that delightful little
tale, which appeared in 1763, so highly as the varied inven¬
tion displayed by the writers we have named, upon the
broader canvass which they selected. To use his own
words, it has many faults, and a hundred things might plau¬
sibly be said to prove them beauties. Fortunately, they lie
more in the minor parts, than in the essentials of the tale. In
fact, the improbability of the plot is only equalled by the won¬
derful truth, nature and keeping of the principal character, for
the “limEe labor” which, in this instance, Goldsmith willingly
bestowed upon his style, and on the creation and apposition
of traits of character, he scrupled to waste upon the selection
of his incidents. The real interest lies in the development
in the character of the amiable Vicar, so rich in heavenly,
so poor in earthly wisdompossessing little for himself, yet
ready to make that little less, whenever misery appeals to
his compassion ;—with enough of literary vanity about him
to shew that he shares the weaknesses of our nature,—-ready
to be imposed upon by cosmogonies and fictitious bills of
exchange, and yet commanding, by the simple and serene
dignity of goodness, the respect even of the profligate, and
making “ those who came to mock remain to pray.” Doubt¬
less, the probability and look of life which a character drawn
with such quiet strokes of the pencil, and with such sobriety
of colouring, possesses, is in some measure owing to the fact,
that not a few of the incidents of which Goldsmith has availed
himself, are drawn from circumstances in his personal history,
such as the mistake of setting out to teachthe French English,
without recollecting that it was a necessary preliminary tor
the tutor to acquire a little French himself; but the skill
which can make such trifles in real life subservient to the
purposes of real fiction, is scarcely less worthy of praise
than would have been their original invention. Perhaps
there is no better proof of the broad and general truth ot
delineation which a novel possesses, than our being ^
habit of resorting to it in conversation for cases in point, and
comic illustrations of our opinions. In this respect the h-
car of Wakefield forms a storehouse of allusion. How na¬
turally does any ridiculous investment in Mexican mines,
or Spanish stock, recall to our recollection Moses’ bargain
for the gross of green spectacles? Who is there that as
not been reminded of the aristocratic Miss Skeggs turning
out to be no better than she should be, notwithstanding tier
intimacy with the Duchess, and her taste for Shakspeare
and the musical glasses, by some case, of the same m
within our own experience, where, reversing the denouemen
of the Double Arrangement, the Knight Templar of the com¬
pany has sunk into the waiter ? And for our own part, we mo
admit, that we have never been able to treat with due gravi y
any allusion to the learned speculations of Manet o,
rosus, or Sanconiathon, from their indissoluble connexion ^
our minds with the more finished cosmogony of Jenkin *
In one respect Goldsmith rises conspicuously suPe”?r
his brethren; he has no passages, which, dying, he need na
ROMANCE.
Bom;
^umb -
md.
wished to blot, and his characters and his incidents are all
calculated to call forth only the better feelings of our na¬
ture. Virginibuspuerisque might have been his appropriate
and uncontested motto.
The great novelists to whom we have alluded, and
particularly Fielding, Smollett, and Sterne, had of course
many imitators. But the minuteness of Richardson was found
to be intolerable in any hands but his own, and his manner
in this country at least, though not in France and Germany,
was soon abandoned. Amongst the numerous imitations
of Fielding s manner, most of which are now forgotten,
the Henry of Cumberland (1752-1811), is probably the
most respectable. Cumberland possessed that degree of
talent which enabled him, both in dramatic composition,
and in the novel, to produce performances which are read
with pleasure, though they seldom rouse our interest, and
never impress us with the idea of a creative genius. Ac¬
cordingly, both his Arundel and his Henry have enjoyed a
fair measure of popularity, particularly the latter, in which
a story of tolerable interest is made the vehicle of displaying
considerable acquaintance with English life in the lower
ranks, derived from Cumberland's familiarity with such
scenes in his early residence in Kent,—while the homeli¬
ness of these pictures is relieved by many rural landscapes
perfectly English. The tale has the fault of Pamela, that
aims at teaching virtue through scenes that border very
closely on vice; while, as Sir Walter Scott remarks, Cum¬
berland reverses the usual process of courtship, and “ throws
upon the softer sex the task of wooing, which is more
gracefully as well as naturally the province of the man.”
The characters have little novelty; Cumberland was in¬
debted for them to Joseph Andreivs, and he took the
idea of his plan and style from Tom Jones. Henry is an¬
other version of Joseph himself, which Cumberland some¬
how seems not to have perceived to be a caricature created
in the mere spirit of parody; but the portrait of an amiable,
341
Iharles
ohnstoi
is high, and indeed we think, with deference, exaggerated Romance,
praise. Who remembers or can name a single character'
which Johnstone has drawn, except perhaps his forcible but
odious caricature of Whitefield? What scene of real in¬
terest or passion has he painted in such a manner as to give
it a home in our memories, like the better scenes of Field¬
ing or Le Sage ? Not one: and indeed, bad as the age
w hich he painted was, we believe he has greatly exaggerat¬
ed its vices, or at least his one-sided views have led him
to keep out of sight its redeeming points and countervail-
ing virtues. Hence the impression the book leaves on
the mind is one of oppression. It leads us along all the
gloomy, and foul, and noisome passages of life, and we
escape from it with the feeling of relief with which we
would emerge from a vault in which the air was loaded with
noxious vapour.
Sterne is perhaps the only one of our great novelists who Mackenzie,
has found an imitator of genius, in Mackenzie (1745-1831);
for although in his Man of the World, and Julia de Rou-
bigne, Mackenzie has deviated from the manner of Sterne,
and formed a composite manner, in which the characteristics
of several writers are blended with his own, yet there can
be little doubt that the spirit of Sterne, in his pathetic pas¬
sages, in a great measure inspired The Man of Feeling, and
prompted that “ illustration of the richer and finer sensibi¬
lities of the human breast,” which Sir Walter Scott points
out as the “key-note” on which he formed his tales of fic¬
titious woe. In some obvious respects, no doubt, Macken¬
zie improved upon his model; as in rejecting the licen¬
tiousness of Sterne’s wit, retrenching his episodical digres¬
sions, his numerous impertinencies, and intrusive buf¬
foonery, and keeping the strain of feeling which he wishes
to create more unbroken ; but as writers of genius, there
surely can be no comparison between them. Mackenzie
has none of those charming touches which hover with such
a fine ambiguity between the pathetic and the humorous, 
j , T 1  » Hue amuiguiLy DeLween me pameiic ana tne Humorous, 
enthusiastic, and yet absurd Methodist parson in Ezekiel like Toby’s opening the window, and liberating the fly which
Daw, has an air of originality, even when placed beside that had been buzzing about him all day,—and which operate, like
of Parson Adams, by which it was obviously suggested. cnoiic v,™,.* xkt^c—  • „
The imitations of Smollett’s manner were not numerous,
and, with one exception, totally without merit. We allude
to The Adventures of a Guinea, by Charles Johnstone,
which appeared in 1761, in which a series of scenes and
personages in different walks of life are brought before us
through the somewhat inartificial method of making a coin,
which shifts through the hands of successive proprietors, the
historian of their follies and their vices ; a contrivance very
inferior indeed to the ingenious machinery by which Asmo-
T£US 'jnve^s D°n Cleofas the secrets ofiSpanish life. In
ihe Adventures of a Guinea, the author seems to have had
efore him both Le Sage and Smollett as models; but in
tie result he exhibits little of the gay good-humoured touch
o the Frenchman, and nothing of the cordial merriment of
I 6 ^c®^c^man* Where Le Sage painted follies, and Smol-
ett frolics and absurdities, Johnstone, on whom some have
conferred the high title of a prose Juvenal, delineated with a
sarcastic and energetic brevity, the darkest vices and crimes
an which both political and domestic profligacy
prevailed, and were paraded abroad with no ordinary de¬
cree of assurance. “ In Johnstone’s time,” says Sir Wal-
er Scott, “ the reform which was introduced by the pri¬
vate virtues and patriotism of George III. had not com¬
menced ; and he might well have said, with such an ar¬
dent temper as he seems to have possessed, ‘ Difficile est sa-
yram non scribere.’ He has accordingly indulged his wit
0 e utmost, and as most of his characters were living per-
'Ons, then easily recognised, he held the mirror to nature
wen when it reflects such horrible features. His language
.j™ and energetic ; his power of personifying character
n mg and forcible, and the personages of his narrative
ve, breathe, and speak in all the freshness of life." This
spells, upon the heart. We fear, then, that the spirit of nation¬
ality, and the bias of private friendship, has led Sir Walter Scott
somewhat to exaggerate the claims of Mackenzie, who, if he
has less affectation in mere manner and style, seems to us to
have more affectation of feeling than the author of Tristram
Shandy. In fact, Mackenzie betrays in some passages of
his novels a tendency towards that unhealthy sentimentalism
which was afterwards carried to such a sickly excess by in¬
ferior imitators of Sterne. Such is certainly the case in what
is commonly considered the most powerful, though, we
think, the least pleasing of his works, Julia de Roubigne.
No doubt, if the chief aim of fiction were “ to send the
hearers weeping to their beds,” Mackenzie might claim
the merit of having attained it. But though the distresses
of the story may be in themselves naturally pourtrayed, the
constant monotony of melancholy which it presents to us is
not so ; it is morbid and out of nature, and the feeling with
which it is perused, which is that of exhaustion and unea¬
siness, shews that the writer has missed the great aim of fic¬
tion, which is to make even suffering minister to a soothing
feeling of sympathy, and to leave upon the mind at the
close a sentiment of consolation.
The Man oj the World is exposed in some respects to
the same objection. The suffering, the accumulation of
misfortunes which are heaped upon the innocent Annes-
leys, through the heartless villainy of Sindall, are too un¬
mitigated. The story wants repose, relief, and sunshine.
It is like an avenue of cypresses terminating in a tomb.
The Man of Feeling, the first of Mackenzie’s productions,
is, after all, the best. It is more unlaboured than the others,
has more of the first freshness of the author’s mind about
it; and its brief manner, and quicker succession of situa¬
tions,—for they can hardly be called incidents, relieve it from
342 K O M J
Romance, that sombre uniformity which, in his larger novels, produces
such a depressing effect.
Dr. John- The Rasseias of Dr. Johnson (1709-1783), though it
son. wears the form of a tale, has but slender pretensions to
be included amongst the class of novels, for it has neither
progressive incident nor character. It is a series of dia¬
logues and moral reflections, very solemnly and beauti¬
fully written, tinged with that tone of mournfulness and
despondency so likely to be the prevailing feeling of his
mind in the composition of a work intended to defray the
expenses of a mother’s funeral. Rasseias is, in fact, the
Vanity of human wishes in prose ; and its incidents, if such
they may be called, have even less pretensions to connect¬
ed interest than those of Candide, to which it may be re¬
garded as a moral and philosophical antithesis.
Judging, indeed, from Rasseias, and from the other
writings of Johnson, it may be safely assumed, that his
success as a novelist would not have been much greater
than as a dramatic poet. He has nowhere shewn the
least power of creation, by stepping out of himself, and
putting on by the force of imagination the nature of others.
Through the disguise of all the successive characters
which he is obliged to assume in the Rambler, the stur¬
dy, controversial, and somewhat pompous moralist stands
confessed; and whether he writes as a fine lady, a fop, a
blood, or an elderly gentleman, still, like Puck, “ we know
the man by the Athenian garments he hath on.” Inde¬
pendently of this, his views of life would certainly have been
untrue, inasmuch as they were one-sided. Far from being
disposed “ to make the happiness he could not find,” the ten¬
dency of his mind,—in consequence, perhaps, of a constitu¬
tional melancholy,—was rather to unmake and neutralise the
elements of comfort by which human life, in the average, is
surrounded. Had he devoted himself in earnest to fictiti¬
ous composition, he wrould have lent his eloquence and
power of forcible statement, to shape the world of romance
according to the gloomy fashion which the reality presented
to his eye ; and in an inky coat, indeed, or a drab-coloured
suit at best, very unlike the peach-blossom of his friend
Goldsmith, he would in all probability have arrayed it.
Horace About 1769? we witness the revival, though in a new
Walpole, shape, of the old taste for Romance. The delineation of life
as it actually existed, was found to afford too little scope
to minds who aspired after the imaginative and poetical, and
who could not see why natural delineation of character and
manners might not be combined • with striking events, and
with the picture of the higher passions; why, as Walpole
expresses it, in his preface to the Castle of Otranto, “ the
fancy might not be left to expatiate through the boundless
realms of invention, and thence to create more interesting
situations, while the mortal agents in the drama still con¬
ducted themselves according to the rules of probability.”
In the first shape, however, in which romance reappeared,
after this temporary slumber, the delineation of character
occupied, it must be owned, but a very subordinate place.
A little more attention was given to verisimilitude of man¬
ners, and much was done to abbreviate the tedious style of
the old prose romance, and to throw life and movement in¬
to the narrative by dialogue, and by the omission of unim¬
portant incidents not bearing on the catastrophe ; but the
main efforts of our first modern romance writers were di¬
rected chiefly to the excitement of that feeling of love of the
marvellous which exists move or less in every human breast.
They chose for their favourite themes the varieties of the
supernatural.
“ Somnia, terrores magicos, miraculs, sagas,
Nocturnos lemures portentaque.”
We admit that the author of the Castle of Otranto did not trust
exclusively to such materials of interest. But granting that
the general outlines of “ his feudal tyrant, his distressed
damsels, his resigned yet dignified churchman,” are suffi-
l N C E.
ciently correct, we are at a loss to perceive in any of his Rom«
characters that individuality which gives to such pictures
their chief value. To us they seem light, sketchy, and some¬
what vague, although we think it quite possible that the effect
produced by greater truth and distinctness of feature in the
mortal agents of the piece, might not have harmonised with
the extravagant demands upon the imagination w'hich the au¬
thor makes by his supernatural machinery. We agree with
Sir Walter Scott, in thinking Walpole acted with judgment
in leaving his machinery without those attempts at expla¬
nation introduced by Mrs. Radcliffe, always inadequate, and
even throwing an air of ridicule over the mysteries of the
piece upon a second perusal. But we cannot concur with
him in his toleration of the extent to which Walpole has
carried the marvels and improbabilities of his romance.
The apparition of Alfonso in the moonlight, dilated to a
gigantic form, is impressive, and in certain moods of the
mind even the skeleton ghost in the hermit’s cowl may
have its terrors. But Clara Reeve was certainly right
in the protest which she enters in her preface against the
introduction of such machinery as that of a sword so large as
to require a hundred men to lift it; a helmet that, by its own
weight, forces a passage through a court yard into an arched
vault, and crushes a boy to death ; or a picture walking out
of its frame. The effect of such violent instruments of terror
is suicidal; they destroy the very feeling they were intend¬
ed to create, and give to the romance the air of a nursery
tale. I ndeed, were it not for the singular charm of the style,
which, like all Walpole’s compositions, is of the purest and
most idiomatic English, and terse and condensed in a very
high degree, we feel persuaded that the Castle of Otranto,
although the first specimen of the modern romance, would at
the present day find few admirers.
In some respects, then, we think the Old English Baron ciara
of Clara Reeve was an improvement on the Castle of Otranto. Reeve.
For there the marvellous was brought within some limit of
proportion; “ the extravagant and erring spirit hied to his
confine,” and, consequently, so far as regarded the creation
of an impression of superstitious terror, or giving an air of
probability and keeping to her narrative, we must admit,
that her ghost of Lord Lovel, who is always exhibited under
the obscurity of a dim religiouslight, did, in our youthful days,
produce upon us a certain species of awe. In other respects,
we rather fear the apprehension which is expressed in her
preface, namely, that in avoiding the defects of Walpole, the
spirit of his wild composition might evaporate, was not al¬
together without foundation. The style of the narrative in
her hands became heavy, often dry and vulgar, like the
ancient chronicle she professes to follow'; her dialogue
is peculiarly flat and cumbrous, and the plot deformed, and
rendered tedious by trifling incidents which now appear
to us needlessly homely ; and yet the strong interest with
which, as we can state from experience, this romance is
perused at an early age, is a proof that in the cardinal point
of exciting curiosity, and a feeling of mysterious interest, the
ruder narrative of Clara Reeve effects, in a great measure,
what all the liveliness of style, the deeper antiquarian read¬
ing, and more creative fancy of Walpole, failed to attain. ^
But this species of romance writing was probably carried - ^ i'
to its perfection by Mrs. Radcliffe (1764-1823), who, in herc
own walk of fiction, has never been excelled, though opi¬
nions may differ as to the comparative rank which she hoi s
among w'riters of fiction, and also as to the soundness of that
principle of composition which led her systematically to un¬
ravel her own spells, and to attempt an explanation by na¬
tural means, of effects which we had at first been en^ou^’
aged to refer to the agency of supernatural causes. . Indee ,
we might rather say, that, in regard to this last point, there
is no room for doubt, and that this system of explanations
is exposed to every possible objection;—as totally inadequa e
in general, to account for the effects ascribed to it; as run
ROMANCE.
Horn
QA o
•J ‘r t)
~ SoTthe h“ .t0sot,,e,lkey 1 th,e Supcmatt,ral> b>- «* l0"8 »f p—
reader, who feefi oftended at the Xught^t& k- “ids ntht an^iwl Z? °f fZ’t'" ^ ^
pended so ntueh anxiety and terror on a mere o painted things S U feZto eon^tf “t0
devil, and a succession of mockeries ; and is consequently T template,
annoyed at this common-place anticlimax, after his nerves rZf on® thatron a lonesome road
have been tuned for grand wonders, instead of the dis- S^'SgZrCo^Totd waits „„
covery of paltry images of wax-work. Indeed, it is one And turns no more his head -
of the strongest proofs of the redeeming genius which Mrs. Because he knows a frightful fiend
Radcliffe has thrown into her tales, constructed, as they Both close behind him tread,
are, upon so unsatisfactory a plan, that they bear a second And perhaps the strongest proof of her iudement is to Hp
perusal at all; or that having discovered in one or two found in the economy and reserve with ihiSh she emnlovs
cases the inadequate and puerile nature of what appear- the talisman of terror. In her hands slight circumstances
ed at first so appalling and formidable, we still feel eager and half hints are made to produce all the effect of fearful
for the solution of the remaining mysteries, and can hardly witcheries or scenes of bloodshed and horror. The dun-
persuade ourselves but that something strange and fearful of a distant door, a footfall or a track of blood upon a stair-
does lurk, after all, within her deserted rhamhera anrl rasp, a ctrain    _ r x.
does lurk, after all, within her deserted chambers, and be
neath her faded tapestry.
It is the more to be regretted that Mrs. Radcliffe adopted
this piinciple, because all the excellencies of her peculiar
genius might have been displayed with equal effect, if she
had chosen a more satisfactory plan of composition. Why
case, a strain of music floating over a forest, a figure pacing
a platform in silence, some wandering voice following us,
4 with airy tongue that syllables men’s names,” through the
passages of a decaying chateau, the heaving of the tapestry
of a bed in some deserted chamber, nay, at last a very rat
behind the arras, become invested with a mysterious dig-
-- -j ttiij 01105, ueuuiue invested witli a mvs
she should have hesitated to admit of an actual spiritual nity, and work upon the imagination like spells. The dis-
agency, it is difficult to discover. Fear, when its object is appearance of Ludovico, for instance, in the haunted apart-
something corporeal, is no doubt the basest and vulgarest of ment of Chateau Le Blanc, where he had undertaken to
feelings. But when its source lies in the invisible, and when watch, prepared as it is by a train of little details which ?ct
we shnnk at the thoughts of the visionary and the eternal, upon the nerves, and by the masterly ghost story of Bevi/s
onPtbe°n char*cter of subhmity. Standing, as we do, oj Lancaster, which he is represented as perusing, may be
cannot f V Ctf ^ whlch WS believe but Safely Pointed out as a C0UP de in the art of raising
, f, ’ tbe winch prompts us to a communion to its highest pitch, the feeling of curiosity and suspense
ith he world of spirits, and yet makes us shrink and Whether Mrs. Radcliffe possessed muchpower of pffint-
minds and not thpn t0 extentJn a11 character seems doubtful; it is at least certain she has
HHsp p-f Sr eaSt .m the most her0IC’ as to afford a shown but little. In such calculations of probability, we can
effect so ^toiusSv jheTff S" ^ ° f7 USe Sebastian’s 'vords._“ What had been is unknown,
/ t] arti’d oseofthe supernatural. We what appears.” She seems indeed to have borrowed a
whil fU Ut- f°r e^ry depends on the skill with lunt from Bayes, which like many other remarks of that wor-
which such machinery is used, the address of the prepara- thy, have more good sense in them than was perhaps aDoi
barkp-rf ^ Wltb cb the accessories and the rent to the noble parodist, and purposely to have “underwit
X ^ r0/^the SlighteSit Scympt°m t°me partS ln °rder t0 Set °ff the -st - other ford^he
assembled ripnilp Amphiaraus appears before the has systematically kept the delineation of her characters sub-
Smln or thli of f banns between Eriphyle and ordinate to her main object, the maintenance of a mysteri-
Alcmaeon, or that^of IN mus emerges in broad day from the ous curiosity^ which never is, but always is to be -ratified
in rirlin f S Semramis? Who does not,—at least Her tales, indeed, would have probably gained little bv
when in Ihfd PIa>T57"ei;Penefce a Phasing thrill of fear, greater discrimination in this respect, if in truth the species
inoebeffind1^nd>th^»>hplPthCeml)erElgn*, Wit,\the ^ ^ ?rmt^ Produced by the natural would not have rather
buried }w,m L f b hen, beatin«, one> the majesty of interfered with that arising from the marvellous. For her
form of FIs’ " Wlth 8Pectral stalk along the plat- object, it was sufficient that as the representatives of classes,
ittemntE V ^-e Srant there has been few successful rather than individuals, her personages should be sketched
?S uDonmS„Z8 10 Z Upthe interfi.of a story sl»ritedl>’ but lightly; that* the Stfaight-Cd herZ ia
"ar from t inktat fl f 7 a'’0wed ^ suPernatural, but we are white satin, should be duly supported by the gossiping wait-
n our dflvsnffl? tht !aCh ?n attemPt might not, even yet, mg woman in white muslin, and that the bandit chief of
is to movethenuPpfnfT’ ^ by a1man of Senius’ 80 tbe Appenines, the hired robber, the scowling monk, or the
S Bufbe^d^thp aphiAl f rldr Td C°mp,ete SUf ef chattering peasant should wear with a natural air the out-
nanv enuiffllt fieId of the suPe™atural, there are ward and conventional badges of their calling. The near-
lebateable land where mind !T Th ym^ ^ ^ aPProach she has made t0 character, is in her Schidoni,
•mens and nrelmtafen r d f body.rae^ such as dreams, whose outward appearance is most picturesquely and impress-
lie mind b an exited J f ^ 1adnUt °f refeiTed by !Dgly described> whiIe the inscrutable mystery which at first
vhich may be Lffioved Ihh suP^rnatural causes> an^ hangs over the inward man, the dark hints which are drop-
iction, without dm p effe-t by Writers °f ped concerning him by others, and the gradual revelation
mowledge of the hiumn 1 p t ] creatlve. genius and of his designs in his conversations with the Marchioness,
ent thesheeteddPaTbPffP hlCVreue(iUired t0 ?re' Powerfully stimulate our interest, and make us follow all
ated to impress -m l d lape and gaib ten’or ealeu- his actions with an instinctive feeling of alarm. The mis-
lap* ici All i and awe the imagination. And such, in fortune is that even in this, the most finished of her por
act, is thp dilniod • . •Tl bucu, in lonune is tnat even in tins, the most finished of her por-
allv presented hv apC miVViUcn tne suPe™atura^ is gene- traits, the Schidoni of the second is really not the Schidoni
J iJ‘csenteu dv our modern rnmnnno .
  rrnmn LUC SUpCMJUlU
y presented by our modern romance writers,
brom all these sources of emotion, Mrs. Radcliffe has un
of the first portion of the tale. When “ the father softens,’1
? ortunateta lias lin' kbe confessor unfortunately can no longer “ remain fixed
Ion founded on naturaf1'^' Y leJ’systena of sufficient rea- when he ceases to be the mere evil spirit of the romance,
■’hat a mapfpal nn .C , lIses‘ 4nd -7et. ^ 18 wonderful puts on the look even of a guilty humanity, and turns out
inch she restricts'wilf e^rCISeS 'Vlthin the field to t0 ke simply “ a bold bad man,” he loses his identity, and
nderstood hpttpr d>« - r °n? ev^r 8eems t0 kave Vllti1 that ins influence over the imagination.
ai o preparation, the attunement of Mrs. Radcliffe may claim the merit of being the first to-
344
ROMANCE.
Romance, introduce landscape painting into her romances as a com-
ponent part of the interest of the piece. The frequency of her
pictures of external scenery, and their want of distinctness
and local truth, have indeed been blamed by many who would
willingly, on PufPs principle, have abridged her descriptions
of the rising sun, and dispensed with a great deal about gild¬
ing the eastern hemisphere. But it is certain that these des¬
criptions, though occasionally tedious, and sometimes too ob¬
viously brought forward upon a principle of melo-dramatic
contrast, have a powerful effect in heightening the impression
communicated by the incidents or the sentiments. Set off
against the calm beauty of a summer evening, or the magni¬
ficent gloom of a thunder storm, her pastoral or banditti
groupes stand out with double effect; while to the charge
of vagueness of description, it may be answered, that Mrs.
Radcliffe is by no means vague, where distinctness of imagery
is, or ought to be her object; as any one may satisfy himself
who recalls to his recollection her description of the lonely
house by the Mediterranean, with the scudding clouds, the
screaming sea-birds, and the stormy sea, the scene selected
for the murder of Ellena ;—or another picture, in the best
manner of Salvator, of the first glimpse of the Castle of Udol-
pho rising over a mountain pass, with the slant sunbeam light¬
ing up its ancient wreather-beaten towers. Indeed, the whole
description ofthat Appenine fastness, both without and with¬
in, is in the best style, not of literal indeed, but of imagin¬
ative painting—“ fate sits on those dark battlements and
frownsthe very intricacy of its internal architecture,
and its endless passages,—a mighty maze, and we fear with¬
out a plan,—only serve to deepen the impression of impri¬
sonment and bewilderment and gloom.
Less, certainly, is to be said for those descriptions in
verse with which her novels are rather profusely interspersed,
and which are, of course, represented as emanating from
some of the personages of her stories. Without denying
the merit of some of her occasional verses, it is certain that
she always shews more of the spirit of poetry in her prose.
Indeed, independently of the mediocrity of many of these
effusions, they often assume a ludicrous air from their con¬
trast with the circumstances under which they are produc¬
ed. Under all situations of alarm and anxiety, in the se¬
clusion of convents, and in the castles of Condottieri,
where drunken ruffians are brawling M along the corridor,”
paper, pencils, and poetical enthusiasm are never wanting
to her heroines, and the sun is seldom suffered to rise or
set without a tribute to his beams. Indeed, it is even ob¬
servable that the poetical sensibilities of her heroines gene¬
rally become more lively after any domestic calamity, such
as the demise of a parent; as Beau Clincher’s exuberance of
spirits was accounted for by the fact, that he was in mourn¬
ing for his father.
For a particular notice of the individual works of Mrs. Rad¬
cliffe, we refer to our biographical article on that subject.
Two of them are now wholly and deservedly forgotten.
Neither the Castles of Aihlin and Dunbayne, nor the Si¬
cilian Romance, crowded with violent yet ineffective inci¬
dents, gave any indication of that ability which she after¬
wards displayed. Of her remaining fictions, it may be said
in a word, that the Romance of the Forest, founded on a
French cause celebre, has the fewest faults ; that the Ita¬
lian, though extremely unequal, and in the third volume a
comparative failure, contains the most striking and dramatic
scenes; but that the Mysteries of Udolpho is on the whole,
and justly, considered the best.
To be fully enjoyed, the Romances of Mrs. Radcliffe must
be perused in youth. In after age, they appear too uni¬
formly visionary, and the straight-laced stiffness of her he¬
roines, who never manifest the least warmth except in poetry,
“ female punctuation not permitting them to do more,” as
Mrs.Malaprop observes, suggests the recollection of the pru¬
deries of the pastoral and heroic romance. But when these
tales are read in youth, and only remembered in manhood
in their better portions, they leave upon the memory a pleas- ^
ing impression of a varied pageant of gloomy castles and
caves, moon-illumined streets and palaces, “dance and Pro¬
vencal song and vintage mirth,” aerial music floating over
haunted forests, or the chant of monk or nun borne to the
ear over the waters of some Italian lake, amidst the still¬
ness and the shadows of evening.
We have devoted a larger space to Mrs. Radcliffe than
some may think justly due to the rank in fiction which she
occupies, but we have done so,—first, because we think justice
has seldom been done to the real genius which she threw
into the style of fiction she chose to adopt, whatever may
be its precise order of precedence in the calendar of fiction;
and, secondly, because, although that style became more uni¬
versally popular, and more generally imitated than any which
had preceded it, she herself, with two exceptions only, which
we shall notice, remains the solitary writer of genius by
whom it has been adorned. The truth is, that the sarcasms
which have been directed against the puerile horrors of Mrs.
Radcliffe ought justly to have been confined to the extra¬
vagances of her successors, who imitated her manner with¬
out either her imagination or her judgment, and conceived
that the surest means of producing effect consisted in press¬
ing the springs of the terrible as far as they w ould go. In the
hands of these, “imitated imitators,” the castles became
twice as large and ten times as perplexing in their architec¬
ture ; the heroine could not open an empty drawer without
stumbling on a mysterious manuscript written by her father
or mother; nor leave her room to take a twilight walk, of
which heroines are always strangely fond, wuthout stumbling
on a nest of banditti; the gleam of daggers grew more inces¬
sant; the faces of the monks longer and more cadaverous, and
the visits of ghosts so common-place, that they came at last
to be viewed with the same indifference by the reader, as they
were of old by honest Aubrey, or less honest Dr. Dee.
One word may be said in favour of the Romances of Mrs.
Radcliffe and her school, addressed to those who think that
every romance should embody the moral conveyed in the
concluding couplet of the Mourning Bride. Their general
tendency is moral, poetical justice is in most cases rigidly en¬
forced, and crime punished, and virtue rewarded by some un¬
expected good fortune, even on this earth. “ All this,” says
Mr.Dunlop, “may be very absurd, but life, perhaps, has few
better things than sitting at the chimney corner in a winter
evening, after a well-spent day, and reading such absurdities.’
The two exceptions from the general dullness and com¬
mon place of the imitators of Mrs. Radcliffe, are The Monk
of M. G. Lewis, which appeared in 1796, and The Montorio^u
of Maturin, published in 1807, and among the last romances
written on that now antiquated plan. Much injustice, we
believe, was done to Lewis at the time. A single unfor¬
tunate remark of an irreligious tendency, and some descrip¬
tions of undue warmth, pardonable in a youth of twenty,
and retrenched in the second edition, gave a blow to the
popularity of this romance from which it never recovered.
And yet the traces of considerable genius are visible btrth
in its plan and in the execution of several of its powerfu
scenes. The mere hint of the story, that is to say, the genera
idea of the gradual corruption of a proud, and enthusiastic,
and self-relying nature, was taken, as Lewis acknowledged,
from that of the Santon Barsisa in the Guardian; the inci¬
dent of the escape of the baroness from the banditti, was an
expansion, executed with much skill, of the scene in t e
hut in Count Fathom ; for the story of the bleeding nun,
he was indebted to a German legend, while he has borrowe
several hints for his wandering Jew7 from the incomprehen
sible Armenian of Schiller. But to these hackneyed matei la s
he has given a force and look of novelty that are surprising,
the escape, the conjuration scene, where the Jew, withdraw
ing the black ribband, unveils the burning cross on ns
ROMANCE.
345
i !e. forehead; the procession of St. Clare bv torch-light, where Williams annprnwl ir,
^ the abbess is torn to pieces, once read are no't easily for! stimulTofXmarv^ln!?!11! ^t^owing aside the Romance,
gotten. Lewis also avoided Mrs. Radcliffe’s error; his tale entirdv to Tnir! r" ’f ! S ?\effeCt ofhis
ghosts are real, and his devil genuine, though, as is not un- two beings of very opposite m Je^who ! •'‘d!' ^ ^
common, we believe, m practice, he takes the form of a species of fatal inst inct int h turfs’who a^e. driven, by a
woman, instead of appearing, as Defoe has it, « in all his
ilatui
-K il
fj
11
(
I
formalities and frightfuls.”
The Montorio of Maturin was also a boyish production,
which the writer affected at a more advanced period of life
to despise. Yet it appears to us to exhibit more genius,
mingled, no doubt, with a deep vein of extravagance and false
c . , j „ V in me jl oiaicai justice
futmshed avowedly the primary source of the inspiration
of Caleb Williams, intended, to use the words of the pre¬
face, “to furnish a general review of the modes of domes¬
tic and unrecorded despotism, by which man becomes the
destroyer of man that is to say, to shew that, under the
taste, than his more elaborate attempts to picture real man- maladministration’of English law liable"to be no?61 fd
against the brother, who had deceit him, ^^o^Zi trt'fwh^
wI?m lle *<> pwricide, by not even advocated with much art or XsitSL to U e
Sprite —R: txtmt . c
_ , # ' X o w 1 IL/H-tCTj IcJ V
working on their visionary fears and by the doctrines of fatal¬
ism ; and then, when the deed is done, discovering that the
victims whom he had reasoned and persecuted into crime
were his own children. And though Maturin’s machinery in
no respect differs from that of his brethren, though he labours
series of persecutions to which Williams is exposed. For¬
tunately, however, for the real merit and permanent po¬
pularity of this singular work, the political design soon
merges in a higher and more legitimate interest. The
genius of the author kindles as he proceeds, and out of a
I
toexplain away in thecloseall that had appearedsupematural bard and republican background'bringffortrtbrh
m the beginning, and of course with total want of success, yet and chivalrous vision of thl i!. ,h ^nght
rrSIct™ v'olumSweVeliefe6^ ttrnt’ bk. iT* "“ffiT ^-^timSlr’and^
ly Review for 1810. “ We have strolled ” savs ho hi o livn r i'1111!6 atC ’ t le escaPe from pnson m the grey dawn
ly introduction, “through a variety of^asttag each'of which
noov Ll TO .1! 1 Jl a . 1 IT ^
ly introduction,
was regulaily called li Gastello ; met with many captains
of condottieri; heard various ejaculations of Santa Maria and
Uiabolo; read, by a decaying lamp, and in a tapestried cham
ber, dozens of legends as stupid as the main history; ex¬
amined such suites of deserted apartments as might set up
hear his secret disclosed to the world, and to suffer the
agony of knowing that life and reputation are about to leave
him together.
In none of his other works did Godwin evince the same st T.pnn
grandeur of conception, and in none of his subsequent per-
loore.
“ IXoStwcf ifSjS “fXedpSeCt- S f X
tirlp nnd k r*i object of the present ar- are, actual objects of terror, like a serpent in the oath Thf*
composed, we found^urseReruLs^all^invoRe^iM1 the Ehan tharofCa/er^ti'rithas08611161' ]subdued
XTratr ”no common degree °f s hTTith r
- " y e aumor- Here, too, the author has imperfectly succeeded in working
out the design which he announces he had in view; name^
x , — COCCGl W Ibll
respect for the powers of the author.
Of the Zelucco of Dr. Moore, which appeared about 1785
we have already spoken at somelenth irfmirTV W \ T1 u C dfign .which he announees he had in view; name-
article. 7 P gth m °Ur Bl°graPhlcal that of proving that the happiness of mankind would not
have been augmented by the gifts of immortal youth and
inexhaustible riches; for, in order to illustrate his position,
maxim and nr™;™ 7”™ ^ Godwin is under the necessity of laying the scene in a rp-
XficXntowaTa;. Tme7fbry ?? ^ ““ P«S^™S <#St. Leon ariscfmn,
w. . c 10.n Aw ards the close of the feelings of superstitious credulity, which we cannot help re-
The influence of such works as Goethe’s Sorrows of Wer-
mer, written seemingly with the view of reversing Pope’r
maxim, nnrl   • - “ 1
eighteenth century For in truth 3h *7 i f u ,,mgS ot suPerstitious credulity, which we cannot help re-
fhert
ige..
^win.
a? ^^'ftive form, were found highly congenial to ed,
at spint of restlesness and discontent with political institu- pre
,7J i WaS eVf 7 Where abroad’ Perplexing nations with
ihe senior wrangler, who asked what Paradise Lost
proved, would certainly therefore have been dissatisfied with
fear of changeTand UiTmenf natl°nS ^ Godwin’s ^demonstration; but as the vehicle of a series of
paradoxes in the shape of narrative mid to emnlmfttf “T1 m°St tou?binS and impressive scenes, his plot is farfrom defi-
quence in attacking those principles of soHpi ^ a ?’ C1u1 m !nterest’ nor’ granting its premises, in probability,
nake men happy, or which keep them so t0 “ H?w “ini!te’” sa>'s an eloquent critic, “ how pathetic, how
appears sufficiently obvious in the novels of TW 1 d^n.C-y tragical 1S thf detai1 of the gradual ruin which falls on this
n religion, and a latitudinarhn in ™ i, g > a sceptic weak devoted man, up to its heart-breaking consummation in
heories, we think, might have been allowed tn •! 1086 .Cr.lide tbe deatb of ^e noble Marguerite de Damville ; how tre-
iblivion to which thev had been eons' l ° * vL°Se ^tbat mendous and perfect is the desolation, after voluntarily leav-
•evived in such a work t theXS!/’/? °Ut tT-S HiS ?aUghterS’ and Cutting the ,ast thread wLicl/binds
ntrodiieiinn of „n   i • . , . vary. Then him to his kind! How complete is the description of his
escape from the procession of the auto da fe; of his en¬
trance into the Jew’s house, his fears, his decaying strength,
just serving to make up the life-restoring elixir, the dying
taper, the insensibility, the resurrection to new life, and
nn-ou xiuvtusis i^ioraru. Their
isied TV1 a?int° a WOrk intended to embody only the
ingularitv!?8 °f f6™8 unacc°nntable ; nor is the
woL by the faCt that his best ™^Herms-
»crif„e rSpuWMed B°*’ “ 0mitted’ Whi'e three °f infaior
But the sociafand" political thpnr.-p« of fiw, c ,, t}le day-fpring of his young manhood! How shall we speak
n abler exponent in Pori • u n ‘e ^ound °f the old man, the bequeather of the fatal legacy to St
vm..XIX p0neat m Godw“’ Bh05e work, Caleb Leon, md his fearful wohs: ‘Friendless, friendless ! ionj,'
2 x
346
ROMANCE.
Romance, alone!’ Alas! how terrible to imagine a being in posses-
<**~Y^*' sion of such endowments, who could bring himself to think
of death!—able to turn back upon his path and meet
immortal youth, to see again the morning of his day, and
find, in renewed life and beauty, a disguise impenetrable
to his former enemies; yet, in the sadness of his expe¬
rience, so dreading the mistakes and persecutions of his
fellow-men, as to choose rather to lie down with the worm
and seek oblivion in the seats of rottenness and corruption.”
Fleetwood. None of Godwin’s other tales have been popular. “ His
Mandeville. man of feeling feels but for himself;” and, indeed, the cha-
Cloudesley. racter is in some points so unintelligible, and in others so
odious, that notwithstanding many beauties of detail, we
cannot wonder at the unpopularity of Fleetwood. The
same sort of objections apply to the insane vindictiveness
of Mandeville. Cloudeslei/, the child of Godwin’s old age,
is only remarkable for the gentle beauty of the style,
and the contrast which the calmness of the story (turn¬
ing, like Caleb Williams, on the discovery of a murder,)
presents to the rapidity and sullen energy of his first pro¬
duction.
Brown. No writer has come so near the manner of Godwin as
Charles Brockden Brown, an American novelist, an imita¬
tor of the English author, but in a free and noble spirit of
imitation. He certainly had not Godwin’s power of men¬
tal analysis, and not much of that pathetic tenderness which,
contrasted with the general sternness of his tone, shews like
a rainbow against a troubled sky. He was altogether more pro¬
saic; dealing, indeed, rather with the material than the moral
sublime ; producing his strong effects by scenes of sickness,
danger, death, or the explosions of insanity; and often
making his characters mere phantasmata, which interest us
only as the means by which a series of agitating incidents
are brought into connexion. But he had a good deal of the
which is really complicated with strong and varied passions, Roma*
which turns on the fate and fortunes of persons placed in
very peculiar relations to each other, and like Shakspeare’sMrs, h
Winter’s Tale, unites two distinct stories relating to differ-^' |
ent personages, between the action of which “ time has slid ll:
o’er sixteen years ;” for the Perdita of Mrs. Inchbald’s se- °ry'
cond part is the daughter of that Lady Elmwood, for whose
misfortunes and indiscretions our sympathies had been en¬
gaged in the first, and who, almost in a sentence, is suddenly
consigned to guilt, and to the grave. Dorriforth only re¬
mains the connecting link between the two portions of the
tale. It is a proof of considerable merit in the novel, that
so hazardous an experiment as that of transferring our sym¬
pathies to actors in a great measure new to the scene, has
not been unsuccessful; that the interest is, notwithstanding,
kept up, partly by the real pathos of some of the scenes, and
the natural traits of passion in others, such as that where
Lord Elmwood, receiving his deserted daughter as she falls
into his arms, calls her by the maiden name of her guilty
mother, as if all that passed since those days of innocence
had faded from his mind like a dream ; and partly by the
dramatic nature of the situations which, though sometimes
violent, are generally picturesque and agitating, and the
movement of the dialogue, which every where shows the
skill of a practical writer for the stage. Her second novel,
entitled Nature and Art, has been generally and justly
reckoned much inferior to the Simple Story.
Charlotte Smith, (1749—1806) though her novels are ex-Charlott*
tremely defective in plot, betraying marks of haste, and tin-Smith.
ged with a melancholy easily to be accounted for from the
depressing circumstances under which they were generally
composed, cannot be confounded with the ordinary day-la¬
bourers for the circulating library, “ who turn a Persian tale
for half a crown.” Sir Walter Scott, in one of those kindly
notices by which he delighted to cheer the heart of strug-
Mrs.
ley.
same eloquence, and the same dark and mysterious power of , v
imagination ; a certain intensity of portraiture, whether ot gling genius, or to do justice to the memory of talents which
mental emotion or things external; great skill in working time was consigning somewhat too rapidly to oblivion, has
up a chain of singular events that keep curiosity and sus- 1 c rv”'’Q'1"Ty'
pense upon the stretch, or impress us with a sense of dan¬
ger and anxiety, and of which he loves to furnish an ex¬
planation from those phenomena in our nature which are
little understood, such as somnambulism, trances, spontane¬
ous combustion, or ventriloquism. In these respects Wie-
land, Ormond, Edgar Huntly, and Arthur Mervyn have all
nearly the same character, nor do they differ materially in
point of merit. Brown has singular powrer in the delinea¬
tion of solitude of all kinds, whether the silence of lonely
forests, broken only by the howl of panthers, or of deserted
mansions dropping to decay. There is one picture of this
kind in Arthur Mervyn, of an. empty house, evacuated dur¬
ing the yellow fever in Philadelphia, silent and dark in the
day time, with the sunshine streaming in through the closed
doors and shutters, and faintly discovering that every thing
remained undisturbed since its desertion, which produces a
strong feeling of awe, and oppresses the spirits with an un¬
accountable sadness.
Shel- No other novelist of any ability can be said to have adopt¬
ed the manner of Godwin with success, except his accom¬
plished daughter, the authoress of Frankenstein, a produc¬
tion of much originality in its conception, though the exe¬
cution of the work is unequal, and the whole portion which
relates to the self-education of the monster, who is the crea¬
tion of the new Prometheus, almost ludicrously improbable.
Several female novelists, towards the close of the eigh¬
teenth century, deserve notice, whose tales, though now
little read, have the merit either of pathetic or humorous
delineation. In the first of these classes are Mrs. Inchbald
and Charlotte Smith ; in the latter Madame D’Arblay, or to
use the name by which she was best known, Miss Burney.
The fame of Mrs. Inchbald rests upon her Simple Story.
The title perhaps is but of doubtful application to a novel,
given her credit for great powers of satire mixed with pathos,
and characters sketched with “ firmness of pencil and live¬
liness of colouring.” The satire indeed seems to have been
prettv indiscriminate, since it extends to her own husband,
whose pecuniary improvidence and sanguine temperament
are glanced at in the character of the projector, who hoped to
make a fortune by manuring his estate with old wigs. But
apart from satire, the Old Manor House, the only one of Oil -'I®
her novels with which we are acquainted, is really entitled House,
to the character of an interesting and well-written tale. We
have a lively recollection of the Manor House itself, its
neighbourhood, its sea-side scenes, the strange domineering
Lady of the Manor, Mrs. Rayland, whom Sir Walter Scott
describes as a sort of Queen Elizabeth in private life, and
the natural interest which she has succeeded in giving to the
love story w hich is going on within the ancient walls.
The popularity once enjoyed by the novels of Miss Miss
Burney, appears now to have been somewhat overrated, at11^'
least we are at a loss to discover any thing in her first work,
Evelina, except the extreme youth of the writer, then only
eighteen, to account for that burst of approbation with which
it appears to have been received in 1778 by such men as
Burke, Reynolds, and Johnson. She wrote no doubt with
sprightliness, with some humour of a broad and superficial
kind, and undoubtedly possessed considerable talent in draw¬
ing bores and personages of low manners or odd habits from
vulgar middle life ; in imagining scenes of awkward mis¬
takes in society, and exaggerating the teasing distresse
thence arising to her heroines and other personages of more
refined manners or higher pretensions. Indeed, to mimic ry
she appears, from her father’s account, to have had a strong
leaning from her childhood ; but when she rises from mere
manners and habits to paint feelings, we see little but m
cision on one hand, or exaggeration on the other, vvi
ROMANCE.
Miss
Lee.
Miss
Romi :e. in the field where she excels too, she is much of a manner-
ist; the same characters under other names, the same in¬
cidents under a thin disguise, re-appear in Evelina, Cecilia,
and Camilla. Even the graces of style which she had
shewn in her earlier works, in a great measure forsook her
in her last novel, the Wanderer; a tissue of improbable dis¬
tresses and silly refinements of sensibility, conveyed in lan¬
guage which is neither good English nor good sense.
The Canterbury Tales deserve notice on account of the
interesting and highly original story of Kruitzner, or the
German’s Tale, by Harriet Lee, on which Lord Byron
founded his Werner. The tales contributed to the work by
her sister Sophia, such as the Two Emilys, and the Cler¬
gyman’s Tale, though less striking, are written with ge¬
nuine feeling and tenderness.
It may be observed, however, in those female novelists to
whom we have last adverted that, though the marvellous is
thrown aside, and the characters are taken from common life,
the sentiments and tone of feeling are yet decidedly strained
beyond the natural pitch. The characters display a degree
of romantic affection and aprodigal expenditure of sensibility
for which the cares and distractions of real life, we fear, af¬
ford but little leisure. It remained for Miss Austin (1775-
1817,) to shew what a charm might be imparted to truthful
pictures of life, as we really see it around us in the quiet
monotony of domestic arrangements, with its interchanges
of poetry and prose, business and strong feeling, and dia¬
logues at balls and parties alternating with the secret griefs
of the heart; just such a picture, in short, as Asmodeus would
present, could he remove the roof of many an English home,
and place us beside the hearths of the Knightleys, Bennets,
Woodhouses, and Bertrams by whom they are inhabit¬
ed. No species of novel writing exposes itself to a severer
trial, since it not only resigns all Bayes’ pretensions “ to ele¬
vate the imagination and bring you off in some extraor¬
dinary way,” but by professing to give us pictures of our
ordinary acquaintances, in their common garb, places its
productions within that range of criticism, where all are
equally judges, and where Crispin is entitled to dictate to
Apelles. And yet with such fine perception and perfect
truth of keeping has Miss Austin performed her task, that
we never miss in her novels the excitement of uncommon
events, and rarely feel her simple annals of English life to be
tedious or unworthy of the dignity of fiction. In reading
them, we have the feeling of being actually in company with
a group of highly respectable persons, of no remarkable abi¬
lity, though with good sense and a fair proportion of right
feeling; with a sprinkling of fools, oddities, and village gos¬
sips ; and the conversation, the little incidents, and displays
of temper, and sallies of good humour or bad, and small plot¬
tings and counter-plottings among the guests, are exactly
such as any contemplative Jaquez who should establish him¬
self in an English country house or rectory for a fortnight,
and watch the bye play of the society about him, might set
down in his note book; only skilfully selected and arranged,
the superfluities lopped off, the dullness thrown into the
background, and the whole wrought up into a picture,
painted indeed in sober hues, but with unequalled delicacy of
touch, and an all-pervading harmony.
All the novels of Miss Austin closely resemble each other;
but Northanger Abbey, and Sense and Sensibility, are of a
more puerile cast than the others, and betray a more un¬
formed taste. Pride and Prejudice, particularly in the
characters of the Bennets, wras an improvement on the two for¬
mer, but Emma, Mansfield Park, and Persuasion are justly
regarded as her most finished works. Some scenes in Per¬
suasion, the last work of this gifted authoress, have always
appeared to us models of unobtrusive tenderness.
Some one has described the novels of Miss Edgewrorth as
a sort of essence of common sense; and the definition is not
inappropriate, for she is the most anti-sentimental of no-
347
iss Eds
Tth.
velists. The sway of the stronger passions she has almost Romance,
excluded from her Tales. Love is indeed the only one
which has found entrance, and to qualify him for admission,
his wings have been sorely clipped and trimmed, and rea¬
son constantly placed as a gentleman usher over him. Miss
Edgeworth has even less toleration for splendid faults or
bursts of enthusiasm than Miss Austin. Her chief aim is to
rebuke folly, by ridicule and comic humour; to unteach bad
habits of mind, to substitute in their stead prudence, firmness,
temper, perseverance, and habits of absolute truth, a process
which she generally represents as effected by a gradual series
of efforts and consequent ameliorations, which are within the
power of all minds of ordinary resolution. Her favourite cha¬
racters are either persons of well-balanced minds, with sound
heads and a smattering of physical science, who act rightly and
honourably, but always think twice before they act, and weigh
in the scales ofutility what are generally considered as matters
of feeling, like thePercys: or they are personages who, spoil¬
ed by indolence and bad education, succeed by a course of
self-discipline, in curing their intellectual or moral maladies,
and becoming useful and honourable members of society,
like the hero of Ennui, Lord Glenthorn. Miss Edgeworth
brings to her task the results of much observation of char¬
acter, particularly that of her countrymen ; a quick per¬
ception of the humourous, a dramatic liveliness of dialogue,
a high sense of all that is honourable and decorous, with a
scorn of meanness and evasion, and that tone of good so¬
ciety, which her pictures, often drawn from fashionable life,
demand. If her novels are at times too obviously monitory
and didactic, and the ferule peeps out rather alarmingly be¬
hind the schoolmistress, this defect, we fear, is in a great
measure inseparable from the very qualities which consti¬
tute the strength of her mind, and from the conception she
had formed for herself of the ideal of novel writing.
It is singular that a novelist of this rationalizing spirit,
and so intolerant of all moral marvels, should have so fre¬
quently admitted great improbabilities into her plots, where
the catastrophe is often brought about either by some one very
unlikely event, or by a concurrence of events, and fortunate
accidents, the combination of which render the circumstance
at the least passing strange. Miss Edgeworth is also fond of
making the discovery of important events turn on little trifles
of circumstantial evidence, which are too artificially pre¬
pared, and after all are not satisfactory.
The impression, however, which the perusal of her best
novels, such as Ennui and the Absentee, leaves on the mind,
is that of high respect for the sagacity, grasp of mind and
rectitude of judgment of the author, whose power of dra¬
matizing a moral lesson has not often been excelled. And
it is gratifying to see thaj;, in the last work of Miss Edge-
worth, Helen, there appears no diminution of her powers.
In wit it is equal to any of her former novels; in pathetic
scenes, superior to most of them.
At the period when Sir Walter Scott (1814), produced Sir Walter
the first of that long file of romances which have since ob- Scott,
tained a more than European reputation, the public taste,
in regard to novel writing, seemed to have sunk to a low
ebb. Miss Edgeworth indeed was popular; for the wit
and good sense of her dialogue, and her happy pictures of
Irish character, found favour in the sight even of the read¬
ers of circulating libraries ; but the merits of Miss Austin’s
more unobtrusive pictures of life were comparatively un¬
known. At best she was confounded with the writers of
Winters in London, or Winters in Paris, and shared a dubious
favour with the romantic effusions of Francis Lathom and
the other labourers of the Minerva press, so called, we pre¬
sume, upon the lucus a non lucendo principle, from the god¬
dess of wisdom having so little to do with its productions.
Translations, too, from Augustus La Fontaine’s homely but
rather vulgar pictures of'little German Krdh-winkel towns,
or the broad and indecent extravagances of Pigault le Brun,
348
Romance.
ROMANCE.
tended still further to degrade and vulgarize the
Every thing in fiction, in short, looked unpromising and ex- 0 f lhe „f Pagination. He has car-
hausted. f he appearance of a great writer, ™ should ^obvious at once t^ ^ to ^ p|rfection. for wi,hout
strike out a new path through this much trodden > imnartinp-to his nortraits the deep and subtle traits by which
seemed at that moment in the highest degree ^ ’ Sh^kspefre So wonderfully individualizes the beings of his
And yet this was at once effected by the Author of Waver- ^Peare ^ present consistent and
ley, in such a manner as to raise the romance from striking pictures of his historical personages in their habit as
est level to the very highest position in literature. S F dispose the light and shadow about them
Nothing, we believe, could be more irksome or more use- they adju9tm*nt,_dl.e8S, look, gestures,
manner, and the outward accompaniments of scenery, be-
ing all made important accessories, to heighten the eftect of
well-known peculiarities, or to hide the want of those over
which Time has dropped a veil, which even Imagination can
hardly raise. o-
In description, indeed, generally, Sir Walter Scott was
unrivalled. Whatever he sees with the eye of the mind,
shapes itself into words which enable us to see it too. His
pictures combine in a singular way breadth and minute¬
ness ; for while he painted the details with sharpness and
firmness, no one understood better the art of arrangement
in masses ; so that he never fails to give the spirit as well
as the form of the spot, making us feel the solemnity and
gloom of castles and druidical forests, the calm produced by
the still beauty of a Highland lake, from which the morn¬
ing mist is disappearing, or the healthy elevation of spirits
with which we travel up some mountain height, whence we
see far into the country beyond, and “ feel the breath df
heaven fresh blowing.”
We offer no remarks upon his characters, except this,
that makinf every allowance for repetitions, no writer of
fiction since Shakespeare has enriched the portrait gallery of
invention with more originals, of which we have a distinct
conception; and that though his female characters have
less variety and less truth than his male personages, we know
no writer except Shakspeare to whom the same remark may
not justly be applied.
The plots of Scott, speaking generally, are neither re¬
markable for excellence, nor the reverse. Examples may,
in fact, be found, in the long list of his romances, both of
skilful and defective plots. Ivanhoe, Kenilworth, and the
Bride of Lamermoor, for instance, are proofs how aitfully
he could at times arrange his plan ; the two latter hav¬
ing all the compactness and steady progression of the drama.
gether in kindly unison : learning arrayed in the most pic- career as a writer of fiction, ^ ^ pp ^ ^ 1:_;^
less than to enter on any formal criticism of the romances
of Scott; and it may well be doubted whether the present
generation be in a condition to judge of his merits with per¬
fect impartiality, or to determine his precise rank as a write
of fiction. We at least shall not allow ourselves to be se¬
duced into such a disquisition, but shall confine our obser¬
vations to a few points on which we think it hardly probable
that posterity will reverse the concurrent judgment of 11
PrThe resemblance ’of Scott’s mind to’ that of Shakspeare
has been often remarked, and with some justice ; for thoug
even the most enthusiastic admirers ofthe romance writer, wil
hardly venture to claim for him an equality of powers with
Shakspeare, there were strong kindred features in the cha¬
racter of their minds. In both we are struck with the same
general and almost universal sympathies, leading to impar¬
tial and kindly views of all men and all opinions, the most
remote from their own ; a cheerful, healthful tone of feel¬
ing, which brightens existence about us, instead of dwel -
ing on its evils; an avoidance of all moral casuistry, or
treading on the borders of the forbidden, either in the crea¬
tion of characters or of incidents; the feeling of the hu¬
mourous as strongly developed as the sensibilities or the ima¬
gination ; great self-possession, and a noiseless exertion
of power, working out its end, not by sudden bursts, or high-
wrought passages, but by a silent and steady progression,
like the dawn brightening into the fulness of day.
The works of Scott produce their effect rather by the
combination of many qualities than the predominance of
any. In depth of feeling, we think he yields to the author
of Anastasius; in invention of incident, and disposition of
plot, he is equalled by many ; his humour will hardly bear a
comparison with that of Sterne, or the best parts of field¬
ing ; and in the direct and forcible expression of the stronger
passions, we should be inclined to give the preference both
to Godwin and the author of Valerius. But his strength
turesque combinations; observation of life embodied not in
abstractions, but in living forms; humour springing out of
tenderness, like smiles struggling through tears; the spirit
of ancient knighthood leavening the worldly wisdom of mo¬
dern times; and the imagination of the poet adorning, with¬
out impairing the common sympathies and good-humoured
sagacity of the man.
The department in which this combination of qualities
has been most successfully displayed by Scott, was that of
the historical romance,—a class of fictions which he may
truly be said to have created. For although fictions bear¬
ing the title of historical romances, were by no means un¬
common in English literature before the time of Scott, such
as the Recess of Miss Lee, or the Scottish Chiefs of Miss
Caieei Clb Cl YVIIICI ^ f    .
No wonder, indeed, when, in addition to the limits by wmcn
all invention is bounded, we consider under what depressing
circumstances many of his-later works were compose ,tia
in these even the elasticity of genius itself should be some‘
what outworn and deadened ; that the conventional, bot
in character and incident, should occasionally supply t e
place of invention ; and that mere imagery, and not always
very appropriate illustration, should be substituted for tie
natural turns which at first enlivened the dialogue. “Ift ere
be a mental drudgery,” to use his own words in his notice
of Charlotte Smith, “which lowers the spirits and lacerates
the nerves like the toil of the slave, it is that which is ex
acted by literary composition, when the heart is not ^ cni
son with the work on which the head is employed. Vv e
as the Recess of Miss Lee, or the Scottish, uniejs ot iviiss son wiui me wuik un wmun me ^ i—- ,
Porter, it is apparent that they stand in a totally different he breaks up new ground, as in Nigel, (^ent\nPU^J.
class ; not being, in fact, historical, except in the names of and The Crusaders, his genius indeed suffers ^fo
the characters. Obvious as the idea now appears, Scott was tion ; but in Redgauntlet, Anne of Gierstein, ^d
in truth, the first to show how much invention might gain by a trothed, the practised skill of the mechanist, reco p ^
union with reality; what additional probability, interest, old materials m new shapes, is far more visible than t
and importance might be given to the fortunes of imagin- ness and spontaniety of an original inspiration,
ary heroes, by interweaving their destinies with those of his- publication of Kenilworth, indeed, the sun of his
torical personages ; nay, how much of romance in its finest be said to have “ touched the highest point of all g
ROMANCE.
iimance. i
mance. nessbut like that luminary during a polar summer, it
seemed for a time rather to revolve than to descend, and
its rays continued to look bright and beautiful, long after
it was journeying towards the west.
No writer ever exercised so great an influence over the
public mind, or led to so much conscious or unconscious
imitation. His influence on Italy, France, and Germany,
we shall afterwards have occasion to notice. On the lite¬
rature of Great Britain, we believe it to have exerted on the
whole a most beneficial effect; not, indeed, that any profess¬
ed imitation of his manner has yet appeared, which possesses
great claims to genius, but that he has carried a higher spi-
349
on the mind that profound impression of the mutability and Romance.
nothingnessof existence, which Wordsworth has described:1 ~ ~
So fades, so languishes, grows dim and dies,
All that this world is proud of. From their seats
1 he stars of human glory are cast down.
Perish the roses and the crowns of kings.
It is not our intention to pursue this sketch through the
works of our living ornaments of the literature of fiction, or of
some who have recently been taken from amongst us. We
shall merely notice, that among those who have struck out
an independent path for themselves, are the author of Fa¬
rit into novel writing; taught us how the simple feelings of a™ ‘h nr- —y
peasants, and the homely pathos of humble life, and the re- i i i c ^ ’ works of conspicuous originality,
 y y.i . ~ -cne re particularly the first, in which the difficult task of imparting
a. nppn intprpcf tr* o  r 
lentings of feeling amongst the outcasts of society, might be
made to blend with scenes of high imagination; that his writ¬
ings are calculated to strengthen the ties of our common hu¬
manity ; that they never tend to foster a bad, or to throw
ridicule upon a good or generous feeling; while, speaking of
them in a merely literary point of view, they taught lessons
of simplicity, good taste, moderation, and skill in seizing the
best points both of character and description, which have
not been without their effect even on those by whom the
mere manner of Scott, or his choice of subjects, have been
studiously avoided.
The professed imitators of Scott have been numerous,
but not successful. As usual, they have magnified his de- ot wmcll we thi.
fects, urging his conventional personages, such as dwarfs, fools, mav vet surDass
gypsies, and bores, into caricature; multiplying instead of ^ ^ ’
retrenching those similes which, even in the original, were
so obtrusively frequent, as to remind us of Bayes’ rule
for writing dialogue, “ ever make a simile when you are sur¬
prised ;” and overlaying the plot with minute descriptions
of dress and scenery, which the reader, after a little expe¬
rience, is wise enough to avoid. In reading them we are
constantly reminded of Boileau’s description of a tedious
poetical landscape painter:
a deep interest to a classical subject is performed with com¬
plete success ; the author of the Trials of Margaret Lind¬
say, and the Lights and Shadows of Scottish Life, who,
with the finest feeling of the dignity and poetry which lie
within the humble rural life of Scotland, has performed for
its more pathetic and elevated aspect, what Galt, in his An¬
nals of the Parish, and his other tales, has done for its
humours and its vulgarities; the authoress of Marriage,
the Inheritance, and Destiny, and Sir E. L. Bulwer, who
has given proof of very versatile ability, in a series of ro¬
mances widely differing in character, from the levity of
Pelham down to the earnestness of Maltravers, but the best
of which we think his more matured taste and judgment
es and
S’il rencontre un palais il m’en decrit la face
II me promene apres de terrasse en terrasse,
Je saute vingt feuillets pour en trouver la fin,
Et je me sauve a peine au travers du jardin.
The best imitation of Sir Walter Scott’s manner with
which we are acquainted is the anonymous romance of For¬
man, of which he speaks with respect in his criticism on Mrs.
Radcliffe. The romances of Mr. James, too, though not in¬
dicating much depth, are pleasing, always written with good
feeling, and with a plot which excites a sort of quiet interest,
if it does not keep the mind in the chain of curiosity or sus¬
pense. The novels of Cooper, who is probably better known
than any other of the imitators of Scott, seem to be consider¬
ably overrated. On shipboard, or on an Indian heath, he is
striking and picturesque; but among civilized society, and,
above all, in his attempts to catch the ease of fashion, we
must regard him as singularly unsuccessful.
A strange contrast to the spirit of Scott’s novels was ex¬
hibited in the sceptical and dreary tone of Anastasias
No country has produced more novelists than Italy ; but itai;an pl0_
the Italian novel bears little analogy to what we understand mance.
by the term. Their novels were, in fact, originally prose
versions of the same short tales, sometimes heroic, but more
frequently turning on themes of gallantry or comic adven¬
ture, which formed the favourite subjects of the Trouveres.
They were Fabliaux translated into Italian; and this cha¬
racter they retained for five centuries from Boccaccio to
Gozzi. (1313—1786.) The incidents are generally briefly
given; there is little development of character or sentiment;
or, where these are found, they exhibit rather separate scenes
from life than any thing having the interest of a compact
whole. But if the incidents and characters have little de¬
velopment, the Italian novelists have indemnified themselves
for this confinement, by indulging in the utmost license of
a pompous, circuitous, and unmeaning style. The facile
beauty of the Italian language, “ Che spande di parlar si
largo flume,” has been the bane of their novelists. Boccaccio,
the first and by far the greatest of the Italian novelists, in¬
deed manages to impart to it a sort of garrulous grace; but
in the hands of his imitators the contrast between the po¬
verty of the idea and the rich garb of words with which it
is invested, assumes a ludicrous effect.
Never, perhaps, among so many novelists, was there so
little of novelty. Instead of imitating nature, their avowed
principle was to imitate Boccaccio, who, imparting to every
thing a soft and rose-coloured glow, was himself not remark¬
able for the closeness of his adherence to it. And hence
Wo c ~    v/i auic un uie ciuseness or ms aunerence to it. ^inu nence
i out force of character-painting, with much languor in regarding the novel merely as a theme upon which they
parts, and too prolonged a detail of hp»rf.lpssnps« nnrl vil. /'lie wl O T 7 oil 4- Fl 11 * 4- -rre-tVi r»4-i s-*-r\n t FFl
parts, and too prolonged a detail of heartlessness and vil- were to display all the brilliant variations of which the
any, t ie work fascinates by its strength, and towards the music of Italian speech was susceptible, they were contented
c ose, when the character of the hero deepens, by its irresist- to repeat in a great measure the same themes, to borrow,
i e pathos. Commencing with the levity of a Greek Gil with a sort of easy impudence, their incidents from Boccaccio
as, it modulates into a key of sadness and desolation of or from each other; and more anxious for the purity of
spirit, which reminds us of the close of St. Leon. Fiction has their Tuscan than of their tales, of which by far the greater
ew pictures which will bear comparison with that of Anas- number turn on scenes of licentiousness or low humour,
a«ws, sitting on the steps ot the lazaretto of Trieste, with his they seemed to think all other merits in the novel subordi
ymg boy in his arms ; and the whole conclusion of the ro- nate to that of being “ written in very choice Italian.”
ance, the sudden meeting and silent parting with Spiridion, Beyond the limits of Italy, Bandello (1554) and Cintio
e journey towards the north, the dream, the warning voice, (whose Hecatommithi appeared in 1565,) are almost the
ic , in the dusky light of daybreak, tells him he has not far only novelists whose names are known to foreigners, if we
0 go, the hopelessness, the resignation of his death, all leave except the Belphegor of the versatile Macchiavelli; and
350
ROMANCE.
Romance, the chief interest connected with these novelists consists
'in the hints or materials furnished by them to Shakspeare,
Massinger, Beaumont and Fletcher, and our dramatic wri¬
ters of the time of Elizabeth and James, to whom indeed
these works, particularly those of Bandello, afforded a per¬
fect storehouse for plots. Among the nine volumes of Ban-
dello’s works contained in the Novelliero, some interesting
and a few pathetic tales may be pointed out; but Emtio s
can have no interest in themselves except for those wtio
love to sup full of horrors; for he was one of those whole¬
sale dealers in the terrible, who thought that poetical ef¬
fect was to be produced by a vigorous operation on the
nerves rather than the feelings, and therefore piqued h1™-
self, like the schoolmaster in Gil Bias, on massacring all the
personages of his tragedies, even to the prompter.
Towards the close of the last century, a taste for novels
in a style somewhat resembling our own, appears to have
gained ground, and several tales of a melancholy kind made
their appearance. With these we do not profess to be acquaint¬
ed ; nor has any one which appeared prior to the rromessi kposi
of Manzoni, attained the least reputation beyond Italy, with the
_ c* „ T rl’t Tnomnn (trf.is. an Garlv
romance to an Italian soil, and to give a romantic interest to Roow
the delineation of the Italian feudal history of the middle'—i-i
ages, or of periods somewhat later. The first, and we be¬
lieve the best, of these appears to be the Monaca ie Mmza
of Rosini, who has founded his story on an episode in the
Promessi Sposi. Were we to form a judgment from a
few of these attempts which we have read, as to the merits
of those of which we remain ignorant, we should be in¬
clined to say generally, that nothing is more remarkable
than the total want of interest which Italian subjects pos¬
sess in Italian hands ; a result which appears the more
singular, since at one time it was only necessary in our
English romances to transfer the scene to Italy) to en¬
list at once our warmest sympathies in favour of the story.
Now-a-days, we think, when the subject is almost entirely
in the hands of native novel-writers, the very idea ot em¬
barking on an Italian story of the middle ages, seems to act
upon the fancy as the most powerful refrigerative. Strange¬
ly enough, too, it is to be observed, that the Italian novelists
of modern times never appear to greater advantage than m
the description of the most furious battles, carried on with
all the determination and bloody-mindedness of an Rsplan-
exception of the Ultime Letters di Jacopo r is, an ear y J'11^ ^ Bobadil as in Ettore Fieramosca, by Massimo
production of Ugo Foscolo, (1802) ; and the re.sult P^rt Y, B>Azea.yw a SOn-in-law of Manzoni, or L’Assedio di Firenze,
a melancholy event occurring in his own family, and p Gualandi • an expenditure of valour on paper which we
ly of the study of Goethe’s Werther by which the enthu- by the fact, since, if we are to give
siastic mind of Foscolo appears to have been very pow accounts of Guacciardini, many of their most
fully affected. Like Werther, it is a story of love and credit to accounts ot^^ ^ ^ ag the
suicide, full of fervour, violence, and, to spea ie ru , ^ J arms between Gymnast and Tripet,
Sgtom rSTanf olaH todTpS^was “ared, that one home-thrust of the bayonet would have been
sufficiently real. To the Italians, who knew little or no¬
thing of Goethe, this stormy effervescence of an impassion¬
ed temperament, and all this eloquent “ questioning of fate,
possessed even an air of originality; and being the first suc¬
cessful attempt to introduce the sentimental romance of the
school of Rousseau and Goethe into Italy, it naturally
awakened a degree of enthusiasm which now appears some¬
what disproportioned to its real merit.
The Promessi Sposi of Manzoni certainly approaches
much more nearly to the idea of a good romance than any
tiling which Italy has yet produced ; but, after all, it too is
worth them all.
In Spain, which, though not the birth-place, had cer- Spanist
tainly become by adoption pre-eminently the country ofromaiict
the chivalrous romance, and where, perhaps, its extrava¬
gances had been less redeemed by talent than any where
else, it is well known that a revolution in taste was effected
by the inimitable satire of Cervantes, (1547-1616), which
Montesquieu, with amusing extravagance, describes as the
single admirable book in the Spanish language which shews
the absurdity of all the rest. So effectually, indeed, did
tiling which Italy has yet produced ; out, alter an, it tuu i* u.c 7 . . pnd ' r rather one
essentially an imitation. If we had had no Scott, we should that work (published in 16 5) > nf rhivalrv
have had no Manzoni. The idea of illustrating a subject of its ends, that after its appearance no ro
connected with the Italian history of the commencement of appeared in Spain, and the old ones so entirely ceased t
the seventeenth century ; the introduction of historical cha- printed, that it is with difficulty tlmt copies o ^ ,
racters such L that of Cardinal Borromeo, who is the dens to be obtained. The “ultnnus Romanorum, the taad-
ex machina of the piece ; the antiquarian lore displayed in herent of the ok[ /“"n"“p“r S- in igij
the’way in which the bread-riot in Milan (a close parallel Toledo, who published his Don Po to
to the insurrection of the Liegeois in Q vxntin Durward), is three years before the appearance of the Don ««*»£
wrought up; the account of the plague in the Milanese,
in which Manzoni has tried to imitate at once Boccacio and
Scott, all concur to satisfy us, that Manzoni, though an able
lyric poet, has no great share of original invention, and that
though he can make a good use of materials furnished by
others, he is one of those literary commercialists who re¬
quire to borrow the main portion of the capital with which
ice vecus   ^ - cnarvM
But, had that book been solely devoted to the object of Cer _
exploding the old romances of chivalry, it would probably^
have shortly been forgotten with the extravagances it ex¬
posed. The charm which has given a perennial life and
continued popularity to Don Quixote, is the deeper i ea
which it contains of illustrating, in comic colours, the con¬
test between imagination and reality; the danger, both o
main poruon ui me capiuu wiui wui^n  
they are to trade. We are far, however, from denying its possessor and to others, of all misdirected ^n _
the real merits of this performance of Manzoni, in which whether it take the direction of reviving an . JL
the characters of Cardinal Borromeo, and the peasant hero of chivalry, or any other course plainly runnl«g c0™ h a
and heroine, Renzo and Lucia, are naturally and pleasingly the current of society all around it, by mea h g
drawn, and in which some of the scenes, such as the open- constant collision is produced, in which, wha^ev®r Offerer,
ing scene at Don Abbondio’s house, the riot in Milan, the of the world, the visionary himself is sure to be the su
interview between the unknown and the Cardinal, and some For the fuller development of this idea, he has p
of the incidents and descriptions connected with the plague, side the knight, who represents the imagination
are of vivid interest. the common sense a squire who. is he type of t^ "ulga^
Since the appearance of the romance of Manzoni, who has common sense without the imagination. Betwee
lately abandoned both fiction and poetry for religion, many children of his brain, he parcels out the treasu e
attempts have been made by Rosini, D’Azeglio, Guerazzi, mind, bequeathing to the knight his own high S1 1 ,
Tommaseo, Belmonte, and others, to transfer the historical courage, his learning, his generosity, and his love
jmanee. and to the squire the solid riches of his good sense, and his
peculiar humour; that humour, which, as it exists in Cer¬
vantes, is among the rarest of human qualities,—the very
poetry of the comic, founded on tender sympathy with all
forms of existence, though displaying itself in sportive re¬
flection ; and issuing not in superficial laughter, but in still
smiles, the source of which lies far deeper.
The characters and fortunes of these contrasted compan¬
ions he has linked together in such a way, as to impress
on the mind the feeling, how indispensable each is to
each, as the complement of the other,.—the learning, high¬
mindedness, and strong imagination of the knight being in¬
dispensable as the creative and moving power in human life;
the practical good sense, and even selfishness, of the squire
as the controlling force ; from the judicious union of which
opposites arises the harmony, and from their separation the
discords of society. He paints also, with great knowledge
of human life, the effect which these reciprocal influences,
constantly exerted on each other through vicinity and a
common pursuit, have in modifying even the original cha¬
racter itself, and gradually making the enthusiast more ra¬
tional, and the common-place man of the world more ima¬
ginative. The sound philosophy, the impartial and kindly
spirit with which Cervantes has wrought out this conception,
in which justice is done at once to the higher and the more
common elements of our nature ; the flood of humour with
which he surrounded it,—which has tempted many a one
since the days of Philip IV. to imitate the pantomime of
the student on the banks of the Manzanares,—are as obvi¬
ous to the least refined of readers, as they are models of
art worthy of the admiration and profound study of every
writer of fiction. Like human life itself, the story unites
and harmonizes the opposite extremes of the pathetic and
the ludicrous, the vulgar and the elevated,—for from the
midst of the comic ground-work, the striking scenes in the
Sierra Morena, the episode of Cardenio and Dorothea, the
story of the captive, the sweet pastoral of Marcelia, the mar¬
riage of Camacho, and many other passages, rise up, rich in pa¬
thos, grandeur, or imagination; so that, in fact, there is no work
in which, while the aim at first might appear to be to de¬
stroy the romance ot life, passages of more purely romantic
beauty are to be found. The truth is, that Cervantes, though
anxious to explode a vicious taste in literature, was far enough
from wishing to direct his satire against the creations of high
imagination, or against the spirit of chivalry. The admiration
he expressed for Amadis andPalmerin shews, that he was not
insensible to the beauties by which even this branch of liter¬
ature was occasionally redeemed. His own adventurous
career of glory and misfortune had, no doubt, deeply im¬
pressed upon his mind the contrast between the dreams of
imagination and the realities of life ; he saw the poetical
capabilities which such a contrast afforded,—and he has
painted them with an unshrinking, and some may think a
merciless hand. But, even beneath the veil of ridicule with
which he has invested his crazed and battered hero, we
perceive his own unextinguishable love of the exalted prin¬
ciples by which he is actuated; and the abiding impression
which remains with us after the comic effect of the romance
has passed away, is, that truth and nobleness of character
will continue to command our love and veneration, though
displayed in actions with which the world cannot sympa¬
thize, and placing their possessor in situations which excite
N ,1 out ridicule, even while his motives attract our admiration.
E npL .;v^ei7antes seems to have intended his moral novels,
re {-Novelas ExemplaresJ, to be to Spain what the short tales
of Boccaccio and his followers had been to Italy, only with
the advantage of a purer morality. They are unequal;
some being mere satirical trifles, such as the Licentiado Romance.
Vidriera; others, like \he Jealous Estremaduran, (which
English readers will recognize in the common farce of the
Padlock), the Gipsy, and the Spanish English Lady, highly
interesting in themselves, and characteristic of Spanish
manners, laying open to us, as Sismondi says, the hearts
and houses of its inhabitants. One novel, the Tiafingida,
(Pretended Aunt,) though undoubtedly written by Cervantes,
was not included in the original collection, probably from the
disagreeable nature of the subject.
The remaining work of fiction by Cervantes, the Persi- Perailes
les Sigismunda, is only remarkable as the last work and Sigis-
which he wrote, and as being quite as absurd and extrava- mun(la.
gant as any of those romances of chivalry against which
his powerful satire had been directed. No work has occa¬
sioned a greater division of opinion. While some of the Spanish
critics speak of it in terms of extravagant praise, it is de¬
scribed by Viardot, a French critic, as “a tissue of episodes
interlaced with each other, like those of one of Calderon’s in¬
trigues, consisting of extravagant adventures, silly rencontres,
astounding prodigies, preposterous characters, and extrava¬
gant sentiments.” It retains little or nothing, indeed, of
Cervantes, but the charm of his style. Yet, like Corneille
placing his Nicomede before the Cid, or Milton his Paradise
Regained before his Paradise Lost, Cervantes seems to
have given the preference to this child of his old age over
the master-piece of his manhood.
The fashion of short novels in the Italian taste, which Lope and
had been introduced by Cervantes, was followed by Lope, dle Spanish
Canizares, Zayas, Montalvan, and by a host of imitators, n°velists.
whose very names the Spanish critic Lampillas declares
that he is unable to enumerate. The loss of the catalogue
is little to be regretted; for even among the names which
are known, it would be difficult to point out one, even in¬
cluding the great Lope, which rises above mediocrity. Na¬
ture, indeed, seems to have given Cervantes his revenge,
for the triumph of his rival in the drama, by the failure of
Lope as a novelist,—for in this department, the talent and
rich invention which he displayed on the stage appeared in
a great measure to desert him. The best of his novels is the
Fortunas de Diana, (Fortunes of Diana), first printed in the
Filomena in 1621; next to which we should place his El
Zeloso hasta Morir, (Jealousy till death); but truth to say, nei¬
ther are remarkable. Indeed, if we except Cervantes, the
same remark which we have ventured to make on Lope is
generally applicable to the Spanish novelists. Nearly in
proportion to the success of the nation in the creation of an
original drama, is its signal deficiency in original contribu¬
tions to the literature of romance. It is not often, indeed,
as Tieck remarks in his preface to Bulow’s Novellenbuch,1
that the dramatic and novellistic power are found combined
in a national literature to the same extent as in England.
In fact, the only species of prose fiction, with the excep- Romances
tion of Don Quixote, in which the Spaniards have display- in the Gus-
ed any thing like original invention, is in the novels writ- to Picares-
ten in what is called the Gusto Picaresco, or the romances c0-
of roguery, of which the first example of any merit, and,
with one exception, the best of the whole series, was fur¬
nished by the Lazaro de Tormes of the celebrated Don
Diego de Mendoza, and is said to have been written by him Mendoza,
while a student at Salamanca, and first printed in 1553. It
is rather singular, no doubt, to find a man of rank devoting
himself to these pictures of want and miserable knavery, or
a nation affecting so much external pomp and ceremony re¬
lishing these exposures of the real filth, meanness, or star¬
vation which often lurked under the cloak of the whiskered
Knight of Calatrava. But the Spanish character is distin-
acher ^ °v<:Eenl)uch> °der hundert Novellen nach alten Italienischen, Spanischen, Franzosichen, Lateinischen, Englischen, und Deut-
ianeu-'r ear^ei|,et von Eduard von Bulovv. Leipzig, 1834. An excellent authology, from the shorter literature of romance in the above
decenc^68/ th ^ 3 mere transla6on, but in many cases a dexterous rificciamento, true to the spirit, while avoiding the dullness ox in.-
35!>
ROMANCE.
Romance, guished bv a very peculiar vein of dry humour intermingled
■   with a tinge of orientalism in their notions of birth and pride
of ancestry and personal dignity, and hence the Spams
novelists seem to have been perfectly alive to the ridiculous
features of their countrymen, while sharing very probably in
the same exaggerated pretensions themselves. Accordingly,
along with the adventures of rogues, and beggars, and gipsies,
who, during the reigns of the Austrian Philips, appear to have
literally swarmed in Madrid, are interspersed ample illustra¬
tions of this union of poverty and pride, and the stratagems
with which many a pompous cavalier, walking the streets, as
Lazaro says, like the Duke of Arcos, is occupied at home m
order “ to procure a crust of dry bread, and having eat it,
to appear with due decorum in public, by the art of fitting
on a ruffle so as to suggest the idea of a mg
ins and political cast than these tales of knavery, was the Romance,
historical romance, the Civil Wars of Granada, by Gmes
Perez de la Heata, printed in 1604, turning on the dissen¬
sions of the Zagus and Abencerrages during the reign of
Boabdil, and giving occasion, as might be expected, to
many fine descriptions of tournaments, feasts of canes, Moor¬
ish palaces and gardens, and the contrast between the Chris¬
tian and the Moorish chivalry. From this romance blon-
an has mainly borrowed the idea and materials of his (rora-
salvo of Cordova. . . ,
One other work offiction deserving notice, though partak-
ingmore of the nature of the satire than thenovel, is the Fray
Gerundio (Friar Gerund) of the Jesuit de 1’Isla,-—a severe,
but rather tedious satire upon the absurdities and bad taste
of the popular preachers of the time. In romantic literature
on a ruffle so as to suggest the idea of a ^irh and ai jus ing ^ g £nfards a\ the p^sent day seem to be entirely defici-
a cloak in such a *Lh cut. Translations of the popular French and English novels
Espinel.
are clothes under it.”1 Mendoza’s novel contains a sketch
of one of these shirtless and famished hidalgos eagerly de¬
vouring some crusts which Lazaro had begged m the morn¬
ing, on pretence of trying whether the bread was sufficiently
wholesome, which gives an image of starvation, m which the
painful is strangely blended with a sort of sombre gaie V dameret,” were succeeded by an inundation of contes
. .. . J 1 rvf™rant and miserv. has
paillcUUS 0,1. me  ~ " .
ent. Translations of the popular French and English novels
abound, but native talent or invention appear to be at an end.
In France the pastoral romances of D’Urfe and his imi- French ro-
tators and the heroic romances of Gomberville, Scudery, manm am
and Calprenede, whose object was “peindre Caton galant et novels.
dealing in the same gloomy pictures of want and misery, has
more variety in its pictures, and a more severe and caustic
character in its sarcasm. It has been erroneously suppos¬
ed to have furnished many particulars to Gil Bias ; in tact,
it would be difficult to point out one, except the incident of
the parasite who obtains a supper at the expense of the
eighth wonder of the world. In the same taste is the Gran
Taco.no of Quevedo.
The merit of having supplied Le Sage with much of his
materials, may be more plausibly claimed by \ icente Espi¬
nel the author of the Vida del Escudero Marcos de Obre-
aon, printed in 1618. Indeed, while the superior grace, spirit,
and gay philosophy of Le Sage are apparent, it is impossible
not to make a considerable deduction froin his mere inven¬
tion after reading the work of Espinel. The prologue, the
adventure of the parasite, the dispersion of the company at
Cacabelos by the muleteer, the adventure of the robber s
cave, the surprise by the corsairs, the contributions levied
by those pious hermits, Don Raphael and Ambrose de
Lamela, the service with the Duke of Lerma, and many
of the other incidents, have nearly an exact parallel in the
ruder and drier work of Espinel. Even some of the witty
points, which we might be disposed at first sight to be¬
lieve were Le Sage’s, turn out to be the property of the
Spanish chaplain; such as Don Matthias de Silvas reply,
when asked to fight a duel early in the morning, that he
never rose before one, even for a party of pleasure, and
could not be expected to rise at six to have his throat cut.
This much, however, must be said for Le Sage, that he
shows no desire to conceal the source of his obligations, for
one of his characters is termed Marcos Obrejon, and the
Sangrado of his novel is, undisguisedly, the Sagredo of
Espinel. Le Sage, however, knew that after every deduc¬
tion was made on the score of invention, the merit of his
novel would remain much the same. He threw lightness
and sunshine into the mean and gloomy pictures of the Span¬
iards, taking care to efface the recollections of folly and
knavery in his adventurers, by a cheerful and respectable
termination of their career ; and though the graduation of
the fool into the knave, and the knave into the honest man,
upon a mere principle of utility, be not perhaps in itself a
very lofty moral, it is at all events far more agreeable than
that of the Spanish novelists, where the rogue continues such
to the last, and his only advancement is to a higher degree
. .t -i i   A or-*n 1PQQ-
aes jees vluvl'uuywyco  0P t • u
of the seventeenth and the commencement of the eighteenth
century. This species of nursery literature, which, like the Fairy tales,
character of the fair Arricidia in Clelia, was “ furieusement
extraordinaire et terriblement merveilleux,” seemed pecu¬
liarly well suited to the frivolous tastes which then pervaded
French society; and its temporary attraction was perhaps
based in some degree upon the very want of reason and
common sense, which rendered its permanent popularity im¬
possible. When the sage Oglou in Voltaire asked the sul¬
tanas “ comment preferez vous des contes que sont sans
raison et que ne signifient rien,” the answer of the sultanas
was, “ e’est precisement pour cela que nous les aimons.
The chief writers in this school of fiction, with whose com¬
positions most of us have in our early days been renderedfami-
liar, through the little gilded volumes of Mr. Newberry or his ^
successors, were Perrault, the Countess D Aulnoy, Madame euaj -
Murat, and Mademoiselle de la Force, of whom Perrault is de-^ ?
cidedlv the best, his tales being distinguished by a simplicity u Force
, : .  ™v.i0;ntlUeKt-vlpnfwntin2r,andin
cicieaiv me uest, ins> ^ .
and naivete of style indispensable in this style of wntin
which the productions of the ladies are deficient. No great
share of original invention is displayed by any of them, i ne
chief storehouse from which they drew was the Ao^
cevoli of the Italian novelist Straparola, and the very re¬
markable Neapolitan collection by Giambattista Basile, en¬
titled the Pentamerone, of which the first edition appeared
in 1637. . .. . . /■_
A sightly different direction was given to tins taste tor
marvels by the translation, into French of the Arabian Nights
by Gal land, and of the Persian Tales by Petit de la Croix
and Le Sage, which led to a host of oriental imitations. And
the childishness and absurdity of the whole of this depart¬
ment of literature was exposed with great wit and liveliness
by Count Antony Hamilton, in his Fleur d'Epine, and in
his unfinished tale of the Four Facardins. , ^ a i
But this same period was distinguished by the produc-Mam
tions of some writers of a higher order: Marivaux, (loo
1763), Prevot, (1697—1763), and Le Sage, (1668—174b>
Marivaux had a good deal of Richardson’s power of dehcat.
portrait painting, by an accumulation of miniature touches.
nor is he deficient in the power of managing the lllteresl'
ing situations with which his Mariamne especially abounds.
And certainly, if we except Mademoiselle La hayettes
pleasing romance of the Princess of Cleves, he may clai
the merit of having been the first, in France, to reduce th
to the last, and his only advancement is to a higher aegree me mem ui f id ' d charac-
in the curriculum of knavery. A romance of a more pleas- novel from mere extravagance, both ol mcident and cn
1 Dunlop’s History of Fiction, vol. iii. p. 119.
ROMANCE.
evot
jinance. ter, to the standard of natural feeling, and to present us with
real beings, instead of fantastic creations of the imagination.
His chief faults are his intolerable minuteness in trifles, and
the affectation of the style, which is worthy of the society
of the Hotel de Rambouillet. His best novel, too, the
Mariamne, terminates abruptly and inartificially, with a con¬
clusion like that of Zadig, “ where nothing is concluded.”
Prevot had a much higher and more romantic imagina¬
tion than Marivaux. He threw into the novel something of
the gloom and grandeur of tragedy; and hence he has been
termed by some of his countrymen the Crebillon of romance.
Avisionary disposition and an ardent temperament had hur¬
ried him through a restless and passionate life, in which good
and evil, suffering and enjoyment, had been scarcely blend¬
ed ; so that to the task of composition he brought the results
of a mournful experience in aid of the resources of the ima¬
gination. To use the expression of Voltaire, “ II n’etait
pas seulement un auteur mais un homme, ayant connu et
senti les passions.” Prevot is not a great inventor of cha¬
racter ; for to all his heroes, Cleveland, Patrice, even the
Chevalier des Grieux, he appears to have lent much of his
own feelings and his own peculiarities of mind. Though an
extremely voluminous novelist, none of his works appear
now to be read or recollected, except his painful but power¬
ful story of Manon L’Escaut, a tale of crime and profligacy,
strangely blended with generous feeling, which has been
translated into English by Charlotte Smith. Manon EEs-
caut, though little more than an episode, thrown off appa¬
rently with an easy negligence, bears the impress of genius,
which it would be difficult to recognise in an authentic form
in any of the larger productions of Prevot. Opening in the
most unpromising manner, with what appears to be the
common-place history of a vicious and discreditable con¬
nexion between Des Grieux and Manon, in which w eakness
of principle on the one side is made the dupe of profligacy
and vanity, united with personal charms, on the other, the
stream of feeling, at first polluted and turbid, works itself
purer as it runs; and the scenes rise into elevation just
as the character of Manon herself, the “ fair mischief ” of
the romance, around whom Prevot has thrown no common
fascination, changes from the selfish mistress into the faith¬
ful companion, following the fortunes of her husband, whom
her charms had ruined, into disgrace and banishment, and
dying by his side among the wilds of America.
Love also forms the subject of the novels of Madame de
Tencin, (died 1749), the Siege of Calais and the Count de
Comminges, which are admired for their tenderness and
delicacy, qualities we should hardly have anticipated from
a lady who stood in so confidential a relation to the cardinal
Dubois, and who left her illegitimate child, d’Alembert, to
the tender mercies of the public.
The greatest of the French novelists, how ever, is Le Sage.
Even in his first romance, the Diable Boiteux, the plan of
which has been suggested by the Diablo Cojuelo of Luis
Velez de la Guevara, and which appeared in 1707, the wit,
the graceful lightness, and the good-humoured sagacity
of observation, which distinguished the character of Le
Sage, were evident. The conception, in particular, of his
esprit follet, a “ diable bon-homme,” with so much more
gaiety than malice, that at times wre are tempted to think
him rather amiable than otherwise, was a great improve¬
ment on Guevara’s; and the effect of the work w'as
heightened by the skill with which he contrived to inter¬
weave with the story, if such it can be called, a multitude
of contemporary allusions. Such indeed was its popularity
and immediate sale, that two young men are said to have
mught a duel in a bookseller’s shop about their right to the
only remaining copy ; a well attested anecdote, so much
m the spirit of those satirical traits in which Asmodeus in-
mges, that as Sir Walter Scott remarks, it deserved to be
recorded by the demon himself.
VOL. XIX.
353
iamede
tin
wge.
The reputation as a novelist which these most amusing Romance,
revelations of Asmodeus had founded, was brought to its
height by the production of the first three volumes of Gil
Bias, bringing the history down to the retirement to Lirias;
a work, with the exception of Don Quixote, perhaps the
most univeisally popular in fictitious writing, pleasing equal¬
ly, whether read in youth, in manhood, or in age, and con¬
taining, as has been justly said, more “ useful knowledge,”
than twenty scientific and moral treatises. Le Sage’s cele¬
brated novel represents the level of life as it appears tn a laro-e
capital, without either its brightest lights or its darkest sha¬
dows. He exhibits the average state of feeling among such
communities,—loving virtue and good conduct within due
bounds, but, at the same time, with that natural toleration for
selfishness, servility, vanity, or occasional deviations from the
path of strict integrity, which in such society is certain to be
engendered and countenanced. As he saw nothing like an ele¬
vated morality in the world with which he was best acquaint¬
ed,—the Parisian public,—so he has not attempted to intro¬
duce any such exalted tone of feeling into his romance. His
hero is an adventurer, to wdiom a hundred parallels might
probably have been pointed out any evening among the au¬
diences at the Foire, with fair abilities, with a kindly heart,
and naturally good inclinations, but little moral firmness;
by no means so enamoured of the straight road of right as
not to turn aside occasionally when the deviation suits his
purposes; duped at first by his own vanity, and then avail¬
ing himself of his dear-bought experience to take his re¬
venge on others in the same coin, but still with a gradu¬
ally increasing preference for good conduct and virtue, and
a secret determination, when a favourable opportunity offers,
and his fortune is made, of becoming in due course an ho¬
nest man.
To this conception of an agreeable rogue, refined partly
by good feeling, and partly by calculation, into a better
being, Le Sage has imparted a wonderful air of particular,
combined with general truth ; for though Gil Bias is the re¬
presentative of so w'ide a class, that almost all must ac¬
knowledge at times some common, and perhaps not very
flattering features of resemblance between ourselves and
him, he preserves throughout his whole career the most dis¬
tinct individuality of character. Nor are the other subsi¬
diary agents of the novel deficient in distinctness and clear¬
ness of portraiture. Sangrado, Scipio, the sleek Ambrose
de Lamela, the eloquent but apoplectic archbishop, are
made to stand before us. The historical personages have
the same look of truth. Lerma and Olivarez, in particular,
are admirably painted ; so much so, that some Spanish cri¬
tics, like De ITsla and Llorente, have zealously maintained
that Le Sage merely translated from some unknown Spanish
manuscript which he had plundered. These critics reason, in
fact, in such an ingenious way, as to make the accuracy or
inaccuracy of Le Sage’s Spanish pictures equally available
for their argument. If he be perfectly correct in his por¬
traits of manners, and his allusions to Spanish customs, that
part of the work, they maintain, could not have been writ¬
ten by any but a Spaniard. If he falls into mistakes, it is
equally clear that these apparent slips were introduced by
him on purpose to hide the source of his depredations, and
to confuse, like Cacus, the traces of his retreat. It is need¬
less to say that the statement, at least as made in this un¬
qualified form, is totally incorrect. Le Sage had no doubt
thoroughly imbued himself with the spirit of the Spanish
humour, as it appeared in Cervantes, and the writers of the
Picaresco school; and, as already said, he borrowed libe¬
rally incidents from various Spanish romances; but he lent
to the whole a point, gaiety, and philosophy, which present¬
ed the old materials with all the appearance of novelty, and
the charm of an original invention. “ All is easy and good-
humoured, gay, light, and lively; even the cavern of the
robbers is illuminated with a ray of that wit with which Le
2 r
354
ROMANCE.
Romance. Sage enlightens his whole narrative. It is a work which
renders the reader pleased with himself and with mankind ;
where faults are placed before him in the light of follies ra¬
ther than vices ; and where misfortunes are so interwoven
with the ludicrous, that we laugh in the very act of sym¬
pathizing with them. All is rendered diverting, both the
crimes and the retribution which follows them.”1
Though Le Sage rightly considered his characters as
his chief object, he was well aware of the pleasing relief
which might be given to his story by the judicious com¬
bination of the repose of landscape painting with the bustle
of incident; and though he does not succeed in bringing
before us, with the vividness of Cervantes, the sombre and
parched plains or rugged mountain scenery of Spain, his
work contains some country pictures, in a style of placid
beauty, which are models of stillness, comfort, and serenity.
To whom, for instance, does not that modest demesne at
Lirias, watered by the Guadalaviar, with its mansion-house
of four little pavilions, its garden bordered with orange trees,
and ornamented with its basin of white marble, and the
quaint, respectable, old Moorish furniture of the apartments,
not to mention the olla podridas of Master Joachim, and
the revenue of five hundred ducats a-year, rise up before
the mind’s eye, as the very ideal of that happy rural retreat
which, to each of us, is to be the Euthanasia of a life ot
carefulness and toil; making us long for the time when we
may be able to say with its fortunate possessor,
“ Inveni portum ; spes et fortuna valete
Sat me lusistis, ludite nunc alios.”
Crebillon Jt is unnecessary to dwell long on the romances of the
the young- younger Crebillon, (1707—1777), as to which the only cir-
er’ cumstance which is remarkable is, that so much frivolity of
manner, and real poverty of invention, could have obtained a
temporary popularity even by the licence in which they in¬
dulged ; yet that they were very popular for a time, we
know; for Sterne represents his fille de chambre inquir¬
ing, at a circulating library, for the Egarements du Cceur et
de VEsprit, in 1768. French writers, however, appear to
recognise in his pictures some resemblance to the society
of the time ; for D’Alembert says of him, “ he draws with
a delicate and just pencil the refinement, the shades, and
the graces of our vices.”
Diderot. Much higher talent, though, like Crebillon’s, stained by
a shameful association with licentious and profligate pic¬
tures, appears in the romances of Diderot, (1713—1784).
His talent as a narrator, in particular, was scarcely inferior
to Voltaire’s. He had the picturesque particularity of Rich¬
ardson, with a more condensed expression. It is not, how¬
ever, in his larger and more notorious romances, such as
the Religeuse, that this talent is displayed. In these the
tedium is as conspicuous as the indecency and impiety. It
is in such short tales as I’Histoire de Mademoiselle de la
Chaux, or Les Deux Amis de la Bourgogne, short popu¬
lar simple histories, contrasting strongly with that air of
false simplicity, in reality tricked out with sentimental fard
Marmontel. and tinsel, which Marmontel (1719—1798) has given to
his amusing, but not very moral tales.
Voltaire’s The romances of Voltaire, (1694—1778), such as Zadig,
romances. the Princess of Babylon, Babouk, and Candide, have but
slender pretensions to the title. They are chiefly satirical
fictions, or illustrations, in the form of a tale, of irreligious
or antisocial opinions. Their wit, their biting irony, their
familiarity with the baser parts of human nature, their
power of rendering trifles pleasing by the art of narration,
are undeniable; but we must not look in them for probable
incident, for Voltaire generally chooses, as if on purpose,
some extravagant oriental groundwork as his canvass, and
borrows from Ariosto, from Gulliver, from the Arabian
Nights, or any source which suits his purpose ;—nor for the Roma:,
delineation of natural characters, for both the incidents and
personages are merely made the instruments for working
out the preconceived theorem. They produce their effect,
such as it is, not by their fidelity to nature, but by the in¬
genious malice with which its features are distorted.
From the time of Marivaux downwards, the tendency of
the French novel had been to narrow the province of inci¬
dent, and to extend proportionally that of sentiment. With
Rousseau, (1712—1778), this tendency reaches its height. Rouss
The description of feelings, and particularly of such as,
though often experienced, are seldom expressed in words,
was his peculiar field. Invention, either of character or
incident, he has none. To paint one strong passion, to
invest vice with an air of insane but reasoning morality,
“ To make madness beautiful, and cast
O’er erring deeds and thoughts a heavenly hue
Of words like sunbeams, dazzling as they past
this is the main aim of his Julie, and the only one in which
Rousseau has been at all successful. Even in this respect,
too, the declamatory tone, the continued delirium of feel¬
ing, the total want of repose, which characterise the work,
combined with the pedantry of its dissertations, become
painful and oppressive. “ Ce sont des amans,” said Rous¬
seau himself, speaking of his characters, “ et non pas des
academiciens.” Never was an apology more misplaced. The
real fault oH Julie and St. Preux is, that they have both too
much of the academician in their composition, and too little
of the lover, so far as the expression of natural passion in
simple words is concerned. We have never been able, in
reading the romance, to persuade ourselves that its real
eloquence was not as dubious as its morality. It is not easy,
indeed, in perusing Rousseau’s apostrophes to purity and
virtue, to avoid thinking of the strange commentary which
his practice furnished to his theory. It was said of Sterne
with severity, but perhaps with some justice, that he could
bestow upon a dead ass the pity which he denied to a living
mother. And the man of nature and of truth, who expends
his trembling sensibilities on paper, suffers a fellow-servant
to be punished for the theft he had himself committed, and
provides for his natural children in the foundling hospital.
The total corruption of an exhausted society, tottering to
its fall, with the external varnish of gaiety and wit by
which it tried to gild its decay, are aptly represented in the
licentious romances of Louvet and La Clos; its still more
vulgar profligacy in the coarse and incoherent, but occasion¬
ally striking and original novels of Restif de la Bretonne,
(1734—1806). The works of the two former writers are
unfortunately but too well known ; the numerous and hasty
productions of the eccentric printer, who was accustomed
often to set up his strange compositions in type, without
a manuscript, as the ideas occurred to him, are now almost
completly forgotten. Yet Schiller and several eminent
German critics, have spoken with high approbation of
the vigour and talent which they evince in some parts,
however defective or revolting in others. “ I have scarcely
imagined any thing,” says Restif, in his Drame de la Vie; “ I
have simply related; my life has been so full of events, that
I have made four-and-twenty volumes out of it.” Any one,
indeed, who writes, as Laharpe says of Restif in his Cor-
respondenceBusse, under the persuasion, that all that he had
seen, and thought, or learnt, deserved to be printed, and who
acted faithfully on that principle, could hardly fail to pro¬
duce compositions with very nearly the merits and demerits
of the novels of Restif; that is to say, with the coarseness of
feeling which was natural to the man, with the disjointed air
which a set of unconnected incidents from life must present,
and yet with that degree of freshness and truthfulness oi
painting, which sketches from life almost invariably possess,
1 Sir Walter Scott’s Lives of the Novelists—Le Sage.
ROMANCE.
Romance.
355
however humble or disagreeable may be the department of t^te, which might, in some measure, have prepared the Rom,n«.
from winch they are drawn^ H,s best novel is usually con- world for that strange and revolting spectacle which the
'verti.wrnr.n annparpri ini / /E lifovQfitvQ i   1 . .
L Pierre
dier.
sidered to be the Paysan Pervcrti, which appeared in 1776.
Two writers may be pointed out, however, about this pe¬
riod, who were the representatives of a better taste and bet¬
ter feelings.
Bernardinde St. Pierre (1737—1814) maybe regarded as
the connecting link between the eighteenth and the nine¬
teenth century : a graft of Fenelon upon Rousseau. His
pathos no doubt often merges in a weakly sentimentalism;
but the calm idyllic beauty of the Paul and Virginia and
the Indian Cottage (1789—1792) was not without its use
literature of fiction has presented in France, since the Re¬
volution of 1830. The manner of Pigault le Brun, was
imitated and improved upon by Paul de Koch; for, adopt¬
ing his principle of drawing chiefly from middle life, and
his love for the representation of comic mischances, he has
thrown into the best of his novels, scenes of simple humour,
of tenderness, and even of powerful passion, to which the
novelist of the Revolution had made no pretensions. To
sneer at him as a Parisian cockney, or as the romance writer
, • * u1' Vi-;   “ of the Grisettes, is easy; but we are much mistaken if his
in restoring to rrench literature a feeling for nature and tales, homely and even coarse as they maybe, will not be
its simple enjoyments, and the acknowledgment of aProvi- read when the atrocities of Sue and Masson, and the deli-
dence, a belief which both philosophy and fiction had for cate depravities of Balzac, are forgotten
some time past been labouring to obliterate. In the higher sphere of romance, we have, during the v. ,
The defects of St. Pierre, with very little of his redeem- same period, the earlier productions of Victor Hugo, Hans h’C °r
mg excellencies,^appear in the Atala, Rene, Natchez of of Iceland, and Bug Jargal. Hans of Iceland, wild and g°‘
Chateaubriand. He is, no doubt, in some departments an ori¬
ginal thinker, and a man of a poetical imagination, though
a degree of vagueness and mysticism mingles even with the
best of his works ; but as a novelist, his sickly sentiment and
exaggeration of feeling are fatal to his success.
When the limbo of the Revolution, after its billowy heaving,
began to settle again into something like a calm, under the
despotism of the Consulate, the novel took the direction of
broad and extravagant humour, derived from the gaieties and
vulgarities of middle life, and, as might naturally be expected,
liberally sprinkled with indecency, in the voluminous novels
of Pigault Le Brun,—to whom it would be unfair to deny
considerable powers of broad mirth, and a fertility in imagin¬
ary burlesque situations, which remind us of Smollett. But
the questionable character of the novel-writing of this
period is not universal. In the tales of Madame Cottin,
the authoress of Elizabeth and JHathilde, a pure morality,
and feminine tenderness, reappear; and though those of
Madame de Stael, with all their eloquence, occasionally in¬
culcate more doubtful lessons, her genuine admiration for
pure and elevated feeling, prevents her from willingly lend¬
ing her talents to the palliation of vice. The novels of
Madame de Stael, however, are far more German in their
character than French.
The works of the literary veteran, Nodier, certainly owe
their attractions more to the charms of a beautiful style than
to their substance. Throughout his whole course he has been
but an imitator, putting on successively the manner of other
writers. The Werther of Goethe appears to have first given
the tone to his novels, and the passionate energy and wild
complaints of the German suicide were reproduced in his tale
of Therese Aubert. To the influence of Goethe succeeded
that of Byron, and the spirit of the Corsair and Lara were
infused into the bandit Jean Sbogar. From Byron he passed
to Scott, whom he has imitated in his Trilby, ou lelutin cCAr-
gail, a production, the effect of which, though meant to be
serious and pathetic, is unintentionally of the most comic
kind, for the “ tricksy spirit” of Argyle in the hands of Nodier
becomes one of the most absurd of supernatural conceptions
extravagant as it is, is evidently not the work of an ordinary
writer. A stern, savage northern spirit is breathed into
the romance. Spiagudry, Orugix, even the monster from
whom the tale derives its name, strange and ghastly crea¬
tions as they are, exercise a certain fascination over the
mind ; and the youthful poet has turned to great account
the dreary wilds, gloomy lakes, stormy seas, and ruined
fortresses of Scandinavia. Bug Jargal was decidedly in¬
ferior to Hans oj Iceland. The essential improbability in
the character of a negro passionately in love with a white
woman, and yet tempering the wildest passion with the
deepest respect, is obvious; nor is that improbability dis¬
guised by the art with which Hugo has framed his story.
There was more of genius, we think, in his Dernier Jour
dun Condamne, in which Hugo, like Sterne, has taken a
single captive, shut him up in his dungeon, and then
“ looked through the twilight of the grated door to take
his picture.” In this little work he has shown how a pro¬
found interest might be given to a mere register of sensa¬
tions, and a dramatic movement imparted to a monologue,
in which the scene shifts only from the Bicetre to the Con-
ciergerie, the Hotel de Ville, and the Place de Greve.
Hugo’s great novel, Notre Dame de Paris, appeared in
1831. It is needless to speak of a wank which has been
more than once translated into English; and the charac¬
teristics of which, the mingled genius and extravagance,
the poetical spirit in which it is conceived, and the want of
nature in the characters which it pourtrays, resembling
distorted and hideous masques rather than men, are now
very generally and correctly appreciated.
The popularity of the romances of Scott led about the
same time to a multitude of imitations, by Jacob and others,
of which the Cinq Mars of Alfred de Vigny appears to be
generally considered the most successful.
We have no idea of entering on that mass of revolting
performances, equally offensive to good morals and good
taste, with which the French press has teemed since 1830;
and which we are but too happy to consider, with the French
themselves, as a literature of transition. This school of
y - . #   ; IT V COj 0.0 O IILCIOLUIC Ui tl OllOi LlUil* -L iliO OG11UU1 U1
n xus Smarra again, a Thessalian story in the manner of blood and voluptuousness, funereal horrors and drunken or-
thfc snrrpripc a nr} sliaKloiMoa A \ 1 •  . l _ i • i • i • i r* . i
the sorceries and diableries in the Golden Ass of Apuleius,
he seems to have been influenced by the German night
pieces of the school of Hoffmann ; and he certainly suc¬
ceeds almost as well as his German master, in producing a
strange ephialtic effect by a cloud of misty murky phan¬
toms, which pass before us as if in a feverish and uneasy
dream
gies, the transitions in which remind one of the stage ar¬
rangement in the rehearsal,—“ the coffin opens, and a ban¬
quet is discovered,”—we feel assured, can be of no long
duration; and already we believe, that the French public
begin to feel that they have had enough of the endless
Balzac, and Jan in, and Sue, and Soulie, and Masson, and
w. _ the other labourers in this Montfaucon of fiction. As for
v ith the restoration of the Bourbons, some degree of Madame du Devant, or George Sand,—the Chevalier d’Eon
thp'p' d^cency> at least, distinguished the productions of of French literature,—a being whose sex it would be im¬
possible to ascertain from her works, with the warm pas¬
sions and headlong eloquence of the woman, and the
audacious speculation of the man;—while the principles
which she labours to inculcate, are of the most odious na-
the French press, though still the license which its novel¬
ists permitted to themselves in their comic works, and the
extravagant and terrible cast of their more tragic stories,
indicated at once a looseness of morality, and a coarseness
356
ROMANCE.
Romance, tuve; and the cynical hardihcod with which she paints
scenes from which any woman would turn aside, is perhaps
the very worst proof which French literature at present
presents of a degraded standard of delicacy and right feel¬
ing among the female sex, we cannot deny that she appears
to us to possess far greater talent, even genius, though mis¬
directed, than any of the other ephemeral novelists to which
we have alluded. In particular, she has an imagination sin¬
gularly alive to natural beauty; her pictures of scenery are
frequently captivating; and one evening landscape of Venice,
in her Dernier Aldini, has the combined charm ot deep
sensibility and truth. By far the most pleasing of her no¬
vels, because it in a great measure keeps in the background
her peculiar opinions, is Andre. And yet even the general
purity and right feeling of the tale is marred and interrupt¬
ed by some passages which English readers at least would
wish to blot.
Roma r
German The field of the novel or romance is not that which has
novels and been cultivated in Germany with the most success. The
romances. ]abourers indeed have been many, the produce most abun¬
dant, but the quality of the harvest is at best equivocal.
Down to the time of Goethe and Tieck, the German litera¬
ture of fiction was almost entirely imitative, deriving both
its form and spirit from other nations. Since their time, if
it presents a greater air of originality, it has generally as¬
sumed a character so fantastic, so unreal, so unlike all that
we have been accustomed to associate with the idea of a
novel, that it is extremely difficult to comprehend what is
really the conception of the word entertained in Germany.
As we have no very high idea of the German prose
fictions, the space which we propose to devote to them
will be extremely limited; for we shall confine ourselves
to a mere indication of the successive phases which the
German romance has presented. In doing so, it seems
unnecessary to go back beyond the latter portion of the
eighteenth century, or to revive the names of works and
authors which even the Germans themselves have forgot¬
ten. The earlier part of the eighteenth century had been
occupied with numerous imitations of the Robinson Crusoe
of Defoe, or of the family pictures of Richardson, the me¬
rits of which are not of a nature to demand notice in the
present sketch.
In the Greek romances of Wieland, (1763—1812), such
as the Agathon, the Aristippus, Peregrinus Proteus, and
Agathaddmon, the same didactic tendency is observable
which distinguishes those of Voltaire, but without their cy-
nyical and mocking tone, and with a much greater power,
if not of actually inventing character, at least of working
up the scanty materials furnished by history into a consist¬
ent and plausible portrait of the historical personages of
antiquity; as in his Socrates, and still more perhaps in his
Aristijrpus. The main fault of his novels, besides this di¬
dactic tone, which pervades them all, is the frequent repe¬
titions which they contain of the same views and person¬
ages. Agathon in one manner, and the Abderites in the
other, contain the germ of almost all Wieland’s other writ¬
ings. The sceptical Hippias, for instance, only puts off the
Athenian stole in Agathon, to assume the mantle of the
Calendar; the Dana? of that novel revives again in Theo-
clea and Devidassi; the youth of Athagon, in Delphi, is
the prototype of that of Peregrinus in Parium; and many
such instances must occur to any one familiar with Wie¬
land. He is a mannerist, in short, as to his matter, and the
mannerism extends even to his style, which, though flowing
and facile, has not a little of the solemn loquacity of Boc-
Ciccio. This diffuseness is less felt in his shorter tales, where
his philosophy is not so obtrusively displayed; and for this
reason we prefer hisZkm Sylvio de Rosalva,—the history of
Wieland.
a quixotic believer in fairyism, gradually converted to com¬
mon sense by the extravagant demands which are made
upon his belief, assisted by the charms of a mortal beauty,—
and his little romance of the Salamander and the Statue,
to his more elaborate and aspiring compositions.
The influence of the novels of Richardson and of Field¬
ing reappears about this time in a liberal effusion of family
novels, some pourtraying the serious and sentimental, others
the comic aspect of domestic life. Among the sentimental
novelists, Augustus La Fontaine (1758—1831) maybe con- La Fen
sidered as the most successful, and undoubtedly the most tame,
popular. He painted life as he had seen it in the little
German towns, villages, and chateaux of respectable pro¬
prietors about him, or as he had witnessed it during his cam¬
paigns as army chaplain, without ornament or alteration,
without any pretension to imagination ; and though there
is at times something vulgar and tawdry in his sentimental¬
ism, there is also a great deal of quiet simple nature in such
scenes of common life and domestic happiness as he has ex¬
hibited in his family of Haller ; and a tone of frankness and
good humour, wffiich carries the reader pleasingly along
through incidents and characters that in themselves are
common-place enough.
The comedy of family life found numerous representa- Comic
tives, of wdiom Wetzel, Muller, Schulz, and Hippel, at- manm
traded some notice in their day and generation. Even yet
the Siegfried von Lindenberg of Muller, which appeared
about 1779, and of which many editions have appeared, may
be admitted to be a natural and amusing performance.
A union of the sentimental with the comic in these do- Richte
mestic pictures was attempted at a somewhat later date in
the very singular novels of Richter, (1763—1825), a man
of high powers, which he knew not how to use, and which
were alloyed in no common degree by false taste, and an incu¬
rable affectation of singularity. His earliest novel, the
Gronldndische Processe, appeared in 1784. The tricks and
claptraps to which Sterne occasionally descends, we find
habitual with Richter. The very titles of some of his works,
such as Selections from the Papers of the Devil, or Recrea¬
tions under the Ctanium of a Giantess, and the absurd de¬
vices by which he generally introduces his narration, as in
the Hesperus, where a series of letters is represented as
mysteriously conveyed to the author in letter-bags tied
round the neck of a shock-dog, betray a mind anxious
to astonish by fantastic conceits, and insensible to the
beauty of simplicity. The constant recurrence of these in¬
stances of literary quackery, the want of connexion which
his chaotic narrations exhibit, combined with the visionary
cast of his views, justifying his own remark, that the em¬
pire of the Germans was peculiarly that of the air, has been
fatal, and we think justly, to all attempts to naturalize Rich¬
ter in this country. His pathos we think in the worst style
of false, and often meaningless, effusions of sentimentality;
but as a quiet humourist, blending good feeling with his
satire, he is often very successful. In this respect we ad¬
mit the truth of the observations of Mr. Carlyle, from whose
estimate of Richter’s genius we in other respects fundamen¬
tally differ: “ It is on the strength of this, and its accom¬
panying endowments, that his main success as an artist de¬
pends. His favourite characters have always a dash of the
ridiculous in their circumstances, in their composition, per¬
haps in both. They are often men of no account, vain, poor,
ignorant, feeble; and we scarcely know how it is that we
love them; for the author all along has been laughing no
less heartily than we at their ineptitudes. Yet so it is; his
Fibel, his Fixlein, his Siebenkas, even his Schmelzle, insi¬
nuate themselves into our affections; and their ultimate
place is closer to our hearts than that of many more splen¬
did heroes. This is the test of true humour; no wit, no
sarcasm, no knowledge, will suffice ; not talent, but genius,
will accomplish the result.”
A strong contrast to these pictures of ordinary life, whe-
ther serious or comic, was presented by the mass of roman- n'a
ROMANCE
nance. Ces connected with the feudal periods in Germany, which
appeared from about 1780 to 1800, and formed the coun¬
terpart of the Ritter-stiicken or chivalrous dramas, with
which the stage had been inundated since the example had
been set by Goethe’s Goetz of Berlichingen and Babo’s Otho
of Wittelsbach. Cramer, Spiess, Schlenkert, and Veit Weber,
(Leonhard Wachter), w ere the favourite writers of this tur¬
bulent school of fiction, which in all probability took its rise
from the popularity of the romances of Mrs. Radcliffe. Their
materials were the blood-stained period of Faustrecht and
Vehm-Gerichte, feudal tyrants, suffering damsels, devoted
knights, with abundance of single combats and splintering of
lances, raising of trap-doors, escapes by sliding pannels, im¬
prisonments in bottomless dungeons, murders, witchcraft,
and apparitions ; in short, all that apparatus of the terrible,
which, even in such hands, has a certain fascination for the
boy, but awakens only a feeling of the ridiculous in the man.
Another department of German fictions likewise dealing
with the marvellous, but fortunately cultivated by writers of a
very different order of talent, was’ the Mahrchen, or legen¬
dary tale. Three different modes may be pointed out in
which this class of subjects has been treated.
;$us. The first is exemplified in the Volksmarcken> or popular
tales of Musasus, in which the groundwork of marvellous
tradition which the wwiter has selected is treated, not in the
spirit of belief, but of a laughing scepticism, and where the
writer relies for effect, not so much upon the interest of his
materials, as upon the wit, the satirical allusions, and the
quaint description orbroad drollery which he is able to infuse
into the original legend. Whatever in such traditions bor¬
dered upon awe or terror, Musaeus rejected; he viewed even
these creations of the fancy in a prosaic light, and selected
only such features as could be wrought into his ingenious
mosaic of fanciful marvel, picturesque description, and sly
and somewhat irreligious pleasantry, in the style of Voltaire.
What he attempted, however, he accomplished with suc¬
cess. Some of his tales, such as Stumme Liebe, (Dumb
Love), and Melechsala, might be cited as models of the
art of combining the childish interest of a nursery tale with
that shew of irony or philosophy which affords even to grave
personages an apology for the perusal of popular tales.
In this semi-derisive style of treating the traditionary le¬
gends of his country, Musaeus remains the solitary writer of
talent. This natural tendency of the German mind towards
earnestness and belief, even in the case of the marvellous,
led to a very decided preference of the serious manner in
the treatment of such themes. And undoubtedly at the head
of this second mode of treating the legend stands Ludwick
Tieck, (born 1773). Questionable as we think his claims are to
the highest distinction, either as a poet or a novelist, in the
proper sense of the term, his success in the management of
traditional marvels in a poetical spirit is undeniable. He
seems without an effort to throw himself back into the spi¬
rit of primitive and superstitious periods, when the agency
of an invisible world formed an article of belief, and exer¬
cised the strongest influence over the conduct of life ; a time
of supposed prodigies, and omens, and secret charms, w'hose
agency pervaded and controlled the course of nature. In
reading the best of these legends of Tieck, such as The
Fair Eckbert, The Love Charm, or Peter of Abano, we feel
that he has the power of carrying us back in advanced age
into the very realm of Fairyland, and subjecting us anew
to the influences of childhood. “ These legends have a
freshness about them like that of the earliest morning, a
sweetness as of wild flowers, and a calm beauty, caught as
it were from a radiant sunset or a rising morn. The reader
of the Runenberg is brought face to face with the presiding
spirits of the animal and vegetable kingdoms ; now he feels
as if he were embosomed in luxurious vegetation, bathed
357
in iertilizing dew, and fanned by balmy zephyrs, and nowr Romance,
as it he were transported to cavern depths or darkest mines,
wdiere mountain spirits exercise an unholy influence. All
the other legends, The Fair Eckbert, The Fairies, and The
Trusty Eckhart, have the same beauty and significance ;
but it is impossible by mere description to give any idea of
their peculiar nature. They must be studied and felt to be
at all understood.”1
V e are here speaking of Tieck merely as the writer who
has treated the traditional tale in the most poetical spirit.
Within the domain of the novel, taking the term even in
a very extensive sense, our estimate of his powers will be
very different.
The mode of treating the legendary lore of Germany, of
which the tales of Tieck had furnished the first example,
as the most agreeable to the national character, soon found
numerous, or, it might rather be said, numberless imitators.
For the last thirty years, the example of Tieck has been
implicitly followed, and all the legendary novelists of Ger¬
many have been melancholy and gentlemanlike, after the
pattern of the Phantasus. Of these the writers best known
to English readers, through translation, are the Baron de la
Motte Fouque, the author of Undine, the Magic Ring, and
Sintram ; Chamisso, the author of Peter Schlemihl; and
Apel, the author of the Freyschutz. It may be doubted
whether better specimens of the German tale might not be
selected from writers with which the English public is not
familiar,—some of Henrich Steffens’ short legendary stories
in particular,—such as, the Sleeping Bride, (Die Schlafende
Braut) and the Nightly Betrothal in the Church ofRonvig,
(Die Niichtliche trauung im Kirche Rorwig), which have
not yet found a translator, appear not undeserving of the
attention of the lovers of the marvellous. In the wild pro¬
ductions of Achim von Arnim, such as the Countess Do¬
lores, and Isabella of Egypt, traits of talent sparkle in the
midst of absurdity. And from the works of Clemens Bren-
tano, and of Zhokke, the author of Abelino, several inter¬
esting legends might be selected. In particular, we are
surprised that the simple and beautiful legendary tale by
the former, “ The History of the Brave Kasperl and the
Fair Annerl,” is yet untranslated.
The third form in which the Mahrchen was employed, but, Hoffmann,
at the same time, perverted from its proper purpose, and
subjected to a more Mezentian union than it had submitted
to even under the satirical despotism of Musaeus, was in the
fantastic or grotesquely terrible manner introduced by Hoff¬
mann, and, since his death, so injudiciously and unsuccess¬
fully imitated both in Germany and in France. Hoffmann’s
manner cannot be considered as entirely original, since an
approach to it may be pointed out in the Diable Amoureux
of Cazotte. It is singular, however, that his productions,
such as the Sandman, the Magnetizer, the Devil’s Elixir,
and others of that class, deriving their whole interest
and effect from their connexion with the peculiar nature
and idiosyncrasy of the writer’s mind, and so incapable
of being imitated with the least success by any one not
possessing the same anomalous mental conformation and
physical irritability with the Prussian judge, should have
exercised a very decided though temporary influence
over the literature, not merely of Germany, but of Eu¬
rope ; and it proves that, notwithstanding the extrava¬
gances, there does reside in them some charm,—something
vrhich appeals successfully, not, indeed, to the mind in its
calmer mood, but to the imagination when in a state of tem¬
porary excitement. Only in such a mind as Hoffmann’s,
moulded into its existing shape by an ill-omened union o^
influences, mental and bodily, habitually haunted with
gorgons and presentiments, seeing traces, as it were, o.
the devil’s hoof in the commonest paths of life, and start-
Germany, by Bisset Hawkins, p. 126.
■558
ROMANCE.
Romance, ing and trembling at the chimseras with which his imagina¬
tion peopled solitudes—could the phantoms bred in his
eccentric brain, and nurtured amidst the fumes of a Berlin
tavern, have ever assumed that appearance of reality and
belief which could render their introduction into a work of
fiction at all practicable. Only by a mind accustomed,
from a painful experience, to brood over and dissect the
origin and connexion of these strange phenomena, half
hich make “ life a dream,” but with
mental half physical, which  . _
a nightmare accompaniment, could the possible connexion
of this phantasmagoria with real existence, in morbid minds,
be rendered so far intelligible as to redeem them from the
charge of the merest puerility. Hoffmann’s tales, though
they constantly suggest the idea that they have had their
source in the inspiration of opium, seem really to be the
only compositions in this style of grotesque horror, which
can be said to possess the redeeming quality of genius.
They remind us of the images of our dreams, calling up
before us, as in sleep, long perspectives of gloomy vastness,
broken here and there by the light of the strangest ignes
fatui, along which are seen, flitting in antic movements,
bands of the strangest creatures, such as those which, in
the pictures of Teniers, disturb the solitude of St. Anthony,
or which give a strange blending of the humorous and the
horrible to the distempered sketches of Callot. Yet, as
a proof that the talent of Hoffmann was by no means con¬
fined merely to the fantastic and the supernatural, we may
notice his truthful and vigorous picture of the German
burgher life of the middle ages, in his Master Martin and
his Apprentices, and his Mademoiselle de Scudery, a tale
of vivid and fascinating interest, founded on a historical
groundwork, moving in the simplest and most direct man¬
ner towards its object, and exciting the feeling of curiosity
and suspense even to the last.
Heinse. Some notoriety of an evil kind was obtained by a class of
novels, in which the attempt was made to invest sensuality
with the graces of art, or to merge art in sensuality. Such
were the Ardinghello of Heinse (1749—1803), in which
painting was made the apology for the introduction ot vo¬
luptuous pictures, and his Hildegard von Hohenthal, in
which music was made to minister to a similar purpose,—
no unfit sequel to a literary life which commenced with a
translation of Petronius. In truth, in the whole range ot
the German novels, the tendency to an undue license ot this
kind is observable. In those of Goethe, though veiled by
an appearance of decency, it is sufficiently perceptible ; nor
does Tieck appear free from the common taint. Many pas¬
sages in Wilhelm Meister are highly objectionable; and
such a novel as the W'ahlverwandschaften we regard as
untranslateable into English.
Goethe. Of Goethe’s novels we have already expressed our opin¬
ion in our biographical article on Goethe himself. It the
merits of a novel consisted, not in exhibiting an epitome of
human life, more or less poetically conceived, according to
the prosaic or imaginative turn of the writer’s mind, but in
speculating ingeniously on painting, agriculture, landscape,
gardening, the rules of good composition, or the state of the
theatre, connecting these speculations by a thread of mys¬
tical narrative, and introducing us to a set of beings without
the least trace of reality about them, who all appear to be
playing some theatrical part in a dreamy representation of
life, which seems to have no intelligible object,—Goethe
may be a great novelist. With an English public, demand¬
ing some firm basis of reality, instead of that unsubstantial
cloud-land which envelopes us in the Wilhelm Meister’s
Lehrjahre and Wanderjahre, and accustomed to insist on
a plain meaning as a preliminary to poetical embellishment,
he never can be a favourite. A novel which does not ex¬
plain its purpose without a commentary, seems to violate
the essential laws of such compositions ; but a novel, in re¬
gard to the object of which no two commentators agree, is
an anomaly in literature. Most of the German critics, in- Romance
deed, though professing a great admiration of these singu- "'-'"V"*'
lar performances of Goethe, are careful to confine their ob¬
servations, in regard to the meaning or object of the novels,
to the merest generalities. They describe Wilhelm Meis¬
ter, to use the congenial language of an English admirer,
as a picture “ of warm, hearty, sunny, human endeavour,
a free recognition of life in its depth, variety, and majesty,
but as yet no divinity recognised there? The latter por¬
tion of the sentence is intelligible, and is unfortunately true,
but the rest reminds us of Mr. Bangle’s remark, that the
interpreter appears the harder to be understood of the
two.
These observations apply, with slight modification, to the Ticck.
novels of Tieck, when he abandons the province of the
traditional tale, and attempts subjects connected with real
life ; the characters, the incidents, the whole cast of the tale,
appear so extravagant, that, .but for the grave and lauda¬
tory criticism with which these effusions seem invariably to
be received by his countrymen, it would be difficult to be¬
lieve the author serious. His first romance, William Lovel,
was a gloomy and revolting extravagance, and his later
caprices, such as Das Alte Duch, (the. Old Book), the Vo-
gelscheuche, (Scarecrow), Eigcnsinn und Laune, (Self-will
and Humour), WunderlichkeiteUy (Marvels), are utterly
unworthy of a man of genius. Even the merits,of his Dich-
terleben, (a Poet’s Life), have been greatly exaggerated.
Any tale, in which Marlowe and Shakespeare figure as ac¬
tors, has a certain interest for a Briton ; but beyond some
eloquent disputations on the drama, and the formation of a
poet’s mind, in which Shakespeare and his companions are
made to utter modern German theories, the most opposite to
English notions of the sixteenth century, we cannot perceive
wherein the peculiar merit of this much-lauded perfor¬
mance lies. Tieck has said absurdly and presumptuously
of Sir Walter Scott, that “ it is surprising how little he
wants to be a poet, but how much that little outweighs all
that he is.” Let any one who has read Tieck’s Aufruhr
in den Cevennen, in which he has come in competition with
the Scotch novelist on an historical subject, judgewhetherhe
has himself made a nearer approximation to that character.
The talent displayed by Schiller in his Verbrecher aus
Ehre, and his fine fragment of the Armenian, or the Ghost
Seer, excites regret that he did not give us less of philosophy,
and more of fiction. It is an unfinished tale of mystery, of
deep interest, the idea of which, it is supposed, was suggest¬
ed by the juggleries of Cagliostro, and in which Schiller,
though he never witnessed the scenery which he describes,
has caught the spirit of silence and secrecy which seems to
pervade Venice,with the same success as, in YiisWilham Tell,
he has transported us into the mountain recesses oftheOber-
land. And Lord Byron has recorded the strong impression
made upon his mind by the recollection of the incomprehen¬
sible Armenian, one of those conceptions which he was accus¬
tomed by anticipation to associate with the image ot the city
of the sea. , Schiller,
Several female novelists, too, have respectably supported c
the pretensions of their sex; such as Fanny 1 arnow, the
Baroness de la Motte Fouque, Johanna Schopenhauer, Hen¬
rietta Hanke, and Caroline Pichler, the able authoress ot
Agathocles. Many of their productions exhibit talent,
grace, and facility of style, but we should be at a loss to name
any for which the praise of genius could justly be claimed.
The class of romances called Kriminal Geschichten, turn¬
ing on stories of secret guilt discovered by circumstantial evi¬
dence, has been a numerous one in Germany. At the headot
this class of novelists stands Kruse, who certainly possesses
in a high degree a power, which at the present day appears to
be rather a rare one,—-that of constructing an ingenious and
complicated plot, keeping the curiosity constantly on t e
stretch, and defying conjecture as to the result, till tne au-
umano.
R O M
finance thor himself chooses to furnish the solution. The Ring,
Oath and Conscience, Diodatis’ Birth, the Dance of Death,
t and the Red Dragon, are masterpieces in this style of in-
' vention, which, though of a sufficiently prosaic character,
yet possesses, at least, this cardinal merit, that it is rarely
tedious.
Historical romances have always been numerous in Ger¬
many ; and after the appearance of those of Sir Walter
Scott, they became still more so. Some of the chivalrous
pictures of Tromlitz, Van de Velde, and Blumenhagen in this
style are spirited, but in general the historical romance of
Germany does not rise above mediocrity. “ Sunt bona,
sunt qusedam mediocria, sunt mala plura.” Let us except
the very remarkable tale of Michael Kohlhaas, by the un¬
fortunate dramatist Kleist, (1776—1811). In all of Kleist’s
tales there is too much of a spectral and fatalistic charac¬
ter ; he delighted to contemplate and to delineate life as
ROM 359
necessitated by a mysterious and iron destiny. Kohlhaas Romance
is not entirely free from a tinge of the supernatural, II
which harmonizes ill with the deep, humble, human inter- ^omi,l°n*
est of the tale itself; and no where does the idea of a grim
and unrelenting fate appear in more saddening colours.
There is truth, therefore, in Goethe’s remark as to this ro¬
mance, that “ it brings prominently into view a dissonant
principle in nature, with which poetry ought not to meddle,
with which it cannot reconcile itself, let the handling of
the matter be never so exquisite.” And yet this vigorous
and truthful picture from the Lutheran times, must be to
English readers an object of interest, from the contrast it
exhibits to the usual style of the German novel; for it is
told with a directness, a simplicity, a dramatic liveliness,
and an absence of unnecessary reflection, which are quali¬
ties of rare occurrence beyond the Rhine.
(w. w. w.w.)
ROMAGNA, a province of Italy, in the pope’s territo¬
ries, bounded on the north by the Ferrarese, on the south
by Tuscany and the duchy of Urbino, on the east by the
gulf of Venice, and on the west by the Bolognese and a part
of Tuscany. It is fertile in corn, wine, oil, fine fruits, and
pastures. It has also mines, mineral waters, and salt-works,
which make its principal revenue. Ravenna is the capital
town.
ROMANIA or Rumelia, an extensive province of the
Turkish empire in Europe, called by the Turks the Ejelat
Rumili, or the land of the Romans. In the more extended
sense it comprehends the whole countries to the west and
the north of the Bosphorus, but in a more peculiar sense it
included the ancient Thrace, Bulgaria, Servia, and Greece,
except a strip on the coast and the islands wdiich are in the
Pashalic of the Capudan Pascha,and one distinguished as the
Ejalet Dscheseir. It is divided into 24 districts or sand-
giacets, extends over 105,182 square miles, and probably
contains 6,000,000 inhabitants. The capital of it, as of the
empire, is Constantinople or Istambol.
ROMANO, Giulio, a famous painter of the Roman
school, was born at Rome in 1492. He was the favourite
pupil of Raphael, who had such an affection for him, that he
appointed him, with John Francis Penni, his heir. He first
signalised himself by his Battle of Constantine, which he
painted from a design of Raphael’s, and which was particu¬
larly admired by Poussin.
When he had completed the hall of Constantine in the
Vatican, from Raphael’s designs, he went to Mantua, where
the patronage of the Gonzaghi family excited him to those
great works, and those magnificent plans by which Mantua
and the palace Del T. have been so highly decorated. In
the decorations of this palace, Julio prepared the cartoons,
and had the pictures executed by his pupils ; but he after¬
wards corrected and finished them. Modern pencils are
Said to have covered the touches of Julio, especially in the
Fable of Psyche, the Allegories of Human Life, and the
Giants Storming Heaven, where his composition and design
are alone seen. In the fresco paintings of the old palace or
corte of Mantua, which refer principally to the histories of
the Trojan war, his peculiar merits are better perceived.
Helen Asleep, Vulcan forging arms for Achilles, are con¬
sidered beautiful, and Minerva slaying Ajax is regarded as
sublime.
The most remarkable of the altar pieces of our artist are
the three frescoes of St. Marco; and in the church of St.
Christofero, the athletic figure of that saint supporting the
infant Jesus. His Martyrdom of St. Stephen on the head
altar of the church of St. Stephen at Genoa, is preferred to
them all.
His conceptions were more extraordinary and more ele¬
vated than even those of his master, but not so natural. He
was wonderful in the choice of attitudes; but did not perfect¬
ly understand the lights and shades, and is frequently harsh
and ungraceful. The folds of his draperies, says Du Fresnoy,
are neither beautiful nor great, easy nor natural, but all ex¬
travagant, like the fantastical habits of comedians. He was,
however, superior to most painters, by his profound know¬
ledge of antiquity ; and, by conversing with the works of the
most excellent poets, particularly Homer, he made himself
master of the qualifications necessarily required in a great
designer. Julio Romano was also well skilled in architec¬
ture. He was employed by Cardinal de Medicis, who was
afterwards pope under the name of Clement VII.; he ulti¬
mately settled in Mantua, whither he was invited by Frede¬
rick Gonzago, marquis of that city, in order to avoid his
being justly punished for having drawn at Rome the de¬
signs of twenty obscene plates, engraved by Mark Anthony,
to which Aretine added the same number of sonnets. Julio
Romano embellished the city of Mantua with many of his
performances, both in painting and architecture, and died
in that city in 1546, at 54 years of age.
Romans,a city of France, in the department of the Drome,
and the arrondisement of Valence, situated on the right bank
of the Isere. It has considerable manufactories of stockings,
caps, hats, and silk goods, and makes large quantities of oil
from wallnuts. The fruit, especially melons, is chiefly sent
to Grenoble. It contained in 1836, 9285 inhabitants/ Lat.
45. 6. Long. 4. 57. E.
ROMBLON or Romblino, one of the smaller Philip¬
pine islands, about 30 miles in circumference. Long. 121.
58. E. Lat. 12. 40. N.
SCO
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman Rome, a city of Italy, formerly the capital of the greatest
History. empire in the world, and still remarkable as the chief seat
of the papal power, is situated on the river Tiber, in east long.
13°, and north lat. 41° 45'.
To trace, even briefly, the rise and progress of this mighty
city towards universal empire, would demand a voluminous
history, especially were we to enter into disquisitions re¬
specting the views which have been adopted in this article;
but as our limits foi'bid such an attempt, we must content
ourselves in a great measure with the statement of general
results, with such occasional references as may enable our
readers to investigate the subject at greater length ; and we
think it fortunate, that many of the views which were held
as mere paradoxes when first proposed by Niebuhr, may
now be regarded as firmly established, and without hesita¬
tion followed as essentially correct.
For the history of the various tribes, which, when united
under the Roman name, formed one mighty nation, we must
refer to the different heads under which, in other parts of
this work, they are mentioned. The chief of these were
the Oscan, probably the most ancient race that inhabited
Italy ; the Pelasgian, under which designation may also be
comprised the Tyrrhenian,1 with its numerous branches;
and the Etrurian, which was marked by various features dis¬
tinguishing it from both the other races, being also probably
less ancient than either. From all that appears in history
or tradition, the Oscan, Opican, Auruncan, and Ausonian,
were the same race of people, and the earliest inhabitants of
that part of Italy contained between Oenotria and Tyrrhe-
nia, or the country of the Etruscans;2 in a word, they were
the original stock whence sprung several of the most power¬
ful nations of Italy, as the Sabines or Sabellians, the Sam-
nites, and others. ThePelasgi3 appear to have been a branch
of that once mighty race of whom traces may be discovered
from the river Strymon, along the coast of Ionia, through¬
out Greece and its islands, and along the maritime shores of
Italy. It was from their Pelasgic ancestors that the Ro¬
mans derived the radical affinities which are found to con¬
nect the Italian language with that of Greece, both hav¬
ing had, at some remote period, a common origin. The
Peiasgi seem to have driven the Oscan nations from the sea-
coast, back to the mountains, and in their turn to have been
overpowered in part of their acquired territory by the Etrus¬
cans. The origin of this latter people is involved in obscu¬
rity hitherto impenetrable.4 They display many traces of an
oriental, or, as some think, of an Egyptian origin. We in¬
cline, for many reasons, to believe them of Phoenician ex¬
traction ; not merely the peculiarities of their alphabet, but
those also of their religious rites, bearing a very close resem¬
blance to the most ancient forms of the Phoenician language
and religion. It is probable that a careful investigation into the
customs, laws, and religion of the ancient Etrusci, or rather
Raseni, to use their own name, will ultimately prove them
to have belonged to a race more ancient still than even the
Phoenicians, that is, to the ancient oriental race whence the
Phoenicians themselves derived their origin, their language,
and religion.
Respecting the institutions of these primitive races, very
little is known ; yet from that little, important conclusions
may fairly be drawn. Both the Osci and the Peiasgi seem
to have lived under the patriarchal form of government; Ro
the origin of which is to be traced to the paternal sway B’sto
which a father naturally exercises over his household, and
the head of a tribe, or number of households, over the whole
collectively. The Etrusci, on the other hand, appear to
have adopted the system of castes, and especially to have
been very much under the influence of a sacerdotal caste,
which was of course hereditary, and which possessed almost
unbounded influence over the rest of the nation. 1 he ef¬
fect of the combination of these nations, and their peculiar
institutions, in forming the character of the Roman people,
will soon appear.
Rome itself is said to have been founded in the year 753 b.c.
This date, therefore, we shall assume as the most probable,^ ^otl
if not absolutely authentic, and shall make it the basis of
all subsequent chronological statements.5 According to the
fabulous accounts preserved by Livy, the founders and ear¬
liest inhabitants of Rome were of Trojan descent. TEneas
is said to have led a colony of Trojans, after the destruc¬
tion of Troy, through a series of perilous voyages and ad¬
ventures, to the shores of Italy, near the mouth of the Ti¬
ber. Here he formed an alliance with Latinus, king of the
adjoining country, received his daughter Lavinia in marriage,
and built a town, called, from her name, Lavinium. A war,
which soon afterwards arose between the new settlers and
the Rutulians, terminated in the death of their king, Turnus,
who was slain in battle by Tineas. Another war ensued
between the Trojans and Mezentius, king of the Etruscans
of Caere. In this war Tineas himself perished, having been
drowned in the Numicius, into which he was forced in a
disastrous battle, and was succeeded by his son Ascanius, or
lulus. On the banks of the river where he disappeared,
an altar was built in honour of him, and he was worshipped
under the name of Jupiter Indiges. Mezentius soon after¬
wards fell by the hand of Ascanius, who thus obtained un¬
disputed possession of the territory formerly held by Lati¬
nus. The Trojan settlers became completely incorporated
with the people of the land, and from king Latinus they de¬
rived the common name of Latins. The thirty years had
now elapsed during which it had been predicted that the
Trojan race were to inhabit their first town, Lavinium. They
removed to a more propitious situation, and built a new
town on a lofty ridge farther inland, which overlooks all the
land around it, and to their new abode they gave the name
of Alba Longa. Of the Latian confederacy, this became
the chief city; and hither the thirty confederate cities ol
Latium resorted to offer common sacrifices to the gods of
the Pelasgic nation.
The traditionary legends proceed to state, that Lavinia,
fearing some injustice from Ascanius, had sought shelter in
the woods, where she gave birth to a son, named trom that
circumstance, and from his father, Tineas Sylvius. Asca¬
nius, however, took no unfair advantage of his position, and
was succeeded by Sylvius. For an uncertain period, the
sceptre was swayed by successive monarchs of the Sylvian
race and name, till the death of Procas. This king left two
sons, Numitor and Amulius, but by birthright the throne
belonged to Numitor. Amulius, however, seizing the
government in defiance of his brother’s right, caused Nu*
mitor’s only son to be put to death, and made his daugh-
See Niebuhr, vol. i. p. 38, et seq.
Id. vol. i. p. 109, et seq.
- Id. vol. i. p. 64, et seq.
3 Id. vol. i. p. 29.
s Id. vol. i. p. 262, et seq.
Roman ter Silvia a vestal virgin, by which she became bound to
listory. perpetual celibacy. According to the legend, this scheme
proved abortive; for Silvia became pregnant by the god
Mars, and was delivered of twin sons. Amulius ordered
the infants to be thrown into the river, and their mother to
be buried alive; the doom of a vestal virgin who should
violate her vow of chastity. The river happened at that
time to have overflowed its banks, so that the two infants
were not carried into the middle of the stream, but drifted
along the margin, till the basket which contained them be¬
came entangled in the roots of a wild vine, at the foot of the
Palatine hill. At this time a she-wolf coming down to the
river to drink, suckled the infants, and carried them to her
den among the thickets hard by. Here they were found
by Faustulus, the king’s herdsman, who took them home to
his wife Laurentia, by whom they were carefully nursed,
and named Romulus and Remus.
The two youths grew up, employed in the labours, the
sports, and the perils of the pastoral occupation of their fos¬
ter-father. But, like the two sons of Cymbeline, their royal
blood could not be quite concealed. Their superior mein,
courage, and abilities, soon acquired for them a decided su¬
periority over their young compeers, and they became leaders
of the youthful herdsman in their contests with robbers, or
with rivals. Having quarrelled with the herdsmen of Nu-
mitor, whose flocks were accustomed to graze on the neigh¬
bouring hill Aventinus, Remus fell into an ambush, and was
dragged before Numitor to be punished. While Numitor,
struck with the noble bearing of the youth, and influ¬
enced by the secret stirrings of nature within him, was he¬
sitating what punishment to inflict, Romulus, accompanied
by Faustulus, hastened to the rescue of Remus. On their
arrival at Alba, the secret of their origin was discovered,
and a plan was speedily organized for the expulsion of Amu¬
lius, and the restoration of their grandfather Numitor to his
throne. This was soon accomplished; but the twin bro¬
thers felt little disposition to remain in a subordinate posi¬
tion in Alba, after the enjoyment of the rude liberty and
power to which they had been accustomed among their
native hills. They therefore requested from their grand¬
father permission to build a city on the banks of the Tiber,
where their lives had been so miraculously preserved.
Scarcely had this permission been granted when a contest
arose between the two brothers respecting the site, the
name, and the sovereignty of the city which they were
about to found. Romulus wished it to be built on the Pa¬
latine hill, and to be called by his name; Remus preferred
the Aventine, and his own name. To terminate their dis¬
pute amicably, they agreed to refer it to the decision of the
gods by augury. Romulus took his station on the Palatine
hill, Remus on the Aventine.. At sun-rise Remus saw six vul¬
tures, and immediately afterwards Romulus saw twelve. The
superiority was adjudged to Romulus, because hehadseen the
greater number, against which decision Remus remonstrated
indignantly, on the ground that he had first received an omen.1
Romulus then proceeded to mark out the boundaries for
the wall of the intended city. This was done by a plough
with a brazen plough-share, drawn by a bull and a heifer,
and so directed that the furrow should fall inward. The
plough was lifted and carried over the spaces intended to
be left for the gates; and in this manner a square space was
marked out, including the Palatine hill, and a small portion
of the land at its base, termed Roma quadrata. This took
place on the 21st of April, on the day of the festival of
Pales, the goddess of shepherds. While the wall w'as be¬
ginning to rise above the surface, Remus, whose mind was Roman
still rankling with his discomfiture, leaped over it scornful- History,
ly, saying, “ Shall such a wall as that keep your city!” Im-
mediately Romulus, or, as others say, Celer, who had charge
of erecting that part of the wall, struck him dead to the
ground with the implement in his hand, exclaiming, “ So
perish w hosoever shall hereafter overleap these walls.” By
this event Romulus was left the sole sovereign of the city; yet
he felt deep remorse at his brother’s fate, buried him hon¬
ourably, and wdien he sat to administer justice, placed an
empty throne by his side, with a sceptre and crown, as if ac¬
knowledging the right of his brother to the possession of
equal power.
To augment as speedily as possible the number of his sub- Romulus,
jects, Romulus set apart in his new' city a place of refuge, the first
to w hich any man might flee, and be protected from his king,
pursuers. By this device the population increased rapidly
in males; but there was a great deficiency of females ; for
the adjoining states, regarding the followers of Romulus as
little better than a horde of brigands, refused to sanction
intermarriages. But the schemes of Romulus were not to
be so frustrated. In honour of the god Census, he pro¬
claimed games, to which he invited the neighbouring states.
Great numbers came, accompanied by their families; and at
an appointed signal, the Roman youth, rushing suddenly
into the midst of the spectators, snatched up the unmarried
wmmen in their arms, and bore them off by force. This
outrage was immediately resented, and Romulus found him¬
self involved in a w'ar wuth all the surrounding states. For¬
tunately for Rome, though these states had sustained a com¬
mon injury, they did not unite their forces in the common
cause. They fought singly, and were each in turn defeat¬
ed ; Caenina, Antemnae, and Crustumerium, fell successive¬
ly before the Roman arms. Romulus slew with his own
hand, Acron, king of Caenina, and bore off his spoils, dedi¬
cating them as spoila opima, to Jupiter Feretrius. The
third part of the lands of the conquered towns was seized
by the conquerors ; and such of the people of these towns
as were willing to remove to Rome, were received as free
citizens.
In the mean time, the Sabines, to avenge the insult which
they had sustained, had collected together their forces under
the command of Titus Tatius, king of the Quirites, or people
of the Sabine town of Cures. The Romans were unable to
meet so strong an army in the field, and withdrew within
their walls. They had previously placed their flocks in
what they thought a place of safety, on the Capitoline hill,
which, strong as it was by nature, they had still further se¬
cured by additional fortifications. Tarpeia, the daughter
of the commander of that fortress, having fallen into the
hands of the Sabines, agreed to betray the access to the
hill, for the ornaments they wore upon their arms. At their
approach she opened the gate, and as they entered, they
crushed her to death beneath their shields. From her the cliff
of the Capitoline hill was called the Tarpeian rock. The at-
temptof the Romans to regain this place of strength brought
on a general engagement. The combat was long and doubt¬
ful. At one time the Romans were almost driven into the
city, which the Sabines were on the point of entering along
with them, when fresh courage was infused into the fugi¬
tives, in consequence of Romulus vowing a temple to Jupi¬
ter Stator, and by a stream of water which rushed out of
the temple of Janus, and swept away the Sabines from the
gate. The bloody struggle was renewed during several
successive days, with various fortune and great mutual
wo IH CC°rai.ng t0 t*le lnterPrelafi°n °f the Etruscan augurs, the twelve vultures seen by Romulus portended that the duration of the city
anrF eXtP, !° twelve centuries; and it may strike even an incredulous reader as remarkable, that the actual duration of Rome as a free
of Clty coincided very nearly with the time assigned by this augury. It ended in the 1229th year of the city, by the dethronement
ot the last emperor Romulus Augustulus.
ee Niohuhr, vol. i. p. 224. See also Gibbon, vol. vi. p. 136, Milman’s edition.
VOL. XIX. 0
S62
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
slaughter. At length the Sabine women who had been car¬
ried away, and who were now reconciled to their fate, rush¬
ed with loud outcries, outspread hands, and dishevelled
locks, between the combatants, imploring their husbands
and their fathers to spare on each side those who were now
to them equally dear. Both parties paused; a conference
began, a peace was concluded, and a treaty framed, by
which the two nations were united into one. The Sabines
built a new city on the Quirinal and Capitoline hills, on the
north and north-west of the Roman hill, the Palatine ; and
Romulus and Tatius became the joint sovereigns oi the
combined people. But though united, each nation con¬
tinued to be governed by its own king and senate; and in
all that respected their common interest they met in the
valley between the Palatine and Capitoline hills, in a place
from that circumstance called the Comitium.
During the double sway of Romulus and Tatius, a war
was undertaken against the Latin town of Cameria, which
was taken and made a Roman colony, and its people admit¬
ted into the Roman state, as had been done with those whom
Romulus previously subdued. Tatius was soon afterwards
slain by the people of Laurentum, because he had re¬
fused to do them justice against his kinsmen, who had vio¬
lated the laws of nations by insulting their ambassadors.
The death of Tatius left Romulus sole monarch of Rome.
He was soon again engaged in a war with ludenae, a Tus¬
can settlement on the banks of the Tiber. This people he
likewise overcame, and placed in the city a Roman colony.
This war extending the Roman frontier, led to a hostile
collision with Veil, in which he was also successful, and de¬
prived Veii, at that time one of the most powerful cities in
Etruria, of a large portion of its territories, though he found
the city itself was too strong to be taken.
The reign of Romulus now drew near its close. One
day, while holding a military muster or review of his army
on a plain near the lake Capra, the sky was suddenly over¬
cast with thick darkness, the light of the sun was quenched,
and a dreadful tempest of thunder and lightning arose. The
B C 721 people fled in dismay; and when the storm abated, Romu¬
lus, over whose head it had raged most fiercely, was no where
to be seen. A rumour was circulated that during the tem¬
pest he had been carried to heaven by his father, the god
Mars. This opinion was speedily confirmed by the report
of Proculus Julius, who declared, that as he w^as returning
by night from Alba to Rome, Romulus appeared to him in
a form of more than mortal majesty, and bade him go and
tell the Romans, that Rome was destined by the gods to be
the chief city of the earth, that human power should never
be able to withstand them, and that he would himself be
their guardian god Quirinus.
So terminates what may be termed the legend of Romu¬
lus, the founder and first king of Rome. That no person,
bearing any resemblance in name and actions, to what is
recorded of him, ever existed, it would be perhaps too ha¬
zardous to affirm; while it is perfectly evident that the
greater part of the narrative is entirely fabulous. The story
of .Eneas and his Trojans rests upon no better foundation,
and has no better claim to be believed. Indeed the various
accounts respecting the Trojan leader and colony, are so
contradictory as completely to destroy the pretensions of
any of them to credibility. All the accounts of the reigns
of Ascanius and his successors at Alba Longa, are equally
fabulous. The divine paternity, miraculous preservation,
and early exploits of Romulus and Remus, are evident fa¬
bles, of a daringly poetic cast. But that a small strength,
a may have been constructed on the Palatine hill, by
some bold and skilful leader of a band of freebooters, about
the period assumed for the foundation of Rome, is by no
means improbable. A city so founded, by a band so form¬
ed, not only might, but evidently must, have passed through
a series of contests with the neighbouring cities, similar to
those related of Romulus and his people. There may, Roman
therefore, be perfect poetical truth, so to speak, in the nar- History,
rative, though it should be in a great measure devoid of real
historical truth. Discarding its miraculous passages, it is
sufficiently natural and sell-consistent to be received as a
traditional account of the adventures, perils, and fluctuat¬
ing fortunes of the early founders of Rome, of whatsoever
race descended, and by whomsoever led.
Upon the death of Romulus an interregnum took place ; Numa
during which the senate is reported to have divided itself Pompiiy
into ten Decurioe, each of which governed the state by turns,
during periods of five days. At length it was agreed that
a king should be chosen out of the Sabine part of the united
people, but that the choice should be left to the Romans.
Their choice fell upon Numa Pompilius, who is said to have
been a citizen of Cures, of noble birth, and greatly distin-
miished for his wisdom and piety. Upon his election to
the sovereignty, he refused to accept it till he had in¬
quired by augury whether it were the will of the gods that
he should be king. The omens being favourable, he next
laid before the comitia curiata the proposal of an enactment
by which he should be acknowledged as king, and intrusted
especially with full military command. Having received
this public and formal recognition of his sovereign power,
he then applied himself to the consolidation of the new
kingdom and people, by the enactment of laws, and the ap¬
pointment of whatever pertained to religious worship. To
him is ascribed the apportioning of the public territory which
had been gained by conquest, to the new people who had
become freemen of the Roman state. He determined the
extent of the lands to be held by private citizens, marked
their boundaries, and fixed them by landmarks consecrated
to the god Terminus. Instead of endeavouring to extend
the territory of the state, he assigned it also a fixed bound¬
ary, restrained the aggressive spirit of the warlike Romans,
and strove to mollify them by the cultivation of the arts of
peace, and especially by the exact and constant observance
of religious rites. He instituted the orders of the priest¬
hood, and determined their respective offices. To the Pon-
tifex Maximus he gave the supreme authority in matters of
religion. He appointed the flamens, or priests of the three
great gods of the nation, Jupiter, Mars, and Quirinus. To
the service of the goddess Vesta he consecrated four virgin
priestesses, whose duty it was to tend the ever-burning fire
in her temple. By him was formed the institution of the
Salii, who honoured Mars Gradivus by solemn songs and
dances on appointed festal days, and who were intrusted
with the custody of the sacred shield Ancile, which fell
down from heaven. To him is also ascribed the institution
of the college of augurs, whom he himself instructed in the
observation of the greater auspices, which were drawn
from lightning, and other signs in the heavens.
But in the formation of these sacred institutions, Numa
did not solely trust to his own wisdom. He was instructed,
says the legend, by the nymph Egeria, who met him in a
sacred grotto, and taught him the will of the gods. So
highly did she honour, and so dearly did she love him, that
she took him to be her husband. To confirm the authority
of Numa, and to ratify the laws which he made, and the
sacred rites which he taught, Egeria gave to the Romans a
token and proof of their divine origin. While Numa was
entertaining a party of distinguished citizens, with a meal of
homely fare, and served on earthen vessels, Egeria, at his
wrord, changed it into a feast of the most delicious viands
in vessels of gold. But though a favourite of the gods,
Numa was still mortal. He died full of age and honours, B.C. 1
beloved and lamented by all his people, and mourned with
ever-flowing sorrow by the nymph Egeria.
Such is the peaceful and lovely legend of Numa Pom*
pilius, said to have been the second king of Rome, and to
have reigned forty years. It is, however, so manifestly poeti-
ROMAN H
iloman cal, or perhaps mythical, that it is utterly in vain to attempt
history, to extract from it any thing like real history. It may have
‘.■’'“Y'""*' been merely meant to represent the period of the establish-
I.C. 679. ment of forms of laws and religion, which naturally follows
that of founding a city and collecting a people. And as all
ancient lawgivers assumed divine authority for the sanction
of their institutions, so the Iloman lawgiver is said to have
obtained [the instructions of Egeria. The legend is too
beautiful to be lost, though too imaginative to be believed;
and we turn reluctantly from its evanescent loveliness, to
the consideration of matter of a harsher mould.
ul]uS An interregnum again followed the death of Numa. At
iostiliu length Tullus Hostilius, a man of Latin or Romish extrac¬
tion, was chosen by the curice; and his election having
been sanctioned by the auspices, he, like his predecessor,
submitted to the comitia curiata the laws which conferred
upon him full regal power. The new king was more de¬
sirous of military renown, than of the less dazzling fame
jvhich may be gained by cultivating the arts of peace. An
opportunity was soon offered for indulging his warlike dis¬
position. Plundering incursions had been made into each
others’ territories by the borderers of the two states of Rome
and Alba. Both nations sent ambassadors at the same time
to demand redress. The Roman ambassadors had private
orders from Tullus to be peremptory in their demands, and
to limit their stay within the stated period of thirty days.
They did so, and receiving no immediate satisfaction, re¬
turned to Rome. In the mean time, Tullus amused the
Alban embassy by shews and banquets, till, when they
opened their commission, he had it in his power to answer,
that he had already in vain sought redress from Alba, and
that now they must prepare for the events of a war, the
blame of originating which was chargeable upon them. By
this device Tullus thought to avoid the guilt of being the
aggressor, and to secure the favour of the gods by the jus¬
tice of his cause.
Under the command of Cluilius, the Albans sent a power¬
ful army against Rome, and encamped about five miles
from the city. There Cluilius died; and the Albans elect¬
ed Mettius Fufetius in his stead. Tullus Hostilius, at the
head of the Roman army, now drew near the Albans. But
when the two armies were ready for a general engagement,
Mettius, the Alban general, proposed to save the effusion of
blood, by committing the fortune of the war to the valour
of certain champions selected from either side. To this pro¬
posal Tullus agreed. It so happened that there were in each
army three brothers, each three the children of one birth,
whose mothers also were sisters, though their fathers be¬
longed to different nations. The three Romans were named
Horatii, the three Albans Curiatii. These youthful war¬
riors were chosen to be the champions of their respective
nations, and immediately prepared for the combat. It was
agreed, that by the issue of this contest should be deter¬
mined the dominion or subjection of each people. The two
armies were drawn up in battle array, each on their own
side of the boundary line that divided their territories. The
young combatants advanced, and met on the very line. The
combat began, and was sustained for some time with equal
skill, courage, and ardour, while the two armies gazed on
the eventful struggle with the suspended breath of intense
anxiety. At length two of the Horatii fell at the feet of
their antagonists ; a sight which called forth loud shouts of
joy from the Albans, while the Romans remained quivering
with suspense for the fate of their remaining champion,
and the freedom of their country. Horatius was still un¬
hurt, whilst the three Curiatii were all severely wounded. Be¬
lieving himself more than a match for each singly, he feign¬
ed a flight to divide them. They pursued with unequal
strength and speed, and were separated to considerable dis¬
tances from each other. On a sudden he turned, rushed
on the enemy nearest him, and slew him at a blow. With
I S T O R Y. 363
equal impetuosity he assailed and killed the second, while Roman
the third was hastening to render his brother aid. There History,
was now but one combatant on either side, yet it could no
longer be called a battle. Faint, exhausted, and dispirited,
the third of the Curiatii sunk beneath the vigorous arm of
the victorious Roman, who thus at once avenged his bro¬
thers, and won for his country the sovereign sway.
As the Romans were returning in triumph to the city,
Horatius bearing the triple spoils, they were met at the Ca-
penian gate by his sister, who had been betrothed to one
of the Curiatii. When she beheld the bloody mantle of her
lover, which she had wrought with her own hands, borne
aloft by her brother, she burst into loud lamentations, fling¬
ing loose her scattered locks. Horatius, enraged at her un¬
timely grief and outcry, drew his sword and pierced her to
the heart, exclaiming, “ So perish the Roman woman that
shall bewail a foe.” For this fierce deed, Horatius was by
the judges condemned to death. But he appealed to the
people, and his father defended him, saying, that if his daugh ¬
ter had not deserved to die, he would himself have punish¬
ed his son, in virtue of his own authority as a father. The
people refused to stain the victory which Horatius had
achieved for his country by shedding the blood of the con¬
queror, and therefore spared his life, but caused him to un¬
dergo the semblance of capital punishment, and perform
certain expiating sacrifices and rites, which thenceforth be¬
came hereditary in the Horatian family.
Notwithstanding the agreement which had been entered
into between the Romans and the Albans, the latter were
unwilling to forfeit their national independence without an
additional struggle. This, however, they were desirous to
avoid provoking single-handed. They accordingly encour¬
aged the people of Fidenas to revolt, by giving them secret
promises of assistance. Tullus Hostilius immediately levied
a Roman army, and summoned the Albans to his aid. The
two armies met, the Veientes being drawn up opposite to
the Romans, and the Fidenates confronting the Albans.
When the battle began, Mettius Fufetius, the Alban leader,
wanted courage and decision to fulfil his own treacherous
pledge; he neither joined the Romans nor the Fidenates,
but drawing his men off from the conflict, stood aloof, to
watch the event and act accordingly. His defection struck
a temporary panic into the Romans, which was speedily al¬
layed by the bravery and skill of Tullus ; and his remain¬
ing aloof caused distrust in the Fidenates, who finally fled
before the vigorous onset of their antagonists. Tullus gain¬
ed a complete victory; and concealing his knowledge of the
treachery of Mettius, next day called an assembly of his
whole army. The Albans came unarmed, and arrived first.
The Romans came next, wearing, as they had been directed,
their swords hid beneath their mantles, and at a signal sur¬
rounded the Albans. Tullus then denounced the treachery
of Mettius, and commanded him to be torn asunder by
two chariots of four horses, as his mind had been divided
between the Romans and the Fidenates in the battle. It
was then decreed that Alba should be razed to the ground,
and the whole Alban people removed to Rome, to prevent
the possibility of future strife. Not only the walls of Alba,
but every human habitation, was totally demolished, and the
temples of the gods alone left standing in solitary majesty
amid the ruins.
But though Tullus had thus put an end to the separate
existence of Alba, he did not reduce its inhabitants to sla¬
very. He assigned them habitations on the Caelian hill,
which had formerly been possessed by the followers of the
Etruscan Lucumo, Caeles Vibenna. Those who had been
of patrician rank at Alba were allowed to retain the same
rank at Rome, and a new tribe was formed, called the Lu-
ceres. The construction and numbers of this tribe were the
same as those of the other two; so that the entire senate,
composed of the heads of houses of the three tribes
3.64
ROMAN HISTORY
Roman amounted now to 300, which continued to be its stated
History. number.
Soon after these events, Tullus made war upon the Sa¬
bines, and in a bloody, and for some time doubtful encoun¬
ter, again obtained the victory. Another war arose with the
confederate towns of Latium, who began to dread the grow¬
ing power of Rome after the destruction of Alba. The La-
tian war terminated without any decided reverses sustained
by either party; and an alliance was formed between the
Romans and the Latins. Tullus had now leisure to direct
his attention to the arts of peace, in which, however, he did
not equally excel. The only public works ascribed to him
were the enclosing of a space for the Comitium, or assem¬
bly of the people; and the building of a Curia, or senate-
house. Tow ards the end of his reign his mind wa.s disturb¬
ed by prodigies, indicating the wrath of the gods, for relL
gion neglected, and temples left desolate. A shower of
stones fell from heaven on the Alban mount; and the aw¬
ful accents of a supernatural voice were heard to issue from
the consecrated summit of the hill. A plague swept away
numbers of the Roman people. The king himself sicken¬
ed ; and from having been neglectful of religion, became
the slave of superstitious terrors. In vain did he supplicate
the gods. He had disregarded them in his days of prospe¬
rity, and in his adversity no deity regarded his prayers, or
sent relief. In his despair he presumed to use the divina¬
tions of Numa, by the rites of Jupiter Elicius; but the only
answyer returned was the lightning of the offended gods, by
which Tullus himself and his whole household were smit-
B. C. 640. ten and consumed. Such is the legend of lullus Hostilius,
said to have been the third king of Rome.
After the death of Tullus Hostilius there followed another
interregnum, during which the senate, as usual, exercised
the functions of sovereignty. An assembly was then held,
Ancus in which Ancus Marcius, a son of the daughter of Numa,
Marcias, and a Sabine by race, was chosen king. He assumed the
sovereignty with the usual formalities, receiving the sanc¬
tion of the comitia curiata. Ancus seems to have taken
the conduct and character of Numa for his model rather
than those of his more warlike predecessors. His first ob¬
ject was to restore those religious rites which had been ne¬
glected by Tullus; and for this purpose he caused the in¬
stitutions of Numa to be inscribed on tables, and suspended
in public places, that all might read, know, and observe them.
While he was thus busied in restoring religious worship,
the Latins imagined they might recover that power which
had been wrested from them by Tullus. They soon found
that Ancus, though peacefully inclined, was by no means
incapable of resenting injuries. He raised an army, en¬
countered the insurgent Latins, and after a severe struggle,
not only defeated them in the field wherever he met them,
but also took from them several cities, whose inhabitants he
removed to Rome, and settled on the Aventine hill, on the
south of the Palatine. On the left bank of the Tiber he
prosecuted his conquests till he reached the sea, where he
built Ostia, and settled a colony in it to secure it as a per¬
manent conquest, and that it might be a sea-port for Rome.
He obtained also some advantages over the Sabines and
Veientines; and to render his intercourse with the right bank
of the river both more easy and more secure, he formed a
wooden bridge across the Tiber, and fortified the hill Jani-
culum. The oldest remaining monument of Rome, the
prison, formed out of a stone quarry on the Capitoline hill,
B.C. 618. is also said to have been the work of Ancus. He died in
peace, respected and beloved, and was known in tradition
by the designation of “ the good Ancus.”
That part of Roman history at which we have now arrived,
is at once characterized by great interest and by great obscu¬
rity. It has the appearance of a great poem, containing just
enough of fact to give it credibility in the ears of willing lis¬
teners, and enough of fiction and embellishment to destroy
all its pretensions to the severely simple character of history. Roman
In our opinion this is its real character; and we are by no Jstory. .
means disposed to discard more of it than seems of itself
to assume no claim upon our belief. No reader can pos¬
sibly mistake poetic ornament for fact; but there is one
aspect of the narrative in which the common reader may be
mistaken. It is not enough that an event be strange, or
even almost marvellous, in order to be discredited. Many
things are abundantly strange in our eyes which neverthe¬
less did actually occur. The wild, strange, and daring ex¬
ploits recorded of the early founders of nations are liable to be ^
disbelieved by posterity, in the exercise of its cool philoso¬
phic criticism. But the founders of a nation are generally
men of daring and enthusiastic character, whose actual
deeds are constantly hovering on the brink of the incredi¬
ble. Nations, like individuals, have a period of youth, in
which their history is naturally full of deeds of lofty daring,
strange adventure, and all but miraculous exploit. . The
most truthful narrative of a nation s youth must contain ac?
counts of those deeds of scarcely imaginable hardihood;
and such a narrative will seem utterly unworthy of belief
to the cool philosopher of a calmer and more thoughtful
age. Hitherto we have been attempting to obtain a glimpse
of the very infancy of Rome ; now w*e are to view the ex¬
ploits of its fiery and impetuous youth. W e are not lightly
to credit every miraculous statement that claims our atten¬
tion ; but neither are we to demand a succession of events
regulated by a cool deliberate prudence, such as our own
habits of thought and action could alone approve.
In the days of Ancus Marcius a noble and wealthy Tus¬
can sought a residence in Rome. He was the son of a ci¬
tizen of Corinth of some distinction, who had left his native
country to avoid the tyranny of an usurper. Having set¬
tled at Tarquinii, a city on the coast of Etruria, he married
an Etruscan lady of the highest rank. His son, in virtue of
his mother’s rank, belonged to the ruling caste of Etruria,
the Lucumones ; but the pride of that caste would not per¬
mit them to suffer a person of mixed descent to participate
in their hereditary honours. He married an Etruscan lady
of the noblest birth, Tanaquil by name, who could not
brook that her husband should be disparaged by her
haughty kindred. They left Tarquinii, and journeyed to
Rome, in the hope of being received by Ancus in a manner
more suited to their dignity. They had reached the brow
of the Janiculum, and were in sight of Rome, when an eagle
hovering over them, stooped, snatched his cap, and after
soaring aloft with it to a great height, again descended and
placed it on his head. Tanaquil, versed in the lore of Tus¬
can augury, understood the omen, and embracing her hus¬
band, bade him proceed joyfully, for the loftiest fortunes
awaited him. He was received as a Roman citizen, and as¬
sumed the name of Lucius Tarquinius. His courage, his
wisdom, and his wealth, soon recommended him to the fa¬
vourable notice of the king, and made him greatly esteem¬
ed also by the people generally. On the death of Ancus
he was chosen king, and received from the assembly the
customary sanction to his assumption of sovereignty. J
Scarcely was Tarquin seated on the throne when the La- Tarquimui
tin states broke the treaty which they had made with An- Pnscus.
cus, and began to make inroads upon the Roman territory.
Tarquinius marched against them, defeated them in battle,
and took and plundered Apiolae, where he obtained an im¬
mense booty. Prosecuting his victorious career, he made
himself master of Cameria, Crustumerium, Medullia, Ame-
riola, Eiculnea, Corniculum, and Nomentum. The iEqm
also felt the power of his arms, and were obliged to humble
themselves before him. While he was engaged with the
Latins, the Sabines availed themselves of his absence, mus¬
tered their forces, crossed the Anio, and ravaged the coun¬
try up to the very walls of Rome. I arquinius returning
from his Latin wars, encountered the Sabines, and after a
ROMAN HISTORY.
Ionian desperate conflict, drove them from the Roman territories,
[istory. Next year they again passed the Anio by a bridge of boats,
and advanced towards Rome. Tarquinius met them in bat¬
tle, and by the superiority of his cavalry gained a complete
victory. During the battle a party of Romans, sent for that
purpose, burned the bridge of boats, so that the routed Sa¬
bines were cut off from their retreat, and driven into the
river, where great numbers of them perished. Their bodies
and arms, floating down the Tiber, brought the first intel¬
ligence of the victory to Rome. He then crossed the river,
inflicted upon them a second defeat, and compelled them
to surrender the town and lands of Collatia, which they had
previously taken from the Latins. Tarquinius placed a strong
garrison in the town, and assigned the capture to his bro¬
ther’s son, who thence took the name of Collatinus. In
this war the king’s son, a youth of fourteen, slew a foe
with his own hand, and received as a reward of honour a
robe bordered with purple, and a hollow ball of gold to be
suspended round his neck; and these continued to be the
distinctive dress and ornament of the Roman youth of patri¬
cian rank, till they assumed the toga virilis, or manly gown.
Tarquinius is likewise said to have engaged in war with
the Etruscan nations, to have taken several of their cities,
865
quinius; and he began to surround the city with a wall of Roman
massy hewn stones. He likewise made preparation to ful- History,
fit a vow to build a great temple on the Capitoline hill to^\~
the chief deities of Rome.1
To conclude the legendary history of Tarquinius, he is
said to have been murdered by the treachery of the sons of
his predecessor Ancus Marcius. They, perceiving the fa¬
vour with which the king regarded Servius Tullius, and fear¬
ing an attempt to make him king, to the exclusion of their
own pretensions and hopes, hired two countrymen to pre-
tend a quarrel, and to appear before the king seeking redress.
While he was listening to the complaint of one, the other B C 578.
struck him on the head with an axe, and then they both
made their escape. The conspirators did not, however
obtain the fruit of their treachery. Tanaquil gave out that
the king was not dead, but only stunned by the blow, and
had appointed Servius Tullius to' rule in his name till he
should recover. Servius immediately assumed the ensigns
and exercised the power of royalty. The murderers were
seized and punished, and the Marcii fled disappointed from
the city. When the death of Tarquinius could no lono-er be
concealed, the power of Servius was so well established,
and to have overthrown them, notwithstanding a confe'de" confimaKt; thT^werrofTei^verelgn’tyb1"1 ^ USUa'
raeyo a, ten we ve states agamst him. In token of The accounts respecUng the origin of Servius Tullius are Servin.
as obscure as those of any of his predecessors. The most Tullius,
ancient and poetical legend represents him as the son of
Ocrisia, a captive and slave of lanaquil the queen, by the
Ear, or household god. Later legends made him a son of one
of the king’s clients, and for sometime a slave ; or the son of
a man of rank and power in one of the conquered Latin cities,
who being slain in the war, his widow was carried to Rome in
her pregnancy, and she and her infant son were protected by
I anaquil.2 All accounts represent him as enjoying the fa¬
vour of Tarquinius and his queen, and obtaining the throne
in a great measure by the judicious management of the lat¬
ter. It would seem as if Servius had in the very begin¬
ning of his reign encountered the opposition of the patri¬
cians. He is said not to have allowed any interregnum, or
to have permitted the senate to take the lead in his election
to the sovereignty ; but as he had already acted as king be¬
fore the death of Tarquinius was publicly known, so to have
made a direct application, without any other preliminary pro¬
cess, to the comitia curiata, and to have been by them in¬
vested with the powers of former kings. The only histori¬
cal conclusion which can be deduced from these incidental
notices is, that a contest had begun between the kings and
the patiician body, in which the kings deemed it their sound¬
est policy to diminish the power of the patricians, in order
to maintain their own. But as no direct diminution of
their power could have been attempted without exciting an
immediate insurrection, it was deemed expedient by these
an endwring mrTent °fih^^72,rof
Tvr b,yWh°m 'tWaS COnTCted- ed to lend ,he“ *id in rePress*ng the exorbftant powerCof
ate mona^Lw Tr ^ce-cou.rse’ 'las/lso a "'»* of thepatrician body, combined with their hereditaryprivileges.
£ “’r“ded t ,d,flay of ”iat wer^ called ™s il will be observed, both coincides completely
fomm w ’th itE ret g?T’ Ud‘ m,a8m, Roma,ni-” The with the tradition that Tarquinius first elevated the tribe of
i s rows of shops, was also the work of Tar- the Luceres to the possession of fitll senatorial power; and
Mi JwtKicti™ m sthe 'rapit0!in? .hj1! •<> «■' ri>ief deities of Rome by Tarquinius Priscus, refers in all proba-
count of his ieseen 1 ram a n^e of r„rimh It fT"*1 '“f5’/ I™?'- a"d ““ives some colouring of credibility from the ae-
at Rome unless the vZZ Kl J , C , j pr°VeS’ that f°r the flrst 170 years of lts existence at least, there were no images
Beaufort’. h d b k ? CaI ed the g°d remunus migH be considered an image. See Za Republique Romaine, par M. de
Clau^usbegins"t^recounf1 how^ofterf fhe^fo^m preserve^bJ f sPeecb of the emperor Claudius, as given in.the Etruscan Annals.
Then he s-ivs nf Sor ; m „• \ e Po,r.m op government had been changed, and even the royal dignity bestowed on foreigners
was the faithful fnllm c11 .lus’ ^ccolcbng 10 our Annals, he was the son of the captive Ocrisia; but if vve follow the Tuscans he
remains of thfamv whf/^68 shared M his fortunes‘ At ^ driven by various fortunes, be quitted Etruria wTth the
raander. He exchanged his T us ran namt^M ^ toTJRome’ and occllP>ed the Caelian hill, giving it that name after his former com-
the state.” See Niebuhr, vol. i. p?38l’ MdStdr"a’ f°r a Roman one> obtained the kingly power, and employed it to the great advantage
their submission to his power, the Etruscans at length sent
him a golden crown, an ivory throne and sceptre, a purple
tunic and robe figured with gold, and twelve axes bound up
in bundles of rods to be borne before him, such as they used
when their twelve cities chose a common leader in war.
These, by the permission of the people, Tarquinius adopted
as the insignia of kingly power; and, with the exception
of the crown, and of the embroidered robe, they remained
as such both to his successors on the throne, and to the
consuls, unless on the days when they went in public
triumph to the Capitol.
Such were the military exploits ascribed to Tarquinius;
and there is nothing so improbable in them as to startle our
belief. It is indeed manifest from other indications, that
about the period assumed as the reign of Tarquinius Pris¬
cus, as he is called for the sake of distinction, the domi¬
nions of Rome must have comprised nearly all the territory
which he is said to have conquered, and also that the city
must have risen to great wealth and pow-er. The latter
point is proved by the great public works, which all ac¬
counts agree in ascribing to him. He built the cloaca
maxima, or great sew'ers, to drain off the water from be¬
tween the Capitoline and Palatine, and the Palatine and
Aventine hills. Phis vast drain was constructed of huge
blocks of hewn stone, triply arched, and of such dimensions,
that a barge could float along in it beneath the very streets
of the city. Earthquakes have shaken the city and the ad¬
jacent hills; but the cloaca maxima remains to this day un-
566
roman history.
Homan with the tradition that his very coming to Rome was caused
History, by the pride of the privileged and hereditary order o
^N^cumones, who had excluded him from participating m the
honours to which he thought himself entitled both by birth
and merit. Finding at Rome also a patrician class, m the
possession of hereditary powers and privileges, he not un¬
naturally regarded them with jealousy, and endeavoured to
call into being a counterbalancing power, by which i
fluence might not only be maintained, but rendered predo¬
minant. The policy pursued by all the kings of the Etna
scan line entirely accords with this view, so as to give it at
least an air of great probability. the
The twelve Etruscan cities which had acknowledged the
dominion of Tarquinius, revolted on hearing
They were speedily reduced to subjection by Servms, for
which military success he was decreed a numph by the
neonle But his triumphs in war were not to be compa
ed with his triumphs in peace. Finding the population of
Rome increasing rapidly, he enlarged the pomcenum, or
sacred boundary0of the city. When first formed by Romu¬
lus the pomcerhim included merely the Palatine hill and a
portion if the plain at its base. It was extended by £uma
so as to include the Capitoline and Qumnal hil s, m conse
nuence of which the Sabine town became completely incor¬
porated with the Roman. Servius again enlarged it, so a
to bring within its compass the Vimmal and Esquihne hills,
in addition to those which were the appropriate seats o
the great tribes. Fie finished the work begun by Farqui-
nius by building the walls of the city of hewn stone ; and
where the hills which he had included m the new addition
to the city sloped gently down towards the plain, he fenced
them by a large mound of earth, and a moat from which the
earth of the mound was dug. For the purpose of con¬
solidating more firmly the union of the races of which the
nation was composed!he built the temple of Diana on the
Aventine hill, which was to be the chief abode of the Latin
population recently brought to Rome. This temp e con-
stituted a monument of the league between the Roman peo¬
ple and the thirty confederate Latin towns; and, althoug
Romans, Sabines, and Latins sacrificed t^re m common,
vet, as Rome was now recognised as the head of the con
federation, the Romans were allowed to have the prece-
But thp most important achievements of Servius Tullius,
were his alterations of, and additions to, the constitutional
principles of the state. Incidental notices have already been
given respecting the origin and development of the Roman
constitution, so far as the obscurity of the traditional narra¬
tives and poetic legends have furnished scope for the treat¬
ment of such topics. To these we shall subsequently advert;
but we must now prosecute the historical narrative, so far as
it can be called historical; for there is no part of ancient
Rome that more evidently abounds with poetic legends t lan
the conclusion of the kings, and the first years of the com¬
monwealth. Fortunately there is no absolute necessity to
discard the poetic legends ; for however destitute they may
be of what is termed historical truth, there can be no ques¬
tion but that they present a very accurate and lively pic¬
ture of the times and events in which they are said to have
“terrius Tullius had given his two daughters in marriage
to the two sons of Tarquinins Priscus. These daughters
were of tempers very unlike, as were also their husbands.
The elder, Tullia, was of a gentle disposition, her younget
sister fierce, imperious, and ambitious. Aruns Tarquinius
was of a mild and quiet character, his brother Lucius proud
restless, and domineering. To counteract ^ese tempe ,
Servius had given the gentle princess to the ambitious
prince, and made the haughty damsel wife to the mild hus-
band. But this dissimilarity of temper did not produce the
effect which he had expected. The fiery tempered of each
rounle became dissatisfied with the one of gentler nature ; RomaE
the milder wife and husband perished by the crimes of their History
aspiring mates, who were speedily united in a second shame-
Ess marriage. Then did the aspiring temper of the one urge
on the haughty and ambitious heart of the other, till they
resolved to make way to the throne by the murder of the
good old man, their king and father. To this attempt Lucius
was encouraged by the unconcealed dissatisfaction of the pa¬
tricians with the influence obtained by the plebeians in the
new constitution. Their dissatisfaction was increased by a ru¬
mour that Servius intended to abolish the monarchical form
altogether, and divide the sway between two consuls, one to
be chosen from the patrician, and one from the plebeian body.
Flavin0- formed a strong faction among the patricians, iar-
quinius went to the senate-house, seated himself m the royal
chair, and summoned the senators to meet king arquimu .
Servius having heard the rumour, hastened to the sena u-
house, accused Tarquinius of treason, and laid hoM of him
to remove him from the royal chair. The usurper instant¬
ly seized the old man, dragged him to the door, and threw
him with great force down the steps. There he lay io
few moments stunned and bleeding with the fall; then n -
ing slowly staggered away towards his palace. Some rut- B.C,
fians employed by Tarquinius, pursued, overtook, and
killed him, leaving the body lying bleeding m the street.
Meantime, tidings of what was going on had reached lulha,
who immediately mounted her chariot, drovetothesenate-
house, and saluted Tarquinius as king. He bade her u it
draw from such a tumult; and she, on her return, passed
along the same street where lay the bleeding body of he
newly murdered father. The mules shrunk, the charioteer
stopped short, and pointed out the appalling spectacle,
a loud and imperious tone of voice she commanded hi
drive on; the chariot wheels rolled over the yet warm form,
crushing and mangling it as they proceeded, till the spurt¬
ing blood stained the robes of the more than parricide From
that hour, in remembrance of that hideous scene, the street
was called the Vicus Sceleratus, or Wicked Street.
Tartminius having thus obtained forcible possession of the T.iq»
throne, declined to submit to the form of an election, or to S«[.
make the customary appeals to the comma cunata for the
ratiBcation of his kingly power. He seized the crown asrf
it were hereditary; and seemed resolved to ride without the
concurrence of any of the great assemblies. But as he haxi
been raised to the throne by the aid of the patricians, h*
first act was to gratify them by repealing the privileges which
Servius had grWto the plebeians. He suppressed c
institution of the comitia centunata, and even prohilutedt
meetings of the country tribes at the paganaha. But this
was only the beginning of his tyranny. _ He depressed the
commons or plebeians; but he had no intention to
the power of the patricians to become too strong, especially
as he was himself but too well aware of their treachery to the
former king. He therefore surrounded himself with a body-
guard, the ready instruments of his oppression ; and, under
colour of justice, banished or put to death, on fals® ac£\
tions all who were either too powerful or too wealthy to be
trusted, or whom he suspected of\disaffect^nat0stl^S0f;ub.
this manner he reduced the patricians into a state of sub
jection almost as deep as that into which they had assiste
^emgtw P--“-ly despotic powet, hemmed
his attention to the enlargement of his kingdom. H g
his daughter in marriage to Octavius Mamihus ot Juscul
the most powerful of the Latin chiefs; »d Partly by
trigues, partly by force, he procured Eome'° J1,6 *5“ the
ledged the head of the Latin confederacy. Herdonn s, tne
only- man who dared to oppose his proud demeanour, h
caused to be put to death by false accusations, and com
pletely incorporated the Latin troops with those of llom
The Hernici were also included in this confederacy.
^ -
ROMAN HISTORY.
oman
story.
Latin city, Gabii, refused to join this league, and was as¬
sailed by Tarquinius. The struggle was long and severe;
but at length Tarquinius is said to have obtained possession
of it by means of a stratagem, conducted by his son Sextus,
similar to that by which Zopyrus gained possession of Baby¬
lon for Darius Hystaspis. He turned his arms next against
the Volsci, and took Suessa Pometia, where he obtained a
very great booty, and retained the tithe of it for his own share.
Thus powerful and enriched, he next proceeded to finish
the great works left incomplete by his predecessors. He
finished the cloaca maxima, and prepared to build the tem¬
ple which his father, during the Sabine war, had vowed to
the three great deities, Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. For
this purpose he levelled the brow of the hill, originally call¬
ed by the Sabines Saturnius, but better known by its sub¬
sequent name, the Capitoline hill. In clearing away the
ground for the foundation of this temple, a fresh human skull
was found; whence the augurs predicted that Rome should
be the capital, or chief city of the world ; whence also the
name by which that hill was always subsequently known.
The hill had formerly been almost covered with altars and
shrines consecrated by the Sabines. Tarquinius inquired by
augury whether the deities, to whom these were sacred, would
yield their places to Jupiter, Juno, and Minerva. The auguries
allowed the removal of all except the shrines ofTerminus and
Youth. This was interpreted as itself an omen, that the boun¬
daries of the Roman empire should never recede, and that
the state should be for ever young.
The chief builders of the capitol were Etruscan workmen,
whose skill was superior to that of the Romans; but Tar¬
quinius compelled the Roman commons to work also as la¬
bourers, giving them merely a certain supply of provisions
daily, as if they were mere slaves. They groaned wearily un¬
derneath his heavy yoke, but he ruled them with a high hand,
and sent colonies of the most refractory of them to the fron¬
tiers of his conquests in the Volscian lands. Under the
strong and imperious sway of this haughty, yet able tyrant,
Rome reached an extent of territory and a pitch of power
greatly beyond what it had ever before attained. There
may, however, be the aspect of external greatness, and the
reality of internal wretchedness ; but such a state of affairs
cannot be permanent.
Hitherto, the narrative diverges littlefi’om the plain course
of what was, or might have been, historical truth ; and it is
not undeserving of remark, that the conduct of Tarquinius
Superbus is very natural for a prince who retained much of
the Etruscan notions respecting hereditary rights, and scorn
of the lower classes. The plan of employing the plebs in
task-work, without any other support than a scanty allow¬
ance of food, might have been brought from the Nile, as
easily as from Etruria; and is some corroboration of the
theory which would bring the hereditary half priest half
noble caste of Lucumones from Egypt.
About this time the strange story of the Sibyl is told. An
unknown woman, of foreign aspect and manners, came to
the king and offered him nine books of prophecies, for which
she demanded a large sum. The king refused. The woman
departed, burnt three of the books, and then returned and
demanded the same sum for the remaining six. The king
still refused; and again the woman went away, burnt three,
and returning, demanded the same price as at the first.
Struck by this strange conduct, Tarquinius consulted the
augurs, who told him that it was essential to the safety of
Rome to procure the books. Accordinglyhe purchased them,
quT i ■G woman departed, and was seen no more. These
Sibylline books were then deposited in a chest of stone,
and entrusted to the charge of two men of the highest
rank, who kept them under ground in the Capitol. Their
contents were never divulged; nor were they ever consult-
> except by a decree of the senate, and in times of the
greatest public danger and distress.
But the tyranny of Tarquinius had now nearly reached
its limits. Yarious portents foreshewed its approaching over¬
throw. According to the legend, the first indications of the
coming doom were seen in an unnatural violation of the
sacred rites. A huge snake crawled out from an altar in
the court of the palace, in the time of sacrifice; the fire
suddenly died out, and the snake devoured the victim. To
ascertain what this prodigy portended, the king sent two of
his sons to consult the oracle of Apollo at Delphi. They
took with them their cousin, Lucius Junius Brutus, who
had been brought up along with them in the palace, disre¬
garded on account of his apparent apathy of manner, and
laughed at as almost halt an idiot. He was the younger son
of a sister of Tarquinius by Marcus Junius ; and his elder
brother had been put to death by his uncle for his wealth.
To escape a similar fate he had feigned idiocy, and was
consequently spared and despised. So runs the legend, to
account for the name Brutus; wdiich, however, in old Latin
is nearly synonymous with Severus, and may have been given
him merely on account of his reserved gravity of manner.
The answer of the Delphic oracle was, that the king
should fall when a dog should speak with a human voice.
This response was of course intended secretly to apply to
Brutus, and his unexpected display of mental ability. The
young princes also asked which of the king’s sons should
succeed him ; and were answered in general terms, that the
regal power should be enjoyed by the person who should
first salute his mother. Brutus, as they were departing,
stumbled, fell, and kissed the earth, thus fulfilling the mean¬
ing of the oracle.
Soon after this event, Tarquinius waged war against Ardea
of the Rutuli, a people on the coast of Latium. The city was
very strong both by nature and art, and made a protracted re¬
sistance. The army lay encamped around the walls, in order
to reduce it by hunger, since they could not by direct force.
While lying half idle at Ardea, the princes and their kins¬
men, Brutus and Collatinus, happening to feast together,
began in their gaiety to boast each of the beauty and virtue
of his wife. Collatinus extolled his wife Lucretia as beyond
all rivalry. On a sudden they resolved to ride to Rome and
decide the dispute by ascertaining which of the respective
ladies was spending her time in the most becoming and
laudable manner. They found the wives of the king’s sons
entertaining other noble ladies with a costly banquet. They
then rode on to Collatia; and though it was near midnight,
they found Lucretia with her handmaids around her working
at the loom. It was admitted that Lucretia was the most wor¬
thy lady ; and they returned again to the camp at Ardea.
But the beauty and virtue of Lucretia had excited in the
base heart of Sextus Tarquinius the fire of lawless passion.
After a few days he returned to Collatia, where he was hos¬
pitably entertained by Lucretia as a kinsman of her hus¬
band. At midnight he secretly entered her chamber; end
when persuasions were ineffectual, he threatened to kill her
and one of her male slaves, and laying the body by her side,
to declare to Collatinus that he had slain her in the act of
adultery. The dread of a disgrace to her memory, from
which there should be no possible mode of wiping away the
stain, produced an effect which the fear of death could not
have done ; an effect not unnatural in a heathen, who might
dread the disgrace of a crime more than its commission, but
which shews the conventional morality and virtue of the
time, how ill-founded, and almost weakly sentimental, in
even that boasted instance of female virtue. Having accom¬
plished his wicked purpose, Sextus again returned to the
camp.
Immediately after his departure, Lucretia sent for her
husband and father. Collatinus came from the camp ac¬
companied by Brutus; and her father, Lucretius, from the
city, along with Publius Valerius. They found Lucretia
sitting on her bed, weeping and inconsolable. In brief terms
367
Roman
History.
368
ROMAN HISTORY.
Boman she told what had befallen her, required of them the pledge
History. 0f their right hands that they would avenge her injuries,
then drawing a knife from under her robe, stabbed herselt
to the heart and died. Her husband and father burst into
a loud cry of agony ; but Brutus snatching the weapon from
the wound, held it up, and swore by the chaste and noble
blood which stained it, that he would pursue to the uttermost
Tarquinius and all his accursed race, and thenceforward
suffer no man to be king in Rome. He then gave the bloody
knife to her husband, her father, and Valerius, and called
on them to take the same oath. Brutus thus became at
once the leader of the enterprise. They bore the body
of Lucretia to the market place. There Brutus addressed the
people, and moved them to vengeance. The youth imme¬
diately enrolled themselves into an army. Part remain¬
ed to guard the city, and part proceeded with Brutus to
Rome. Their coming raised a tumult, and drew together
o-reat numbers of the citizens. Brutus, availing himseli ol
fus rank and authority, as tribune of the celeres, or captain
of the knights, summoned the people to the forum, and pro¬
ceeded to relate the bloody deed which the villany ot Sex¬
tus Tarquinius had caused. Nor did he content himse
with that, but set before them in the most animated man¬
ner the cruelty, tyranny, and oppression of Tarquinius dim-
self; the guilty manner in which he obtained the kingdom,
the violent means he had used to retain it, and the unjust
repeal of all the laws of Servius Tullius, by which he had
robbed them of their liberties. By this means he so effec¬
tually roused the people, that they passed a decree abolish¬
ing the kingly power itself, and banishing for ever Lucius
Tarquinius Superbus, and his wife and children. In the
midst of the tumult the wicked Tullia fled from her house
and the city, pursued by the curses of the whole population
wherever she passed, imprecating upon her head the ven¬
geance of the furies, for the murder of her sister, husban ,
and father. . , ,
Intelligence of the tumult had in the mean time reached
the camp at Ardea. Tarquinius hastened to the city, if
possible to suppress it; and Brutus, assigning the command
of the city to Lucretius, set out himself for the camp, tak¬
ing a different road, so as to avoid meeting the dethroned
usurper. When he reached the camp he soon roused m the
army the same indignation against the tyrant, which had
blazed so strongly at Rome. The commanders of the troops
joined him; the army adhering to the observances of the
comitia centuriata, confirmed in legal form the decree of
the citizens, banishing the Tarquin family, and abolishing
the regal name and power for ever. They then made a
j» C, 509. truce with the Ardeans for fifteen years, and marched to-
wards Rome. Tarquinius, finding the gates shut against
him, and learning the defection ot the army, fled with his
sons to Caere in Etruria. Thus ended the reign of Tar¬
quinius Superbus; and with it the existence of the monar¬
chical form of government at Rome.
The monarchical form of government being thus abolish¬
ed, the next step was to constitute another in its stead. Lu¬
cretius was appointed inter-rex, and the comitia centuriata
were held by his authority in the Campus Martius, wdien
Brutus and Collatinus were chosen to be supreme magistrates,
at first with the name of praetors, which was afterwards
changed to that of consuls, by which title, as the better
known, we shall continue to designate these colleagues in
the chief power. They retained all the power of the kings,
and all the insignia of royalty, except the diadem; but the
rods and axes, the emblems of the powrer of life and death,
were carried before each alternately for a month. In ordei
that the sacred rites might be duly performed, they appoint¬
ed a priest with the title of king of the sacrifices, hut with¬
out political power. They then proceeded to fill up the
due number of three hundred in the senate, which had been
diminished partly by the tyranny of the last king, and part-
Tbe first
consuls.
lv by the flight of his adherents, who were implicated in his Romai
crimes. They restored those laws of Servius Tullius which Historr
were favourable to the commonalty; and re-appointed the
meetings and common sacrifices of the tribes.
Rome seemed now to have regained its liberties, but it
had not obtained the sense of security. It was thought
necessary to banish Collatinus, who was the nephew of Tar¬
quinius, that there might remain none of that hated race in
the city. Collatinus yielding without a struggle, withdrew
to Lavinium, and there died in old age. Publius Valerius
was elected consul in his stead, by the comitia centuriata.
It was not to be expected that the banished king would
submit without a contest. He first attempted to induce
the Latin states to espouse his quarrel; and finding them
unwilling, he applied to the Etruscans. Ambassadors were
sent from Etruria to demand the restitution of his private
property. This demand gave rise to warm discussions,
whether they should obey justice by giving up the private
property of Tarquinius, or prudence, by refusing to put money
into the hands of an enemy, which they foresaw would soon
be used against themselves. The plea of justice prevailed,
and the property was ordered to be restored. But during
the discussion, and the period required for collecting
the property, the Etruscan ambassadors were . intrigu¬
ing with the younger patricians in the formation of a
plot to restore the king. Considerable numbers of the
more haughty of them, offended with the favour shewn to
the commons, joined in the conspiracy, among whom were
the two sons of Brutus himself. The conspiracy was dis¬
covered by the information of a slave, who had overheard
them while concocting this plot in secret. The two consuls
called the people to the comitium, and commanded the
conspirators to be brought bound before them. The whole
plot was detected; the Etruscan ambassadors permitted to
depart uninjured, out of respect to the laws of nations ; and
the convicted traitors thrown into prison to await their trial.
Next day the trial was conducted in public, and sentence
of condemnation passed. Brutus commanded the sentence
to be put in execution upon his own sons. They were strip¬
ped, beaten with rods, and then beheaded. Nor till this
fearful example of stern retributive justice had been com¬
pleted did Brutus leave the assembly ; and when he depart¬
ed, the people could do no less than inflict an equal doom
on the remaining conspirators. _
The private danger was thus turned aside, but a public
tempest was at hand. The Etruscan cities of Tarquinn and
Veii took up arms in the cause of the banished king, and
advanced against Rome. The Romans crossed the Tiber
to encounter the foe ; and the two armies met near the grove
of Arsia. Before the battle began, Brutus, who was riding
at the head of the Roman cavalry, was descried by Aruns
Tarquinius, who led those of Etruria. The banished prince,
burning with personal hatred, spurred his steed furiously
against the consul. Brutus, with equal animosity, m04 hir",
in mid career ; and in the shock each pierced the body ot
his antagonist with his spear, and they fell wounded and
dying together to the ground. The cavalry on each
side hastened to avenge their leaders; the battle became
general; each right wing was victorious over its opponent;
and after a long and bloody struggle, night put an end to
the undecided contest. Both parties kept the held; but in
the dead of night a voice was heard from the adjacent grove,
declaring that the Etruscans had lost one man more than
the Romans, who were, and would be victorious. A panic
seized the enemy, they deserted their camp and flee , an
at dawn the Romans found nothing to do but to cairy o
the booty. Valerius returned to the city in triumph, and
in the forum pronounced a funeral oration over the body ot
Brutus. The matrons mourned for him a whole year, anQ
his statue was placed in the Capitol, among the kings, with
a sword in his hand.
ROMAN HISTORY
369
Roman After the death of Brutus, Valerius for a time retained the torinm . „ . , ,
Histo^. consular power alone ; not from ambition, but probably that on a chair of sr-n^^n^1'800 ,v°yat y,attire^ and seated Roman
‘^V^'he might, unobstructed, pass those laws which he deemed snruno- l/r ’ f U‘^(jsing this to be the king, Mucius History,
necessary for the public welfare. He enacted a law by iSJeW f ^ P the ^ He WaS^7
which every person who should seek kingly power was nro- tarv he Ii-dtlm- L- ll ,C l rr! b ®ie 1 orsenna, whose secre- • c- oa
nounced accursed, so that any man might kfll him without and told the kinir that h^T^ ^ ackn°wledSed his deed’
fear of punishment In the presence of the assembly of die Ssenna Le^eS >y n° “ Tr*
people, (the populus>!-.e.,L comitia curiata,) iVcaUed heTo“d dMgf*e pto bvlichte li,l r'j
B C 508 I d 0tc°nSular I’rer to be lowered; thusacknow- Mucius immediately 1 retdrnd fc if ^
B. C. 508. lodging the supreme authority of that assembly. But his thrust it inm ^ n , , §ht . antl and
best act was the passing of that law, f/ex de provocatione,) the king, saying, “ Behold how'much I Tegardy om threats
which gave to all Roman citizens the right of appeal to the of torture.” He held it in the "Y' VnX y0U threat1s
assembly of the people from the sentence of any magistrate, without a feature of his stern countenance indicatbg^hat
Tins was the first law enacted by the comitia centuriata; he felt the pain. Porsenna, struck w^his no^dS^and
and as soon as it was passed Valerius took away the axes contempt of suffering, commanded him to be set at liberty
Jp?™the knndles of rods which were borne before the consuls. Mucius then told him, in requital of his generosity that he
I ns right of appeal existed only in the city itself, and within was only one of three hundred patrician youths ^ho had
a mile of it. Beyond that distance the military power of the vowed to kill Porsenna ; and that he mustprenare for their
consuls remained unlimited, and the axes were borne and attempts, which would be not less darini than his own
used as formerly. The enactment of these laws obtained From that time Mucius was called Scaevola or the left-
ATsonTI^h SUrname 0t ! handed, because he had thus lost the use of his H«dit hand
As soon as they were passed, he held the comitia for the Alarmed by the dangers which threatened him from foes
e echon of a consul in the room of Brutus. Spurius Lu- so determined, Porsenna offered terms of peace'o the lit
and 16 ,wlthm a few days’ Mar- mans* A treaty was at length concluded, according to
AhnHt ff-11? Pu V1 US 'Yi, elfted t0 comPlete his year, which Porsenna ceased to maintain the cause of the far-
and f'ufhSi r0 ocJ;urrcdthaf;,fan'ous treaty between Rome quinian family; but demanded the restitution of all the
and Carthage, mentioned by Pdybius, and which is perhaps lands which the Romans had at any time taken from the
Ardea6 APn7um ^1°^ ■ “d “t ^ ^la,ter kinSS- StateS 0'' Et™ria’ a"d ^ twenty hLages, t youZ anl
tinnp? in « ^ 1 erra<[ina> are men- ten maidens of the first houses, should be given up to him
0 , . . such tf^ls as t0 cause them to be regarded as for security that the treaty would be faithfully observed,
abject cities, and Rome stipulates for them as well as for The legend relates that Clcelia, one of the hostages escap-
erself. The treaty was signed by Brutus and Ploratius; ing from the Etrurian camp, swam across the^Tiber on
nee a difficulty has arisen, as these two were not at any horseback, amidst showers of darts from her baffled pursu-
Z" n° wgUT? the COnSukr But Gibbonl bas ers; but that the Romans, jealous of thdr reputation for
nrnWn ithl SUCk t^aties wYe S1gned by the feciales more good faith, sent her back to the camp of Porsenna. Not
P y ^ba” by Jbe co"sals; fnd the[e 18 110 reason for to be outdone in generosity, he gave to her and her female
in BrutuS and Horatlus may have been conjoined companions their freedom, and permitted her to take with
I w wifVi t 4-1-. i m her half of the youths; while sho* with the delicacy of*
porsenna, VeiLdLTTnd^1^ TarqUint1US? ^ inability of the a Roman maiden, selected those only who were of tender
anS T Va''qu‘n‘a';s to replace him on the throne, years. The Romans then, at the final settlement of the
llrf I?T'.r ° Clu51um’ ? ^'ime the treaty' rent as a present to Porsenna, an ivory throne and
raised°f ^ !6 E ,USC,a" mo"ar^hs. Porsenna sceptre, a golden crown, and a triumphal robe, the offerings
met hv fhe P y’ and marchfl towards Ronae. He was by which the Etruscan cities had once acknowledged the
met by the Romans near the fortress on the Janiculum; sovereignty of Tarquinius. b
ffie thG fir,st^cou.nterttheyitook ^ flight> and When Porsenna quitted Rome, he entered the Latian
safpfv u pursued them impetuously as they sought territories, and attacked Aricia, the chief town of Latium.
danSrbth he fIoratlus Coc f’ seeing the The Aricians being aided by the other Latian cities, and
should emor i6 fy rai? ltiue ?ken ^ °RCe lf the fnemy also by the Cumans’ under the command of Aristodemus,
elf on H i M S t Z dying.R°mans’ P°sted him- defeated the Etruscans in a great battle, and put a stop to
ca ed nn B g?’ made head against the Pursuers, and their aggressions. The Romans received the fugitives irom
him and !ht c?untr>Jien.to ^ut down the bridge between Porsenna’s army, and treated them with great kindness;
lent fhirl &PUrU1S ETUS’-d Tl1tus Hermmius in requital for which Porsenna restored to them the lands
lo.i .Tu m tbe beY1C deed* ,When the bridge was which he had conquered beyond the Tiber,
and sirio-lv thr°Ufgh’ EoGes sef1 back his two companions, Such is an outline of the poetical legends respecting the
fallincr raamtained his post. At length the crash of the great war against Porsenna. It is, however, clear from
to k JL ams, and the shouts of his countrymen gave him other accounts and indications,1 that Porsenna took the
to know that the deed was done; when calling on the god city, deprived it of one-third of its land, as was customary,
and * t0,recei7e bim’ be Plu.nged mto the stream, imposed a tribute upon it, received the usual recognitions of
thm’n^T ed -f he WaS’ TT m safety to the shore, sovereign authority, and even deprived the Romans of the
fW S i 6 ,miSS1 6 °f the enemy> which showered use of metal in any other form than those employed in the
Tk, 11Ick aroVnd bim" „ , , purposes of agriculture, that they might not have it in their
all S WfS * le Clty saved Prom that sudden danger; but power to revolt. In this latter statement, we have again
spsaln ,Pe? uWaT nRt °1Ver‘ Porsen"a n°t only retained pos- an incidental hint of the eastern origin and customs of the
rivpr ^ °k 6 Ja"1Culri’ bu^ send*ng his army across the Etruscans ; in proof of which, reference may be made to the
rpdup111] T?ats’ Pulaged the country, cut off all supplies, and way in which the Philistines tyrannized over the Israelites
  e_ orne to the utmost distress by famine. In this during one of their periods of conquest. (See Arnold’s
History of Rome.)
Tarquinius, as his last resource, now applied to the La¬
tins, through the influence of his son-in-law Mamilius Oc-
 — -..v- ,amine. Ill [ills
mergency, a noble youth, Caius Mucius, undertook to rid
!>s country of this dangerous enemy. He made his way
lnt° tlle camp of Porsenna, and entered into the very prae-
1 See Essai sur L’Etude de La Litteratuie-
VOL. XIX.
See Tacitus, Hist. iii. 72. and Pliny, xxxiv. 14.
3 A
370
roman history.
Roman tavius. He was the more encouraged to hope for success
History. ;n consequence of a fierce war in which the Komans
^-y-^-'had been engaged with the Sabines, and by which they had
been considerably weakened. For a time the Latins hesi¬
tated to provoke an encounter with Rome; and in t e
mean while the Sabine war continued to harass the republic.
Valerius gained repeated victories over them, and some ot
the Sabines, wearied with fruitless hostilities, were anxious
for peace. Attus Clausus, a Sabine chief of great power,
came over to the Romans, became a Roman citizen, and
took the name of Appius Claudius, on being admitted into
the Patrician order. At length Valerius, after gaining an¬
other triumph, died, was buried at the public cost, an
mourned by the matrons for a year.
War with The entreaties of Tarquinius, and the influence of Ma-
the Latins, milius, had by this time prevailed among the Latins, ana
they prepared for a contest with Rome. Nor were t ae
Romans unaware of the approaching struggle; and that it
might be full and final, an opportunity was given on both sides
for the dissolution of intermarriages, and such other ties as
had been mutually contracted by the two nations. 1 he
Romans were determined to meet the decisive struggle as
it ought to be met. They created a new magistrate,
called a Dictator, to whom was entrusted for a period
uncontrolled dominion. He was Master of the peop e,
and he chose to be his second in command another officer,
whom he named Master of the knights. The dictator was
Aldus Postumius; the master of the horse Titus Abutms.
With these were joined in command the most distinguished
Romans who had already signalized themselves in war. On
the side of the Latins were Mamilius, and the whole of the
exiled Tarquinian family, resolved to regain their sway, or
perish in the attempt. The two armies met at the lake
Regillus. The dictator and the banished king encoun¬
tered hand to hand, but were parted by their followers.
Mamilius and iEbutius were likewise separated, after the
infliction of mutual wounds. Marcus Valerius fell while
rushing into the throng of the fight against Sextus Tarqui¬
nius. The exiled princes bore down or put to flight all op¬
posed to them, till the dictator himself, assailing indiscrimi¬
nately the pursuers and the pursued, turned^the tide o
battle, and forced his way even into the enemy’s ca.mp. In
this battle fell the two sons of Tarquinius, Mamilius, and
the chief of the Roman warriors who had been the means
of gaining their country’s liberty ; but the victory was com¬
plete. Tarquinius retired to Cumae, where he died, and
the Romans were left to enjoy the victory, so gloriously yet
dearly purchased.
Thus terminate the poetic legends respecting the wars
waged between the Romans and the banished Tarquinii;
and while it must be evident that a great deal of imagina¬
tive embellishments have been added to and intermingled^
with the course of the actual events, still there is enough of
verisimilitude in them to give them currency, as at least a
very spirit-stirring representation of what might have oc¬
curred. Besides, the effect produced on the Roman cha¬
racter by these poetic lays can scarcely be over-estimated,
in stirring them up to that stern, unyielding courage, that
unswerving energy of will, and that boundless ambition and
confidence in the fortunes of Rome, which gained for them
the empire of the world. While, therefore, we admit that it
is impossible to state how much of fiction has been intro¬
duced into the narrative of these events, we see no reason
to discredit the general truth of the history. The pride of
the Roman historians concurred with the imagination ot the
poets, in maintaining to the utmost the glory of Rome ; yet
even from what they have agreed to record, we may arrive
at conclusions somewhat different from those which they
were anxious to establish. Rome was undoubtedly taken by
Porsenna; and within twelve years after the expulsion of
the la=t king, the Romans had lost all their territory on the
Etruscan side of the Tiber, and all their dominion over La-
The principles of political liberty had also been severely
shaken. It is plain that the Tarquinian family attempted
to render the crown hereditary; and availed themselves of
the jealousy between the patrician populus and the plebeian
commonalty, to deprive each of their rights, and tyrannize
over both. A junction enabled the nation to expel its ty¬
rant ; but the contest cost Rome her independence for a
few years, and the loss of all her previous acquisitions. The
defeat of the Etruscan army at Aricia enabled the Romans
to recover their independence, butdeft them reduced almost
within their original limits immediately around the city.
The liberties of the commonalty were in danger in another
manner, and from a different foe. Instead of a period of
peace in the enjoyment of their recovered freedom after the
decisive battle of Regillus, we find dissensions of the most
serious kind arising almost immediately between the patri¬
cians and the plebeians. As these contests form a very
important part of Roman history, especially in a constitu¬
tional point of view, and have been much misunderstood,
it is necessary to offer a few remarks on their origin and
nature.
It was the policy of Tarquinius to depress the growing
power of the commons (plebs) as much as possible, that he
might the better succeed in his ambitious designs. In this
the patricians (populus) injudiciously joined him; and ah
the wise laws of Servius were repealed, or allowed to fall
into desuetude. Additional enactments against debtors
were framed, and every step was taken to reduce the ple¬
beians to a condition little better than slavery. The wars
arising out of the expulsion of the Tarquinian family blend¬
ed for5a time the interests of both classes, by the pressure
of a common danger; but no sooner was this pressure re¬
moved, than the patricians resumed the oppression to which
they had been too much accustomed, and were too prone.
Again were the comitia centuriata allowed to fall into ne¬
glect, while in the senate, and in the comitia curiata, where
thev possessed exclusive power, the patricians enacted new
laws against debtors, by which the plebeians were griev¬
ously oppressed.
The plebeians being composed generally of the popula¬
tion sprung from conquered cities, and admitted to settle at
Rome in the enjoyment of personal freedom, were chiefly
occupied in the culture of the public lands, or the lands held
by patrician families. The loss of territory sustained by
Rome in the Etruscan wars, deprived great numbers of the
plebeians of their property and employment. Being reduc¬
ed to poverty, they were compelled to borrow money from
the patricians, whose lands lay chiefly within the Ager Ro-
manus, and were not lost, and who also were alone permit¬
ted to enjoy the profits of commerce.1 By the Roman law
of debtor and creditor, when a man borrowed money, and
his poverty continued, so that he became insolvent, there
were but two resources to which he could betake himself.
He might sell himself to his creditor, on the condition, that
at the expiration of a stated term, if he did not discharge
the debt, he should become the slave of his creditor. This
was called the entering into a nexum, and the person enter¬
ing into this conditional sale of himself was called a nexus.
When the day came, the creditor claimed possession, the
magistrates awarded it; and the debtor, his family, and a
that belonged to him, passed into the power of the creditor
as slaves, and were termed addicti. If, on the other han ,
a man were unwilling thus to sell himself and family, an
resolved to meet in his own person the consequences of ms
debt, the danger thus incurred was much greater. If he
Roman
History.
1 See Niebuhr, vol. i. pp. 571, et seq.
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman failed to pay, and could neither himself give security, nor
History, obtain any person to give it for him, he might be thrown in-
to a dungeon, loaded with chains, and half starved for sixty
days. If during that time he refused to come to any terms
with his creditor, he might be again brought to the market
place, and the amount of his debt stated, to see whether any
person would yet become security for him. On the third
day, if no friend appeared, he might be put to death, or sold
for a slave beyond the Tiber ; nay, if there were more cre¬
ditors than one, they might actually hew his body in pieces,
and divide it among them ; and whether a creditor cut off
a greater or smaller piece than in due proportion to the debt,
he incurred no penalty.
In this manner vast numbers of the commonalty were re¬
duced to the utmost wretchedness; and instead of the in¬
fluence which they had been promised by the Servian con¬
stitution, they were in a worse condition than the veriest
slaves. The old Roman populus, the patricians and their
clients, had engrossed all the wealth and power of the com¬
munity, and formed the government into an exclusive aristo¬
cracy. Great numbers of the plebeians were nexi, though not
yet addicti; and in this condition felt themselves trembling
on the brink of utter ruin. Driven to despair by their dis¬
tress, the commons resolved that they would no longer endure
their misery and degradation. Such of them as were in the
city seized upon and began to fortify the Aventine hill, their
own quarter; those who were at the time in the field, de¬
serted their generals, marched to a hill on the north bank
of the Anio, beyond the limits of the Ager Romanus, and
within that of the Crustuminian tribe. There they esta¬
blished themselves, and proposed to found anew city. The
patricians, perceiving the ruin that must fall upon Rome if
thus deserted by the great body of the commons, entered
into negociations with them for a return. Their demands
were not extravagant. They required a general cancelling
of the obligations of insolvent debtors, (nexi), and the re¬
lease of those who in default of payment had been assigned
to the power of their creditors, (addicti). They further
stipulated, that two of their own body should be acknow¬
ledged as their public protectors, and that the persons of
these two should be held sacred and inviolable. To these
terms the patricians agreed ; a solemn treaty was conclud¬
ed ; the two protectors of the commons were chosen, and
B. C. 493. called Tribunes, and the commons returned to Rome. The
spot where this treaty had been concluded was enclosed,
and consecrated to Jupiter, and received the name of the
Sacred Hill.
This event was almost of equal importance with the ex¬
pulsion of the kings and the abolition of the monarchical
power. It laid the foundation of the liberties which the
body of Roman citizens subsequently enjoyed; and by giv¬
ing them legal rights and legal protectors, converted into
legal contests what might otherwise have rent the state
asunder. But at the same time it gave to the tribunate,
in the inviolability of the persons of those who held it,
the means of acquiring an unlimited power in the state,
such as might and did lead to ultimate despotism.
The termination in an amicable manner of these feuds
was greatly promoted by the fact, that the state was then
at war with the iEqui and Yolsci, two nations of Oscan race,
whose lands lay south from Rome. It was no time for pro¬
tracted civil broils when the country wras ravaged, and the
city itself threatened by such dangerous neighbours. To
the same necessity may be traced the alliance with the La¬
tin states, formed in the consulship of Spurius Cassius, on
terms of perfect equality; and seven years afterwards by the
same Spurius Cassius, with the Hernicians, on similar terms.
These leagues were of the utmost importance to Rome,
both as restoring to her the power which she had lost after
the expulsion of the kings, and that too on a more equitable Eoman
and therefore more permanent basis, and in commencing History,
that thoroughly incorporating and blending system which
afterwards converted all the inhabitants of Italy into Roman
citizens, and thus consolidating her growth, confirmed her
power.
A measure of equal justice, and not less importance, wras Agrarian
also attempted by Spurius Cassius, the passing of which law.
would have established the frame of Roman liberties on a B- C. 486.
secure foundation. This was an Agrarian law. The na¬
ture of the Agrarian laws, proposed from time to time at
Rome, and always the cause of bitter contests between the
patricians and plebeians, was never accurately known till it
was explained by Niebuhr.1 From him w e learn, that when
a new territory was gained in war, by the third being taken
from the conquered people, part of it was left unenclosed for
pasture, and the cultivated parts wrere either divided among
the new citizens who had not previously received any allot¬
ment, or left to be occupied by certain individuals, wdio were
required to pay a tithe of the produce to the state. The
persons thus allowed to occupy these new acquisitions were
generally members of powerful patrician families ; and,
although tenants at will of the state, they were actual pro¬
prietors with respect to the other citizens. When a number
of new citizens had been added to the state, it was consistent
with the whole polity of Rome to allot them lands: but
in order to do so it would be necessary for the state to re¬
sume its property from its tenants at will, and divide it
among the new citizens ; for it was equally a matter of
strict justice and sound policy to unite by permanent ties
to the state those men by whose blood its victories wrere
gained, and could alone be preserved. To this the occu¬
piers would by no means consent; and thus the public land
was wholly unprofitable to the commons, though they had
been largely instrumental in conquering it for Rome.
The Agrarian law proposed by Spurius Cassius had for
its object the division of a certain proportion of the public
land ; w hile from the occupiers of the remainder he intend¬
ed to demand the regular payment of the tithe, which had
been greatly neglected. His colleague, Proculus Virginius,
headed the more aristocratical party of the patrician body
in opposing the passing of this law, kept it in abeyance, if
not uncarried, till the termination of his consulship, and
then accused him before the comitia curiata of having trea¬
sonably conspired to make himself king, and for that pur¬
pose seeking to ingratiate himself with the commons. He
was sentenced to die as a traitor, and was scourged and be¬
headed, and his house razed to the ground. Such was the
fate of the first proposer of an Agrarian law; a topic equally
detested by the Roman aristocracy, misinterpreted by the
historians, and misunderstood by the moderns, yet a mea¬
sure of strict justice and sound policy, and sufficiently in¬
telligible when fairly stated.
The contests between the patricians and the plebeians
still continued; but the plebeians had now obtained the means
of insuring ultimate success, though for a time defeated and
overborne. They refused to serve as soldiers in the wars
with which the state was still harassed, and their tribunes
protected them in this refusal, till the consuls held their en¬
rolment without the city, where their power was unlimited.
At length the patricians consented that one of the consuls
should be chosen by the plebeians in their centuries, the B. C. 481
other by themselves, as usual, in their curiaj. This was a
considerable advantage obtained by the plebeians; and they
requited it by gaining a victory over the enemy.
For seven successive consulships the family of the Fabii
had been elected, and had headed the patrician party. At
length they resolved to conciliate the commons, and there¬
by incurred the hatred of their own order. Feeling them-
1 Niebubr, vol. ii. pp. 129, et seq. Arnold, vol. i. pp- 156, ef seq.
372
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
B.C. 470.
selves thus distrusted, and incapable of serving their country
in council, they resolved to emigrate in a body, and establish
'themselves on one of the outposts of the Roman territory, to
be a defence against aggression from that quarter. They
settled on the Cremera,in Etruria; but about two years after¬
wards the Veientians surprised them, put them all to the
sword, and destroyed their settlement. Three hundred of the
Fabian house are said to have perishedby this disastrous event.
In a short time afterwards new contests arose ; the ple¬
beians seized the Capitol; and the patricians were obliged
to yield to the passing of the Publilian law, by which it was
enacted, that the tribunes should thenceforth be chosen by
the votes of the commons in their tribes, and not by those
of the whole people in their centuries. They could now
elect their tribunes freely ; and they had formerly obtained
the right of discussing all national questions in their own
assembly. Had it been possible, when this great step was
gained, for the two parties to have laid aside their conten¬
tion, and regarded each other as truly brethren and fellow-
citizens, instead of rivals, those rankling animosities might
have been altogether allayed, which terminated only in the
destruction of the republic, and the establishment of an im¬
perial dominion, which was in fact a military despotism, so
frequently the consummation of civil dissensions and revo¬
lutionary contests.
The wars between the Romans and the iEquians and Vol-
scians still continued without any marked success on either
side, internal feuds preventing Rome from exerting her
whole strength; nay, at times inducing the army to suffer itself
to be beaten, out of dislike to its patrician general. During
these wars, some events of a striking character are said to have
occurred, which seem to have formed the subject of popular
poems, and have in that form been admitted into regular
history. The story of Caius Marcius Coriolanus is the most
brilliant of these warlike legends. He is said to have con¬
tributed mainly by his great personal valour to the capture
of Corioli, and the defeat of a Volscian army assembled for
its aid, on the same day. For this gallant exploit he receiv¬
ed the name of Coriolanus. Soon afterwards, during a
scarcity at Rome, he opposed the distribution of a supply
of provisions sent by the king of Sicily, unless the plebeians
would consent to forego the privileges they had so hardly
won. For this he was tried in the comitia tributa and ba¬
nished. He immediately joined the Volscians, and by his
military skill and renown, at once defeated and appalled the
Romans, till having taken almost all their subject cities, he
advanced at the head of the Volscian army against Rome
itself. In vain did embassies of his former friends entreat
him to spare his country; he remained inexorable. At length
a band of Roman ladies, headed by the mother and wife of
Coriolanus, proceeded to his tent, where the lofty remon¬
strances of his mother were more powerful than all the arms
of Rome. Coriolanus granted her request, at the same time
exclaiming, “ O mother, thou hast saved Rome, but lost thy
son.” Some accounts state, that he was soon afterwards kill¬
ed by the Volscians in a tumult; others, that he lived to an
advanced age among that people, often towards the close of
his life exclaiming, “ How miserable is the state of an old
man in banishment!”
Another well-known and spirit-stirring legend of the Vol¬
scians is that of the dictator Cincinnatus. His son, Coeso
Quinctius, had been banished on account of his violent abuse
of the tribunes during some of the numerous contests be¬
tween the patricians and the plebeians; and he had retired
to his own patrimony, aloof from popular tumults. The suc¬
cesses of theiFqui and Volsci atlength rendered the appoint¬
ment of a dictator necessary, especially for the rescue of the
consul and his army, who were surrounded by the enemy
and blockaded in their camp. The dictator laid aside his
rural habiliments, assumed the ensigns of absolute power,
levied a new army, marched all night to bring to the consul
Minucius the necessary succour, and before morning had Romani
surrounded the enemy’s army, and reduced it to a condition Hlstorj
exactly similar to that in which the Romans had been. The
baffled TEqui were glad to submit to the victor’s terms; and
returning in triumph to Rome, he laid down his dictatorial
power, after having held it only fourteen days.
About the same time, Rome was engaged in a war
which ultimately led to consequences of the utmost import¬
ance. This was the war with Veii, at that time the most
powerful city of Etruria, and distant only about ten miles
from Rome. There had been peace between Rome and
Etruria from the days of Porsenna; and the Etruscans had
even supplied Rome with grain in a time of great scarcity,
and when no other neighbouring state would grant any re¬
lief. A contest at length arose, which led to a war of nine B.C. 477
years’ duration, and a peace of forty years. This peace was
concluded in the year of Rome 280.
The intestine feuds between the patricians and the ple¬
beians still continued with unabated animosity. Occasion¬
ally one of the consuls favoured the plebeians, and proposed
some mitigation of their suffering, or increase of their pri¬
vileges, but generally with little success. The Agrarian
law, proposed by Spurius Cassius, continued to be the main
demand of the commons and their supporters; but its pass¬
ing was constantly either directly prevented or evaded. But
at last the commons became convinced that they need hope
for no complete redress of their grievances, until they should
have previously secured the establishment of some consti¬
tutional principle, from which equal justice would of ne¬
cessity, and from its very nature, flow. Accordingly Caius
Terentilius Harsa, one of the tribunes, proposed a law for as.0.461
complete reform of the existing state of things. Its purport
was, that ten commissioners should be chosen, five by the
patricians, and five by the commons, to draw up a constitu¬
tion, which should define all points of constitutional, civil, and
criminal law ; and should thus determine, on just and fixed
principles, all the political, social, and civil relations of all
orders of the Roman people. The question of passing
the Terentilian law, was now the subject of contention in
Rome; and the patricians seem to have endeavoured to
prevent it chiefly by interruptions to the proceedings of
the popular assemblies, caused by the violence of the young
patricians. In consequence of these interruptions, the com
mons carried the Icilian law, by which a tribune was em¬
powered to impeach before the commons in their own as¬
sembly (The comitia tributa), any patrician who should
interrupt him when discussing public measures, and might
require him to give security for his appearance, on the pen¬
alty of death and confiscation of his goods, if he should re¬
fuse to give such security. This law gave to the plebeian
assembly jurisdiction over a patrician, and thus placed in
their hands, not only the means of defence, but of retribution
or revenge. The banishment of Caeso Quinctius, and per
haps also of Coriolanus, were the consequences of the Teren¬
tilian law; but no dependence can be placed upon the dates
given to these perhaps legendary lays.
Three commissioners were at length sent to Greece, to
collect from the Greek states, such notices of their laws and
constitutions as might be serviceable to the Romans. AfterB.C.
the absence of a year they returned; and the commons finding
it in vain to insist upon five of their own body forming part
of the revisers of the law, yielded the point, and ten of t e
most distinguished of the patrician and senatorial body were
chosen to form an entirely new and complete code of laws,
by which the state should be governed. They were named
decemviri, and during their office they were to supersede
every other magistrate ; and each in his turn was to adminis¬
ter the government for a day, till they should complete their
legislative labours. .
After the careful deliberations of a few months, the result
was laid before the people, in the form of ten tables, fully
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
B.C. 450.
written out, and exhibited in a conspicuous place where all
might read them. Various amendments were proposed, and
^ the ten tables again laid before the senate, the curiae, and
the centuries, and having received the sanction of both
orders of the state, were received and recognized as the very
fountain of all laws, public and private, to use the expres¬
sion of Livy. Nothing but fragments of these laws, after¬
wards known by the name of the Laws of the Twelve Tables,
have been preserved to us ; and even of these fragments, we
cannot refer to more than those which relate to constitu¬
tional law, the origin and course of which we have been at¬
tempting to state and trace.1
Of these the most important which remain are the fol¬
lowing. 1. That there should be an appeal to the people
from the sentence of every magistrate. 2. That all capital
trials should be conducted before the comitia centuriata.
3. That privilegia, or acts of pains and penalties against an
individual, should be unlawful. 4. That the last "decision
of the people should supersede all former decisions on the
same subject. 5. That the debtor whose person and pro¬
perty were pledged to his creditor, nexus, and he who re¬
mained the free master of both, solutus, should be equal in
the sight of the law. 6. A sixth enactment, which unfor¬
tunately left matter for a grievance, and for future conten¬
tions, ordained, that there should be no legal marriages be¬
tween the patricians and the plebeians ; and that, if a patri¬
cian married the daughter of a plebeian, his children should
follow the condition of their mother, should not be subject
to the paternal law like his legitimate children, and should
not inherit his property if he died intestate.
By these law's the privileges and rights of the commons
had, in certain points, been greatly promoted, and in many
others secured on the firm basis of national laws. But not
only were subjects of great importance left unsettled on any
equal foundation ; these very law s, and the liberties of the
entire community, were destined to encounter another peril
of a formidable nature. The decemvirs had conducted mat¬
ters so much to the satisfaction of the community, that when,
Meanw’hile Appius chanced to see a beautiful maiden
named Virginia, daughter of Lucius Virginius, a centurion
in the army sent against the Alqui. The maiden had been
betrothed to L. Icilius, one of the tribunes, and the author
of the law' known by his name. Her beauty inflamed the
passions of the licentious Appius, and he caused one of his
clients, M. Claudius, to seize her as his slave, intending, in
this manner, to get the person of the damsel within his
power. Intelligence was immediately sent to the camp to
Virginius, w'ho, obtaining leave of absence, hastened to Rome
to protect his daughter. But in vain did he claim his
daughter, in vain appeal to the sympathy of the people, in
vain address himself to the better mind of Appius. The
decemvir, blind to every thing but the beauty of Virginia,
and deaf to all but the impulse of his own passion, passed
sentence assigning the maiden to Claudius. Upon this
Virginius, snatching up a butcher’s knife, exclaimed, “This
is the only way left, my child, to keep thee free and unstain¬
ed !” and plunged it to her heart; then turning to Appius,
he cried, “ On thee, and on thy head, be the curse of this
innocent blood!” Appius ordered him to be seized, but in
vain. Waving aloft the bloody knife, he burst through the
multitude, flew to the gates, mounted a horse, and spurred
headlong to the camp near Tusculum.
The wild and frantic aspect of Virginius, his attire stain¬
ed with blood, and the bloody knife still held convulsively
in his grasp, instantly drew a crowd of the soldiery around
him. In brief but burning terms he told his tale, and call¬
ed aloud for vengeance. One thrilling sentiment of sym¬
pathetic indignation filled every bosom ; they called to arms,
plucked up their standards, and marching to Rome, seized
on the Aventine. The army near Fidenas caught a similar
spirit, having received information of the bloody tragedy from
Icilius. They likewise threw off the authority of their com¬
manders, chose military tribunes to lead them, and hasten¬
ing to Rome, joined their brethren on the Aventine Hill.
In the city all was tumult and terror. The decemvirs
were unable to make head against the excited multitude,
373
Roman
History.
at the expiration of their year, they requested a renewal of and the senate itself felt its power ineffectual to allay the
thpir nfhpp rm tlio rrrminrl fViof 4- ~ U1 — A.  * rrn i i i
their office, on the ground that they had still two more tables
to form, in order to complete their task, they were permitted
to resume their powers without opposition. Appius Clau¬
dius, an old enemy of the commons, was one of the decem¬
virs, and was retained among them on their re-appointment
tempest. They began to treat with the people and the army,
yet with dilatoriness, hoping the ferment would abate, and they
might still retain their power. But the people were in ear¬
nest. Leaving a strong body to defend the Aventine for
T, - . „ o   -  rr~ — the present, they marched in military array through the city,
Ihe possession of uncontrolled, irresponsible power, now and once more posted themselves on the sacred mount (71/o/w b. C. 447.
began to display its usual consequences. I he decemviri NacerJ followed by vast numbers of the plebeian party, men,
seemed resolved to change the government of Rome into a women, and children. Then were the patricians compelled
complete oligarchy, consisting of a council of ten, whose to yield, and the decemvirs resigned. The plebeians ob-
power should be absolutely supreme in every thing. They tained also the restoration of the tribuneship and of the right
arrogated the right of superseding all other magistracies ; of appeal, with a full indemnity for the authors of the seces-
and at the conclusion of their second year they shewed no sion. The commons then returned to Rome, and re-occu-
mtention of resigning their offices, or of appointing their sue- pied the Aventine; but along with it the Capitol also, as se-
cessors. Popular liberty seemed on the point of being finally curity that the terms of peace would be duly kept. The
overthrown, just when its establishment on a secure basis decemvirate was finally abolished, and the consulship restor-
ed; with this additional provision, that whereas formerly one
had been appointed by the patrician curiae, both were now
chosen in the centuries.
—--  ; “  —The new consuls were L. Valerius and M. Horatius, men
1 f^ 7aS weakened. Ihe combined forces ravaged the who had shewn themselves to be favourable to the people,
e t bank of the Tiber, and the iEqui encamped on Algidus They wisely endeavoured to unite the two orders of the state
an pillaged the country around Lusculum. The decern- on terms of perfect equality. A law proposed and passed b. C. 446.
virs assembled the senate, obtained their authority to raise by Valerius, formally acknowledged the commons of Rome
an army, at the head of which they placed three of their to be the Roman people; a plebiscitum, or decree of the
number, and sent it against the Sabines. Another was raised commons, was to be binding on the whole people ; quod tri-
an sent against the iEqui, while Appius Claudius remained butimplebes jussisset,populum teneret.2 Such a popular de-
at ome to provide for the safety of the city, and for the cree, however, would not have passed into effect without the
nimntenance of the power of the decemvirs. Both armies sanction of the senate, and of the curiae; but it was a mighty
su ered themselves to be defeated, and retired nearer to the stride in advance towards the obtaining of a recognized and
ci y, dissatisfied rather than discomfited. legal equality between the two great orders of the state.
had been fondly anticipated.
Matters had nearly arrived at a crisis when a war arose,
the Sabines and Aiqui having united their forces, and being
desirous to avail themselves of the contentions by which
1 For an admirable view of these laws, see Arnold, vol. i. p. 253, et seq.
2 Livy, iii. 55.
374
Roman
History.
ROMAN HISTORY.
B. C. 445.
mamauais ui eiuici - —
' well as the commons to the consulship; and there seemed to
be now a complete union of all parties in the state, with the
exception of one point, the law prohibiting intermarriages
between the patricians and the commons.
A re-action, however, took place, and the patricians had
sufficient influence to prevent the new constitution trom
coming into operation. No plebeian consul was elected;
and all the military tribunes, six in number, were chosen
from patrician houses. Another struggle took place; the
tribune Canuleius proposed a law to repeal the prohibition
i .   i.,™ • anrl flttpr a tem-
the'citywas taken, a mffie carried underneath the walls, and
opening into the precincts of the temple ot Juno, by which
the Roman soldiers were enabled to burst from the taith in
the very heart of the city, rush to the gates, and open them
for the admission of their countrymen, while the genera
himself, issuing from the same subterranean passage, finished
a sacrifice to Juno, which the priest had declared to be the
omen of victory, certainly bears more the appearance of poetic
fiction than of historic reality. Veil, the rival ot Rome, was R.c. 391
taken, and the greater part of the districts, formerly subject
B. C. 441.
tribune Canuleius proposed a law to repeal the FohhWion t0 the Roman dominions. Capena
of intermarriages between the two orders ; and a , pajerii followed its fate, and the whole valley of the
porary secession to the Janiculum, this aw was * m;uer on both banks, formed now the natural extent of the
Still the plebeians were not content without the consulship 1 iber on bothban , ^ ^ of the seven.hiHed city.
being rendered accessible to them ; but tins ey we - important to the future glory of Rome, than the
yet able to obtain. . , . , fPyr\toYV „ained by the conquest of Veii, was the new prin-
A new patrician magistracy was next apposed, wine ^ or<TaJzation of her armies to which the siege
acquired powers not probably expected, or at first inte • P1 » rise. In order to insure the destruction ot
This was the Censorship the mam duty of which had atfirst Seined to surround it completely, and pre-
been limited to taking the census of the people , but wl™T ’ ’ f receiving any supplies of men or provisions,
from the office of superintending the public morals with This rendered it necessary
which it was entrusted, derived the power of reducing any either by summer wine ^ _    
. . •  him rrom
wnicil It WU5 C11L1 USttrAA, X » £
dangerous citizen to insignificance, by degrading him fro
his rank and order. The commons had now acquired full
security for their persons and their property ; and while am¬
bitious individuals would continue tobe desirous of additional
powers and privileges, the great body of the community felt
little interest in their personal intrigues, and the state began
to enjoy a period of comparative internal repose. I he peo¬
ple had now learned the secret of their own strength, and
how to make it available. For not long afterwards we find
them aiding the senate when the consuls appeared inclined
to disobey its authority, thus asserting their supreme power,
and also refusing to permit the enrolment of soldiers for the
Yeientine war, unless the question of war were first submit¬
ted to the comitia centuriata.
The war with the /Equi and Volsci was again renewed,
but was now waged by the united force of the republic, anc
with corresponding success. Several victories we^e garnet
and towns taken. Treaties were formed on favourable terms
with the Latins and the Hernici, and Rome again began to
extend her boundaries as she had done in the days ot her
  . <  1 i-^ •*»irvhf r\or»Lr r»r
eitner oy suunnei ui . . ,
that the beseiging army should continue its operations dur¬
ing winter, which was a measure never previously adopt¬
ed. But as the soldiers were, in general, cultivators of
land, and supported themselves by the produce of their own
industry, without pay from the state, it was necessary to give
them pay if their services were to be required permanent y
in the field.1 This could be done only by the patrician
holders of public land paying fairly their tithe into the pub¬
lic funds, besides bearing their due share of the public taxes.
To this they consented, in order to secure the overthrow of
their rival. Still the heaviest burden, and the greatest snare
of the danger fell on the commons ; and in order to procure
their consent, the election of military tribunes ou of their
order was at length sanctioned by law. R«me Fad now
nearly acquired that formidable character ip which she soon
afterwards appeared to terrify and subdue the wo. , a mi i
tary republic, where every citizen was, or might be, a sol¬
dier, and with a standing army inured to war and conquest.
Camillus, the conqueror of Veii, and the most distinguish¬
ed man of his time, was accused of having secretly appro-
_ . .   ni that ritV.
B. C. 404.
aer boundaries as she had done in the days ot her ea man ^ -sof the lu°der 0f that* city,
kings. Her attention was now turned to the right ban o P 'j' ' re L[]y guilty of so mean an action, or
the Tiber, the peace with Veil being near its termination blether he ““^7 « »ted by envy of his glory,
Between Rome and Veu a keen nvalship had long exist haughtiness, or dread of his power, cannot be
ed; and as the truce approached its close both nations ^ hj probability that he would not
prepared for a strife which both intended to be hnal. The determined but see ^ ^ ^ ^ t0 Ardeas and
taking of Anxur from the Volsci, enabled the Romans to be q ’ , , eg -g ga;d to ]iave turned,
send the greater part of their army against Ven. Severa as le 7ds that if he were driven unjustly into
battles were fought, in which the Romans were generally might fell upon his ungrate-
successful, and Veii itself was invested. For some time it exFe, some grievous cala^ ^ g ^ and t0 be
was rather a blockade than a siege ; and when the Romans 11 - .,11 him to their rescue. Such a calamity was at
attempted a complete circumvallation, the Veientians burst o^th^
aided by some of the neighbouring states, stormed one of ha"d> s„me time previously crossed the Alps,
the Roman camps, and broke up the siege. Again was the nossession of the plains of the Po, penetrated the
city invested by the Roman armies, and again were t ose gai P tbe Anennines and were advancing into central
armies so severely worsted by the assistance of the Fa iscans pass probable that the report of their approach was
and Capenatians, that it was deemed necessary to appoint Italy. the Tuscan cities when Veil
the celebrated Marcus Furius Camillus to the dictatois up. 11, * . 1 . r» mbe Romans having accomplished
Immediately upon his taking the command, the war began was beslf Sf b/ alar^ at the rumour of the ad-
to assume a different aspect. A close siege was formed, and their o^ect, became of their citizens into
pressed with vigour; all attempts from without to raise 1 “Vements, or at least obtain ac-
were defeated; all sallies from within repe e wi 1 grea • t ip Ce They arrived at Clusium just as it was
loss. The poetical legends connected with the fall of Ven, curate intelhge . yT> deputies joined the citi-
mention several prodigies that portended the approach- ese y le ' of them slew a Gaulish chief, and
ing doom of the one or the other of the belligerent nations, zens in a sally, and ^ he was stripping off the
&»„7a“byWlA tawS were fained 0^11 Gauls sent to Rome to demand the aggres^
Livy, iv. 59, 60.
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman to be given up to them, as there had been no war declared
History, between the Romans and the Gauls. The Romans refused
i^’Y'^'to yield up their brave countrymen to torture and death; and
the Gauls, finding their demands rejected, broke up in haste
from Clusium, and marched away, shouting “ to Rome, to
Rome.”
The Roman army had marched towards the Etrurian
frontier, expecting to meet the enemy at some distance from
the city; but the Gauls had crossed the Tiber considerably
higher up, and were proceeding along its left bank towards
Rome. Upon receiving this intelligence, the consuls has¬
tened back to the city, crossed the river, and marched ra¬
pidly against the enemy. The Romans had scarcely time
to assume a hasty position on the banks of the Alia, where,
through a deep bed, that slight stream joins the Tiber. The
Gauls at the very beginning of the battle, turned the right
flank of the enemy, drove it back in confusion on the main
3 C. 388. body, and rushing impetuously in their victorious career,
hurled the broken mass headlong into the river. The rout
was total, the slaughter great. Many were drowned, and
many more slain by the Gaulish javelins, while attempting
to swim across the river; those who succeeded fled to
Veii, and there sought an ignoble safety. Others fled to
Rome, carrying the tidings of their utter discomfiture ; and
thence continued their flight to Veii, despairing of being able
to save Rome. The Capitol alone was garrisoned by a de¬
voted few, who were resolved to defend this last bulwark
of their country, or perish in its ruins.
The city was left open and undefended, but it was on the
third day after the battle that the Gauls entered it. In
the interval, the great body of the Roman citizens had aban¬
doned their homes, and fled for refuge to the neighbour¬
ing c;des, carrying the most sacred of their images and re-
..cs to Caere, and leaving those which they could not remove
deeply buried in a secret retreat. But some of the priests,
and the aged patricians of the highest rank and dignity, could
not endure the thought of quitting their native city, and
dragging out the remainder of their feeble days in a foreign
land. They solemnly devoted themselves and the Gauls
to the infernal deities, and then seated themselves in the
forum to wait their death, by which they hoped to draw
down on the Gauls the vengeance of the gods. When the
Gauls entered, all was silence in the forsaken city, nor did
they see a human being till they reached the forum. There
they beheld the majestic fathers of Rome, seated each on
his ivory chair of office, and clad in his senatorial robes, un¬
moving, silent, awful impersonations of sublime despair. The
Gauls gazed on them with reverential respect, regarding
them as more than mortal. At length one of the Gauls
drew near to M. Papirius, and began to stroke gently his
long white beard. Papirius, a priest of the highest rank and
sanctity, indignant at the profane touch of the barbarian,
struck him on the head with his ivory sceptre. The Gaul
cut down the venerable man with his sword. The spell was
broken ; barbarian fury kindling at the sight of blood, rushed
on its defenceless prey, and in an instant the vows of the
aged senators were ratified in their blood.
After pillaging the forsaken city, the Gauls turned their
attention to the Capitol; but being unable to scale the
rock, were repulsed from the only access with considerable
loss. They now changed their plan, made the city their
head-quarters, continued the blockade of the Capitol, and
spread devastation into the surrounding country. Mean¬
while the Romans who had taken shelter at Veii, began to
recover courage, and to seek to open a communication with
the brave garrison in the Capitol. This was accomplished
by a daring youth named Pontius Cominius, who swam
across the Tiber and scaled the cliff during the night, and
having explained to the garrison the state of affairs at Veii,
375
returned as he came, undiscovered by the Gauls. But in Roman
the morning some traces of his exploit were seen by the be- History,
siegers, who concluded that if the cliff had been scaled by
one, it might by more. They made the attempt, and the
spot being thought inaccessible, and therefore left unguard¬
ed by the garrison, they had nearly reached the summit,
when the sacred geese kept in the temple of Juno, hearing
the unwonted sound at such an hour, made so much noise
as to awaken M. Manlius, a young patrician, whose house
was hard by the temple. He sprang up, seized his arms,
called on his sleeping comrades, and ran to the edge of the
cliff just as the head of a Gaul was appearing above it. Man¬
lius rushed upon him, dashed the boss of his shield into his
face, and tumbled him down the precipice. The falling
Gaul bore down many of his countrymen along with him,
and the rest, perceiving themselves discovered, and struck
with terror, leapt, fell, or scrambled down the crags, and
abandoned the attempt.
But though the Capitol was thus secured against direct
force or surprise, it might be reduced by famine, and there¬
fore the Gauls continued the siege. The brave garrison
were reduced to the utmost extremities, but still continu¬
ed the defence of their impregnable citadel, till the Gauls
began to suffer scarcely inferior calamities, arising likewise
from the want of food, aggravated by the unhealthiness of a
Roman autumn. Great numbers daily perished; and the place
where their bodies were burned was long afterwards known
by the name of Gallica busta, or Gallic funeral piles. These
calamities induced the Gauls to offer more reasonable terms,
which the exhausted garrison was willing to accept. The
demand was one thousand pounds of gold, on payment of
which the Gauls agreed to depart from the Roman city and
territories. It is also related that the Gauls had received in¬
telligence of their own country being invaded by the Vene¬
tians, which increased their willingness to come to terms
with Rome.
A truce was concluded; both parties met in the forum;
and the military tribune, Q. Sulpicius, proceeded to weigh
the stipulated sum. The Gauls fraudulently attempted to
falsify the weights; and when Sulpicius complained, Bren-
nus, the king of the Gauls, cast his heavy broadsword into
the scale which contained the weights. The tribune asked
what was meant by this action ; and the haughty barbarian
insultingly replied, “ It means, woe to the vanquished.” Hav¬
ing received this large ransom, the Gauls appear to have de¬
parted from central Italy, and returned to their own settle¬
ments on the regions in the valley of the Po, leaving the
Romans to set about repairing, as they might, their sacked
and desolated city.
The accounts which represent Camillus to have entered
the forum at the moment when Brennus had uttered his in¬
sulting Vae victis, and to have ordered the gold to be taken
away, saying, it was the custom of Romans to ransom their
country with steel, not gold; to have driven the Gauls out
of the city, and next day to have defeated them so totally
that not a man was left alive to carry the tidings of their
defeat to their countrymen ; these accounts are manifestly
parts of some poetical lays in honour of Camillus, the hero
of his age and country. But they are too inconsistent with
the more plain statements of other historians, and with the
well known facts of the case in other respects, to receive
any other than a poetic credence best suited to their poetic
character.1
But when the first feelings of exulting triumph abat¬
ed, and the Romans began to gaze around them on the scene
of ruin and desolation, their hearts sunk within them, and
they were on the point of yielding to the wretched dictates
of cowardly despair. It had been previously proposed by
the popular party, that a large body of the Roman citizens
1 See Niebuhr, vol. ii. p. 547, et seq.
376
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman should at once migrate to Veii, and raise it to an equality
History. wjt]1 Rome jn power and privileges. This destructive pro-
posal was at the time successfully resisted by the more clear¬
sighted patricians; but now, when Rome was in ruins, the
people few and dispirited, and Yeii in a flourishing condi¬
tion, its buildings better than even those of Rome had been,
the proposal to quit the scene of devastation, and remove to
one of comfort, was renewed and listened to with eagerness.
It required all the authority of Camillus, enforced by that of
the senate, and strengthened by every kind of assistance and
encouragement that could be devised, to induce the Romans
to remain, and undertake the heavy and almost hopeless task
of rebuilding the ruined city of their fathers.
Livy informs us, that while the senate were sitting in grave
and final deliberation respecting the removal to Veii, or the
rebuilding of Rome, the people at the same time standing
in clusters about the forum eagerly debating the same sub¬
ject, some cohorts, returning from relieving guards, chanc¬
ed to pass through the forum, when a centurion in the comi-
tium called aloud, “ standard-bearer, plant your standard ;
here we shall best remain.” The well-omened expression
was seized upon by the senate, they rushed out, exclaiming
with one voice, that “ they accepted the omenthe sur¬
rounding commons applauded and re-echoed the cry; and
all, w ith one voice and one mind, agreed to abide by the
will of the gods thus indicated, to raise from prostrate ruin,
and maintain the destinies of their everlasting city. There
is little doubt that Camillus planned this fortunate omen,
and by his well-directed efforts in this point, not less than
in war, gained the glorious designation of A new Romulus,
FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY, AND SECOND FOUNDER OF ROME.
Progress of Hitherto we have been led to trace the growth of Rome
Constitu- from the building of the thousand Romulean huts on the
tiorml Law. paiatine, till under the Etruscan dynasty of its kings it
had extended its power in all directions, entered into trea¬
ties with transmarine nations, and raised at home structures
of great magnitude and imperishable durability. We have
seen it sink into comparative feebleness during the intes¬
tine w ars by which it was torn immediately after the expul¬
sion of its tyrant monarch ; yet even then have we also seen
noble proofs of that love of liberty, that strength of stern
indomitable will, that irrepressible perseverance, and that
lofty confidence in their own destinies, which conspired
to render the proud citizens of Rome the conquerors of
the world. Of even more importance is it to trace the
growth of constitutional law, as it arose out of the struggles of
one party which wished to engross and retain all civic rights
and privileges, and the growing wealth, intelligence, and
power of another, which gradually became more and more
sensible of its rights, and more and more determined to ob¬
tain them. Even the most careless observer of these contests,
and their fluctuations of success and disappointment, must
have marked, that whatever either party gained by uncon¬
stitutional violence, was never to either a permanent gain;
that any premature advance of popular liberty was almost
instantly followed by a recoil, proving, that not the sound¬
ness of a principle, nor the truth and accuracy of a theory,
but the substantial, the felt, the practical necessity of the
measure, is the only sure foundation of any addition to, or
change in, the institutions of a country ; and that the natu¬
ral and spontaneous adjustment of existing rights and insti¬
tutions, which takes place wherever they are pervaded by
the genial influence of a healthful vitality, is productive of
a far greater and more lasting amount of true liberty, pub¬
lic and private, and of all that can promote real national wel¬
fare, than could ever be obtained or secured by those im¬
petuously philanthropic legislators, who dream of creating
a commonwealth in a day, as a magician would produce a
palace by the utterance of some all-powerful spell.
To trace the growth of constitutional law as accurate- Remit
ly as possible, we must revert to the earliest period of Histor
Rome, and endeavour to extricate from their fabulous en-'^’^y'^
velopements the historical truths contained in what are now
admitted to be poetic legends. By this process we may hope
to obtain as rational and intelligible a view of the city, the
people, and the constitution of Rome, as the preceding narra¬
tive is capable of affording. It has already been stated, that
the various inhabitants of that district of Italy, in which Rome
was built, were the Oscan, Pelasgian, and Etruscan. The Pe-
lasgi appear to have settled chiefly along the coast of Italy, ,
from which they drove back the original inhabitants, who were 1
probably Oscans. In process of time the Oscans descended j
again in great force from the mountains, overpowered the ]
Pelasgian s, and reduced them to a species of servitude, allow¬
ing them however to remain as tillers of the land, and arti- ,
fleers. From this intermixture arose the people subsequent- ,
ly known by the name of Latins; combining the hardy and ! j
warlike habits of the Oscan mountaineers with the superior
skill and civilization of the Pelasgi. This view may be re¬
garded as confirmed by the fact, first pointed out by Niebuhr,
that the words which relate to agriculture and the compara- j
tively refined arts of life, in the Latin language, are closely | |
allied to the same words in Greek, indicating the Pelasgian
origin of both ; while the Latin words pertaining to war and I
the chase are entirely alien from the Greek, and are in short
of Oscan origin.1 From this it may be inferred, that dur¬
ing the formation of the Latin language, the nation was com¬
posed of two races, the Oscan and the Pelasgian, of wdiom
the Oscan held the chief sway. The two races being both
accustomed to the simple patriarchal, or family form of rule, \
would have a natural tendency to blend together so as speedi¬
ly to become one people. This seems to have been the con¬
dition in which they wrere, during the period when Rome is
said to have been built. j 1
Whether the traditionary founder of Rome was of Oscan 1 |
or Pelasgian race, cannot be ascertained. The greater part
of his followers appear to have been Pelasgian; and from
them the settlement may have obtained its name, which wras
afterwards given to the legendary hero himself. One of the I r
traditionary accounts of Romulus, represents him as having
been sent in his youth to an Etruscan city, for the purpose
of receiving instruction superior to what could be obtained
in Latium. Were we receiving the narrative as that re¬
specting a real person, we should ascribe to his Etrurian
education the attention paid by Romulus to augury, and the
other arts of divination, in which the Etruscans are known
to have excelled. The tradition may however refer to some
influential Etruscan leader, wTio may have joined the early
founders of Rome, and contributed greatly to mould their
religious institutions. This view is supported by the state¬
ment of some authors, that an Etruscan chief, named Lu-
cumo, was an early ally of Romulus, and aided him in the
Sabine war, in which he was killed. T he term Lucumo,
wre know, was not a personal name, but one of rank and of¬
fice common to the Etruscan chiefs, who were all Lucu-
mones. This Lucumo may have been the Tuscan chief
Caeles Vibenna, who is said to have settled on the Caelian
hill, to which he gave his name.2 II this be admitted, and
we suppose the followers of this Etruscan Lucumo removed
to Rome by the Roman founder, after the fall of their own
chief, we have a very probable account of the origin of the
third tribe of the Roman people, the Luceres, who, though
admitted as an original tribe, were in some respects subor¬
dinate to the other two, the Ramnenses and Titienses, or
Romans and Sabines. The Luceres may have been or
a more mixed race than the other two tribes, and on that
account somewhat less esteemed. It is indeed by no means
improbable that the first inhabitants of Rome were compos-
1 Niebuhr, vol. i. p. 83.
2 Ibid. pp. 382, 383.
Ho;.
ROMAN HISTORY.
377
Usman ed of some of all the adjoining states, although the Oscans were called client?.< and    ..a ..
hstory. and Pelasgians were the most numerous. be desiunste,! i f1, " ilh some moclificatjon':, Roman
With regard to the Etruscans, we are of opinion that for a therXftt& ^
veryjseculiar reason, they could not have formed any consi- ed to the chief. From this amse K m“re private dt
mestic division of the people into patroni and clientes. The
patrons alone were recognised as citizens by the state, in
t eir various aspects, as heads of houses, members of the
cunai, and of the tribes; and by them, and for them, were
all laws made, with all which the clients had no connexion.
1 he relationship in which the clients could alone be view¬
ed was entirely of a private nature, subsisting exclusively
between them and their patrons. The power of the patrons
derable proportion of the inhabitants of Rome. We are
inclined to hazard the conjecture, that the name Etruscan, as
commonly used, is extremely deceptive, and leads almost
invariably to error. The true name of the peculiar people
generally called Etrusci, was, according to themselves, Ra-
sena. It is constantly asserted that their language is total¬
ly unknown ; and yet they are said to have occupied a very
large poition of Italy, and to have been in constant and in¬
timate intercourse with the nations inhabiting its other di¬
visions. It is scarcely credible that not one word of con¬
fessedly a highly civilized people should have entered into
the language of those nations with whom they held inter¬
com se. But, if the body of the people called Etrusci were
of Oscan, Umbrian, or even of Celtic origin, while the Ra-
senau ere merely a race of skilful and intelligent foreigners,
who had, by force or policy, acquired the station of a ruling
and a sacerdotal caste, their peculiar language might never
be communicated to the body of the people whom they rul¬
ed, and so might perish when their power was broken and
their caste destroyed.1 The possibility that the Rasena were
indeed a sacerdotal caste, similar to those of Egypt, India,
and other oriental nations, perhaps also of the Celtic race’
will scarcely be questioned by those who are acquainted with
the history of the Brahmins and the Druids.2
■neiule Revertin§'to vvhat has already been stated respecting the
1 ^ ‘ patriarchal form of rule common to the Oscan and Pelas-
gian races, we are furnished with an explanation of the cen¬
tral principle of all the Roman institutions. The form of
government resulting from such a principle was necessarily
monarchical, but could not be despotic. For, while the kin0,
ruled supremely over the nation at large, every head of a
family ruled over his own household with uncontrolled sway,
at once as its king and its priest.3 But, in order to obtain
the advantages of union, the families, houses, or gentes, form¬
ed themselves into bodies of ten each, called curice. Over
each curia, one head of a House, or gens, held a sort of pre¬
sidency, and received the name oicurio. The union often
curias formed a tribe. The union of the three tribes, the
I’  L C11C; UatlUllS
over the clients, on the other hand, would have been alto¬
gether despotic, but for the patriarchal element from which
it sprung, and by which it was tempered. The client was
regarded by the patron as to a certain extent a member of
his family, owing to him indeed the most implicit obedience,
but having the strongest claims upon him for protection,
and even for some measure of paternal regard. The natron
was bound to relieve the distress of his clients, to appear
for them in court, to expound to them the law, civil and
pontifical, and to allot them portions of land to cultivate and
build upon, which, however, they held only as tenants at
will. The clients on their part were bound to be obedient
to their patron, to promote his honour, to pay whatsoever
public fines might be imposed on him, to aid him jointly
with the real members of his house, in bearing the public
burdens of taxes, to contribute to the portioning of his
daughters, and to ransom him or any member of his fa¬
mily who might fall into the hands of an enemy. If the
client died without heirs, the patron succeeded to his pro¬
perty ; and if the patron failed in discharging his duty to
his clients, he was accounted infamous and accursed.
But the union of the three Iribes belongs to a subse-Tribes,
quent period of the history. Although it seems sufficiently
probable that the rudiments of the tribe called the Lu-
ceres, existed in the time of the founder of Rome, yet
that tribe was not raised to a full equality with the other
two till a later period. During the reigns of the first
two kings of Rome, the nation presents a strictly twofold
aspect, consisting of the two chief tribes, the Ramnenses
and the litienses. In each tribe the arrangements were
foZ iE-r R0mf7 7^ « similar, ten houses
to the inhabitants of the Palatine hill, the Titiensp«. nr snh_ nnrino o tviKo i k /• ,
Clients.
to the inhabitants of the Palatine hill, the Titienses, or sub
jects of Titius, who were Sabines, and inhabited the Quiri-
nal and Capitoline hills, and the Luceres, who were proba¬
bly the original followers of the Etruscan Lucumo who aid¬
ed Romulus, and settled at first on the Caelian hill, aug-
niented by adventurers from neighbouring states, formed
the Populus Romanus in the strict sense of that term. Thus
the patriarchal principle pervaded the entire body politic,
and gave to it all that was peculiar in its aspect and institu¬
tions.
We must not, however, omit to mention, that within this
external and public form of the body politic there was in¬
cluded another of a more private and personal character.
Asa state, tribes, curiae, and houses were alone visible; but
curiae a tribe, of which the heads of houses formed the se¬
nate, and the heads of the curiae formed the chief senators.
Ihe great national council consisted thus of 200 senators,
half Romans and half Sabines, or, laying aside the national
designations, and retaining those of the tribes alone, half
Ramnenses and half 'l itienses. The senate thus being
wholly composed of headsof houses, its memberswere rightly
named patres, and their order the patrician ; but this patri¬
cian order comprehended at first the entire people, in conse¬
quence of the family-relationship, which, in fact or sem¬
blance, pervaded the whole community. Every head of a
house was the judge and ruler of his house, both members
and clients ; the curia of ten houses governed the affairs of
in eaph  7 out their collective body; and the senate of ten curiae deliber-
dents Thp L ^ ^ TuTT 7 TemJ)erS and def)Cn- ated uP°n the affairs of the nation. In those early days,
hou e nV1Lmem^C^ne/cedbybloodwith the ^ad ofthe the assemblies of the people were merely assemblies of the
kinsman a if™ f68’ 01- aS WG ^erm them, patrician houses, who alone possessed the rights of full ci-
Dendnntc h f°rmed tbo free citizens of Rome: the de- tizenship; and these assemblies were held in the valley be-
P naants, who were not all, nor necessarily, blood relations, tween the Palatine and Capitoline hills, termed the Forum
* Niebuhr, vol. i. p. 122.
at once he substantiated, it \yould explain many of the most difficult questions that arise respecting the Etruscans. It would
growth of it,., r 0i i 6 wa,lt a community of interest between the Etruscan chiefs and the body of the people, which prevented the
the dis'innYrl ^ ^^chdoted power among them, caused those sudden transitions from strength to weakness, and led ultimately to
ceased to n,i„nf °- 1 caste, and the complete blending of the real people with the other Italian nations. For when the Rasena
a separate eviY a'iUI® 'ttle, if any thing, in common with the body of their subjects, not even their language, they speedily ceased to have
with their m t"e PeoP , w*10 were correctly designated Tyrrheni, or Tursceni, and were of Pelasgic origin, very soon blended
3 ‘sqo i i Ul • races’ as> indeed, the Luceres had done with the primitive Romans at an earlier period.
Vol yI* ^ V° ' 11 P' 3°6: Ct seq’ ’ and Arnold’s History of Rome, vol i. p. 25, et seq.
3 B
378
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
Luceres.
Romanum, and said to have been the place where the co-
mitia cunata were held from the time ot Romulus-
At this time the body, afterwards known by the name of
the plebs, or plebeians, had no existence, the entire popu¬
lation being composed of patrician houses, with their mem¬
bers and dependents, in other words, of patrons and clients,
the patrons alone being full citizens, and known as the
people. In a very short time a population of a differ¬
ent character began to appear, composed of strangers who
came to settle in the country, and the inhabitants ot con¬
quered states brought forcibly to Rome, and obliged to unite
to a certain extent with their conquerors. This population
had, of course, no connexion with the houses, but only with
the state politically. They could not become members ot
the houses; they were not dependents on them; and thus
thev came to form a body of an entirely new character,
springing up in the midst of the privileged citizens. I bey
were not permitted to intermarry with the houses, who were
very tenacious of purity of blood ; and thus they belonged to
no house, no curia, and no tribe, consequently they had no
share in the public government nor in the public property.
Their own property in their native country might have been
diminished, or altogether lost in that war by which they had
been subdued, in consequence of the law by which a third
part of a conquered nation’s lands was seized by the con-
querors; yet what the state might subsequently seize in war,
even by their aid, did not become theirs, because they formed
no integral part of the state as such, being in the state, but
not of it. Such an inferior population, of a character, and oc¬
cupying a position so anomalous, not slaves, yet not citi¬
zens, was the element from which arose the original plebs
or commons of Rome.1 „
The only events recorded in the legend ol I ullus Hos-
tihus, to which any degree of credit can be attached, are
those which refer to the Alban war and its consequences.
It seems to be a fact, that at some indefinitely early period
in the history of Rome, the honour of being head of the
great confederacy of the thirty towns of Latium, which had
belonged to Alba, was transferred to the former city. This
has been ascribed to the reign of Tullus ; and as no period
to which it may with greater certainty be referred, can
be pointed out, it may be regarded as an historical truth,
accounted for in no unnatural manner by a national le¬
gend. The combat of the Horatii and the Curiatii ap¬
pears to be chiefly a poetical episode, and one of a very
hin-h and spirit-stirring character, but may have had some
foundation in tact. The death of Tullus is also legendary
and imaginative. It seems to have been partly at least an
Alban lay, from its indications of divine wrath falling upon
Tullus on account of the desolate temples and deserted gods
of the Alban mount. But the most important part of the
narrative is that which records the reception into the state
of the third tribe, the Luceres. In the legend, this is said
to have taken place in consequence of the union of the Al¬
bans with the Roman people. There may be a considerable
portion of truth in this statement, and it is perfectly con¬
sistent with the known facts of the case, as far as they bear
upon the subject. The Luceres were held to be to a certain
degree inferior to the other tribes, as was not unlikely to
be the case with the descendants of a conquered people.
All the patrician houses that traced their genealogy to
the Albans belonged to the Luceres, such as the Julii,
Quinctii, Servilii, Caelii, and several others of the most dis¬
tinguished Roman houses. The explanation of the name
Rone
Histia,
Luceres cannot be clearly given. Some denve it from the
Lucumo who is said to have settled on the Caelian hill, and
to have given it his name. If he founded a small city for his
followers, and give it his official name, as he gave the hill
his personal, the name of the town might be Lucerum; and
when the Albans were located on that hill, and in that town,
and raised to the condition of a tribe, they might be called
Luceres from their new abode, and in order to sink the re¬
membrance of Alba. . , . |
The most important event recorded in the period assign- P|el)S
ed to the reign of Ancus was the removal of the conquered Plebu i.
Latins to Rome, and the apportioning to them of a settled
residence on the Aventine hill.2 This may be regarded as
the origin of the Roman plebs, or commons, as distinguished
from the patrician body, who were the true and original
Populus Romanus. It cannot be too distinctly stated,
nor too clearly and strongly remembered, that among the
early Romans, the populus and the plebs were wholly and
in every respect different. The populus was originally the
whole body of the early inhabitants of Rome, both those of
Romulian and those of Sabine origin. This body, consist¬
ing of senators or patres, curiae, and houses, w ith their mem¬
bers and dependants, was completely aristocratic in its as¬
pect, and tolerated no degrading intermixtures. The plebs
were originally the conquered Latins, who were in a mea¬
sure incorporated into the mass ot the nation, by being re¬
moved to the Roman territories, placed on the Aven¬
tine hill, and permitted to farm the land of the state, which
latter arrangement is said to have been made by Ancus.
They retained their personal freedom, but could neither be¬
come members of houses, nor in general would submit to
be dependants. They grew up, therefore, along with the
populus, a free, but unprivileged, and too often an oppress¬
ed population ; and though both despised, feared, and hated
by the exclusive patrician populus, rapidly growing what
they ultimately became, the real strength of Rome. Had
it not been for the patriarchal principle pervading Rome,
which caused the ties of kindred to be the only legiti¬
mate method of obtaining the full privileges of a citizen,
these near residents might have been admitted at once, and
all the subsequent fierce domestic broils might not have
taken place; but without these contests the nation might
never have been knit into such compact strength, nor have
been led to the formation of such a body of wise and well-
1&In the constitution of the Roman state, Tarquinius made New *
at least one alteration concerning the true nature of which, tore,
authors are by no means agreed. Some say that he added an
hundred members to the ancient senate, which till then had
amounted to no more than two hundred. These new senators
were called fathers of the lesser houses, (patres minorum
gentium ;) and the old senators fathers of the greater houses,
(patres majorum gentium.) If this account were entit e
to implicit credit, we should regard it as referring to the
admission of the Luceres into the full enjoyment ot the
rights and honours of citizenship. Yet this seems to
have taken place during the reign of Hostilius, when he
brought the conquered Albans to Rome. Perhaps a por¬
tion of each statement may be true. The Albans and La¬
tins may have been settled on the Caelian hill, and iormeu
into a tribe by Tullus; but not raised to the senate till the
accession of Tarquinius, who may have thought such a step
necessary in order to secure the support ot a large o y o
the state, his claims to the throne being so very question-
1 It may be added, though here we are antic.pating the regular course of eventr’ t,hat thbe S hy them as tenants at the will of
mons were conquered Latins. Besides receiving grants of a portion of their former ^ed within the walls
the state, they had also the Aventine hill assigned to such of them as removed to Rome, fhe .^" ^^tan s enloying its protection,
nf rhe original citv so that these half-citizens became the suburban neighbours of Rome rather than its innaDitants, F
IX burfenTe'poKd to , fall proportion of all it, dangors, but excluded from all .t, political rigbta and pnv.legt*. Fro.n
such a condition no wonder that future contentions arose.
2 See Niebuhr, vol i p- 355.
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
1 FT.
able. It is true Niebuhr1 hazards another very ingenious
conjecture. He thinks that Tarquinius may have been him-
^self one oi the tribe of the Luceres, that Priscus may have
been a name belonging to him, as one of a Priscan gens,
or house, ana that the legend of his Etruscan conquests and
acknowledged sovereignity may have some connexion with
the much more ancient tradition of the fabulous Tuscan
hero, Tarchon, to which the name Tarquinius itself may al¬
lude. It is sufficiently evident, that there did exist at some
remote period, an intimate intercourse between Rome and
the Etrusci; and there appears to have been some con¬
nexion between this Etruscan influence and the tribe of the
Luceres. \\ hat the exact nature and extent of this Etrus¬
can intercourse and influence were, it seems a hopeless task
to inquire, and it would be fruitless to indulge in training
conjectures.
It is stated, that Tarquinius wished to add to the cen¬
turies of the Equites, established by Romulus, three new
centuries, and to call them by his ow n name, and the names
of his friends. In this intention he was opposed by the
augur Attus Navius, who affirmed that what had been in¬
stituted with augury, could not be changed without it, and
that the omens forbade any change. The king, in order to
cast, discredit on the art of the augur, asked him to divine
whether w hat he was then thinking of could be done. The
augur observed the omens, and answered that it could. “ I
was thinking,” said the king, “ whether you could cut this
whetstone in two with a knife.” Navius instantly took the
whetstone, and cut it sheer asunder, to the amazement of
the king. This proof of the aifgur’s skill caused Tarqui-
mus to desist from his intention to its full extent; and he
merely added to each of the former centuries a second or
latter century under the same name. In this legend may
be contained an account of the opposition which Tarquinius
experienced from the patrician body, when he purposed to
raise a number of the most distinguished of the free citizens
to the equestrian rank,—an opposition to which he was
so far obliged to yield.2
It has been already stated, that the constitution of Rome3
was founded on the patriarchal principle, as to its essential
characteristic, while the numerical divisions of the govern¬
ment by tens were arbitrary, so far as can be traced. Every
head of a house was an integral member of the state, as a
free citizen; but there is no very manifest reason why
houses should have been aggregated into tens, or curiae,
these into other tens forming the senate, or patres, of one
hundred. But this division or rather aggregation having been
adopted, it influenced all the arrangements of the body po¬
litic, both in peace and war. While there was but one
people, the follow ers of Romulus, there was but one tribe,
the Ramnenses, or, as some term it, the Ramnes, and the se¬
nate amounted to one hundred. Upon the junction of the
babmes, there were two tribes, the Titienses or Titles be¬
ing added, and consequently the senate then numbered two
hundred. The elevation of the third tribe, the Luceres,
completed the number of curiae, decuriae, tribes, and sena¬
tors, till thirty and three hundred became the ruling; num¬
bers in this division.
It is worth remarking, that, according to the statement
01 ancient authors, when Romulus formed the Pomcerium,
including all that composed ancient Rome, his city merely
contamed one thousand wretched huts, clustered together on
tlie Ralatme hill. Now, if it could be shewn that the union
0 ten families formed a house, ten houses a curia, and ten
cm iae the entire tribe, we should have the exact number of
ie hrst huts erected on the Palatine, and of the primitive
mansions of the Roman fathers.
The army followed in its construction the numerical ar-
879
rangement of the people. The earliest Roman legion could Roman
contain no more than the male inhabitants of Rome, which History,
would be at that time only a thousand capable of bearing '-"^*-
arms. As the senate was formed from the hundred chief
men of the curiae, so there w^ere an hundred of the bravest
selected from the curiae to fight on horseback. Thus the
equites, or knights, were at first equal in number with the
senate, and equal in rank, as members of the curiae, though
not senators, because not the heads of the curiae. When
the senate was increased to three hundred, by the addition
of the other two tribes, there were also three centuries or
hundreds of knights, retaining the proportion. The legion
would then consist of 3000 infantry, and 300 cavalry; and
though in later periods the numbers of the infantry were
increased, 300 continued to be the legitimate number of
cavalry in a legion. Although the name remained, the
numbers fluctuated according to the dictates of policy or ne¬
cessity, so that when we read of a century, w7e are not to
assume that an hundred is meant, and neither more nor
less.
Adopting recognised terms and divisions, Serving, in his Servian
endeavours to improve the constitution of Rome, divided Constitu-
the large body of unprivileged yet free citizens, the plebs, tion-
or true commons, into thirty tribes, according to the thirty
cmite of the senatoiial patricians. Of these thirty tribes
four were contained in the city itself, and the remaining
twenty-six in the lands that had been added to the domi¬
nions of Rome by conquest. Each tribe was under the do¬
minion of a magistrate of their own body, called a Tribunus.
There ware also judges appointed, three for each tribe, to
determine private causes among the plebeian citizens,
for the appointment of these official persons, and other mat¬
ters connected with their owm interests, the plebeians were
empowered to hold their own meetings, called the comitia
tributa. These were held on the nundince, or market days,
when the country people came to Rome, and in the forum
or market-place adjacent to the comitium, or meeting place
of the patricians, but quite distinct from it. These comitia
tributa were entirely plebeian, and at first referred only to
the decision of disputes respecting private rights among the
plebeians themselves. They were not convoked by the patri¬
cians, nor held under patrician auspices. They had nothing to
do with national affairs as such, but w7ere confined entirely
to the private business of the plebeian order. Neither had
the patricians at first any thing to do with this plebeian as¬
sembly : they formed no part of it, and had no authority
over it. Yet, though thus distinct from the state in its ori¬
ginal formation, it gave an organized form to the plebeian
body, which soon proved its importance, as the very thews
and sinews of the body politic, and therefore essential to its
grow th and strength.
The institution of the comitia tributa, though at first of Comitia
an entirely private character with reference to the state, Centuriata.
tended to the formation of a new assembly, in which all
the orders or the people were included, and arranged
for the discussion of public affairs. It was not possible
that the plebeian body could be so far organized as to have
its ow n, magistracy, elected by itself in an assembly of its
own, without producing an early necessity for its admis¬
sion into the state ; for organization both gives power, and
the consciousness of powrer, in the body politic. The most
natural occasion and mode of its admission, had a military ori¬
gin and character, like most of the other Roman institutions.
Though the patricians and plebeians remained completely
distinct in their civic character, and in the time of peace, yet
in the time of war they acted together in one great body, the
army. The arrangements of the army w^ere therefore those
which led to their junction in another aspect, and were in
* See Niebuhr, voLlpp. 360, 361.
a tun view of the Servian constitution of Rome, see Niebuhr, vol. i. pp. 405-487. Arnold, vol. 1. pp. 64-82.
380
ROMAN HISTORY
Roman that new aspect retained as much as possible. As the ear-
History. ]jest principle of the structure ot the Roman army was its
/ division into centuries, so the same principle gave rise to an
assembly of a new character, called the comitia centunata,
where the military principle predominated, and in which the
whole population met. So much of a military character did
this assembly at its origin bear, that it was not permittee
to meet within the city, but in the Campus Martius, and
it even bore the name of exercitus urbanus.
Tarquinius is stated to have added, not three new cen¬
turies bearing new names, to the equestrians, lor t at u as
prevented by the augur Navius, but three new centuries,
forming a second series, and retaining the designation ot the
first three. These three double centuries of the Ramnen-
ses, Titienses, and Luceres, were now recognised as dis¬
tinctly six privileged bodies of voters, sex sittfragia, ot the
new assembly. To these, which contained all the members
of the houses, there were added by Servius twelve new cen¬
turies of knights,formed from the richest members of the ple¬
beian community, and continuing, like the centuries below
i i _ of rnmmons. I nere
Classes.
asses, were regarded as supernumeraries in this division. Roraii
Those who had above 1500 asses were still regarded as tax-
payers, assidui, and were formed into two centuries, called
the accensi and velati. They merely followed the army,
and were only required to supply the places of those who
fell. Below these came one century of the proletam, whose
property was between 1500 and 375 asses. Ihese paid no
taxes, had no military duty, and were only liable to be call¬
ed on in great emergencies, as extraordinary levies, when
arms were furnished to them at the public expense. One
century more included all whose property, being less than
375 asses, was not worthy of being estimated, and who were
called capite censi, and not liable to military service.
Three centuries of a different character completed the di¬
vision, but these were not rated by their property, but by
their occupation. These were,—one century of carpenters
and smiths attached to the first class, and two of hornblow-
eT§,(cornicines), and trumpeters, (tubicines), attached to t ic
fourth class. . . .
From this brief outline of the comitia centuriata, the new
national constitution given to Rome by Servius Tullius, it
them, to'beiong to The ttoiy trltTes of the commons. There “'“7^;7;S7^of57ery remarkable political
were thus eighteen centuries of the most noble and wealthy P The new citizens of Rome had
persons in the state, who enjoyed the privi ege o se^ ° u n rapidly increasing in numbers and importance. A new
the army on •.^“"■rth"- S, th'e SceSSecently been raisei to the possession
as the equites, and in their civil character a J of full politicai p0wer. Three new equestrian centuries had
trians, or, as we term them, the knigi • . nPpn raiiPd into existence, though still in a subordinate po-
tion i an order was however postenor to them format on ^cal^
as theeighteen equestrian centunes in the com mente’d by the arrival of free citizens from recently conquer-
Proceeding on the “ms wTd™ ^in“to ttenSelTty ofttTobtainin| a recognised position in
rfiie^with^dt^nc^m* tlm^alue^fThe armour c^an^body3^slight 7ause^TlarntJest^it shouh^soo^be-
dividuals could afford to procure and wear m battle, beca c > most powerful body at Rome. By the Servian
in the earliest ages of all nations, men armed themse v s -itution if we may so term it, the danger of any such
they best could, at their own expense, not tha o e s a c, ’ averted by the admission of the plebs into a
and consequently the richest were the best arme . s ras council without disturbing the proportions ofin-
was the metal of which weapons of war, either offensiv , tQ ^ different bodies of which such a council
defensive, were first formed, brass or c0PPe1’’ was to be formed. The wealthiest men of the plebs would
pounds weight, according to an estimate of t e » naturally be desirous of obtaining some share of that patn-
value of the armour, formed the principle by which the sue- ^ h d d as Latins, before the
cessive classes were divided and arranged. O these the l Rome ; and this desire
cessive classes were divided and arranged. annexation of their native states to Rome ; and this desire
first class contained all whose property amounted to, o e - ^ the creation 0f twelve centuries of knights, add-
ceeded, one hundred thousand pounds weight of copper. T e Equestrian order from amongst the plebeian tribes,
soldiers of this class were required to be f7fPcffc!\7sides These tX centuS constituted a J.%, but yet
with greaves, coat of mad, helmet and shield ot brass, bes connected with the eighty centuries which formed
the sword and the long pike. And as these were necessa y bodv of the first clasSj that tiiey could not degen-
to advance in the front, and bear the shock o ba , eratf bito an oligarchy. The first class, again, being form-
formed the flower of the troops, so their influence in the erate mto an o ga y far the least
great military assembly was proportionate They formed ^of£^ /rom ^coming a de¬
eighty centuries; forty between the ages of fifteen and fo y nV tint ultra kind in which numbers form the rub
five, to serve in the field ; and forty between forty-five an y ‘ property formed the ruling element
sixty, for the defence of the city. To this the first class ^ ^ c2ntaining
These fbvmed U' £the ^ ^LUher c°W The
rer“irfdrc“d&t^ ^“^Sw^classesvevygrea,,^
and its qualification was properly between 75,000 and 50,000 ofthe first class; ^ be" formed, it required a
great number onntHviduals to form a SenjglrjJee7r^uilated
whose property was not beneath 25,000 asses; it amounted site wealth. The proportion seems o a a
tion of the lemon. The fifth class consisted of those whose each, stood in an inverse ratio to me numne
property was^between 25,000 asses, and 12,500 ; it formed natedthe rp— AUhou^^^
the slingers and archers, or light infantry of the army, and ^ was vested in
was divided into thirty centuries. ^tne governme i, p ith and that natu-
The poorest citizens, whose property fell short of 12,500 those who possessed the chief rank, wealth, an
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
.C.388.
ral influence which those who occupy a superior station
always enjoy.
^ Perhaps the only fault of this new constitution was its pre¬
mature establishment. It was in advance of the period to
which it is always referred. The necessity of conferring the
franchise upon the plebeians had not been sufficiently felt,
consequently the patrician order, the ancient Roman populus,
could not endure the admission of a new and recently con¬
quered people to any thing even approaching an equality.
Hence their enmity against Servius, and their concurrence
in the ambition of farquinius, afterwards surnamed Super¬
bus. On their part, it was a plot to overturn the new con¬
stitution, and deprive the plebeians of the rights and privi¬
leges conferred upon them by that wise and patriotic mon¬
arch. The introduction of the plebeians may perhaps have
been too early even for their own good, as they had been
too recently united to Rome to have thoroughly acquired
the true Roman spirit; and they needed to purchase their
privileges more dearly, by a lengthened and fluctuating
struggle, in order that they might sufficiently prize them.
For men always value most what they have with the great¬
est difficulty acquired. And, besides, the arrangement was
too completely military to be perfectly adapted to the more
peaceful spirit and structure of a purely civil economy. It
was also of too sudden formation, not only that the people
were not ripe for it, but that it did not, by its deliberate
growth, tend to ripen them. In its gradual formation after¬
wards, every sucessive stage was sharply contested, and
hardly won. The principles of law and justice, municipal
and natural, on which they rested, were all made manifest
in the course of the contest; so that not only a sound civil
polity was at length established, but, at the same time, there
was formed a code of laws based on principles so profound
and true, as to entitle them to be retained as the foundation
of all laws, to all civilized nations, from that period to the
present, and probably to the end of time.
SECTION II.
Scarcely had the Romans succeeded in raising a portion of
the city out of its ashes, when they were again involved in
war. The various states and nations who had been reduc¬
ed to subjection in previous wars, seemed to regard the hum¬
bled state of Rome as affording a propitious opportunity, not
only of recovering their freedom, but of crushing a danger¬
ous neighbour. The next year after the burning of Rome
by the Gauls, the Latins and Hernicans revolted; while
the Volscians declared open war, and invaded the lands of
their weakened antagonist. But Camillus was at the head
of the state, and his military genius enabled him to lead the
feeble remains of the Roman armies to victory over their un-
generous foes. The fEquians had themselves suffered from
the march of a part of the Gauls through their country into
Apulia; yet they also took up arms against Rome, and were
defeated. Meanwhile the Etrurians assailed the Rorrtans
in another quarter ; and Camillus was compelled to march
against them, when again victory crowned his exertions.
In a short time afterwards, the Latins and Llernicans
having united their forces, struck such apprehension into the
Romans, that as Camillus could not be spared from Rome,
on account of the dissensions by which the state was agitat¬
ed, Cossus was appointed dictator, and sent against them.
He not only gained a complete victory over them, but also
established a colony at Satricum. The Praenestines sustain¬
ed a severe defeat; and on all sides the Romans repelled
their assailants, and even began to extend the bound¬
aries of the republic.
But while victory attended the Roman arms in these con¬
tests, the dangers arising from intestine broils became more
and more urgent. I he state of confusion in public matters,
381
caused by the destruction of all public records, rendered it Roman
possible for the ruling orders to levy taxes and contributions History,
from the plebeian order beyond their due proportion. That
they did so may be fairly conjectured from the fact, that no
accurate census was taken during fifteen years after the
burning of the city, while taxes were levied by rates mere¬
ly conjectural, and, we need scarcely add, with partiality and
oppression. The building of the houses being, in a great
measure, a public work, was done at the public expense,
and the commons were, in many instances, enjoined to bear
their proportion of the pecuniary burden, even after their
whole property had been assigned to the patricians to whom
they had been indebted. This necessarily plunged them
deeper and deeper into debt; until the dungeons in the
houses of the patricians became filled with their ruined coun¬
trymen in the sad condition of nexi, or persons assigned to
slavery for life, for the payment of their debts. Censors
had indeed been appointed, but no census was taken, so that
the oppressive effects of continuing to exact a heavy tax
from people whose property had already been alienated by
debt, as if that property were still their own, continued un¬
abated.
Manlius, the brave defender of the Capitol, took upon M r
himself the dangerous task of defending the oppressed peo- n 1U*’
pie. His seeming patriotism was, in all probability, increas¬
ed by disappointed ambition, the influence of Camillus being
too powerful for him. He publicly sold an estate, and with
the produce paid the debts of a number of the oppressed ple¬
beians. He next proposed the sale of public lands for the
same object; and also accused the government ofhaving con¬
cealed the money said to have been recovered from the
Gauls, for the purpose of appropriating it to themselves.
For this and similar conduct, he was accused of sedition
and cast into prison; but so formidable was the appear¬
ance of his friends, that the senate restored him to liberty.
This only encouraged Manlius to persevere in his violent
course; and at last availing himself of his house in the Ca¬
pitol he seized on that citadel, and was immediately accus¬
ed of aiming at kingly power. On this accusation he was
condemned to be thrown from the Tarpeian rock; his house
in the Capitol was razed to the ground, and it was decreed
that no member of the Manlian house should ever afterwards
bear the name of Marcus. Such is the most common ac¬
count given of this transaction; though there are others
which differ considerably, both representing the conduct of
Manlius in a much more favourable light, and relating his
death differently. His death, however, unquestionably occa¬
sioned an accession of strength to the patricians, and in a cor¬
responding degree weakened and dispirited the plebeians.
Additional taxes were levied for the rebuilding of the walls;
and by a sad consequence, additional debts were incurred by
the oppressed commons, and greater numbers thrown into
prison, or reduced to a state of servile dependence. All the
privileges and rights for which the commons had so long and
perseveringly striven, were wrested from them one by one,
and the city seemed to be on the point of sinking into the
wretched and powerless condition of being the abode of
tyrannous patrician citizens, and degraded plebeian slaves.
But two men, equal to the emergency, were raised up to Licinian
rescue the Roman state from its danger. These were two iaw.
of the tribunes of the people, Caius Licinius Stolo and Lu¬
cius Sextius. In their patriotic endeavours they were aided
by the influence of Marcus Fabius Ambustus, whose daugh¬
ter had been given in marriage to Licinius. By their ener¬
getic and persevering efforts these tribunes so ingratiated
themselves with the commons, that year after year they were
re-elected tribunes, gained over their colleagues, concentrat¬
ed public opinion, met and counterbalanced the influence of
the patricians, and after a struggle of five years, carried three
new laws, which may be said to have completed the fabric of
Roman liberty. One of these was an agrarian law, prohibiting g q 3gg
!82
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman any Roman citizen from holding more than five hundred
History. acres of national lands; and also fixing the rent of public
lands at the tenth of grain, and the fifth of the vintage
and other fruit-produce. Another law ordained that one ot
the consuls should be chosen from the body of the commons.
The third provided, that in cases of outstanding debts, all the
interest which had been paid should be deducted from the
capital, and that the remainder should be paid by equal in¬
stalments in three years. For the public influence thus
obtained by the commons, the patricians endeavoured to
compensate by the appointment of a praetor from their own
body, and of curule aediles; but the plebeians having ob¬
tained so much, could not any longer be prevented fi om at¬
taining a perfect equality in point of eligibility to all public
offices. In a short time afterwards, their participation in
the other magisterial offices followed as a matter of course,
the dictatorship, n. c. 353, the censorship, 348, the prae-
torship, 334, and even the priesthood, 300.
Thus at last the object of political equality between the
patricians and plebeians was attained; and though the dif¬
ference between patrician and plebeian families still subsist¬
ed, they gradually ceased to form political parties distin¬
guished by origin and descent, yet there still remained the
elements of strife between the wealthy and the poor, in which
character all subsequent civil contentions at Home ought to
be considered. This we here deem it expedient to state
distinctly, in order to guard the reader from the error of
viewing the popular contests in which the Roman people
were frequently engaged, after the passing of the Licinian
laws, as merely a revival of the old feuds between the pri¬
vileged patrician populus, or exclusive citizen-nobility of
Rome, and the unprivileged, yet personally free commons,
the growth of conquest, and forming the real strength of
Rome. The early feuds were caused by the endeavours of
tlie patrician populus to engross and retain all political power
and privilege, and of the plebeian commons to secure per¬
sonal liberty, and acquire civic and political equality. I his
was accomplished directly by, or soon in consequence of,
the Licinian laws. But no public law can produce equality
of wealth and influence : oppression may be prevented, suf¬
ferings may be mitigated, the growth of exorbitant wealth
and power may be checked by wise enactments; but moral
laws alone can prevent those inequalities of wealth and in¬
fluence which must always exist, from becoming injuri¬
ous, and finally destructive to any state, whatever be the
excellence of its civil and political code.
Immediately after the conclusion of these civic struggles,
the Romans were again engaged in hostilities against the
Gauls and the Etrurians. Over both they were victorious;
and in one of the battles with the Gauls, Titus Manlius,
son of the consul, distinguished himself by slaying, in single
combat, a Gaul of huge stature, despoiling him, in sight of
both armies, of a gold chain, which the barbarian wore as
an ornament, and throwing the bloody trophy around his
own neck. For this exploit he received the name of Tor-
quatus. Another Roman champion, Marcus Valerius, in
another battle also slew a huge Gaul in single combat; in
which, as tradition relates, he was assisted by a crow, and
thence was named Corvus, or Corvinus.
Samnite But while R°me was extending her dominions, and rais-
war. ing her military reputation in these conflicts, she was ma¬
turing her strength for struggles more formidable than any
in which she had previously engaged. The Samnites, a
people of Sabellian race, inhabiting chiefly a mountainous
country, and celebrated for their courage and hardihood,
made war upon the Sidicinians. They applied to the Cam-
B.C. 343. panians for aid against the Samnites; but both united prov¬
ing too feeble, the Campanians applied to Rome; and the
people of Capua declared themselves subject to Rome, that
they might secure its protection. The Samnites refused to
submit to the dictation of Rome, and prosecuted their hos¬
tilities against the Campanians. This produced a war be- Roman
tween the Romans and the Samnites, by which the utmost History,
strength of Rome was sternly tried. Several battles wereV*'
fought, without producing any decisive results, though in
general victory inclined to the Romans. On one occasion,
the Roman army was in the utmost danger of being drawn
into a disadvantageous situation in a narrow pass, and there
surrounded, when it was rescued by the skill and courage
of Decius, a military tribune, and a victory was gained over
the Samnites. At length a truce was concluded for a period,
both nations having suffered considerable losses
During the truce, the Latins continued to harass the Latum ur
Samnites ; and when the Romans prohibited them, they de¬
clared war against Rome herself. This led to an unnatural
war between nations that had for some time been almost
completely blended. Manlius and Decius were sent against
the Latins, and, in order to prevent the confusion that might
arise between nations similar in language, arms, and discip¬
line, the consul Manlius prohibited any Roman soldier from
leaving the ranks on pain of death. But a daring Latin
chief having challenged any Roman to single combat, the
consul’s own son could not brook that the haughty defiance
should remain unanswered, quitted the ranks, slew his an¬
tagonist, and returning, laid the spoils at the feet of his father.
The stern consul, though he had obtained his own name,
Torquatus, from a similar gallant deed, immediately com¬
manded the youthful champion to be beheaded on the spot,
for breach of orders ; disregarding the cries and entreaties
of the soldiers, when they saw their young hero bound,
and in a few seconds extended a headless trunk before
them.
A desperate engagement almost instantly took place, both
armies striving at once for victory and for empire. The
wing commanded by the consul Decius being on the point Decks,
of giving way, he threw aside his armour, assumed a flowing
robe of white, devoted himself with due rites to the infernal
deities, for the safety of Rome, then mounting his horse
plunged into the heart of the conflict, while his white
robe streamed loose around his unarmed body. He soon
fell, pierced by innumerable wounds; but the Romans believ¬
ed that such a sacrifice necessarily secured the victory, while
the Latins regarded it as equally ominous to them of defeat.
The event was not long doubtful. The Romans were vic¬
torious in every quarter, and the Latins sustained a complete
defeat. This battle is remarkable as being that in which b. G 3
the peculiar tactics of the Roman legion are first describ¬
ed by Livy; but whether the arrangement was the inven¬
tion of Manlius, is not stated. The author of such a decided
improvement in the art of war ought to have been made
known ; as there can be no doubt that the peculiar qualities
of the Roman legion were greatly instrumental in achieving
the empire of the world. See article Army.
The Romans prosecuted their success with such vigour,
that in the three ensuing campaigns Latium and Campa¬
nia were subdued, and annexed as provinces to the terri¬
tories of the republic. But the conclusion of one war was
to Rome the beginning of another. The Samnites again
took up arms, and were joined by the Lucanians. To resist
his dangerous confederacy, the Romans mustered all their
power, and placed Papirius Cursor at their head as dictator.
Papirius reduced the enemy so much that they were glad
to sue for a truce. But this was of no long continuance;
and the Samnite general, Pontius, succeeded in drawing t e
Roman army into such a position that it could neither fig
nor flee, being completely surrounded in a narrow denie
called the Caudine Forks. The Roman soldiers were com B.
pelled to surrender at discretion, and were disarmed, ob ig*
ed to pass under the yoke, and then dismissed with disgrace.
This dishonour served only to rouse the indignation an t e
pride of Rome. Papirius was again chosen dictator, an
again led the Romans to victory and revenge. The hum-
\tf
f:
ROMAN HISTORY.
]& 290.
1 mtine
P :hus.
bled Samnites once more sought a peace, which was soon
afterwards broken.
In the renewed wrar, the Samnites were aided by the
Etrurians, the Umbrians, and the Gauls. Against these con¬
federate nations the Homans were led by consuls of unusual
ability ; among whom the skill of Fabius Maximus, and the
self-devoting patriotism of Decius, rendered them conspicu¬
ous. After many gallant exploits, Decius, imitating the he¬
roic deed of his father, devoted himself to the deities of death
for his country’s sake, and purchased victory at the ex¬
pense of a consul’s life. After numerous vicissitudes of for¬
tune, which we cannot afford space to specify, victory de¬
clared for Rome. The Samnites lost their skilful general
Pontius, and the Romans, under the command of Curius
Dentatus, were enabled to dictate terms to their subdued
antagonists.
The Tarentines, and other states in southern Italy, had
aided the Samnites, and were now afraid that Rome would
take vengeance on them for their interference. They pro¬
cured the assistance of the Gauls, in order to avert the war
from their own territories. This expedient was crowned
with but partial and temporary success. The Gauls were
finally vanquished by Dentatus and Fabricius ; and prepara¬
tions wrere made for waging war against the Tarentines.
Alarmed at the near approach of that vengeance which they
had thus doubly provoked, the Tarentines applied for aid to
the famous Pyrrhus king of Epirus. This brave and skilful,
but rash and impolitic warrior, being desirous of emulating
Alexander the Great, listened readily to the invitation of
the Tarentines, cherishing a secret hope of conquering all
Italy, and founding a western empire. He at first sent his
favourite and political adviser Cineas to Tarentum, and soon
279. afterwards followed in person, at the head of a large
army, bringing with him also several elephants trained to
war, the first time that such animals had been seen in Eu¬
rope.
The first care of Pyrrhus was to increase his army, by the
aid of as many auxiliary forces as he could procure, and to
train them to the same discipline as his own. The Taren¬
tines had expected him to bear all the toils and perils of the
war, and to allow them to enjoy the pleasures of peaceful
and luxurious indulgence. They soon found, however, great¬
ly to their dissatisfaction, that their protector was resolved
to be also their master; but their murmurs he suppressed
without the slightest compunction. In the mean time P.
Valerius Laevinus, the consul, at the head of a strong army,
began to ravage the country of the Lucanians, who were in
alliance with the Tarentines. This induced Pyrrhus to
march against him, although his Italian allies had not joined
him. A battle was fought on the banks of the Siris;
and after an obstinate and bloody struggle, Pyrrhus ob¬
tained the victory, chiefly by means of his personal daring,
his Thessalian cavalry, and his elephants, the Roman cavalry
not being able to withstand the sight of these huge animals.
But so desperate was the conflict, and so many of his best
troops did Pyrrhus lose, that when his officers congratulated
him on the victory, he exclaimed, “ Another such victory,
and I am undone !”
Soon after this encounter, Pyrrhus devastated the territo¬
ries of the countries in alliance with Rome. He laid siege
to Capua, surprised Fregellae, and invested Praeneste, hav¬
ing advanced even within sight of Rome. Finding how¬
ever that his march was producing no impression, he avoided
an engagement offered him by Laevinus, and returned to
Tarentum. What he had now learned of the Romans, con¬
vinced him that there was little prospect of an easy con¬
quest over them ; and he was very willing to enter into ne¬
gotiations for a peace upon equal and honourable terms, his
only stipulation being for an amnesty to the Tarentines, the
Greek cities in Italy, and those states which had entered into
an alliance with him. The senate seemed at first inclined
to accept of these conditions; but they were dissuaded by
Appius Claudius, who caused himself to be carried to the
senate-house, blind as he was, that he might do his utmost
to prevent a peace on any terms, except the immediate and
unconditional departure of Pyrrhus from Italy. With this
answer Cineas w^as obliged to depart from Rome, and both
parties prepared for the renewal of hostilities. The consuls,
P. Sulpicius and P. Decius, marched into Apulia, and were
met by Pyrrhus near a little town called Asculum. There
another battle was fought, which terminated in favour of the
Romans, Pyrrhus finding it expedient to retire to Taren¬
tum, and the Romans being in no condition to pursue, so
obstinate had been the struggle, and so exhausted were both
armies.
Pyrrhus, tired of a contest with such invincible foes,
readily accepted an invitation from the Syracusans to assist
them against the Carthaginians; and he passed over with
a great part of his troops to Sicily. In that island he was
at first successful; but fortune again began to frown upon
him, and he was induced to relinquish his hopeless en¬
terprise, and return to the aid of the Tarentines, who were
nearly overpowered by the Romans. On his arrival, he
recruited his army to the utmost of his power among the
Samnites, Lucanians, and Bruttians, and prepared for a de¬
cisive effbrt. Nor were the Romans slack in their prepara¬
tions : they sent the two consuls, Curius Dentatus and Cor¬
nelius Lentulus, at the head of two consular armies, the one
into Lucania, the other into Samnium. Pyrrhus hastened
to encounter Dentatus when separated from his colleague;
and another desperate engagement took place near Beneven-
tum. Pyrrhus had advanced incautiously in the hope of sur¬
prising the consul; and failing in this attempt, wras obliged
to risk a battle in a disadvantageous position, and where his
phalanx had not proper room for its ponderous evolutions.
The superiority of the legion over the phalanx, and of the
soldier who fights for his country over the mercenary, were
soon apparent. The elephants were scared by torches and
driven back on the army of Pyrrhus ; the phalanx was forced
into a crowded confusion where it could not act, and from
which it could not extricate itself; and in spite of the ut¬
most skill and fierce valour of Pyrrhus himself, he sustained
a complete rout, and fled with the wreck of his army to
Tarentum. Thence he soon afterw ards departed for Greece,
leaving under the command of Milo, a small garrison in Tar¬
entum, which shortly surrendered to the Romans. The
Samnites were defeated with great slaughter, soon after the
departure of Pyrrhus ; and the Lucanians and Bruttians were
also compelled to yield to the Roman arms. At the
elusion of this great war, Rome had established her supre¬
macy over all the countries in Italy, from the northern
frontiers of Etruria to the Sicilian straits, and from the
Tyrrhenian sea to the Adriatic.
It cannot be doubted that the Roman arms triumphed in
the Samnite, Latin, Etrurian) and Tarentine wars, very great¬
ly in consequence of that cessation of civil dissensions which
the Licinian laws had produced, and the corresponding ac¬
cession of strength thereby gained. Yet even during these
wars, there remained one grievance to be removed, and
which was removed. The cruelty of a usurer towards one
of his debtors, a youth of great personal elegance, ex¬
cited the indignation of the people to such a degree, that
the senate found it necessary to repeal the laws which gave
creditors powder over the persons of their debtors ; and to
enact, that thenceforth no person should be fettered and con¬
fined, except after conviction of a crime, and in order to
punishment; and that for money due, the goods of a debtor
should alone be answerable, and not his person. This en¬
actment completed the charter of personal liberty to the
Roman commons; but, as will afterwards be seen, it ulti¬
mately gave rise to consequences perhaps more fatal to pub¬
lic liberty.
383
Roman.
History.
con- B. C. 272.
384
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman The extensive conquests which arose out of these wars,
History. gave occasion to the full development of the leading views
0f Eome, respecting the political relations in which it was
B. C. 272. jjgj, p]easure to place the conquered with regard to herself
The chief means to which, even from the earliest times, the
Romans had recourse for the foundation of their dominion
over the conquered, and at the same time for the preven¬
tion of the too great increase of the needy classes at Rome,
was the establishment of colonies of their own citizens, which
served also as garrisons in the captured cities in which they
were settled. Each colony had its own internal constitution,
formed generally on the model of that of the mother-city ;
hence it naturally became an object of Roman policy to keep
the colonies in perfect dependence. This colonial system
of the Romans, which necessarily arose out of the custom
of depriving the conquered of their lands and liberty, assum¬
ed its main features in the Samnite war, and gradually em¬
braced the whole of Italy. But the relations subsisting
between Rome and the Italian nations were extremely vari¬
ous in kind. f
A few cities and nations enjoyed the full privileges ot
Roman citizenship; in some instances, however, even these
were precluded from the right of voting in the comitia.
These were the municipal states. The privileges of the
colonies were of a more restricted nature: they were indeed
in possession of their own civic government, but had no
share whatever either in the comitia or the magistracies of
Rome. The other inhabitants of Italy were either feder¬
ates (socii, feedere juncti), or subjects {dedititii). The fe¬
derates preserved their own internal form of government,
but were obliged to furnish tribute and auxiliary troops.
Their further relation with Rome depended upon the specific
terms of their league. The most advantageous of these
terms were in favour of the Latins, though each ot the Latin
cities had its own separate league ; as the rest of the Italian
nations had their separate treaty, (jus Italicum). The sub¬
jects, on the other hand (dedititii), were deprived of their
internal constitutions, and were governed by Roman magis¬
trates, annually renewed.
The internal constitution of Rome itself, now completed,^
bore the aspect of a democracy, inasmuch as equality of
rights existed both for nobles and commons. Yet this de¬
mocracy was modified by expedients so various and intri¬
cate ; the rights of the people, the senate, and the magis¬
trates, fitted so accurately into each other, and were so firm¬
ly supported by the national religion, connecting every thing
with determinate forms, that there seemed to be no imme¬
diate reason to fear the evils of anarchy, or of military des¬
potism ; though the democratic character threatened the
one, and the warlike temper of the nation the other, of these
dangers. To obtain a right view of the constitution of
Rome, thus modified, a few sentences stating the main out¬
line may be given.
This constitution was not, as must already have been seen,
the work of one great master-mind, but was the result of
long contentions, innumerable temporary expedients, yield¬
ing successively as better were devised, aggressions mutu¬
ally made by the opposing parties in their hour of strength,
and concessions in that of weakness; and that steady equi¬
poise obtained by the well-balanced action of opposing prin¬
ciples, knit together into the firmest and closest union by
repeated heavings, subsidings, and conjunctions. The rights
of the people consisted in the legislative power, so far as
fundamental national principles were concerned, and in the
election of the magistrates. The distinction between the
comitia tributa, as independent of the senate, and the co-
mitia centuriata, as dependent on the senate, still existed
as to form, but had lost all its importance, the difference be¬
tween patricians and plebeians being now merely nominal, Romar;
and the establishment of the city tribes excluding the too Bistory
o-reat influence of the mere populace upon the comitia tri-
buta. The rights of the senate consisted in administering
and debating all ordinary national affairs, whether foreign
relations, (war and peace only excepted, in which the con¬
sent of the people was necessary), financial concerns, or
matters regarding domestic peace and security. But the
manner in which the senate was supplied and maintained
must have made it by far the most skilful political body at
that time in the world. For a considerable period magiste¬
rial power had been the exclusive privilege of the patrician
and senatorial order ; but after the plebeians obtained equal
access to these offices, the highest rank and power in the
state oft'ered a stimulus for exertion to the ambitious career
of mental ability from every class and order, thus concen¬
trating the collected mind of the nation, and from it form¬
ing a ruling body of unequalled wisdom, genius, and enter-
prise. The rights and rank of magistrates were founded on
their right to the greater or lesser auspices, no public affair
being undertaken without the auspices. He only, there¬
fore, who was in possession of the rights of the greater aus¬
pices, could hold the highest civil and military power as
dictator, consul, or praetor ; such was not the case with those
who held only the lesser auspices. The union of the high¬
est civil and military power in the person of the same indi¬
vidual was not without inconvenience and danger; but mi¬
litary despotism was in some measure guarded against by
the prohibition of any magistrate from possessing military
command within Rome itself. But perhaps the most im¬
portant of all the principles combined in the constitution of
Rome, was the existence and recognised authority of its code
of laws. To the sacred voice of public national law could
appeal be made at all times, and on every occasion; and
every civic struggle terminated by the addition of some new
enactment, which defined the rights and privileges of the
contending parties, and left a rule of conduct and a princi¬
ple of appeal to succeeding ages. I his ideal impersonation
of law formed, on the one hand, a safeguard against the en¬
croachments of the ruling power, or the deliberative body ,
while, on the other, the intemperate fervour of popular will
was equally within its controlling influence. Religion
and law were the ruling elements of the Roman constitu¬
tion ; and upon their inherent truth, purity, and power, or
the reverse, depended the duration, or the ruin, of Roman
virtue and Roman dominion.
Rome having now obtained the sovereignty of all Italy,
was not long in finding employment for hei; victorious arms
in another country. Sicily was the new field on which the
strength of Rome was tried, and the Carthaginians were her
new antagonists. It appears that a body of Samnite, or
Sabellian youth, quitting their homes under the vow of a
sacred springj had become mercenaries to Agathocles.
After his death they seized upon the city Messina, in Sicily,
and committed the grossest outrages upon the inhabitants.
Having thus made the citizens, and indeed all the inhabi¬
tants of Sicily their enemies, these mercenaries (known by
the name Mamertines, from the god Mamers, or Mars)
sought the protection of the Romans. Some of them had
previously applied to the Carthaginians; and while the wo¬
mans were hesitating about lending assistance to such t is-
graceful allies, the Carthaginians, somewhat less scrupulous,
sent a body of troops, and took possession of the citadel of
Messina. There had already been such intercourse between
Rome and Carthage, as to make each city in some measure
aware of the power and ambition of the other. The Roman
senate speedily perceived, that if the Carthaginians obtain*
ed possession of Sicily, their own prospects of aggranuise*
1 For an account of the vtr sacrum, see Niebuhr, vol. i. p. 92.
Homan
History.
i'irst Punic
rar.
!.C. 264.
luilius.
! C. 260.
ment in that quarter would be at an end, and their formi¬
dable lival at the same time would have become their im¬
mediate neighbour.
An army under the command of the consul Appius Clau¬
dius was sent to the assistance of the Mamertines ; and not¬
withstanding the superior power of the Carthaginians at
sea, the consul found means to elude their fleet, and to take
possession of Messina. Several victories were soon after-
waids gained by the Romans; and Hiero, king of Syracuse,
abandoned the Carthaginians, and formed an alliance with
Rome. Agri gen turn fell into the hands of the Romans after
the defeat or a Carthaginian army, which had come to raise
the siege, and the greater part of the interior of the island
yielded to the power of Rome, while the fleets of Carthage
kept possession of the sea-port towns, and thus maintained
an equality. It was now evident to the Romans that the
contest could come to no conclusion so long as their anta¬
gonists retained the supremacy of the sea ; and they direct¬
ed their most strenuous endeavours towards the construc¬
tion of a fleet.
Being aware of their inferiority in naval affairs, the Ro¬
mans first availed themselves of a large Carthaginian vessel
driven ashore in a storm, as a model; and to counterbalance
their deficiency in skill as mariners, they invented a ma¬
chine called a corvus, which served both as a grappling-iron
and a draw-bridge, the object of which was to enable"them
to come to close quarters, and encounter the Carthaginians
man to man. Trusting to this new invention, the consul
Duuus hazarded an engagement with the fleet of the ene¬
my, rushed alongside their ships, locked them fast in the
grapples of the corvus, and captured at the first onset, by
boarding no fewer than fifty gallies. The Carthaginian
ROMAN HISTORY.
385
Roman
History.
us to Rome along with their ambassadors, expecting that
,,e. Persuade the senate to grant a peace. Instead of
t us, he dissuaded the senate, and recommended war, though
aware of the sufferings he would have to endure on his re¬
turn to Carthage. Some historians relate, that on his re¬
turn he was tortured to death in the most cruel manner;
others say that he was merely retained in close confinement,
and died a natural death before the conclusion of the war
Again was the contest renewed, and at first not to the ad¬
vantage of Rome. One fleet was worsted in battle and
another entirely destroyed off the coast of Sicily. The’com-
mand of the Carthaginian forces in Sicily was given to Ha-
milcar Barcas, father of the celebrated Hannibal. By his
skill and conduct the sinking cause of his country was vigo¬
rously sustained, till it seemed as if Carthage might yet" be
victorious. The Carthaginians made a last desperate effort
to supply him with forces, and fitted out a large fleet for
that purpose. The Romans had also redoubled their exer¬
tions for the same reason. The two fleets met near the
islands Agates, and the fortunes of Rome prevailed. A de- B C 241
cisive battle was fought; fifty of the Carthaginian ships were
sunk, and seventy taken, the power of Carthage was laid
prostrate, and the empire of the seas transferred to Rome.
Carthage was now obliged to accept whatever terms of peace
Rome thought proper to propose: these were, that they
should evacuate all the islands in the Mediterranean, re-
store the Roman prisoners without ransom, and pay for the
defraying of the expenses of the war a thousand talents of
silver immediately, and two thousand two hundred in the
space of ten years, in equal payments.
Thus ended the first Punic war, after a contest of nearly
twenty-four years’ duration. Its vicissitudes had severely
To commemorate this their first naval victory, the Romans
erected in the forum a column adorned with rostra, or beaks
°f ships. In a second naval action, fought near the island
of Lipara, the Carthaginians lost eighteen vessels, of which
eight were sunk and ten taken.
After the war had lasted about eight years, the Romans
determined to invade Africa, being aware that the tyranny
of Carthage had alienated many of the African nations. A
fleet of three hundred and thirty ships was equipped for this
daring attempt, and given to the consuls Regulus and Man¬
lius. I he Carthaginians were again defeated with great loss,
sixty-four galleys being taken, and thirty destroyed. The
victorious fleet was soon refitted, pursued its course, and
united the army near Clypea. A rapid succession of victories
led the Romans to the very gates of Carthage. Tunis
was taken, and the humbled enemy sought terms of peace
Tfoo-.u,,* • j j i V ^ lemis or peace, nrst runic war was of no lengthened duration The fir<r
continue Ear which she waS en^ged were direfted against
tended her reputation and her political connexions very
widely, preparing her for a career of foreign conquest. It
awoke also in both republics, Rome and Carthage, an inex¬
tinguishable hatred of each other, such as could never be
appeased but by the ruin of the one; and it inspired Rome
wdth a desire of foreign conquest and dominion, and of the
wealth to be thus gained, which speedily introduced cor¬
ruption into the state, along with that accumulation of power
in the hands of a few families, which in every country long
wars inevitably confer on able warriors. In this manner
the seeds of Roman greatness and Roman decay were sown
at once, and began to grow' up side by side. Their further
progress we shall afterwards have occasion to notice and ex¬
plain.
1 he peace which Rome enjoyed at the termination of the
first Punic war was of no lengthened duration. The first
continue the war; to which they were the more encourag-
e > y the opportune arrival of a band of Greek mercenaries
under the command of Xanthippus, a Spartan of high mili¬
tary talents. The army being entrusted to his command,
ue completely changed its tactics, formed it on the Lace-
emonian plan, and sought an engagement with the Ro¬
mans. A great battle was fought, the Romans were com¬
pletely routed, and Regulus himself taken prisoner. A Ro¬
man fleet sent to succour the army defeated the Carthagi-
man fleet in its course; and the army, though reduced,
outed the Carthaginians, no longer led by the brave Spar-
an. being too weak, however, to remain in Africa, and
stressed for want of provisions, the army embarked for
Teuta, queen of Illyricum. The Illyrians had been suc¬
cessful in a war against the iEtolians; and in the pride of
their victory, they caused their fleets to scour the seas, and
pillage those of every other nation without distinction. In
this piratical warfare some Roman ships were taken and
plundered ; and the Illyrians laid siege to Issa, a citv which
had put itself under the protection of Rome. When the Ro- B C- 230.
man ambassadors demanded restitution, and required Teuta
to restrain her subjects from such piracies, she both return¬
ed a haughty answer, and procured the murder of the am¬
bassadors. Upon this the Romans declared war against the
Illyrians. In the course of the war they gained the naval
supremacy over the Adriatic, subdued the Illyrians, and en-
Italv • bin a i * 1 , ’ a my emoarKea tor supremacy over the Adriatic, subdued the Illyrians, and en-
no less than E , st0,rm,wr“ked o» *«. coast of Sicily tered into alliance with the various states of Greece which
board. A spr'An^fl''T 16 mnety shjps, with all on had suffered from the depredations of the Illyrian pirates,
the Rom ins tbr t-66 Wa§ ajS° destroyed in a storm; and This alliance was of the utmost importance to Rome, not
In Sicily MetG11iTrLtb T • • only in opening the way for her future interference in the
slaughter* anfl t) P ate^ t|ie Carthaginians with great affairs of Greece and of Asia, but also in enabling her to
' ' ’ • ' !‘e r P,mans gainmg the ascendency in that divide her enemies, and prevent the formation of dangerous
siege to Lalvbaeum. I Hp GanW,™™ confederacies against her, when not prepared to meet them.
The Illyrian war had scarcely terminated when one of a
3 c
‘ 1 ) , • . Uie rvomans gai
cup?/’ a.K*s'eSe t0 Uilybyemn. The Carthaginians, weak-
a ancl ^spirited with their numerous losses, sent Regu-
VOL. XIX. &
386
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
B. C. 226
Second
Punic war.
B. C. 218.
B. C. 217
more formidable character commenced with the Cisalpine
Gauls. Tribes of that great people had repeatedly served
as mercenaries against Rome during the Etruscan and Sam-
nite wars. After the conclusion of these wars, the Romans
subdued the Livonian Gauls, and planted a colony in their
country near Lena. A new influx of the Transalpine Gauls
gave courage to their countrymen to renew the war, and a
furious contest soon began. The Gauls were at engt^ e-
feated with great slaughter near Clusmm ; and the Romans
following up their success, invaded the Gallic country aroun
the Po. The Gauls were again defeated by Marcellus, ai
compelled to sue for peace, which the Romans granted, es¬
tablishing at the same time colonies at Placentia and ^
mona. It seems worthy of record, that the number of me
capable of bearing arms throughout the Roman dominions
in Italy, as ascertained by the levies of that dangerous junc¬
ture, amounted to 800,000.
Meanwhile the Carthaginians had been making ex¬
ertions to recruit their strength for another struggle with the r
great rival. Being prohibited from extending their influ
ence in Sicily, they had sought compensation by attempt¬
ing the subjugation of Spain. The command of their armies
in Spain had devolved upon Hannibal, the son of that Ha-
milcar who had distinguished himself towariE the close of
the former war in Sicily. The father of Hannibal had
made him swear perpetual hostility to Rome ; and Rom his
boyhood his mind had been continually engaged m devis¬
ing the ruin of that detested city. He had prosecuted his
conquests in Spain with the view of obtaining a veteian
army, and a source of auxiliary supply from the warlike na¬
tions in that country ; and when his designs were matured,
he laid siege to Saguntum, which was understood to be u
der the protection of Rome. Having treated with contempt
the remonstrances of the Roman ambassadors, he took pos¬
session of this city. The senate of Carthage haying ap¬
proved of his conduct, war was declared, and both parties
prepared for the impending conflict, well knowing that its
progress must be sanguinary, and the result ruinous to t ie
one or the other of the rival republics. (As this war is de¬
tailed at some length in the article Carthage, we must
refer to it for a more particular account of the contest.;
Hannibal having completed his preparations, set out from
Spain, for the invasion of Italy, at the head of a veteran
army of 50,000 foot, and 9000 horse. He rapidly traversed
Gaul, crossed the Rhone, and commenced the passage of
the Alps, led by Insubrian guides. This almost impracti¬
cable attempt he achieved in fifteen days ; and, on muster¬
ing his army in the plains of Insubria, found it reduced to
20*000 foot, and 6000 horse. His army was soon consi¬
derably increased by the Gallic nations; and, in a com¬
paratively slight encounter near the Ticinus, he worsted
the consul Scipio, and soon afterwards completely defeated
Sempronius near the Trebia. The victorious Carthaginian
then advanced towards Rome, devastating the countiy
through which he was maiching, and making it his object to
irritate the impetuous spirit of the consul I lamimus. In
this he was completely successful, and having drawn him
into an ambush at the lake Thrasymenus, entirely defeated
him The consul himself fell in the battle, with 15,000 of
his bravest troops, and a great number were taken prison¬
ers Such was the fury of the encounter, that the com¬
batants were insensible of the shock of an earthquake which
happened during the engagement.
Rome was now in a state of great alarm, having suffered
successive defeats in Italy itself, and seeing the victor pur¬
suing his course unchecked through the land. Tabius
Maximus was chosen dictator, and immediately adopted a
totally different plan of opposing the enemy. He studi¬
ously avoided battle, kept his army on the hills, watched
Hannibal, cut off his supplies, and did every thing calcu¬
lated to wear out an invading army, which is necessainy
B. C. 21f
remote from its supplies. By this skilful policy he both
saved his own army, and greatly harassed that of his an-^
tagonist; and from it was surnamed Cunctator, the De-
^ The Romans having recovered from their consternation,
raised another levy of troops, augmenting their armies to
87,000 men, under the command of Terentius Varro and
TEmilius Paullus, of whom the former was rash and head¬
strong, the latter a cautious imitator of Fabius. Aval mg
himself of the impetuosity of Varro, Hannibal obtained his
wish in a general engagement near Cannae in Apulia, where,
by his superior skill, he inflicted on the Romans he most
dreadful overthrow they had ever sustained since the batde
of Alia. The consul Nimbus, and about 45,000 men, of
the very flower and strength of his army, were left dead on
the field, and about 10,000 were taken in the pursuit.
Rome seemed now open to the conqueror; but his army
had suffered too severely to venture on so hazardous an
enterprise, and he turned aside to Campania, and wintered
m It was manifestly Hannibal’s object to encourage the
states of Southern, or Lower Italy, to revolt against Rome
that he might recruit his forces from among them, and so
be enabled to continue the war with renewed strength. To
a considerable extent he was successful, especially among
the Lucanians, Bruttians, Apulians, and even Campanians.
He sent Mago to Carthage, to urge them to transmit sup¬
plies with all possible despatch, that he might follow up
his blow, before Rome should have recovered from her
consternation. But though the Barcine party predomi¬
nated in the Carthaginian senate, such was the influence of
the opposite faction, that he obtained only a very limited
number of supplies; and these were to be sent to Spain,
whence he might draft a corresponding number of the
veteran troops stationed there. I his, indeed, was par
Hannibal’s original plan, that he might have at least one
resource beyond the caprice of faction, though greatly too
remote from the scene of action to be immediately or se-
^A^Rome the greatest exertions were made to remedy
the disastrous consequences of the terrible defeat of Cannae.
All ranks and every age, from the boy of seventeen to the
retired veteran, were enrolled; and nearly all the gold or
naments worn by persons of wealth and distinction, we e
voluntarily given up to meet the exigencies of the state.
In a short time an army was raised superior in numbers
that commanded by Hannibal; and the celebrated Marcel
lus was placed at its head. In vain had Hannibal waited
at Capua for supplies from Africa; none were sent, and he
was obliged to prepare to contend singly against Roman
courage and Roman despair. He sustained a check
Nola f and not long afterwards Marcellus inflicted on him
a partial defeat, by which the courage of the Romans wa
greatly restored. The tide of success began now to le
cede from Hannibal. He was unable to prevent the Ko
mans from besieging and taking Capun, thoug i m
attempted to storm their camp, and, tailing in that, marc
to Rome, to call away their armies for the defence of t^
city. They disregarded his threatening demonstration,
continued the siege, took the city, and inflicted severe
punishment on the Capuans. . nrR
The fall of Capua was highly injurious to Hannibal, ten
ing to discourage other Italian states from join.ng a „ ‘e
who could not protect them against the fierce vengeance
of Rome. On this account he failed to obtain slWd
his waning army, while the Romans speedily icp ,
loss with fresh recruits. These hopes being dustrated,
Hannibal entered into an alliance with I hi ip ung
don; but here the fortunes and the Pol^y« to
wise prevailed. The Illyrian war had caused the Romans ^
be regarded as protectors by the Grecian states, w ,
Roman
History.
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History,
B. C. 207,
the same time, were jealous of the power of Philip. No
sooner, therefore, did the Macedonian king manifest his
^disposition to form a confederacy with Hannibal against
Rome, than the Roman ambassadors were able to excite
against him such hostility among the neighbouring states
of Greece, as to prevent the possibility of his making a de¬
scent on Italy to aid the terrible Carthaginian. This is a
very striking instance of the deep policy of Rome; by
means of which she was always able to keep a powerful
enemy in check till she might have leisure to collect her
strength for a decisive effort.
Notwithstanding these disappointments, Hannibal con¬
tinued to maintain his ground, repulsing the most dar¬
ing assailants, and out-manoeuvring the most skilful. Mar-
cellus, who had conquered Sicily, and again returned to
Italy, and who was the most gallant opponent ever Hanni¬
bal met, was at last drawn into an ambush and slain. But
still, without supplies, the Carthaginian army must melt
away; and Hannibal’s hopes of ultimate success now de¬
pended upon the army led by his brother Asdrubal reach¬
ing him safely from Spain. His hopes from Sicily, Mace¬
donia, and Africa, had failed; though it was doubtless to
secure them that he had made Lower Italy the basis of his
operations; and he now waited eagerly the arrival of his
brother. Asdrubal had in the mean time left Spain, cross¬
ed the Pyrenees, and the Alps, and entered Cisalpine Gaul,
where he was joined by considerable numbers of the natives.
A messenger, whom he sent to apprise Hannibal of his ap¬
proach, was intercepted; the consul Nero hastened to join
his colleague Livius, and assailing Asdrubal on the banks
of the Metaurus in a disadvantageous position, they com¬
pletely routed his whole army. Asdrubal himself was slain,
and 56,000 of his army fell with him on the fatal field. The
first tidings which Hannibal received of his brother’s defeat
and death, was by the head of that luckless brother being
thrown into his camp. From that time forward the contest
was without hope on the part of the Carthaginians. The
Roman consuls were not indeed able to cope with even an
enfeebled army commanded by Hannibal; but the youth¬
ful Scipio, having been sent to Spain, speedily overran it,
and reduced the greater part of it to complete subjection,
putting an end to Carthaginian power in that quarter. On
his return he obtained permission, against the opinion of
Fabius, to transfer the war to Africa.
The invasion of Africa by Scipio, so alarmed the Cartha¬
ginians, that they immediately recalled Hannibal from Italy
for the defence of Cathage itself. To this command Han¬
nibal most reluctantly submitted; and quitted Italy with
expressions of the utmost mortification and regret. In the
mean while, Scipio had approached to the near vicinity of
Carthage. I he two armies met at Zama, to decide the
fate of Rome and Carthage, and, with them, of the world.
The battle was obstinate and bloody, but the Roman army
was decidedly superior in numbers, and still more so in
that high hope which so often determines the day; so that,
in spite of the utmost exertion of his unrivalled military
skill, Hannibal saw his army completely overthrown. Car¬
thage had now no resource but in peace; and she was
compelled to submit to the terms dictated by Scipio. These
terms were abundantly severe; that the Carthaginians
should retain in Africa only the territory annexed to their
government; that they should yield up all their elephants,
and all their ships of war, except ten triremes; that they
should pay at specified times ten thousand talents of silver ;
that they should commence no war without the consent
ot Rome; and that they should restore all Numidia to
Massinissa, and give an hundred hostages for the perform¬
ance of the treaty. Thus ended the second Punic war,
after having shaken Rome to her centre, and threatened
for a time to change the destinies of western Europe, and,
with that, the destinies of mankind; yet the result was ex-
387
actly correspondent to the character and resources of the Roman
two great rival republics. History.
Rome had now removed her mighty rival from the strife '***-^,^r***'
of nations, and saw the sceptre of universal dominion but^1 C- 201.
little removed beyond her own grasp. The Roman senate
had fully entered upon that course of far-sighted policy,
which enabled them to gratify and amuse the nation with
foreign conquest, the wealth and powers of which they al¬
most wholly engrossed. Such was its aspect and aim at
home; while with regard to foreign nations, the constant
policy pursued was to grant assistance to the weaker states
against the stronger, and by taking them under Roman pro¬
tection, to have at all times the means of provoking a con¬
test, whenever it seemed conducive to her interest. The
character of Rome, as a great military republic, was now
completely developed, as the overbearing friend or the jeal¬
ous foe of overy other state.
The next field of Roman warfare was Macedon. Philip, Maeedo-
the king of that country, ambitious of obtaining the sove-nian war.
reignty over Greece, made some aggressions on the Athe¬
nians. They complained to Rome, which soon led to a de¬
claration of war against that monarch, and the sending of
an army to carry hostilities into his dominions. The ma¬
nagement of the war was entrusted to T. Quintus Flami-
nius, whose diplomatic skill was still more conspicuous than
his military talents. After several inferior engagements, a
great battle was fought at Cynoscephalae, in which the Ma-B. C. 197.
cedonians were completely routed, and Philip compelled to
submit to such terms as the conqueror pleased to dictate.
The chief of these were the reduction of his fleet, and his
abandonment of all pretensions to the sovereignty of Greece,
the various states of which were taken under the protection
of Rome. At the conclusion of this war, the politic Roman, B. C. 196.
or rather the wily Italian, caused the liberty of Greece to be
publicly proclaimed at the Isthmian games; while the la¬
vish expressions of gratitude uttered by the thoughtless
crowds were the gilding of the chains by which they were
securely fettered.
Rome still regarded Carthage with a jealous eye, and Syrian war.
could not feel secure so long as the dreaded Hannibal in¬
fluenced her councils, and might again lead her armies.
Fearing that his dispirited countrymen would surrender him
to his implacable enemies, that great man fled to the court
of Antiochus, king of Syria. About the same time the
iEtolians, being dissatisfied with the conduct of the Romans,
besought the aid of Antiochus, who was already quite dis¬
posed to interfere in the affairs of Greece. He accordingly
seized upon Euboea, and proceeded to take measures for ad¬
ditional aggressions on states which claimed the protection
of Rome. War was immediately declared against him, and
an army sent into Greece, under the command of the con¬
sul Glabrio, who defeated the Syrians at the pass of Ther¬
mopylae. Next year Lucius Scipio, brother to the conqueror
of Carthage, Afficanus, was sent against Antiochus, accom¬
panied by his brother as legate. They reduced Greece toB. C. 190.
subjection, and crossing into Asia, defeated Antiochus in a
great battle at Magnesia. Antiochus purchased peace, by
resigning all his possessions in Europe, and those in Asia
north of Mount Taurus, paying 15,000 Eubcean talents, and
promising to give up Hannibal. The latter vindictive ar¬
ticle caused the flight of Hannibal to Prusias, king of Bithy-
nia; but being still pursued by the remorseless hatred ofB.C. 183.
Rome, he put an end to his mortal existence by swallow¬
ing poison, which for such an emergency he always carried
with him.
The war with Antiochus fairly introduced Rome to the
beginning of her oriental sovereignty ; and the battle of
Magnesia may be viewed as the event which terminated the
Grecian or Macedonian sway as a universal empire. Little
absolute territory was indeed gained by Rome in this preli¬
minary war; but at its conclusion she saw both Macedon
388
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
and Syria reduced to a state of dependence on her imperious
will, with the Grecian states in the condition of ready in-
’ struments in her hands of future aggrandisement, whenever
she might be disposed to take or make an opportunity.
It is even painful to state, that after the conclusion of the
Antiochian war, the two Scipios were accused of having
received bribes from that monarch, and of having embezzled
B.C. 183. the public money. Africanus went into voluntary exile at
Liternum, where he died the same year that Hannibal fell
a victim to the cruel and mean revenge of Rome. Asia-
ticus refused to pay the fine exacted, and all his property
was confiscated.
A new Macedonian war soon arose, caused by the impe¬
rious authority assumed and exercised by the Roman ambas-
B. C. 170. sadors over the conduct of the king. Philip had endured
their control with impatience ; but his son Perseus was less
able to suppress his dissatisfaction, and hostilities were soon
commenced. The war for a time was favourable to the Ma¬
cedonians, who gained one considerable victory, and were
successful in several conflicts of smaller importance. At
length the command was given to Paulus Aimilius, an old
and skilful general, under whose care the aspect of affairs
B.C. 168. changed. A decisive battle was fought near the city Pyd-
na, remarkable as the conclusion both of the Macedonian
kingdom and the Macedonian phalanx. In the first shock
of battle the phalanx was irresistible, and bore down all op¬
position ; but the skilful Roman general, by causing ^his
Roman army, prepared to destroy it and themselves by fire,
rather than fall into the hands of the Romans. Among
these was the wife of Asdrubal, who had been placed in the
temple before her husband yielded to l^cipio. Seeing
Asdrubal along with the Roman general, and detesting his
cowardice, she arrayed herself in her richest attire, took her
two children with her, and displaying herself on the top of the
temple, upbraided her husband, stabbed her two children
before his face, and threw them into the flames, which were
now bursting furiously from the interior. She then sprung
after them into the heart of the blazing ruin. Thus perish- B c
ed Carthage, leaving Rome to pursue unrivalled her guilty
and self-destroying career.
While the third Punic war was still raging, hostilities
again broke out in Macedonia, excited by an impostor
named Andriscus, who, pretending to be the son of Philip,
instigated the disaffected Macedonians to throw off the Ro¬
man yoke, and forming an alliance with the Thracians,
strove to accomplish his purpose by force of arms. Metel-
lus, after a short struggle, overpowered the insurgent Mace¬
donians, and then attempted to procure the dissolution of
the Achaean league. This led to the Achaian war, which
terminated in the complete subjugation of Greece, and its
reduction to the form of a Roman province. Mummius
the consul, who conducted this war, sacked and burn-
C. 1
men to retire fighting, and lead the phalanx upon broken
Third Pu¬
nic war.
B.C. 150.
and uneven ground, obliged it to open its dense array of
serried pikes, when the legionary soldiers immediately pe¬
netrating these openings like a wedge, rent asunder the un¬
wieldy mass, and scattered it into hopeless and irretrievable
confusion and rout, like the bursting of a cloud of vapour by
a whirlwind. Perseus was captured soon after the battle,
and reserved to grace the victor’s triumph. Macedonia,
Epirus, and Illyricum, were reduced to the condition of pro¬
vinces, and the foundation of a foreign territorial empire laid,
was instead of one merely of influence and military power.
The utter destruction of Carthage was next resolved
upon, partly through the vindictive remembrance of the terror
which Rome had formerly felt from Carthaginian prowess,
partly from the instigation of the stern, haughty, and im¬
placable Cato the censor. A pretext for a war was not dif¬
ficult to find, though the Carthaginians endeavoured to avert
their fate by even the most abject submission. But when
the Romans, after inducing them to yield up their weapons,
informed them that they must abandon their city, witness
its demolition, and remove to a new position remote from
the sea, despair itself roused them to make the fiercest re¬
sistance. They sprung at once into an attitude of the most
determined defiance, forged new weapons, framed new mi¬
litary engines, the women cutting off their hair to form
ropes to work their machinery; and clad in glittering pa¬
noply, they manned their walls, and met the unappeasable
hatred of Rome with hatred not less keen and mortal. The
Roman armies sustained several reverses; but under the
command of Scipio iEmilianus, son of Paulus iEmilius, and
adopted son of Scipio Africanus, victory again began to
crown their efforts. After a fierce and protracted struggle,
the Romans forced their way into the city on the side next
the port, and obtained possession of the city wall. But the
conflict was not over though the city wall was seized. The
Carthaginians fought from street to street, from house to
house; and the Romans gained the city but by yards and
inches, every house being contested from the ground floor
to the roof, like a separate fortress. At length all was car¬
ried but the citadel and the temple of iEsculapius. I hese
the Romans were prepared to storm, when the citadel surren¬
dered, Asdrubal, who had the command, yielding to Scipio,
on condition that his life should be spared. Those who had
fled to the temple, some of whom were deserters from the
ed Corinth ; and after having pillaged the city of its most b
valuable effects, its rich paintings and beautiful sculptures,
demolished its walls, temples, and public buildings, and re¬
duced it to a heap of blackened ruins. The plundered orna¬
ments of Corinth were sent by the consul to Rome; and it
has been recorded, proving at once his care and his igno¬
rance, that he stipulated with the masters of the vessels em¬
ployed in transporting these matchless treasures of art, that
“ if they suffered any of them to be lost or injured, they
should furnish others in their stead.”
Another enemy of still more stubborn mould continued War in
to engage the attention of Rome, and to put to the severest Spain,
test the courage of her armies and the skill of her generals.
The wars and conquests of the Carthaginians in Spain had
directed the attention of the Romans to that country ; and
a war for the awowed purpose of its subjugation was begun
soon after the expulsion of the Carthaginians. Partly in
consequence of the defensible nature of the country, abound¬
ing: in mountain ridges and deep and rapid streams, and
partly from the brave and determined character of the in¬
habitants, the war was protracted, obstinate, and bloody.
Repeatedly did the arms of Rome sustain signal reverses;
and still with invincible energy of will was the contest main¬
tained. At length the Lusitanians obtained a leader undei
whom they seemed likely to secure their possession of li¬
berty and independence. This was Viriatus, a shepherd,
a hunter, a robber, and finally a military hero, almost unri¬
valled in fertility of resources under defeat, skill in the con¬
duct of his forces, and courage in the hour of battle. Like
the guerilla leaders of modern times, he knew how to avail
himself of the wild chivalry of his countrymen, and the al¬
most impenetrable fastnesses of his country ; but, superior
to them, he was equally able to guide a troop and to mar¬
shall an army. Six years did he maintain the contest; and
at length the consul Caepio, unable to subdue him in the
field, procured his assassination. The Lusitanians, depriv-B.C. 1
ed of their brave leader, were soon afterwards completely
subdued.
Undismayed by the overthrow of their countrymen, the
Numantines still maintained the unequal conflict against
the collected might of Rome. Pompey was baffled; his
successor Mancinus shared a similar disgrace ; and at length
the Romans raised Scipio iEmilianus, the conqueror of Car¬
thage, to the consulship, and assigned him Spain as his pro¬
vince, and even prolonged his command, after the expiration
of his vear as proconsul. At the head of a large army he
ROMAN HIS XOR*.
Roman closely invested the town, and began the siege. The Nu-
History. mantines made the most desperate defence ; and after more
than six months of almost incessant assault and repulse, the
citizens destroyed their wives and children, set tire to the
city, and by the flames or mutual slaughter perished to a
B.C. 133. man, leaving to Scipio to triumph, not over Numantia, but
over the smouldering tomb of its unconquered children.
Amidst these triumphs of her arms, the policy of Rome ob¬
tained an acquisition more important in some respects, but
Attalus. also of darker omen. Attains, king of Pergamus, at his
death, bequeathed his dominions to the Roman republic ;
and the senate, disregarding the remonstrances of Aristo-
nicus, the natural heir, immediately took possession of this
valuable inheritance. By what means Attalus had been in¬
duced to make this strange bequest, has never been accu¬
rately stated; but thus, by some deep stroke of policy,
Rome acquired possession of the largest and fairest portion
ot Asia Minor. The extensive provinces now held by Rome
caused a very great and fatal alteration in part of her inter¬
national policy. The inhabitants of these countries wTere
entirely subject to Rome; and the administration of them
was conducted by those who had enjoyed the office of con¬
suls, and by praetors, subordinate to whom were the quaes¬
tors, or collectors of the revenue. Till about this time prae¬
tors were expressly appointed to each province ; but it now
began to grow customary for the praetors who had vacated
office to succeed to the provinces, under the name of pro¬
praetors. 1 he highest military and civil powers were unit¬
ed in these governors; and being thus prolonged in a spe¬
cies of self-appointed and irresponsible tenure of office, the
consequence was equally injurious to the provinces, in the
oppression and extortion inflicted on them, and to Rome,
in the degeneracy thus fatally introduced. From this time
forward Roman virtue was little but a name; wThile the
armies and generals of the haughty and corrupt republic
fought not so much for fame and dominion, as for the means
of gratifying licentiousness and avarice.
S Seditions destructive consequences of Roman corruption and
i of the degeneracy soon became- but too manifest in the seditions
| Gtacchi, and civil broils which sprung up, and found no end but in
the overthrow of the republic itself. It may be expedient
to devote a few sentences to an explanation of the causes
and the nature of the dissensions by which the very exist¬
ence of the state wras endangered; especially,as owing to the
resemblance which they bear to the ancient contests between
the patricians and the plebeians, they are liable to be mis¬
understood, as if they were merely a renewal of those an¬
cient broils.1 They were, however, essentially different.
The contests between the patrician populus and the plebeian
commons of Rome’s earlier days was for the possession of
the rights and privileges of citizenship, which was at first
enjoyed by the patrician order alone, and for an equal share
in which the plebeians strove. These contests had termi¬
nated soon after the passing of the Licinian law, and the
admission of all orders alike to an equality in rights, privi¬
leges, and eligibility to all offices in the state. From that
period, though the designations of patricians and plebeians
might still be retained, the essential distinctions between
them had ceased to exist; and whatever contests arose,
sprung from causes entirely different.
Although there had long ceased to be any legal distinc¬
tion between the patricians and the plebeians, so that they
could not accurately be regarded as different orders in the
state, yet there continued to subsist the great difference
between wealth and poverty, aggravated by the fact, that
the senate wielded the entire power of the republic, and in
general engrossed its emoluments. In consequence of this
exclusive possession of power, the senators had gradually
acquired the almost equally exclusive possession of that por¬
tion of the lands of conquered states which the laws of Rome Roman
devoted to the commonwealth. The Licinian law had been History,
passed to prevent this unjust seizure of the public lands by
the patricians, but was insufficient for that purpose, even its
author being convicted of violating it soon after its enact¬
ment. W hile the attention of the state was almost inces¬
santly occupied with the management of public wars, the
senatorial body imperceptibly gained possession of the pub¬
lic lands, by grants, by pretended purchase, or in some in¬
stances by fair means, farming them from the state, in others
by forcible seizure. In this manner the patricians, though
no longer a peculiar order, possessing distinctive privileges
in the state, became a wealthy and powerful aristocracy,
engrossing nearly all public influence by means of their
wealth, as their ancestors had done by means of their ex¬
clusive citizenship.
On the other hand, the great body of the citizens, de¬
prived of their due share of the public lands, and not per¬
mitted by law to engage extensively in commerce, which
was the privilege of the equestrian order, possessed the rights
of freemen, and the privilege of voting, as citizens in all
public matters in the comitia, notwithstanding their extreme
poverty. Not obtaining their due share of the public
lands, and not being permitted by the wealthy patricians to
farm them, which they rather entrusted to their slaves,
these poorer citizens were reduced to the necessity of re¬
sorting to Rome, and attaching themelves to one or other
of the more powerful and wealthy of the patricians, by whom
they were supported in return for their votes in the comitia.
Ihus the wealth of the one partly enabled them to pur¬
chase, and the poverty of the other obliged them to sell,
those rights of voting on all public matters, which, instead
of being the safeguards of freedom, became the very ele¬
ments of tyranny and licentiousness. This consequence
seems to have been foreseen, and partly guarded against,
by the institution of the city tribes, for the purpose of pre¬
venting the undue influence of what was truly a city rabble,
devoid of the means of subsistence, although voting in the
public assemblies. But this preventive measure was not
sufficient. The immense wealth which flowed into the pub¬
lic treasury from the tribute of conquered provinces, and
into the coffers of the chief senators, from their public lands,
the command of armies and of provinces, together with other
public employments, enabled the state, as such, to main¬
tain in idleness, by donations of money and provisions, great
numbers of the people, whose votes they thus secured ;
and the wealthy families to maintain great numbers more,
who might be either added to the supporters of the senate,
or employed as the partizans of ambitious individuals. In
this manner did it come to pass, that the main body of the
citizens of Rome had sunk to the very lowest depth of po¬
verty and venal degradation, and was ripe for any sedition
or the perpetration of any crime. At the same time these
idle and dependent citizens must have been often exposed
to the real ills and sufferings of poverty; and must have
been often impelled to view with bitter envy the excessive
wealth of their more fortunate countrymen, whose equals
nevertheless they knew themselves to be in the eye of the
law. That feelings fiercely democratical should spring up in
the breasts of those who were at one time supported, and at
another time trampled on, by a proud and avaricious aris¬
tocracy, which the senate had become, was both natural
and inevitable; and that some measure should be framed
to check the increasing disparity between the wealthy and
the poor, and to prevent the enormous accumulation of
wealth in the hands of the senate as a body, or of a few fa¬
milies in that body, was absolutely indispensable to the per¬
manent well-being of the republic. But such a measure
would have required to be framed with the most consum-
1 See Heeren’s History of the Revolution of the Gracchi.
390
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
B.C. 133,
Tiberius
Sempro-
nius Grac
elms.
mate judgment, and conducted with the utmost skill, cau¬
tion, and prudence, as its failure could not but aggravate
all the evils which it had been intended to cure.
In this crisis of affairs at Rome, when a conflict was on
the eve of bursting forth, not between patricians and ple¬
beians, as distinct orders in the state, but between the rich
and the poor, on account of the unequal distribution of pro¬
perty, Tiberius Sempronius Gracchus appeared on the
scene, and assumed the advocacy of popular rights. He was
a man of great natural abilities, which had received the ut¬
most degree of cultivation, through the care of his mother,
the celebrated Cornelia, and the example ot his relatives,
the Scipios. Circumstances had led him to mark the bane¬
ful practice of the wealthy families, in assigning to slaves
the cultivation of their lands, and thus causing the removal
to the city of that class of free and privileged men, who
ought to have been the main proprietors and tenants of the
sod, which the valour of their fathers and of themselves had
won for Rome. The evil consequences of thus forming a
population of agricultural slaves, and needy citizens pre¬
pared for every enormity, both by their degradation and
their distress, arrested the attention of Gracchus; and he
resolved to exert himself for the removal of that corruption
which was already preying so deeply on the vitals of the
commonwealth. His desire was to relieve the^ distress ot
the lower orders, and to prevent the danger ot tneir relapse
into an equally unfavourable condition. Having been elect¬
ed tribune of the people, he availed himself of his official
power, and proposed a better division of the public lands.
At first he sought merely the re-enactment of the Licinian
law in a modified form, somewhat better suited to the
altered circumstances of the republic. In this he was
strenuously opposed by the senate, and also by one oc his
colleagues in the tribunate, Octavius. The opposition, in¬
stead of inducing Gracchus to adopt more prudent methods
of conciliation, roused his indignation, and from a patriot,
anxious only to promote the public weal, converted him
into a demagogue, determined to effect his purpose by what¬
ever means and at whatever hazard to his country’s welfare.
He brought forward a new law much more harsh in its pro¬
visions than the Licinian ; and being still opposed by Oc¬
tavius, he procured his ejection from the tribuneship, con¬
trary to the principles of the constitution, which he thus
himself set the example of violating. He then carried the
new law, and got himself, his brother, and his father-in-law
appointed as commissioners for surveying the public lands,
and taking steps preparatory to a new division.
Had Gracchus contented himself with these enactments,
and done his utmost to carry them into peaceful execution,
he might after all have been regarded as a true patriot, and
might have been the preserver of his country ; but he now
found himself in the position, into which, sooner or later,
every demagogue finds himself driven. It had become ne¬
cessary for him to retain popular support, even for his own
personal safety, if he should remain at Rome after the expir¬
ation of his year of tribuneship. He therefore introduced
other measures more calculated to maintain his popularity,
than to promote the true interests of the community. He
proposed a distribution of the treasures of Attalus among
the people ; a reduction of the period of military service ;
and the right of appeal from the sentence of the judges to
the people. Measures so glaringly democratic incensed
the senate to the very highest degree ; and as his tribune-
ship was now nearly expired, during which his person was
inviolable, he endeavoured to procure his re-election as a
tribune, both that he might retain the power of pressing
forward his proposed enactments, and for the security of
his personal safety. The aristocratic party in the senate
were now resolved to have recourse to any method of re¬
moving such a dangerous foe. They mustered all their
• C. 13d
partizans, disturbed the proceedings of the comitia, and in- Roman
terrupted them both by intrigues and violence. At length, -History,
on the second day of the comitia, held for the election of
tribunes, when both parties had mustered in full force, Ti¬
berius wishing to inform the people that his lile was in dan¬
ger, and the tumult being too great for him to be heard,
raised his hand to his head; this gesture the opposite party
misinterpreted into a sign of his wish that the people should
crown him; and Scipio Nasica rushed out of.the senate-house
at the head of the most determined of its members, loudly
accusing Gracchus of a conspiracy to make himself king.
A fierce conflict ensued, the friends of Gracchus dispersed B
and fled, and he was killed during the confusion of the tu¬
mult. About three hundred of the democratic party fell
along with their leader, and their bodies were cast into the
Tiber.
Thus terminated the attempt of the elder Gracchus to re¬
form the abuses which were rapidly destroying the virtue
of the Roman state and people; and like all unsuccessful
attempts, it but served to consolidate more firmly what it
had shaken, but not removed. The senate did not indeed
venture directly to repeal the Sempronian law for the divi¬
sion of the public land, which had superseded that of Lici-
nius, but left it to fall into desuetude like its predecessor.
In the contest, however, both parties had been guilty of
the most glaring violations of both law and justice; both
parties contemned the fundamental principles of the consti¬
tution ; and both manifested an utter disregard for the true
welfare of the republic, in their eager endeavours to prose¬
cute their self-interested views. How different from the
earlv struggles between the patrician and plebeian bodies,
in which no blood was shed by either party, and the ut¬
most that even the oppressed plebeians threatened, was to
forsake the city which denied them the rights ot citizens .
But the love of country had perished in the sordid pursuit
of wealth; and there no longer remained enough of true
patriotism to impel the contending parties to resoi t to mu¬
tual concessions for the general good. A contest so begun
and so waged, could have no other termination than in the
complete destruction of the one or the other of the con¬
tending bodies, or in the overthrow of both by some de¬
signing and powerful usurper, and thus in the total sub¬
version of the constitution and the extinction of Roman li¬
berty.
Within the course of a few years the contest was renew¬
ed, and with more determination and energy than before,
under the conduct of Caius Gracchus, the younger brother Caius
of Tiberius. During the interval that elapsed between the
death of Tiberius and the public appearance of Caius, the B.C. R
tribunes of the people had prosecuted their endeavours to
increase their own power, especially in the renewal of their
tenure of official dignity. The senate managed to impede
their endeavours chiefly by bestowing on them such em¬
ployments as required them to be absent from Rome; and
Caius himself was detained as quaestor in Sicily, even be¬
yond the legal term of that office. Immediately on his re¬
turn he was chosen tribune ot the people, and forthwith
resumed with double energy the enterprise ot his brother.
His first object was to enforce the Agrarian laws ot his bro¬
ther, which had hitherto been kept in abeyance, and to re¬
new the commission appointed to survey the public lands.
Being chosen a second time to the tribuneship, he procure
the enactment of a law transferring the judicial power en¬
tirely from the senate to the equestrian order ; and he even
attempted to procure the addition of three hundred knights
to the senate, for the purpose of overpowering their delibera¬
tions by the votes of his own partizans. Another of his
laws provided that the soldiers should be clothed at the ex¬
pense of the public, without diminution of their pay ; ano¬
ther secured the regular distribution of corn to the poor
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History,
B.C. 121,
citizens; and another proposed the granting of the privi-
• leges of Roman citizenship to all the Italian allies, as also
■' the formation of colonies, not only in Italy, but in the pro¬
vinces, and in particular at Carthage. By these popular
enactments he raised himself to such a height of power in
the state, that the senate did not venture to oppose him by
direct means, but first endeavoured secretly to diminish his
influence with the people. For this purpose they encouraged
Livius Drusus, another tribune, to rival Gracchus in the race
of popularity, by producing measures of a still more demo¬
cratic nature, which measures the senate readily consented
to pass, thinking by this deep yet base policy to weaken the
power of Gracchus before attempting any more direct attack
upon him. Such was the fickleness and venality of the de¬
mocratic party, that they soon began to applaud Drusus
above their recent leader; and when Caius stood candidate
a third time for the tribuneship, he was unsuccessful. The
senate saw the hour of retribution at hand, Opimius, the
most daring of the aristocratic party, was elected consul,
and the two factions prepared for a final struggle.
An accidental quarrel, in which Antylias, one of the con¬
sul’s lictors, was killed by the friends of Gracchus, preci¬
pitated the strife. The senate conferred the dictatorial
power on Opimius in the usual terms. Gracchus with his
followers took possession of the Aventine hill, and attempted
to open a negotiation with the consul. This was refused,
and an unconditional surrender required, which not being
yielded, the consul attacked the insurgents, gained the hill,
and slew great numbers of them ; and Gracchus himself,
after a fruitless endeavour to save his life by flight, fell either
by his own hand, or by that of a faithful slave who accom¬
panied him, and from whom he exacted this bloody proof
of fidelity. Not less than three thousand of the friends and
followers of Gracchus fell in this ill-omened struggle; and
their bodies were ignominiously cast into the Tiber, as
those of traitors to the commonwealth, and conspirators
against its laws and government.
These contests, known in history by the designation of
“ the seditions of the Gracchi,” shewed but too plainly that
the ancient patriotic spirit of Rome had departed, never more
to return. The attempt to check the growth of the already
exoibitant wealth and power of the nobles had utterly fail¬
ed; failed, although all legal and constitutional means had
been exerted for its enforcement; failed even partly in con¬
sequence of the violent methods pursued with a view to
compel its adoption ; failed by being met with at least equal¬
ly subtle, unconstitutional, and violent opposition ; and the
two antagonist powers, w’ealth and poverty, avarice and
wretchedness, equally corrupt and unprincipled, sunk for a
time into quiescence, though unreconciled, waiting but for
another opportunity to burst into fiercer and more implacable
hostility. The fires of the feud were not extinguished by
t le defeat and death of the Gracchi; they were but covered
up with deceitful ashes, beneath which they smouldered
scarcely observed, but acquiring tenfold strength, and pre¬
paring for an eruption which should devastate not Italy alone,
but every region of the Roman world.
Within a few years after the death of Caius Gracchus, the
senate not only found means to evade the Agrarian law, but
also to procure its repeal ; and even the land-tax which had
been introduced as an intermediate step, the produce of
which was to be distributed among the people, was annulled;
and on the one hand, the extortion and rapacity of the nobles,
and on the other, the degeneracy of the populace, proceeded
with increased rapidity. Neither the authority of the cen¬
sors, nor the enactment of sumptuary laws, could retard the
uxunes of the wealthy ; while the very means taken to sup-
port the poorer classes out of the surplus riches of the state
and of great families, increased their venality, turbulence,
and licentiousness.
391
This universal corruption of public morals was manifested Roman
in a very striking manner in the next great war into w hich History.
Rome entered, which was that against Jugurtha. This^-^^-
ciafty and far-sighted Numidian had served in the Roman
aimies, and made himself intimately acquainted with both Jugurthan
tie stiength and the weakness of the Roman character.war.
Having been left joint-heir to the kingdom of Numidia, E-C- HS.
along with his two cousins, the sons of Micipsa, he resolved
to sieze the whole, and procured the murder of the one,
while the other fled for safety and redress to Rome. But
at Rome Jugurtha’s gold was more powerful than the appeals
of the wronged Adherbal; and the senate decreed that the
kingdom should be divided equally between the two.
Scarcely had Adherbal returned to Numidia, when Jugurtha,
stimulated to fresh crimes by his recently experienced im¬
punity, declared war against his cousin, obtained possession B.C. 112.
of his person, and put him to death in violation of the terms
of his surrender. The tribune Memmius constrained the
senate to declare w^ar against the usurper; which was frus¬
trated by his purchasing a peace of the consul. He was
then ordered to repair to Rome, under safe conduct, to
answer for his guilt. Once more was the Numidian gold
too powerful for the course of justice, and Jugurtha would
have been acquitted, had he not again embrued his hands in
the blood of another kinsman. He was now ordered to quit B.C. 110.
Rome, return to his dominions, and there prepare either to
submit unconditionally, or to meet the utmost hostility of
the offended and outraged republic. The war was conduct¬
ed for a time with little success on the part of the Romans,
till the command was entrusted to Metellus, a man of great
military skill and incorruptible integrity. When this general
had almost completed the conquest of Numidia, he was sup¬
planted in the command by Caius Marius, a man of the
lowest extraction, but of great abilities, courage, and force
of character, and of at least equal perfidy, deceitful ness, and
ferocity, who, by his popular talents, and his intriguing
spirit, had got himself raised to the consulship. Marius
speedily reduced Jugurtha to the necessity of taking refuge
with Bocchus king of Mauritania, defeated the united armies
of these two monarchs, and began to treat with Bocchus for
the surrender, or rather betrayal of Jugurtha. This, how¬
ever, was accomplished by Sylla, who was at that time
quaestor in the army of Marius, and who so far succeeded
in depriving Marius of the honour arising from the capture
of Jugurtha, as Marius had done Metellus. This incident,
in all probability, laid the foundation of that rancorous ani¬
mosity between those two formidable rivals, which afterwards
blazed out so fiercely, and spread such extensive devastation
throughout the Roman dominions. Jugurtha was at length
brought captive to Rome, and after being exhibited in the B.C. 106.
triumphant procession of Marius, was cast naked into a dun¬
geon, and left to perish in the agonies of hunger.
The elevation of Marius to the consulship was an event Marius,
of a very momentous character, both in itself and in its con¬
sequences. In his previous tribuneship he had shewn him¬
self to be fully qualified to act the part of a demagogue in
every respect. Being himself a person of the most obscure
origin, all his habits and feelings were thoroughly adapted
to those of the very lowest of the people ; and yet the con¬
sciousness of great native powers of mind, gave him a cer¬
tain haughtiness of bearing which could not brook control
either from the senate which he braved, or the people whom
he at once led and governed. Upon his appointment to the
consulship, and previously to his departure for Numidia to
supersede Metellus, the senate gave him little encourage¬
ment in the raising of those levies which were requisite for
the vigorous prosecution of the war, being probably willing to
see the popularity of the new demagogue abated, though at
the expense of their country’s military reputation. But
Marius was not a person to be easily baffled. Instead of
392
roman history.
Roman
History.
B. C. 107.
B. C.
103-109.
confining his levies to the wealthier citizens, as had always
hitherto been the case, he raised it almost entirely from
among the very lowest class in the state, the capita censi,
the indigent, the desperate, and the mercenary. An army
formed of such materials was a fitting instrument for accom¬
plishing any design, inasmuch as it was utterly destitute ot
every moral virtue and every patriotic feeling, owing no al¬
legiance except that enforced by military discipline, or pur¬
chased by occasional indulgence in military excesses. 1 Ins
most unpropitious innovation secured for the time the as¬
cendency of Marius and the popular party ; but it laid the
foundation of that military despotism which ultimately de¬
stroyed the last lingering remains of Roman liberty ; as in¬
deed it must do sooner or later when the military spirit be¬
comes purely mercenary, the love of country expires, and
the citizen is lost in the soldier.'
This dangerous innovation might not have been so com¬
pletely confirmed, had it not been for a new, and most
formidable foe with which the republic was at this juncture
threatened. The Cimbri and Teutones, two of those north¬
ern nations which, occasionally bursting from their forests,
overran contiguous countries, exterminated the native in¬
habitants, and became the origin of new races and nations,
had penetrated into the Roman provinces, and come into
contact with the armies of the republic. In Styria they de¬
feated the consul Papirius Carbo ; in Gaul, Junius Silanus
had no better fortune ; and, finally, the two consuls, Manlius
and Csepio, were routed with immense s aughter, eighty
B. C. 105. thousand men perishing in the conflict. The tidings of this
defeat caused the utmost consternation at Rome ; and sued
was the military reputation of Marius, that both senate and
people concurred in nominating him a second time to the
consulship, even before the expiration of his first year of
command. He immediately levied new forces; and in the
extreme terror of the republic, no opposition was made to
his enrolment of great numbers of the city populace, by
which this innovation was confirmed, and the precedent es¬
tablished, of mustering troops from the very dregs of society,
and whose character was altogether base and mercenary.
For a time, however, the tide of the Cimbrian war rolled
past, and soent its force on Gaul, though still continuing
to threaten Italy. During this interval, Manus continued
to increase his army, and to perfect the discipline of the
new' recruits, his tenure of the consulship being prolonge
for four successive years, in consequence of the continuation
of the same dread which had at first caused his iljegal
reinstatement in that office. In his fourth year, the Teu¬
tones having entered the Roman territories, were defeated
by Marius, near Aix, with immense slaughter, more than two
hundred thousand of the invaders having perished. Next
year he was equally successful against the Cimbn, in a battle
fought near the Po ; in which, however, his colleague La-
tulus, and, what more annoyed him, Sylla, shared the honours
of the victory. , _ . . .
Marius had now enjoyed the consulship for the unprece¬
dented term of five successive years, and might have retired
with an unrivalled reputation ; but the possession of power
had only stimulated him with the eager desire of prolonging
his enjoyment of it. Soon after his return to Rome he be¬
gan to intrigue with the popular party, in order to obtain the
consulship a sixth time, in opposition to his old rival Me-
tellus • and having formed a strict confederacy with the tri¬
bune Saturnius, and the praetor Glaucias, two demagogues
of the most unprincipled character, partly by their aid, and
partly by means of the most extensive bribery, he procured
his re-election to that dignity. There was now no check
to the designs of the democratic faction, the people being
led on by a tribune of the most abandoned and reckless
character, and the senate being headed by an ambitious de¬
magogue. But at length the extreme measures ot Satur¬
nius alarmed and disgusted even Marius ; and with his usual
Roman
History.
B. C. 102.
B. C. 101.
force of character, he resolved to oppose the factious tri¬
bune. A great commotion ensued. Saturnius and Glaucias
seized the Capitol, but were closely besieged, their supplies
of water cut off, and being forced to surrender, they were
condemned and executed as traitors. Thus did the extreme
licentiousness of the popular faction compel even their own
most powerful leader to interpose, and to put forth his iron
strength to crush them as disturbers of the public peace,
and enemies of their country. .
This interposition in behalf of the republic cost Marius
nothing less than a temporary loss of that power of which
he was so ambitious. After the expiration of the sixth con¬
sulship, he found himself unable to retain his influence; his
old antagonist Metellus was recalled from banishment; and
he withdrew into Asia in a species of voluntary exile. A
temporary cessation from the civil broils which had con¬
vulsed Rome, gave leisure for the reformation of the state
from some of the abuses which had been forcibly intro¬
duced, or had insensibly sprung up. Some salutary laws
were enacted against the systematic oppression under which
the provinces groaned. Another measure, also of a reform¬
ing character, led to a less propitious result. This was an
attempt to control the conduct of the equestrian order, which
had become hurtful to the community, especially since L.
Gracchus bestowed upon them the judicative authority.
They had also obtained the farming of the leases, and con¬
sequently the collection of the revenue in the provinces, by
wdiich means they were enabled not only to oppose every
reform that was attempted in the provincial administration,
being judges in their own cause, but also to hold the senate
itself in a state of dependence. The tribune Livius Dru-
sus procured the enactment of a law, the effect of which was
to restore to the senatorial body the half of the judicative
power; but the means by which this law was passed, and
by which it came into operation, involved an infringement
of the constitution. Three hundred knights were added to
the senate ; and from the body thus raised to six hundred,
the judges were selected. Unhappily this tended more and
more to render the senate an aristocracy of wealth, and
thus to increase the chasm, already but too wide, be¬
tween the wealthy and the poor classes of the community,
and to prevent the growth of a middle class, one of the
most fatal wants by which the republic was afflicted; a want
which clearly indicated, and speedily caused, the total dis¬
ruption of the social fabric.
But the most immediately disastrous subject of conten¬
tion, was that which proposed the admission of all the Ita¬
lian states in alliance with Rome, to the privileges of citi¬
zenship. Great numbers of the citizens of these states had
either flocked to Rome upon losing their own property
when conquered, or had been allured thither during the se¬
ditions of the Gracchi, by those popular leaders, with the
view of strengthening their adherents, under the prospect
of obtaining portions of the re-divided lands, or at least an
idle maintenance from the gratuitous distribution of grain.
To gratify these, and to procure a new accession of strength,
Drusus proposed to admit all the Italian allies to the fui
rights of citizenship. This project roused the pride and the
jealousy of the whole body of the people, who thought they
foresaw' in it the overthrow of all their peculiar privileges
and powers, and who, however democratic at Rome, wished
tobe the aristocracy of all the world beside. The proposal was
rejected by the unanimous voice of the people ; and Drusus b. L
himself w7as soon afterwards killed in a popular tumu t.
The Italian states, however, were not disposed to relin¬
quish so easily the hopes which had been thus excited. I hey
held private intercourse with each other, interchanged hos¬
tages, and prepared deliberately for a general revolt, un ess
their demands should be conceded. The chief states of t
social alliance were the Marsi, the Pelagi, the Samm es, a
the Lucanians. Having assumed arms, the allies sent to
J
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman Rome, to demand a participation in the privileges of Ro-
History. raan citizens; and upon receiving a peremptory refusal, war
^ ^’"was immediately declared against Rome. The war thus
B°C 91 ^ commenced» commonly termed the Social war, raged for the
space of three years, the allies being as well disciplined and
led as the Romans themselves ; and many very sanguinary
battles were fought, in which Rome sustained several se¬
vere defeats, and was for a time exposed to great danger.
In this war, Cato, Marius, and the elder Pompey, greatly
distinguished themselves; but the chief glory was unques¬
tionably reaped by Sylla, who proved himself to be possess¬
ed of abilities of the very first order, equally as a politician
and a warrior. The bloody struggle was at length termi¬
nated, rather by Roman policy than Roman arms. The
B. C. 88. freedom of the city was first granted to those states which
had aided Rome; it was then offered to those who should
first discontinue hostilities ; and finally, it was given to the
whole of the Italian states ; so that whosoever was a citizen
of any free town in Italy, became a citizen of Rome, pro¬
vided he lodged his claim within sixty days after; and in
this manner even many foreigners were subsequently ad¬
mitted to Roman citizenship.
To counterbalance the influence of these new citizens,
and to preserve to those resident in Rome itself the prepon¬
derance of political power, the new citizens were formed in¬
to only eight tribes, completing the number of thirty-five,
of which they formed but a small minority, even when
joined by the six turbulent city tribes. It was, however, a
complete revolution, and tended to infuse a more healthy
vitality into the Roman constitution, which it might have
... . Prol°nged, had it not already been corrupt at the very core.
Lithndatic Before the entire termination of the Social war, another
arose in a different quarter of the world, by which the strength
of Rome was severely tried. The bequest of Attalus king of
Pergamus had given to the Romans extensive and wealthy
dominions in Asia; and had at the same time stimulated their
ambition and their avarice by the still more extensive regions
which it placed almost within their grasp. The Grecian, or ra¬
ther Macedonian empire had sunk before the growing power
of Rome ; and out of its ruins various monarchies arose, one
of the most considerable of which was that of Pontus. For
a time it remained tributary to its more powerful neigh¬
bours, till under Mithridates the Great, it became suffi¬
ciently strong not only to reduce the adjacent kingdoms,
but even to wage an even-handed warfare against Rome it¬
self for a number of years. Mithridates, seeing Rome wea¬
kened by the Social w ar, deemed it a convenient juncture to
make himself master of her Asiatic dominions, and prose¬
cuted his undertaking with such vigour and success, that he
had subdued the whole of Asia Minor, and all the adjacent
islands, with the exception of Rhodes, before the Romans
were sufficiently at leisure to attend to his movements, oc¬
cupied as they were with civil broils and social wars. But
the loss of their rich Asiatic territories was what the cupi¬
dity of neither senate nor people could brook; ana upon
t le termination of the Social war, all parties were equally
eager to commence hostilities against Mithridates, antici-
pating vast wealth from the pillage of these opulent regions.
Marius and Sylla warmly contended for the command of
this important war ; but the fame recently acquired by the
latter in the war of the allies, enabled him to triumph over
his rival. Scarcely had Sylla been nominated to the com¬
mand, when fresh tumults arose in Rome, instigated by the
envy of Marius, and the daring and lawless conduct of Sul-
picms, tribune of the people. The object of these new tu-
fWaS t0 Procure sufficient popular influence to remove
Sylla from the command to which he had been appointed ;
and they were so far successful, that while he was yet in
ampania with the army destined for Asia, a decree was
passed iu an assembly of the people, transferring the com¬
mand to Marius. But Sylla’s army were too much devoted
VOL. XIX.
393
Roman
History.
C. 88.
to their general to submit to this capricious change. They
Sf hUnffl the commissioners who came to deprive him
of his office, and Sylla, confiding in their adherence to him,
aiched directly on Rome, obtained possession of it, and
put to the sword without mercy all those who had rendered
themselves conspicuous by their support of his rival. Sul-
picms was slain, notwithstanding the law which declared
mnJdT1 inviolable 5 and it was with the ut¬
most difficulty, and after sustaining innumerable hardships,
and experiencing almost incredible hair-breadth escapes!
that Marius himself eluded the keen pursuit of his enemies,
byfla having thus crushed the opposite faction, and pro¬
scribed Marius, his son, and his chief adherents, re-estab¬
lished the power of the senate, and appointed his friend
Octavius, and his enemy Cinna, to the consulship, set outR C 87
against Mithridates. The relief of Greece was the first object
of feylla; and this he accomplished after taking Athens by
storm, and defeating the armies of Mithridates in two great
battles. Weakened and dispirited by these reverses, the
king of Pontus readily concluded a treaty with the Roman
general, who, on his part, was equally desirous of a peace,
that he might return to Rome, where the Marian faction
had regained the ascendancy.
Syila had probably expected to produce a comparative
equilibrium at Rome, by the appointment to the consulship
of one from each of the contending factions. Here, how¬
ever, his policy failed, probably from being too refined, or
fi om his not taking into consideration the newr element which
had been introduced, by the admission of the Italian states
to the citizenship. He had in a great measure exterminated
the democratic party in Rome itself, and restored the power
of the senate : but Cinna perceived the means of raising a
powerful body of new' adherents, by proposing to throw open
all the tribes to the Italian states, wzhich would have given
them a preponderance in every popular assembly. This the
other consul, Octavius, opposed ; and Cinna was compelled
to withdraw to the country, where he soon mustered a
powerful army of the disaffected allies. Marius, who had
fled to Africa, being informed of the turn which affairs had
taken at Rome, conceived hopes of recovering his power,
and immediately returned to Italy, joined Cinna, and at the
head of an immense horde of robbers and semi-barbarians,
the very dregs of the populace -of all Italy, who flocked to
his standard from all quarters, advanced against the city. At
his approach Rome was thrown into consternation ; and
there not being any forces sufficient to oppose him, the se¬
nate offered to capitulate, on condition that the lives of the
opposite party should be spared. During the progress of
these negotiations, Marius entered the city at the head of
his armed and barbarous adherents, secured the gates that
none might escape, and gave the signal for slaughter. On
rushed his barbarians like wolves, sparing neither age nor
sex, while Marius gazed on the horrid scene with grim and
savage delight. During five days and five nights, the hideous
massacre was continued with relentless ferocity, while the
streets w'ere deluged with blood, and the heads of the mur¬
dered victims w ere exhibited in the Forum, or laid before
the monster himself for his peculiar gratification. At length
Cinna grew sick of the protracted butchery; but the bar¬
barians of Marius could not be restrained till they were
themselves surrounded and cut to pieces by Cinna’s sol¬
diers.
Having gratified his revenge with this bloody butchery,
Marius nominated himself consul for the seventh time, and
chose Cinna to be his colleague. This he did without the
formalities of a public assembly, as if to consummate his
triumph over the liberties of his country, thus trampled up¬
on by an act at once of violation and of insult. But a short
time did he enjoy his triumph and revenge. In the seven¬
teenth day of his seventh consulate, and in the seventieth B. C. 86.
year of his age, he expired, leaving behind him the charac-
3 D
394
Roman
History.
SyUtL
ROMAN HISTORY.
B. C. 78
ter of.having been one of the most successful generals, and
most pernicious citizens of Rome.
Sylla having concluded a treaty with Mithndates, return-
ed at the head of his victorious army, prepared and deter¬
mined to inflict the most signal and ample vengeance upon
the Marian faction, whom he deemed equally foes to him¬
self and to the republic. Before his arrival in Italy, Cinna
had been killed in a mutiny of his own troops ; and none
of the other leaders possessed talent and influence enough
to make head against him. After a short but severe strug¬
gle, Sylla prevailed, and immediately commenced his dread-
ful, deliberate, and systematic course of retribution. All
who had either taken part directly with Marius, or who
were suspected of attachment to the democratic party, were
put to death without mercy, and, what was almost more ter¬
rible, apparently without wrath. Sylla even produced pub¬
licly a list of those whom he had doomed to death, and offered
a reward for the heads of each. He thus set the example ot
proscription which was afterwards so fatally imitated in t le
various convulsions of the state. His next step was to depo¬
pulate entirely several of those Italian states which had join¬
ed the Marian faction, and to parcel out the lands among his
own veteran troops, whom he thus at once rewarded and c is-
banded in the only manner likely to reconcile them to
peaceful habits. Having thus satiated his revenge, his next
care was to reform and re-construct the constitution and
government of the state, shattered to pieces by long and
fierce intestine convulsions. He caused himself to be ap¬
pointed dictator for an unlimited time. He restrained the
influence of the tribunes, by abolishing their legislative pri¬
vileges, reformed and regulated the magistracy, limited the
authority of governors of provinces, enacted police regula¬
tions for the maintenance of public tranquillity, deprived
several of the Italian states of their right of citizenship, and
having supplied the due number of the senate by additions
from the equestrian order, he restored to it the possession
of the judicative power.
Having at length completed his career as a political re¬
former, Sylla voluntarily resigned his dictatorship, which he
had held for nearly three years, declared himself ready to
answer any accusation that could be made against him du¬
ring his administration, wTalked unmolested in the streets as
a private person, and then withdrew to his villa near Cumae,
where he amused himself with hunting and other ruial re¬
creations. Whether his retirement might have remained
long undisturbed by the relatives of his numerous victims,
cannot be known, as he died in the year after his abdica¬
tion of power, leaving, by his own direction, the following
characteristic inscription to be engraved on his tomb: “ Here
lies Sylla, who was never outdone in good offices by his
friend, nor in acts of hostility by his enemy.”
The civil wars between Marius and Sylla may be consi¬
dered even more worthy the careful study of the historian,
than those between Pompey and Caesar, for a right under¬
standing of the circumstances which led to the destruction
of Roman liberty, as the latter but concluded what the for¬
mer had begun. Indeed, the strife between Marius and
Sylla was itself the natural sequel of that contest between
the aristocratic and the democratic factions, if they ought
not rather to be termed the factions of wealth and poverty,
which gave rise to the sedition of the Gracchi, and which
being conducted on both sides with no spirit ot mutual con¬
cession, none of mutual regard for the public welfare, deep¬
ened into the most bitter and rancorous animosity, such
as could end in nothing but mutual destruction. Of the
worst spirit of democracy, we see in Marius what may be
called a personification; fierce, turbulent, sanguinary, relent¬
less ; brave to excess, but savagely ferocious ; full of wily
stratagems, in. order to gain his object, then dashing from
him every hard-won advantage by his reckless brutality. On
the other hand, the aristocratic spirit had its representa¬
tive in Sylla; haughty, cautious, and determined, forming Roma;
his schemes with deep forethought, prosecuting them with
deliberate perseverance, and abandoning them with cold r*
contempt when his object was accomplished. He held his
dictatorial sway till he had satiated his revenge, and re-es¬
tablished, as he thought, the government on an aristocrati-
cal basis, then scornfully laid aside his power, and yielded
himself to voluptuous indulgence. By these men it was
made clearly evident that Rome no longer possessed sufficient
public or private virtue to maintain her republican institu¬
tions ; that she was tottering on the very brink of a complete
and final revolution, leading with fatal certainty to a mi¬
litary despotism ; and the only question was, whether her
despotic ruler should be a Marius or a Sylla ; whether he
should spring from among the democratic populace, or the
aristocratic nobility ; a question not long to be left in doubt.
Many of the laws enacted by Sylla were of a very wise
and beneficial character, though their general aim was too
manifestly the restoration of aristocratic power to the se¬
nate. What effect his personal influence, had his life been
prolonged, might have had in consolidating his political
reforms, cannot certainly be known, though it may very
safely be conjectured that not even his power could long
have prevented new convulsions. The malady lay too
deep to be reached by any merely political measures ot
a remedial nature. It had its essence in the degene¬
racy and moral turpitude of the entire body of the repub¬
lic, both nobles and people, which there was nothing in
their external circumstances to prevent, or in their na¬
tional religion to heal. Besides, as in the recent wars an
revolutions, almost all property had experienced a change
of possessors, there were vast numbers throughout all Italy
eao-er for a counter revolution. Several young men also ot
abilities and ambition, were prepared to emulate the career
of Marius or of Sylla, which could not be done without a
renewal of that contest, the heavings of which had not yet
wholly subsided. Of these, the chief were Lepidus, Cras-
sus, Pompey, and Sertorius, and perhaps Lucullus.
Very soon after the death of Sylla, the consul Lepidus, Lepidus
made an attempt to rescind the laws ot Sylla. In this he
was opposed both by his colleague Catulus, and by Pom¬
pey, who was now the head of the aristocratic party, to
which he had attached himself before its final triumph
over the Marian faction. Lepidus was declared a public
enemy, defeated in battle, fled to Sardinia, and there
A more dangerous and protracted contest was waged in Sertom
Spain, to which country Sertorius had withdrawn, and ga¬
thered around him the relics of the Marian party. For six
years did this virtuous and heroic republican maintain a
successful struggle against the whole power of Rome, de¬
feated successive consular armies, and baffled even the ex¬
perience of Metellus, with the skill and energy of Pompey.
At length he was basely assassinated by Perpenna; and
upon the loss of their leader, his forces were easily subdu- B L- <•
ed by Pompey, and Spain was reduced to obedience.
Before the termination of the Spanish war, one still more War of;
dangerous commenced in the very heart of Italy. Spartacus, S^
a celebrated gladiator, a Thracian by birth, escaped from
the gladiatorial training school at Capua, along with some
of his companions, and was soon followed by great num¬
bers of other gladiators. Bands of desperate men, slaves,
murderers, robbers, pirates, flocked to him from all quar¬
ters ; and he soon found himself at the head of a force able
to bid defiance to Rome. Four consular armies were suc¬
cessively defeated by this daring adventurer, and Rome it¬
self was considered in imminent danger. But subordina¬
tion could not be maintained in an army composed ot sucn
materials. Spartacus purposed to march into Gaul, invite
Sertorius to join him, and then together march on Rome.
Had this plan been carried into effect, Rome in all proba-
J.
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History
395
B.C.71.
Crassus.
Lucullus.
B.C.63.
j Pompey.
bnity must have fallen into the hands of the combined But as extremes in all things meet, these very demagogues Roman
forces ; but the tumultuous followers of Spartacus, longing necessarily became an oligarchy; and while they prS- Sry.
tillage of the capital, comnelled their leader to ahan- ed to promote the interests of the people, sucl/men as^-^V^
Pompey and Crassus engrossed the whole powers and emo¬
luments of the state.
. 'B5foreu thls riyaT11ry lla(1. reached its crisis, and dur- Cataline’s
ing ie absence of Pompey in Asia, Rome was threatened conspiracy,
with a new convulsion, and new competitors for pub-
hc favour began to appear on the scene. Lucius Sergius
Catilina, a young man of noble birth, but of desperate for¬
tunes, and of the most depraved character, formed a con¬
spiracy to destroy the chief men of the state, seize on all
public property, restore the Marian faction, and, placing
himself at its nead, to invest himself with supreme power.
Not only the profligate of the youthful nobility, and the in¬
digent of the popuiace, joined in this conspiracy, but even
Crassus and Julius Caesar were accused of having been so
far implicated in it. After several failures and postpone¬
ments, the conspiracy was partly detected, and partly forced
into a premature disclosure by the failure of Cataline in his
attempt to obtain the consulship, and the prudent preven¬
tive measures of his successful rival, Cicero, who also at Cicero
that time began to act a distinguished part in public affairs.
Not all the daring, nor all the secret attempts of Cataline
could overawe, or elude the energy and vigilance of Cicero ;
and at length the desperate and baffled conspirator fled from
the city, and raised the standard of revolt in Etruria. His
associates in Rome were seized and put to death, and he r c. 62
was himself defeated and slain in a desperate battle, after
having performed deeds of the most determined valour. So
highly had Cicero distinguished himself by his detection
and suppression of this dangerous conspiracy, that the se¬
nate^ unanimously bestowed upon him the honourable title
of Father of his Country.
.During the progress, and in the suppression of this con¬
spiracy, several very remarkable men had come prominent¬
ly forward. These were Cicero, unmatched for eloquence,
learning, and philosophical wisdom; Cato, a true republi- Cato,
can of the ancient mould, simple, severely virtuous, and
uncompromising ; and Caesar, unrivalled in the versatility,
extent, and power of a genius, equally fitted to attain pre-
ii i.- a- *'• m ^ Y~    —eminence in the pursuits of literature, philosophy, politics,
finding all his efforts ineffectual, and being in danger of and war. The two former adhered to the aristocratic party
immediate captivity from the defection of his son-in-law, • 1 ■■ ’ ’ ' - - - - 1 J
Tigranes, and the treason of his own son, Phraates, killed
himself, that he might not fall into the hands of the Ro¬
mans. After the conclusion of the war, Pompey spent some
time in Asia, settling its affairs, and arranging it into dif¬
ferent provincial districts. By the fall of Mithridates, and
this settlement of Asiatic affairs, the republic may be con¬
sidered to have reached the highest pitch of her power;
but when the summit has been gained, the next step is in¬
evitably downward. The very existence of the republic,
as such, now depended, partly upon the caprice or the mo¬
deration of Pompey himself, partly upon the judicious or
the erroneous measures which Crassus might adopt, in his
endeavours to counterbalance the power of his mighty
rival.
yy ^ n . *-^*^x**.«5 fcycn, t/AAViX ULllf UctUOCU. JL I
Unfortunately for Rome, the two rivals saw no better influence more into the popular scale, and thus
met od of maintaining each his own influence in opposition sciously to promote the ambitious views of Caesar.
to that of his antairnnist. than hv nr ininflt. nmn-t-  : •   • ■
Tor the pillage of the capital, compelled their leader to aban¬
don his intention, and bend his course towards that devot¬
ed city. He was met and completely routed by the praetor
Crassus, who thus acquired some renown in war, in addi¬
tion to the influence which he possessed from his unequal¬
led wealth. Pompey, on his return from Spain, encountered
and destroyed several scattered bodies of the gladiatorial
army; and thus, with his usual good fortune, obtained a
claim to divide the honour with Crassus. From this period,
these two powerful individuals cherished sentiments of en¬
vious rivalry against each other, the effect of which prov¬
ed ruinous to the commonwealth.
The enormous wealth of Crassus enabled him to pur¬
chase the support of the people, by bestowing upon them
large donations of money and corn. To counterbalance his
influence, Pompey, although attached to the aristocratic party,
proposed the repeal of some of Sylla’s laws, and the enact¬
ment of others of a more popular character ; in particular,
the restoration of the powers and privileges of the tribunes.
By these means he so ingratiated himself with the people,
that, with powers never before entrusted to any general,
he obtained the command of the armament prepared against
the pirates by which the seas were so greatly infested. In
this war he distinguished himself in a very remarkable
manner, by his skill, courage, and activity, and raised him¬
self to a height of power and of military fame, at that time
beyond all rivalry.
During the progress of these events in Spain and Italy,
Mithridates had renewed the war in Asia Minor. Lucul¬
lus, to whom the command in the Mithridatic war was now
given, defeated the fleet of the Pontic king, relieved Cyzi-
cus, and overthrew the combined forces of Mithridates and
Tigranes in two great battles, bringing the struggle to the
very brink of a successful conclusion. But the mutinous
spirit of his own army, and the hostility which he aroused
against himself, by his reform of the financial administra¬
tion of the provinces, occasioned his recall. Pompey was
next appointed to the command of the armies in Asia ; and
thus again was he favoured by fortune to obtain the crown-
ing glory of a victory already all but won. Mithridates
in the state, who were headed by Pompey ; the latter made
the democratic party the basis of his power, although he
was himself descended from one of the most ancient and
noble families of Rome. He had the address both to ex¬
tricate himself from the conspiracy of Cataline, and to make
himself at the same time the person to whom the survivors
of that party looked for protection. From that period it
was evident, that whatever might be the destinies of Rome,
Caesar must exercise a potent influence over them, for evil
or for good.
The return of Pompey from Asia caused a renewal of
the contest for power between that general and the party
which sought to maintain the independence of the senate.
Of this party, Cato, Lucullus, and Metellus, were the chief ad¬
herents; but their efforts only caused Pompey to throw his
uncon-
fl, c i • ? '—— auiuuoiy u, piuinuie me amouious views oi Caesar. That
o lat of his antagonist, than by separately or jointly court- sagacious man, perceiving the necessity of acquiring both
mg popularity. Pompey had led the way in this injudi- the skill and the renown of a general, and having hitherto
cious piocedure, by his partial restoration of tne tribunitian in a great measure abstained from military affairs, gothim-
power ; and this restoration was completed by the joint in- self appointed to the governorship of Lusitania, where he
uence of him and Crassus during their united consulship, soon acquired a high reputation for warlike talents, and at
t ad been found by ambitious men, that they could not the same time repaired his dilapidated fortunes.
°, ^eir objects of pursuit, whether those objects were During the absence of Caesar, the contest between Pom-
c lefiy aristocratic or democratic, without becoming dema- pey and Crassus continued, each endeavouring to weaken
gogues ; and therefore unhappily it was considered by them the influence of the other; and the independent party in the
necessary to re-establish in all its power an office, of which senate, led by Cato, and occasionally aided by Cicero, avail-
e very nature pointed it out for such a pernicious abuse, ing themselves of this struggle to diminish the undue power
396 ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman of both. But upon the return of Caesar, this contest was
History, brought to a termination. The two rivals began to per-
S"^s ceive that their power was in danger of being equalled, if
not surpassed by a third ; and Caesar, to lull their jealousy
asleep, till his own designs should be matured, pointed out
to them the risk they incurred of merely ruining each
other, if they did not speedily compose their dilferences.
He at first paid most court to Pompey, as his most for¬
midable rival, and affected devotion to his cause, till by
his aid, seconding his own rising fame, he procured the
B. C. j9. consulship. During his tenure of that office, he still more
increased his popularity by the enactment of several salu¬
tary laws, and some of more ambiguous character. In
particular, he carried an Agrarian law for the distribution
of large tracts of land in Campania among the indigent
people, and had the address, in spite of the opposition of the
senate, to induce both Pompey and Crassus to aid him in
passing it, and to act as commissioners in the distribution,
thus sharing the odium of the measure, while the entire
popularity remained his own.
The schemes of Caesar required a new element for their
further development. He well knew that he could not gain
the supreme power without an army to support his preten¬
sions, or depend on an army without having previously
made it completely his own. It was therefore necessary
for him to obtain the command of a warlike province, and
that, if possible, adjacent to Rome. Gaul was exactly suit¬
ed to his purpose ; and he now directed his efforts to the
obtaining of that appointment. Neither Pompey nor Cras¬
sus seems to have penetrated his views ; and a secret but
strict alliance was formed between these three powerful and
The first ambitious men, commonly known by the name of “ the
triumvi first triumvirate.” The province of Gaul was allotted to
rat^ r Caesar for a term of five years, while Pompey and Crassus
remained at Rome ; and the compact between Caesar and
Pompey was confirmed by the latter marrying the daughter
of the former.
To complete the triumph of the triumvirs over the in¬
dependent party in the senate, Cato was appointed to the
government of Cyprus, and Cicero was banished through
the intrigues of the infamous Clodius, who had obtained
permission to relinquish his patrician rank, that he might
be eligible for the tribuneship ; an example which was af¬
terwards repeatedly followed by designing demagogues.
After having accomplished this object, Clodius became so
troublesome even to his own party, that to keep him in
check, Pompey procured the recall of Cicero from exile,
which he could not effect without the strenuous aid of the
tribune Milo.
In the mean time, Caesar had arrested the migration of the
Helvetians, expelled the Germans from Gaul, subdued the
Belgae, the Aquitani, the Nervii, and other warlike Gaulish
nations, and had also both penetrated into Germany itself,
and crossed the sea to Britain, till then almost unknown to
the Romans. By these exploits he raised his military re¬
putation to an equality with that of Pompey himself, and
formed a hardy and well-disciplined veteran army, entirely
devoted to his will. Nor was he inattentive to the course
of events at Rome. He found means to maintain his in¬
fluence there to such a degree as to rouse the dormant jea¬
lousy of his rivals, and almost to precipitate the struggle.
A reconciliation, however, took place ; and he obtained a
renewal of his command in Gaul for another term of five
years, while Crassus chose Syria for his province, and Pom¬
pey Spain arid Africa. Crassus appears to have chosen
Syria for the purpose of gratifying his passion for the ac¬
quisition of wealth ; and Pompey preferred those provinces
which he could govern by his lieutenants, while he remain¬
ed at Rome to rule the republic.
This new arrangement was not destined to a lengthened Roma
existence. On his arrival in Asia, Crassus found himself H'stor;
compelled to enter into hostilities with the Parthians, to's-
whose vicinity the overthrow of Mithridates had extended
the sway of the republic in that continent. Even to the
best of the Roman generals, the Parthians would have proved
a formidable foe; but Crassus was altogether destitute of the
military talents necessary for the conduct of such a war.
His army was entirely routed in Mesopotamia, and himself B. C. 5iV
taken prisoner and put to death soon after the battle, by
the Parthian general Surena.
About the same time died Caesar’s daughter, the wife
of Pompey ; and thus not only was the triumvirate dis¬
solved by the death of Crassus, but the alliance between
the two survivors was greatly weakened by the death
of Julia, who had possessed considerable influence over
both her father and her husband. The period for the ter¬
mination of Caesar’s command in Gaul had nearly arrived; and
all things seemed to indicate the approach of a mortal crisis.
Each party strove to throw on his rival the odium of be¬
ginning the fatal contest; and its actual commencement was
for a time retarded by their mutual machinations. At
length it began by Caesar’s demanding permission to hold
the consulship while absent. This was strenuously opposed
by Pompey, and advocated by Caesar’s partizans, Curio,
Marcus Antonius, and Quintus Cassius, tribunes of the
people. Curio succeeded in placing Pompey in what is
termed, “ a false position,” by proposing that both he and
Caesar should resign their offices and retire into private life,
which he averred that Caesar was willing to do. Repeated
but insincere offers were made by both parties for an ac¬
commodation ; but the senate at length passed a decree,
commanding Caesar to disband his army before a certain
specified day, under the penalty of being declared a public
enemy. The two tribunes, Antony and Cassius, interposed
their veto ; but their prerogative was violently set aside,
and the decree passed by a large majority. Upon this An¬
tony and Cassius fled from the city disguised as slaves, and
sought refuge in the camp of Caesar, who shewed to his
soldiers the tribunes thus insulted by his enemies at Rome.
The conduct of Caesar had hitherto appeared to be chief- civji m
ly defensive, that of Pompey and his party aggressive. It
had now become necessary for Caesar either to relinquish his
long-cherished visions of ambition, or to become the assail¬
ant. He had completely foreseen and anticipated the crisis.
At the head of but a small division of his army, not suffi¬
cient to create alarm, he had approached the banks of
the Rubicon, the boundary of Italy proper, on the side of
Cisalpine Gaul, and which he could not cross in a hostile
manner without avowing himself a traitor to his country.
His schemes were ripe for execution, his enemies were
thoroughly roused, concealment was no longer practicable,
his troops had declared their readiness to support their
general and avenge the wrongs of the tribunes, all things
urged him to the crisis; but the dark destinies of the
fateful hour hung heavy upon Caesar’s spirit.1 He retired
early from a supper where he had entertained some of his
principal officers, and paced to and fro on the banks of
the Rubicon, in the deep silence of midnight, oppressed
with thought. It probably was not the ruin to himself,
should he now hesitate, still less the perils of the undertak¬
ing ; it was the long, black, direful train of miseries that
must sweep remorselessly over his country and the world,
all summed up, concentrated, and rendered almost visibly
present in the one simple and brief act of that most awful
hour, this it was that shook and appalled the heart of even
the mighty Caesar. He at length exclaimed, “ the die is
cast,” sprung furiously across the slender stream, and spread b. C- 49.
to the morning breeze the banner of civil war.
1 See Suetonius in Vita Jul. Caes.
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
1 History.
tie of
I'salia.
p. 48.
Before the close of that day Ariminum was seized by
Caesar. With the speed of a torrent, and the gathering
^ strength of an Alpine avalanche, he advanced on Rome.
City after city opened its gates at his approach, their gar¬
risons swelling the number of his troops. Pompey and his
party were paralyzed by his boldness, and terror-struck by
the celerity of his movements. They abandoned the city
and fled to Capua, leaving the public treasure behind them.
Thence they fled to Greece, without daring once to turn
upon their swift pursuer. Corfinium alone seemed disposed
to make a show of resistance ; but the garrison declared for
Caesar, and their commander, Domitius, surrendering at
discretion, was treated with the kindness due to an honour¬
able foe. Caesar then retraced his course to Rome, and
entered it without opposition, having subdued all Italy in
sixty days. He assembled such members of the senate as
had remained in the city ; declared himself driven to hos¬
tilities by the machinations of his enemies, yet still a friend
to the republic; seized upon the funds in the public trea¬
sury, and after a short delay of six days, set out to attack
Pompey’s lieutenants in Spain.
In his march through Gaul he was joined by his ve¬
teran troops, at whose head he had gained so much glory,
and whom he had doubtless been training for that enter¬
prise in which he was now engaged. On his arrival in Spain
he began a series of manoeuvres surpassed by nothing in
the history of war, for the purpose of compelling Afranius
and Petreius, not to a battle, but to a capitulation of their
entire army, which he wished thus to preserve and make
his own. This he at length accomplished ; and on his re¬
turn through Gaul reduced Massilia, which had till then
held out against him. But these successes, where he com¬
manded in person, were somewhat counter-balanced by some
severe defeats sustained by his generals in Illyricum and
Africa.
Returning victorious to Rome, he was named dictator,
a title which he soon afterwards exchanged for that of
consul; and after spending a short time in the arrange¬
ment of public affairs, he prepared to sail for Greece, in
order to bring the struggle to a close, by encountering his
great rival in person. Pompey had assembled an immense
army, drawn from the various Asiatic states where Ro¬
man troops had been stationed; and his camp was dignified
by the presence of great numbers of the fugitive senate.
Caesar with much difficulty and danger transported his army
from Brundusium to the vicinity oj Dyracchium, where
Pompey was encamped. For some time the contest be¬
tween these two great generals was a war of tactics, each
endeavouring to out-manoeuvre his antagonist, before putting
the final issue to the hazard of a decisive battle. As Pom¬
pey’s fleets had the command of the sea, he was enabled to
act on the defensive, without the danger of falling short of
provisions, to which Caesar was much exposed. Caesar
therefore used his utmost efforts to draw his adversary to a
general engagement; in which he had almost succeeded,
when he was himself surprised, one division of his army
thrown into confusion, and the whole so greatly endangered,
that nothing but the most desperate efforts made by him¬
self in person, prevented a total rout.
Soon after this hazardous encounter Caesar withdrew
from Dyracchium, and marched to Thessaly, where he had
better access to both provisions and reinforcements. He
was followed by Pompey, whp still abstained from battle,
hoping to exhaust his foe. But this wary policy of Pom¬
pey was disliked by the young nobility, who longed for the
fight, especially since their partial success at Dyracchium.
At length Pompey drew out his army on the plains of Phar-
salia, and offered Caesar the opportunity which he had so long
sought, of deciding the empire of the world. In this great
battle the superior skill of Caesar was manifest. Being de¬
ficient in cavalry, in which the strength of Pompey’s army
397
Jay, he altered the usual form of drawing up the army in Roman
three lines, placing a fourth in reserve for the support of History,
his cavalry, with particular directions how to act. When
t ie signal was given, the troops of Caesar rushed on with
their usual impetuosity; those of Pompey stood still to
receive the shock. I he cavalry of Pompey at first re¬
pulsed that of Caesar; but being unexpectedly assailed by
the reserve, they were thrown into confusion, and fled, leav¬
ing the flank of the main body exposed, which was instantly
assailed by Caesar’s victorious wing. This decided the fate
of the day. Pompey’s legions were thrown into irretrievable
confusion, driven to their camp, the entrenchments carried
by storm, and the whole either scattered over the country,
or compelled to surrender at discretion. Caesar finding the
victory secure, hurried from place to place across the bloody
field, calling aloud to spare the Roman citizens; and all
who yielded were treated with the utmost clemency.
Pompey, as if bereft of his usual courage and presence of
mind, made no effort to retrieve the fortunes of the day.
Fie at first retired to his camp, and when its entrenchments
were forced, he fled in disguise from the scene not more of
ruin than of disgrace. He directed his course to the JEgean
sea, purposing to renew the war in Syria ; but finding the
Asiatic states not inclined to support what they now deem¬
ed a falling cause, he altered his plan, and steered for
Egypt, having taken on board his wife Cornelia. When he
drew near the Egyptian shore, he found the young king be-
sieging Pelusium, and sent intimation of his approach, and
of his intention of joining his forces with those of Egypt.
The perfidious Egyptians resolved to allure him on shore,
and then put him to death, as the safest mode of escaping
the danger of his own resentment, if they should refuse him
succour, or that of his rival, if they should grant it. Achil¬
las, the commander of the Egyptian forces, and Septimius,
a Roman soldier who had formerly served under Pompey,
proceeded in a boat to the galley to conduct him to land.
He left his vessel with strong forebodings of what might fol
low; and as the boat drew near the shore, Septimius stabbed Death of
him in the back, and the others falling upon him, complet- Rompey.
ed the treacherous and bloody deed. The galley in which
he came had anchored so near the shore, that the murder
of Pompey was distinctly visible to those on board. The
wild shriek of anguish raised by Cornelia as she beheld her
beloved husband fall, reached even to the shore; and on
the instant, the Roman galley cutting her cable, and putting
to sea, escaped the pursuit of the Egyptians. Thus perish¬
ed Pompey the Great, a fugitive and alone on a barbarian
shore, after having held for many years a scarcely divided
sway at Rome, which he failed in- making his exclusively
and permanently, only because his rival and antagonist was
Caesar.
Immediately after his victory at Pharsalia, Caesar com¬
menced a close pursuit of Pompey, knowing that the war
could only end with his death or captivity. Tracing the
course of his defeated rival’s flight, he arrived at Alexan¬
dria, where he not only received the tidings of his death,
but the Egyptian messengers laid before him the head and
ring of Pompey. From these melancholy memorials of his
mighty rival Caesar turned away with strong shudderings,
and with bursting tears of pity; and gave orders that near
Pompey’s tomb, a magnificent temple should be erected to
Nemesis. He next employed himself in settling the disputed
claims for the succession to the Egyptian throne, which he
bestowed on the celebrated Cleopatra, influenced more by
the beauty of her person than the superiority of her preten¬
sions. While in Egypt, he was exposed to great danger,
from an insurrection of the dethroned king’s partisans ; but
the opportune arrival of his forces enabled him completely
to subdue it, and to establish the sovereignty of Cleopatra.
From Egypt he marched into Asia, against Pharnaces, son
of Mithridates the Great; and in the short space of thirty
398
Roman
History.
ROMAN HISTORY.
B. C. 46.
days, completely annihilated his army, and subdued his
dominions. It was in giving an account of this brief war,
'that he used the famous words, Vent, vidi, vici. “ I came,
saw, conquered.”
During Caesar’s delay in Egypt, and expedition into Pon-
tus, great disturbances had broken out in Rome; to remedy
which he repaired thither with his usual promptitude and
speed. Upon his arrival, lie was again nominated dictator,
and strenuously applied himself to the reform of the abuses
which had been committed in his absence by ill-judging
and intemperate partisans. No proscriptions followed his
arrival, no blood was shed, no injustice perpetrated; and
this clemency, so different from the conduct of Sylla and
Marius, induced numbers of the most distinguished men of
what had been the independent party in the senate, to re¬
turn to Rome, and there to renew the semblance of a regu¬
lar form of government. He then turned his attention to
Africa, where a strong body of his antagonists had been
drawn together by Cato and the sons of Pompey. Ihe
struggle was severe, but not protracted. A decisive battle
was fought at Thapsus, where the Pompeian party were
completely overthrown. Despair filled the hearts of the
routed leaders. Cato died by his own hand in Utica;
Scipio, being intercepted in his flight, stabbed himself and
fell into the sea, while Caesar’s men were boarding his gal¬
ley ; and Juba, king of Numidia, and his general Petreius,
fell by each other’s hands in single combat. The two sons
of Pompey escaped and fled to Spain, where they endea¬
voured once more to rekindle the embers of the expiring
war.
Upon his return victorious from Africa, Caesar was re¬
ceived at Rome both by senate and people with great adu¬
lation, and he celebrated his triumph with uncommon pomp
and splendour. He was again created dictator for ten years,
and honours were heaped on him with lavish hand. Again
did he renew his acts of clemency and generosity to all who
had been opposed to him, thus confirming his popularity and
consolidating his power.
But Pompey’s sons, Cneius and Sextus, having collected
a considerable force in Spain, Ceesar found himself once
B.C. 45. more obliged to quit Rome. The two armies met in the
plains of Munda, and prepared for the final struggle with all
the energy of hope on the one side, and on the other of de¬
spair. So furious was the conflict, that Caesar was compelled
to put himself at the head of his favourite tenth legion, and
to fight as a common soldier, not for victory merely, but for
life. Victory at length declared for him ; a vast number of
his most eminent and determined enemies fell in the battle,
or in the flight, and among the latter was the eldest son of
Pompey. With this sanguinary conflict the war was at once
terminated, and Caesar returned in full triumph to Rome.
Having now completed the subversion of the republic,
Caesar assumed the undivided sway of Rome, although he
tolerated the continuation of the forms of republican go¬
vernment. In his own person he concentrated those offices
which were requisite for the conduct of public affairs, such
as the dictatorship, the consulate, and the offices of tri¬
bune, censor, and pontifex maximus. Thus possessed
of all authority and power, he commenced a number of
reforms, improvements, and public works of utility, which
did honour to his genius, his judgment, and his spirit of
enterprise. He reformed the calendar, and undertook to
drain the Pontine marshes, to deepen the channel of the
Tiber, to form a capacious harbour at Ostia, to cut a canal
through the isthmus of Corinth, and to revenge the defeat
of Crassus, by an expedition against the Parthians. In the
midst of these schemes and undertakings he gave offence to
the senate by his haughtiness, and to the people by his too
evident assumption of regal dignity, and almost of the regal
title. They could better brook the loss of liberty in reality
than in appearance; they retained their love of the form of
the republic, when its spirit was gone ; they could not en- Rom;
dure the name of king, while they were willing to submit
to real monarchy under the name of a perpetual dictatorship.^^
Influenced by these feelings, a large body of the senators
began to regard Caesar as an usurper, and many even of the
people, who had formerly supported him as their leader
against the aristocratic party, became also disaffected. Mark
Antony’s offer of a crown at the feast of the Lupercalia,
put forth in all probability for the purpose of ascertaining
the bias of the popular mind, was met by such decided dis¬
approbation, as to cause Caesar himself to hesitate, and to
wait for a more propitious juncture for the completion of
his designs. Meanwhile, a conspiracy was formed for his
destruction, and at the head of it were Brutus and Cassius,
who had both experienced his clemency and additional
marks of his favour. After having narrowly escaped detec¬
tion, they resolved to strike the blow in the senate-house it¬
self, on the ides of March. No sooner had he taken his Death c
seat than the conspirators crowded round him, preferring Caesar
various requests, and one of them, apparently in extreme C'1
urgency, seized him by the robe. At this preconcerted
signal, they all rushed upon him with their daggers, and
Ctesar, perceiving resistance fruitless, muffled up his head
in his mantle, and fell at the base of Pompey’s statue,
pierced by three-and-twenty wounds. At this moment,
Brutus waved aloft his bloody dagger, hailed the senate,
and in particular Cicero, and proclaimed aloud the recover¬
ed liberty of Rome.
But instead ofjoy and gratitude, a general terror pervaded
the senate and the citizens. They had felt secure in the
well-known clemency and the settled power of Caesar; they
knew not what scenes of anarchy and bloodshed might fol¬
low his death, nor what might be the temper of his successor
in the chief power. A dull dead calm brooded over the city
for some days; till, on the day of Caesar’s funeral, Antony
inflamed the smouldering passions of the populace to such
a degree, that they burst into the senate house, tore up its
benches, and raised an immense funeral pile for the body,
sacked in their fury the houses of the conspirators, and
wreaked their vengeance on all of that party whom they could
seize. Alarmed by these proceedings, the chief conspira¬
tors fled from the city, and prepared to vindicate their deed,
and defend the republic by arms.
Previously to this tumult, Antony had concurred with
Brutus and Cassius in passing an act of amnesty, granting
forgiveness to all who had been implicated in any of the
former proceedings. But having stirred up the populace, and
being joined by Octavianus, or Octavius, the grand-nephew
and heir of Caesar, he now entered boldly on his turbulent
and ambitious career. Brutus and Cassius retired to Mace¬
donia and Syria, to which provinces they had been appointed,
leaving Italy in the power of Antony and Octvaius. A jea¬
lousy soon arose between these two leaders of the revo¬
lutionary party; and Octavius joining the senate, Antony
retired into Gaul, raised an army, and came to an engage¬
ment with the two consuls near Mutina, where he was de¬
feated, but both the consuls fell in battle. Antony fled to
Spain, and joined Lepidus ; but before renewing the war,
he represented to Octavius that their hostilities would only
secure the triumph of the senate and the conspirators. In
consequence of this suggestion, Octavius, Antony, and Le¬
pidus, came to an interview in a small island in the river
Lavinus, not far from the modern city Bologna, and there Second
formed a confederacy, called the “ second triumvirate.’ In triumvi-
the course of their proceedings, these three ruthless men ^
drew up a list of those whom they wished to be put to
death, each, without compunction, permitting relation or
friend to be proscribed, if required by the others. This
bloody proscription was followed by the murder of not less
than 300 senators, and 2000 of the equestrian order. Among
the former was the illustrious Cicero, whose death was occa*
ROMAN HISTORY.
399
SDs:
r
V
oman sioned by his invectives against the dissolute and infamous
: istory. Clodius, and the unprincipled and tyrannical Antony.
’ Soon after the formation of this blood-oemented compact,
Octavius and Antony prepared to wage war against Brutus
and Cassius, who had combined their forces, and were in
] :le of Macedonia. The rival armies met near Philippi; and two
] jiippi. separate battles were fought before the victory was decided.
It). 42. In the first, the division commanded by Cassius was defeat¬
ed ; and he, thinking the battle lost, slew himself in despair.
Brutus, however, had been victorious with his division; and
the two antagonist armies, rallying each on its unbroken
half, remained ready for another trial of strength. This took
place within about twenty days after the first, and on nearly
the same ground. The struggle was fierce, obstinate, and
bloody ; but at length the troops of Brutus gave way, fled,
and were scattered in total rout and dismay. Brutus, dis¬
daining to survive this, the last convulsive effort of the re¬
public, fell on his own sword, and died. The conduct of
Octavius and Antony, after their victory, bore a greater
resemblance to that of Sylla and Marius, than of Caesar,
whose memory they would have more honoured by imitating
his clemency, than by a bloody revenge of his death.
The utter ruin of the republican party was followed by a
period of disgraceful intrigues, jarrings, and contests, among
the usurpers, and their corrupt friends and followers. An¬
tony traversed Greece, and part of Asia, luxuriating in the
pomp, the homage, the flatteries, and the voluptuousness of
the East. At one time he meditated a war against the Par-
thians, to redeem the fame of Rome, which had been tar¬
nished by the defeat of Crassus ; but meeting with Cleopa¬
tra, he abandoned his dreams of glory, and resigned himself
to the debasing delights of loose licentiousness, beneath the
syren spell of this abandoned beauty.
Octavius, on the other hand, returned to Italy, and pro¬
secuted his deep-laid schemes for securing the sole posses¬
sion of despotic power. He was repeatedly disturbed by the
intrigues and the violence of Lucius, the brother, and Ful-
via, the wife, of Antony ; but at last, the rupture having come
to an open war, they were defeated; their chief strength,
Perusia, was taken, and Octavius secured in the undisturbed
command of Italy. The tidings of this contest drew Antony
from Egypt, and a war between him and Octavius seemed
on the point of breaking out. At this juncture Fulvia died;
and instead of a war, a new alliance was formed between the
jealous triumvirs, Antony receiving in marriage Octavia,
the sister of Octavius. In this new division of the Roman
dominions, Sextus Pompey was admitted to a participation.
But their hollow agreement was of no long duration. New
jealousies arose between Octavius and Lepidus, and new
wars with Pompey. Being defeated by Octavius, Sextus
39. Pompey fled to Asia, and was there slain by one of Antony’s
lieutenants. Lepidus was soon afterwards deprived of his
share in the triumvirate ; and Antony and Octavius divided
the whole power between them. Little cordiality subsisted
between these partners, or rather rivals ; but a decided quar¬
rel was delayed in consequence of their distance from each
other, and the different regions in which they sought for an
extension of fame and dominion. Antony was still desirous
of triumphing over the Parthians, but he met with little
success, except where his troops were led by Ventidius.
Octavius ’found employment for his legions in Dalmatia and
Pannonia, into which the arms of Rome had scarcely before
penetrated. At length the conduct of Antony thoroughly
disgusted all his friends at Rome. Octavia set out for the
East, hoping to recall her husband to some sense of his duty
to Rome, to her, and to himself; but the infatuated man,
unable to break through the fascinations of Cleopatra, re¬
fused to see Octavia, ordered her to return home, and even
sent her a divorce. This insult Octavius could not brook.
Antony was deprived of his consulship by a decree of the
senate, and both parties prepared for another war.
Mutual jealousy had long anticipated such a contest, Roman
and they were both in readiness at once to rush to the arbi- History,
tration of arms. The forces of Antony were the more nu-
merous; those of Octavius the better disciplined, and led
by generals of great skill and judgment. Their armaments,
both military and naval, came within sight of each other on
the opposite sides of the entrance to the gulf of Ambrasia
in Epirus. For some time they remained comparatively
inactive, watching each other’s movements. At length the
two hostile fleets met off the promontory of Actium, that of
Octavius led by Agrippa, that of Antony by himself and
Cleopatra. The battle began, in sight of the land forces on Battle of
either side, and was continued with equal courage and for- Actium.
tune, till Cleopatra, terrified by the dreadful scene, turned B. C. 31.
her galley and fled, followed by sixty of the Egyptian ves¬
sels, and soon after by Antony himself. The deserted fleet
of Antony maintained a brave resistance for some hours after
his flight; but at length was completely overpowered and
destroyed, three hundred ships being sunk or taken, and the
whole strand covered with wrecks, and the bodies of the
dead. For several days the army of Antony could not be¬
lieve that he had deserted them; and remained in anxious
expectation of his arrival, to renovate his fortunes on a more
stable element. When at last assured of his flight, they
entered into terms with the victor, who was now undisputed
lord of both sea and land.
After this fatal battle, Antony continued his flight to
Egypt, a prey at once to shame and to ungovernable rage.
For some time he refused to see Cleopatra, whom he accused
of having caused his overthrow. But having exhausted his
wrath, he returned to the embrace of the ensnaring syren,
and again gave himself up to the excesses of voluptuous en¬
joyment. Meanwhile, the cautious Octavius was drawing
his toils closer around his victim. The defences of Egypt
were taken or surrendered ; and in a short time Antony was
reduced to such straits, that he could neither fight nor fly.
Hemmed in, deserted by his own troops, suspicious of the
Egyptians, distracted by jealousy and rage, he lost all self-
control, bursting into fierce gusts of frantic passion, then
sinking into the stupor of despair. Even Cleopatra became
alarmed with these storms of the furious madman, and caused
a report to be spread that she was dead. This report roused
the Roman in the heart of Antony ; and having nothing now
on earth to love, and the path of ambition being closed, he
threw himself on his own sword, but failed to inflict a wound
immediately mortal. While struggling in the agonies of
death, he was told that Cleopatra was still alive. Somewhat
reviving at this intelligence, he caused himself to be carried Death of
into the presence of Cleopatra, where, calling for a draught Antony,
of wine, and fixing his eyes on the fascinating woman, for B. C. 30.
whose sake he had lost the world, he expired.
Octavius was now left without a rival, sole master of the
Roman world. On seeing the body of Antony he betray¬
ed some emotion ; but gave orders that the utmost attention
should be paid to Cleopatra, and especially that she should
be prevented from dying by her own hand, as he was anxi-
ous that she should adorn his triumph at Rome. She seems to
have cherished the hope of gaining the same influence over
him that she had enjoyed over Caesar and Antony ; but the
cold and passionless temper of Octavius was prool against
her blandishments. Disappointed in this expectation, and
dreading the disgrace of being led in captivity to adorn the
triumph of her conqueror, she eluded the vigilance ot her
Roman guards, and having imbibed poison, either from the B. C. 30.
bite of an asp, or from the point of an envenomed needle,
death rescued her from that indignity.
Egypt was then reduced to the form of a Roman pro¬
vince ; and its immense wealth was transported to Rome to
replenish the exhausted treasury, and to pay the troops
by whom the conquest was thus achieved. Soon after his
return to Rome, Octavius received from the senate the ap-
400
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman pellation of Augustus, by which name he is henceforward
History, [q be known in history; and by an unanimous vote, they
committed to him the entire government of the state. With
this vote ended the Roman republic; and from this period
was dated the commencement of the Roman empire, under
its first undisputed sovereign, Augustus Imperator.
section in.
Augustus Augustus Caesar now found himself possessed of the un-
Caesar. disputed sovereignty of Rome, every competitor having
B. C. 30. perighgd, and the servile senate being ready to bestow upon
him all titles, honours, and privileges which he could de¬
sire. He had before him the contrasted fates of Sylla and of
Caesar ; the former of whom died in peace after relinquish¬
ing the perpetual dictatorship, the latter was slain when in
its full enjoyment. For a time, it is said, he hesitated
whether to retire, like Sylla, into private life, or to retain
imperial power; but by the sage advice of the politic
Maecenas, his chief favourite, he was persuaded to retain
it, and merely to govern under republican forms, though
possessing a real and absolute monarchy. In consequence
of the same advice, he laid aside the dictatorship, as too
manifestly despotic, was annually chosen consul, and finally
received the consular power in perpetuity; and by being
created perpetual tribune, his person was rendered sa¬
cred and inviolable, which gave a conventional security, at
least to his life, and led to the enactment of the judicia
majestatis, or accusations of high treason. As imperator
he retained the command of all the forces; and by assum¬
ing the censorship and the pontificate, he became possessed
of the right of raising or depressing in rank, and of regulat¬
ing every thing that depended upon religious ceremonies.
This supreme dominion, which his own power would have
enabled him to seize and perpetuate, he pretended to be
unwilling to retain, and made an offer in the senate of laying
it down. This they requested him not to do; and upon
their urgent entreaties, he consented to retain it for a
period of ten years ; on the expiration of which, the same
form was repeated, and a similar prolongation confer¬
red. This example, followed by succeeding emperors, gave
rise to the sacra decennalia, festivals celebrated at every
renewal of the imperial authority. It is not necessary to
imagine that this decree of the senate was entirely the re¬
sult of slavish submission to absolute power. Many of the
senators could still remember the horrors of those contentions
for supremacy which had taken place in the times of Marius
and Sylla, and of the two triumvirates, and might be really
apprehensive of equal convulsions and bloodshed, should he
abdicate his power, and thus re-open the sources of con¬
tention, anarchy, and bloodshed. The wiser of them might
see, that there did not now survive enough of republican
virtue to render a republic any longer possible, and as Au¬
gustus, after the fall of all his antagonists, had displayed a
great degree of mildness and clemency, they might fairly
conclude, that his government was the best of which Rome
was then capable, and might therefore desire its perpetuity,
as the best method of securing the welfare of the empire.
On his own part, his character had begun to assume an as¬
pect very different from what it bore at the beginning of
his ambitious career. At that time, its chief element ap¬
peared to be cold, remorseless cruelty ; now it became mild,
placable, benignant, alike respectful to the senate, and be¬
nevolent to the people. The truest patriot might therefore
be most earnest in desiring the continuance of his power,
however it might have been acquired.
But while Augustus received equal manifestations of at¬
tachment from the senate and the people, he was sufficiently
aware, that to the army he owed his elevation, and that
its favour must be secured. It could neither be dis- Rotnai
banded nor retained in one place and body, with due Bistorf
regard to safety. Following the example of Sylla, he dis-
persed his veterans over Italy, settling them in thirty-two 1
colonies, to make room for which, the former proprietors
were in many instances dispossessed of their property. The
settlement of one of these colonies near Mantua, was the
cause of Virgil’s removal to Rome. Eight entire legions
were posted on the Rhine, four on the Danube, three in
Spain, and one in Dalmatia. Eight more were stationed
in Asia and Africa. The whole standing army of the empire
amounted to upwards of one hundred and seventy thousand
men. There were also quartered in Rome and its vicinity
twelve cohorts, amounting to about ten thousand men;
nine of these, called the praetorian bands, were intended
as the imperial body-guard, the rest for the garrison of the
city. These praetorian cohorts afterwards became not the
guards merely, but also the dispensers of imperial power.
Two powerful fleets were also maintained, the one in the
Adriatic sea, the other for the protection of the western
Mediterranean. As Augustus still allowed the senate a
nominal share in the government, the appointment of lieu¬
tenants for the administration of affairs in some of the pro¬
vinces was left to them, the others he himself retained;
but as the imperial provinces were those on the frontiers of
the empire, where the troops were stationed, the armies con¬
stituting the real power Mere still under his command.
The financial affairs of Rome he also arranged anew, taking
care to cause the treasures of the empire to Aom- chiefly into
his own private and military coffers. At this period, the
state revenue of Rome is computed to have amounted to up¬
wards of forty millions of our money. These revenues were
drawn chiefly from tithes charged on conquered lands, tri¬
bute and customs from provinces, crown lands, taxations
amounting to a twentieth upon inheritances, and fines of
different kinds imposed by different laws. Of these the tri¬
butes and customs from the provinces, and the rental of the
crown lands, were by far the most productive, directing the
main stream of wealth into the imperial treasury.
The internal administration of affairs being thus arranged,
Augustus had leisure to attend to its enlargement, by con¬
quests on the frontier. Nor were these inconsiderable.
Western Gaul, and the mountainous districts in the north
of Spain, M ere completely subdued. An expedition into Ar¬
menia, if of little consequence in itself, w'as nevertheless very
gratifying to Roman pride, by being the means of recover¬
ing from the Parthians the standards that had been lost in
the unfortunate campaign of Crassus. In Africa, the bounda¬
ries of the empire were extended into very remote regions,
productive however of little else but empty fame. But the
most important of these conquests was that of the regions
south of the Danube, Rhaetia, the country of the Vindelici,
and Noricum, as well as Pannonia, and afterwards Mcesia.
The arms of Augustus could not, however, penetrate far
into Germany, defended as it was both by the determined
valour of its inhabitants, and by its extensive forests and
marshes. The chief successes in Germany MTere ob¬
tained by the valour and skill of Tiberius and Drusus Nero,
especialfy the latter, sons of the empress Livia by her former
husband. A peace being at length concluded with the Ger¬
mans, and Augustus not being desirous of extending his
dominions beyond the territories over Mhich he had obtain¬
ed complete possession, and which were comprised within
well-defined boundaries, the world obtained repose, and
with great rejoicing, the temple of Janus was formally closed,
to intimate the existence of universal peace.
During this period of general tranquillity, when the world
was at rest, and a deep calm M'as brooding over the nations,
in this “ fulness of the times,” there was born at Bethlehem
in Judaea, of the lineage of David, the Prince of Peace, the
Saviour of the World, whose coming thus brought with it
Roman
History.
‘ n'
D. 9.
D. 14.
■»enus.
ROMAN HISTORY.
both a foretaste and earnest of what it was destined to secure,
“ on earth peace, and good-will towards men ”
' But this universal calm was of brief duration. The Ro¬
man forces in Germany had been entrusted to the command
of Quintilius Varus, who exercised his power in a harsh and
oppressive manner. This the high-spirited Germans could
not brook, and a revolt was planned and executed under
401
Roman
History.
cessful war in the country whence he acquired his name, ex¬
cited at once his envy, his hatred, and his fear; and he re¬
called him on pretence of giving him the honours of a tri-
ump . ie residence of Germanicus at Rome could not
ong be endured by Tiberius; he was therefore sent into
Syria, to quell the disorders of the east. Along with him
the management of Arminius (Herman),'who succeedeTin co^ectTred from^lieS rcfu^tonLcTwh^h0110^ T7 ^
drawing the Roman army into a position in which they him by every means i^to
could neither fight nor fly. Varus himself, with three le- there were Jt wanting nreo-nanf 0^ ^
gions and six cohorts, perished on the field, or in an in- death had been hLtened V noison ThTdlfT 5rhlS
effectua attempt to secure a retreat. The destruction of manicus was deplored by the1 whole Roman neonk? as^a C6^11 °f
the SPlrits. of Augustus, who great public calamity, which none
than 1 iberius, while he inwardly rejoiced in the success of
his atrocious villany.
In public life I iberius was equally deceitful and cruel as
he had been in private, and to his own relatives. Towards
the senate he professed great respect, at the very time
when he was depriving them of even the slender power
which Augustus had left. Any remains of public vir¬
tue, which the senate had hitherto possessed, died rapidly
avvay ; and ceasing to exercise an independent authority in
a fiee state, it became the passive instrument of the most
brutal tyranny. Every deceitful person is necessarily at the
same time suspicious. Full of guile himself, the dark-hearted
emperor suspected every other man to be equally guileful.
Hence his encouragement of innumerable spies and in¬
formers, who were ready fabricators of accusations, when
they could detect no real criminality. The constant terrors
of the suspicious tyrant increased his natural cruelty, till he
ripened into a perfect monster of barbarity, delighting to
glut his eyes with the agonies of his tortured victims.
But the most suspicious of tyrants must trust some per¬
son, were it but to have an instrument to execute their
crimes; and as none but abandoned persons can be their
instruments, they never trust without being betrayed. Ti¬
berius reposed his chief confidence on Sejanus, praefect of the Sejanus.
praetorian guard, a man whose crimes, if possible, surpassed
those of the emperor himself. For eight successive years
did Sejanus retain an undivided influence over the mind of
Tiberius; and during that period he contrived to procure the
death or banishment of almost every person who might have
checked his progress to the possession of imperial power,
which was the object of his treacherous ambition. The
• i ,, - ;■ --.— death of Drusus, the emperor’s son, is attributed to Se-
f P0^r could not secure happiness, or lessen one of the janus, as also the death of the two eldest sons of Germani-
a d-fno- ha Wi, e the 7eary heart. He was seized with cus, and the banishment of their mother Agrippina. The
whflerahTs return waf ^ bec0™ing w?rs^ youngest son probably escaped in consequenceof'his almost
n. J, his return, was unable to reach Rome, but expired constant residence with the army. But the master-stroke
tZedZ t ?7enty;S1Xth 0f hiS tge’ aft7 having of>lic>' by which Sejanus strove to secure hro^ct was
_Zed t sceptre of imperial power during forty-four his persuading the emperor to remove from the cares and
dangers of Rome, and to indulge his passions in a retirement
where he would have none around him but his depraved
ministers of vice. Tiberius retired to Capreae, where he
abandoned himself to the perpetration of the most disgust¬
ing and unnatural vices, leaving Sejanus at Rome, in the
^ r ui Augustus, who
nevertheless exerted himself to remedy the disaster, by send¬
ing first Tiberius, and then Germanicus, the son of Drusus,
into Germany, at the head of a more numerous force. These
German wars were continued with more or less vigour
throughout the remainder of the reign of Augustus, and
with more or less success, generally under the brave and
skilful command of Germanicus, who acquired for himself a
very brilliant renowm, and the esteem of the whole empire.
In addition to these public troubles, Augustus suffered
great affliction from the misconduct and the calamities of
his family. Not having a son to succeed him in the empire,
his wife Livia engaged in the most restless intrigues to se¬
cure the succession to her own children by her former hus¬
band. Augustus, on the other hand, destined the empire
to Marcellus, his nephew and son-in-law, to whom he had
given in marriage his only daughter Julia. Upon the early
death of Marcellus, a youth of high promise in every re-
spect, Augustus manifested his intention of leaving the em¬
pire to his grandsons, the sons of Julia by Agrippa, to whom
she had been married after the death of Marcellus. He gave
them the title of “princes of the youth;” and this undis¬
guised favour so much offended Tiberius, that he withdrew
from the court. The premature death of the two young
piinces, not without suspicion of having been poisoned by
the empress Livia, to make way for her own son, caused the
recall of Tiberius. Augustus bestowed upon him his daugh¬
ter Julia, the widow of Marcellus and Agrippa, requiring
him at the same time to adopt Drusus Germanicus, the son
of his brother Drusus. I he infamously licentious conduct
of Julia at length so much disgusted her father, that he ba¬
nished her to the island of Pandataria. Thus harassed by
domestic troubles, the master of the world found that impe-
years
The vacant throne wtis now ascended by Tiberius Clau¬
dius Nero, son of Livia, and latterly adopted son of Augus¬
tus. Almost the first act of Tiberius was to secure the em¬
pire by causing the murder of Agrippa Posthumus, the third
#nn nf & n-r." u Tv i '“g uniiaiuiHi vices, leaving seianus at Ko
hv wRW?v7Pa hl lai’ thus c10l1nPleting the bloody policy possession of all but the name of imperial power. To this
Hp if- m7herha(, °Pened bls w?y t0 the sovereignty, base and bloody favourite the senate displayed the utmost
10 wi \y(;ar .wben he succeeded to the servility; the people gave him honours second only to those
h 10Ugh he had gl.T? ev!dence of the Posses- of the emperor ; and the sceptre itself seemed on the point
.1ava by m.ea"! contemptible talents in his younger of passing into his grasp, when he was accused to Tiberius
p i’,, Pecia y ia. \1S German wars, he had so long prac- of plotting his death. The imperial dissembler conferred
minri c.7.7,1 i lssimuHtion^and guile, that all his better the consulship on Sejanus ; and by the messenger who con-
mmd seemed to have perished, and his baser qualities alone
remained, or rather to have been stimulated into unnatural
strength. Though now possessed of absolute power, he
still continued to practise the subtle wiles of a dark and
veyed this honour, sent a letter to the senate, accusing him
of treason. When Sejanus came to the senate to receive
his official dignity, he met his accusation, was instantly con-
rrnnkpR v r--—<- wuca ui a, ua.iK.anu demned, dragged through the streets, and put to death with Fall of
Rp i iP° 1CT’ ^ Seek accompbsb by deceit what the utmost ignominy by those who a few hours before fol- Sejanus.
)e coulcl easily have done by strength. The murder of lowed him with acclamations.
young grippa removed the most formidable rival; but the The fall of Sejanus seemed only to increase the suspicions
° rencmn of his nephew Germanicus, then waging sue- and the barbarous cruelty of the debauched and monstrous
VOL,. XIX. o
O E
402
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman tyrant. He felt he had no friend; he knew he could not
History, be loved; he was content to be hated, provided he were
' feared. At length, feeling the approach of death, he named
as his successor Cains Caligula, the only surviving son of his
murdered nephew Germanicus. Still, though consciously
dying, the consummate dissembler strove to deceive not
only Ins courtiers, but even his physicians. Pretending to
feel a restoration of health and strength, he made a sump
A.D 37.
Rome at length grew sick of enduring the frantic guilt Roman
and reckless tyranny of Caligula. A conspiracy was form- History,
ed against him, and he was assassinated by Cassius Chserea
and Cornelius Sabinus, two officers of the praetorian guards. 41-
His body was allowed to lie for some time exposed to public
contumely, but was finally thrown into a grave, without any
marks of honour or respect. His wife and infant child
were also slain by the conspirators, who thought thus
Caligula.
to secure themselves against U,e danger of future punish-
enjoyment, till he was seized with afamting dt which threȣ men . the senate began to cherish
and the people, on GermanS His uponTe continuation of a monarchy, to be willing to tole-
c^t and senate^ll the s|nes and informers
whom Tiberius had employed. His voyage to the islands oi acciuema y Pmneror thev dragged him
Pan Ha tori a and Pontia in the midst of tempestuous weather, mamcus, and uncle ot the late emperor, iney uraggeu urn.
an amiable proof of a sintcf Au. thus a pers0n who had hitherto passed his life in unregard-
the^ publi^welfare.ut K'e^f ‘^“erl ^00^0^fIfprS g^ Oaudius se,
1^1 o' nnH o fatal hlit^ht He had been the pernicious custom of rewarding their deed by granting
doomed to suffer an early and a fatal blight, ne naa ueen uie pcmu. was <rnverned as usuallv
rLTSytSUconcerned; buthismcntal sanity “—cto,theem^^^^
aPFromUiatTmrfewa?dr«Sepassions of the fiercest unbounded as her licentiousness. At her instigation, it was
kiiffi^domineered.6 over^lfim uncontrolled, or, if not animal but too common for the emperor to put to death some of
passions merely, with no more of intellect than was enough the most wealthy of the nobles, and to confiscate their es-
to render them fearfully malevolent. To enumerate his tates, with the money arising from which she pampered her
crimes would be too hideously revolting, so utterly and numerous paramours. To such a pitch of unblushing effro -
excessively unnatural were the murders, the incests, and tery did this abandoned woman proceed, that she at lengt
the brutalities in which this insane, or demon-possessed openly married Sihus, a noble youth, one of the partne s
monster revelled. Murder was his daily amusement; and her crimes, purposing to complete her guilt by the murder
he took a fiendish delight in witnessing the dying pangs of the emperor; but Claudius having received pnva - j
of his victims whose sufferings he strove to protract, that formation, gave orders for her death, and she was slain m Death of
they1 mightfas Tiesaid, “Veei themselves dy£g.” He as- the gardens which she had so long polluted by her „ne-lte.l,»
sumed divine honours, erected a temple to,himself, and V***^^^ Claudius in an expeditionW,r»
to Britain, and given birth to a son named Britanmcus, 11 dl
whom he exhibited to the army as his destined successor m
the empire. This expedition was occasioned by the pre¬
vious success of one led by the praetor Aulus Plautius, and
bv Vespasian, who, after a succession of severe battles, sub-
J - A . 1 n .1 mi  A
.1
3
instituted a college of priests, to superintend the worship
of the new god. He likewise deified one of his sisters;
and on her death, it was equally dangerous to rejoice in her
divinity, and to mourn for her death. It was customary for
him to invite his favourite horse to sup with him; and he
was only prevented by death from raising the animal to the
dignity of consul. His prodigality was equally extravagant dued all the country smith of the 1 hames. After t ic e p -
with his other crimes. In one year he expended the almost ror’s return to Rome, Ostonus Scapula continued o cm
boundless wealth which had been accumulated by Tiberius, the war in Britain with great vigour and success, en
in shows of the most lavish and wasteful kind. One of the province to the banks of the Severn, an na y tacll
these was a vast bridge of vessels at Puteoli, across an arm ceeded in taking prisoner the celebrated Caractacus, _
of the sea, three miles and a half broad, and so formed as radoc, who had so long withstood the power ot Rome.
native grandeur of soul displayed by this comparatively
rude hero, excited in the mind of Claudius so much admi¬
ration, that he ordered his fetters to be struck off, and treat¬
ed him with the most marked distinction.
The fall of Messalina was brought about in a great mea¬
sure through the intervention of Narcissus, the emperors
freedman, who, along with Pallas, another manumitted slave,
engrossed the chief favour of the weak-minded sovereign
of Rome. The power wielded by this race of men, was a
new feature in the degeneracy of the imperial court, bu
to resemble a street at Rome. A feverish dream of mili¬
tary glory next seized his distempered brain; and he made
great preparations for an expedition against the Germans.
Like all his undertakings, it ended in consummate folly.
Instead of conquering Germany, he led his army to the
sea-shore at Boulogne in France, drew out his troops in
order of battle, then causing them to fill their helmets with
shells, which he termed the spoils of the ocean, he return¬
ed to Rome, and demanded from the senate the honours of
a triumph for his warlike exploits.
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
'S'
[S'
one which thenceforward was but too common, and as bane¬
ful as it was disgraceful. In men of this denomination,
there was almost of necessity the most complete blending of
abject sycophancy to the emperor, with despotic tyranny
and insolence to all his subjects.
Not long after the death of Messalina, Claudius married
Agrippina, his own niece, Agrippina, daughter of Germanicus, a woman
of strong natural abilities, but of insatiable avarice, extreme
ambition, and remorseless cruelty. Her influence over the
feeble emperor was boundless, and was displayed in the most
glaringly ostentatious manner. She prevailed on him at
last to set aside his own son Britannicus, and to adopt her
son, Domitius Ahenobarbus, by her former husband, giving
him the name by which he is best known, Nero, and con¬
stituting him heir to the imperial throne. To secure the
succession in this channel, she gained over Burrhus, praefect
of the praetorian bands, to whom she entrusted the charge
of the youthful aspirant, thus giving him a reason to main¬
tain his fidelity to one over whom he was sure to obtain
influence. But Claudius having shewn some disposition
to change the succession, and to restore it to Britannicus,
D. 54. Agrippina caused him to be poisoned by one of his own
slavish favourites. His death was concealed by the em¬
press till she had completed all her machinations for se¬
curing the throne to her son, who was then produced to
receive the congratulations of his subjects,
ero. Nero Claudius Caesar, through the devices of his mother,
and by the support of the praetorian guard, ascended the
vacant throne at the early age of seventeen. During the
first four or five years of his reign, he acted generally under
the advice of his tutor, Seneca the philosopher, and Burrhus,
praefect of the praetorian guard, and for that period he main¬
tained a comparatively favourable character. The turbulent
and ambitious conduct of his mother gave him great annoy¬
ance ; and the opposition which she experienced from Seneca
and Burrhus, together with the mortification of perceiving
the rapid decline of her influence over her son, served only
to stimulate her to more dangerous and wicked conduct.
She threatened to excite a revolution in behalf of Britanni¬
cus, son of the late emperor; and this was the signal for the
murder of the unfortunate youth, by the orders of Nero.
The depravity of Nero was now beginning to shew itself.
Poppsea Sabina, a woman of infamous character but of great
beauty, had acquired greater influence over him than was
possessed by either his mother or his sage counsellors,
Seneca and Burrhus. A hideous rivalry began between
this aspiring woman and Agrippina. To secure her influ¬
ence, Poppaea instigated Nero to the murder of his mother;
and to recover her power, Agrippina began to amass wealth,
bribe the troops, and prepare measures for a conspiracy
against the life of her own son. At length Poppaea prevailed,
and Nero gave orders that his mother should be put to death,
which was perpetrated while she lay asleep. After her mur¬
der, the monster himself gazed on the dead body, and ex¬
pressed his admiration of her beauty.
He soon afterwards divorced his wife Octavia, daughter
of Claudius, and married the infamous Poppaea. The death
of Burrhus, which happened about the same time, gave him
an opportunity of raising to the command of the praetorian
guards a man whose disposition was more congenial to his
own, Tigellinus, the corrupt and bloody tool of a depraved,
licentious, and cruel tyrant. In his early youth Nero had
paid some attention to the study of music, and even of
poetry; and his excessive vanity led him to be covetous of
public applause as a musician. He first exhibited publicly
on the stage at Naples; and being extremely gratified with
die vehement applause that followed his performance, he
frequently afterwards appeared in the theatres, and played
on his lute, in the guise of a common musician. In a tour
through Greece he received such unbounded applause, con¬
veyed in such flattering terms by the polished natives, that
403
ith of
• "ippina,
he declared none but Greeks were worthy to hear him play Roman
an sing. Yet from these skilful flatterers he exacted the History,
most oppressive contributions, for the supply of his lavish
prodigalities.
During his reign the war in Britain was renewed, under War in
tie command of the brave and skilful Suetonius Paulinus.Britain,
i ns politic commander, perceiving the influence which the
Druids exercised over their countrymen, determined to put
to death the whole druidical order, and to extirpate their
religion. For this purpose he seized upon and devastated
the isle of Mona, or Anglesey, their chief seat, cut down the
sacred groves, and burned numbers of the Druids on their
own blood-stained altars, and with their own homicidal fires.
W hile he was thus engaged, a general insurrection of the con¬
quered province broke out in consequence of the barbarous
outrages inflicted on Boadicea, queen of the Iceni. Instigated Boadicea.
byherwrongs, the natives everywhere flew to arms, destroyed
several Roman stations, and among others the considerable
colony of Verulamium (St. Alban’s). Not less than 70,000
persons are said to have fallen victims to their vengeance.
Suetonius hastened back to the support of his countrymen,
and defeated the insurgent Britons with terrible slaughter.
He was soon afterwards recalled by Nero, and the war in
Britain was for a time suffered to languish.
. the tenth or eleventh year of Nero’s reign, Rome was Burning of
visited by a vast and dreadful conflagration, which continued Rome,
for six successive days, and laid waste the greater part of A. I). 64
the city. Nero himself gazed on the progress of the de¬
vouring element with a strange and wild delight, reciting
aloud in a theatrical manner some verses descriptive of the
destruction of Troy. Great numbers of the people, and
immense treasures perished in this conflagration, which,
partly from his conduct at the time, and partly from some
expressions wdiich fell from him a short time before, Nero
himself was suspected of having caused. To remove the
odium of this dreadful suspicion, Nero not only began to
rebuild the city in greater splendour than before, main¬
taining meanwhile the homeless inhabitants at his own ex¬
pense, but also caused the Christians, who were now be- Persecution
come numerous, to be accused of having set the city on of the
fire. This false accusation caused the first persecution of Christians,
the Christians, in which great numbers were put to death
with tortures of unprecedented cruelty. The details of this
bloody persecution come, however, more properly within the
province of the ecclesiastical historian. Availing himself
of the space left unoccupied by the devastations of the
flames, Nero indulged his extravagant disposition in the
erection of his celebrated golden palace, of which the di¬
mensions were prodigious, and the materials so costly as to
drain the wealth of an empire. To replenish his treasury,
he exacted the most oppressive tribute from the provinces,
and thus excited a spirit of strong disaffection, which at
no distant period threatened almost the dissolution of the
empire.
In the mean time a conspiracy at Rome, headed by Piso,
was detected before it was ripe for execution. This gave
occasion to Nero to display the worst qualities of his fero¬
cious mind. Not only all who were really implicated in the
conspiracy were put to death without mercy, and their
effects confiscated to the use of the emperor, but great
numbers were doomed to similar destruction for no other
apparent cause than because they were wealthy, or in some
manner had incurred the dislike of the tyrant. In this x)eatjj 0f
wholesale butchery perished the philosopher Seneca, and Seneca and
the poet Lucan, with many others of the best and noblest Lucan,
men of Rome.
Notwithstanding these horrible barbarities, Nero was
almost a favourite with the corrupt and mercenary populace.
A very large proportion of the inhabitants of Rome had
been accustomed, even from the turbulent days of the
Gracchi, to be supported almost solely by the donations and
404
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman distributions of corn, bestowed upon them by designing de-
History. magogues. Marius set the example of composing armies
out"of this degenerate city rabble; and even when this
example was not followed, it was still found necessary to
continue the distributions of corn, together with the
public shows of gladiators and wild beasts in the amphi¬
theatre. To these Nero had added supplies of wine and
animal food (congiaria et viscerationes); so that the popu¬
lace was both amused and fed at the public expense, while
the weight of the tyranny was chiefly borne by the most
distinguished class of citizens, the senate, and the nobility ,
and heaviest by the most illustrious. To such a state ol
affairs the degenerate populace had little to object; but men
of rank and merit groaned beneath an oppression no longer
to be endured.
The provinces, however, were the first to make an at¬
tempt to throw off the intolerable yoke. Julius \ index
raised the standard of revolt in western Gaul. The army
in Spain proclaimed their general, Galba, emperor ; and they
w^ere joined by the troops in Lusitania, commanded by Otho.
The intelligence of these revolts filled Nero with consterna¬
tion ; from which he w'as somewhat relieved by the tidings
of the defeat of Vindex by Virginius, who had maintained
his allegiance. This joy was of short duration; for Nym-
phidius, colleague of Tigellinus in the command ot the piac-
torian guards, found means to persuade these troops to de¬
clare for Galba. The ruin of the emperor was now inevit¬
able. Bereft of friends, of courage, and of presence of
mind, he fled in trepidation disguised from the city, found
a temporary refuge in the house of his freedman, Phaon, and
hearing the trampling of horsemen who had been sent in
A. D. 68. pursuit of him, stabbed himself in the throat with a dagger,
and miserably ended his miserable life.
Galba. Servius Sulpitius Galba was universally received as em¬
peror after the death of Nero ; although Nymphidius at¬
tempted to take advantage of his slow progress towards
Rome from Spain, and to get himself raised to the throne
by the praetorian guards. Virginius Rufus, who had defeat¬
ed Vindex, voluntarily submitted to Galba, as did also the
armies in other parts of the empire. Strengthened by this
ready reception, Galba endeavoured to abridge the dangei-
ous power of the praetorian guards. Habituated to the rigid
discipline of the camp, he exerted himself to restore some¬
what of the ancient and hardy virtues of the republic,
discountenanced sloth, idleness, and luxury, and even
exhibited a penurious meanness of temper, unbecoming
his exalted station, giving colour to the accusations of ava¬
rice which were made against him. The legions sta¬
tioned in upper Germany, who had been somewhat tardy
in acknowledging his elevation to the throne, began to be
more disaffected, and to threaten to raise their own gene¬
ral, Vitellius, to the possession of imperial power. With
a view to strengthen his tenure of empire, Galba ap¬
pointed Licinius Piso, a youth of high promise, to be his
successor. To this Otho had aspired, and immediately plot¬
ted the death of Galba. He readily secured the favour of
the praetorian guards, who equally feared and hated the rigid
discipline of the emperor. A revolt speedily ensued; Galba
prepared to defend his power ; and a contest taking place
A. D. 69. in the forum, the aged emperor was thrown down and
trampled to death, after a reign of only seven months.
Otho. Scarcely had Otho seized upon the sceptre, when he
found himself engaged in a contest with Vitellius, who had
been proclaimed emperor by his soldiers. The new com¬
petitor for imperial sway was joined by V alens and Ceecina,
and began his march towards Italy at the head of a power¬
ful army. Otho marched to oppose him. The antagonists
met at a little village called Bedriacum, near the banks of
the Po, and a severe and bloody engagement took place.
Victory was for some time doubtful; but the superior dis¬
cipline of Vitellius’s army prevailed, and Otho was defeat¬
ed with great slaughter. Seeing his prospects desperate, Roman
Otho gave up the contest, thanked his troops for their istory,,
fidelity, and put an end to his own life, after a brief reign
of about three months.
Vitellius began his reign by endeavouring to conciliate Vitellius.
the favour of the populace and the troops by large dona¬
tions and expensive amusements. He then gave a loose
rein to his own debasing appetites, of which the chief wras
absolute gluttony of the very grossest kind. It is almost
incredible, though stated by historians, that in less than
four months he expended on the mere luxuries of the table
a sum equal to about seven millions sterling. This bloated
and pampered ruler was soon regarded by all his subjects
with contempt and disgust. The unrestrained licentious¬
ness of the soldiery tended equally to make his reign hated
and feared by all who were exposed to the insults and out¬
rages in which they indulged. To supply the funds ne¬
cessary for the maintenance of his excessive luxury, he
resorted to the too prevalent custom of listening to the
accusations of spies, and putting to death all such accused
persons, that he might seize upon their property.
While thus wallowing in the indulgence of the most de¬
basing appetites, Vitellius was startled by tidings, of a
very alarming nature. During tbe reign of Nero an insur¬
rection had broken out in Judea, and Vespasian had been
sent to take the command of the army in Syria. The Jews
made a desperate resistance, disputing, with almost invinci¬
ble hardihood and indomitable bravery, every inch of their
sacred territory. But this resistance5 while it detained
Vespasian in that country at the head of a pow erful armj,
served only to mature their own fate. He had sent his
own son, Titus, to offer his allegiance to Galba; but be¬
fore his arrival ’Galba was dead, and Otho and \ itellius
were contending for the empire. I itus returned to his>
father for instructions; and though V espasian appeal ed
ready to acknowledge Vitellius, his own troops were eager
to raise him to the sovereignty. Mucianus, governor of
Syria, and all the tributary eastern monarchs, urged him to
comply with the wishes of his army, and his reluctance, real
or feigned, yielded to their joint remonstrances. No sooner
had he commenced his march towards Europe, than the Il¬
lyrian and Pannonian armies declared in his favour; and
that of Illyricum, under the command of Antonius Primus,
crossed the Alps and marched tow'ards Rome to dethrone
Vitellius. The Vitellian army, commanded by Caecina, en¬
countered that of Antonius near Cremona, but was defeated
with great loss, and the city was taken. Antonius continued
to advance on Rome, and crossed the passes of the Appen-
nines w hile the emperor wras hastening to secure them. Vite -
bus fled to Rome, which was soon invested by the victori¬
ous army of Antonius. An insurrectionary tumult arose in
the city itself, during which the Capitol was burned to the
ground, and Sabinus, the brother of Vespasian, was killed.
The troops of Antonius at length forced an entrance into
the city, stormed the quarters of the praetorian guards, and
put those turbulent bands to the sword. V itelhus endea¬
voured to conceal himself, but was discovered, dragge
through the streets to the place of punishment for common gg
malefactors, put to death in the most ignominious mannei,
and his mangled carcass cast into the 1 iber amidst the exe¬
crations of the multitude. Eight months and five days a
this despicable wretch seemed to sway the sceptre o su
preme dominion, when thus overtaken by the due rewar
of his debauchery and crimes. . ye£pasia
Flavius Vespasian obtained possession of the throne m
his fifty-ninth year, and became the founder of a d^nas
ty which gave three emperors to Rome. He was a nian o
rare and excellent virtues, thoroughly matured by a un¬
spent in the exercise of public duties, and with no *1
superior to that of promoting the public welfare. Being
well aw are of the glaring abuses which had long been per-
ROMAN HISTORY.
405
Roman
I History.
lestruc-
ion of
erusalem.
I.D. 70.
jrar in
| ritain.
gricola.
petrated with impunity in all branches of the administration,
he set himself vigorously to the dangerous task of effecting
a thorough reform. He restored the privileges of the se¬
nate, and gave it once more an actual power in the go¬
vernment. The courts of law were also subjected to a
most salutary reform, and rendered again, what they had
long ceased to be, courts of justice. The insubordination
of the army, which had been the main cause of so many
bloody revolutions, he repressed with a firm and steady
hand ; and restored in a great measure the discipline which
had made it so powerful in its better days. He directed his
attention also to the treasury, which had been quite exhaust¬
ed by the corrupt and prodigal expenditure of his predeces¬
sors ; and in order to replenish its coffers, he regulated anew
the tribute and custom-dues of the provinces, and imposed
a number of taxes ; by which means, though he was accus¬
ed of avarice, he placed once more the revenues of the em¬
pire on a stable basis, and restored them to a flourishing
condition. The large sums thus raised Vespasian did not
expend in revelry, neither did he hoard up in useless masses.
He rebuilt the temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, which had
been destroyed during the tumults that accompanied the
fall of Vitellius ; and adorned the city with many other pub¬
lic buildings of great elegance and splendour, thus evinc¬
ing, that though rigorous and exact in his methods of amass¬
ing treasure, he knew, on proper occasions, how to use it
with no parsimonious hand. Under him the empire be¬
gan to breathe with fresh life, and to exhibit signs of
prosperity and happiness, such as it had not known since the
reign of Augustus. His son Titus being raised to the dig¬
nity of Caesar, by which name the successor to the throne
was designated, the peace and welfare of the empire seem¬
ed secured on a stable basis.
During the reign of Vespasian the arms of Rome were
prosperous in various parts of the world. Several states
bordering on the Roman dominions were reduced by his
generals to the condition of provinces. But the most ce¬
lebrated, though not the most formidable w^ar which distin¬
guished his reign, was that in which he was engaged when
he was called to the throne, the war against the Jews.
This was conducted by his son Titus, after his departure to
Rome to enter on the possession of imperial power. The
events of this memorable war are so well known that they
need not here be detailed. Suffice it to state, that after Je¬
rusalem had been closely invested, the Jews refused all
terms of capitulation, blindly trusted in some terrible in¬
terposition of divine power to save them and consume their
enemies, butchered each other with inconceivable barbarity
during every temporary cessation of warfare, endured the
wildest extremes of famine, and after suffering every form
and kind of misery, to a degree unparalleled in the world’s
history, their city was taken, and together with their cele¬
brated temple, was reduced to heaps of shapeless ruins; and
such of them as survived these awful calamities were scat¬
tered over the face of the earth, and rendered a mockery,
a proverb, and a reproach among nations. In consequence
of this victory over the Jews, Titus and the emperor enjoyed
together the honours of a splendid triumph, while the rich
vessels of the temple of Jerusalem were in gorgeous pro¬
cession borne in the train of the conquerors.
Soon after this triumph the Batavian war broke out, caus¬
ed by the civil wars for the empire, and threatening Rome
with the loss of a province. It wras at length brought to a
propitious conclusion by Cerealis, after several sharp en¬
counters, and by a treaty rather than a conquest. The
Roman arms were more successful in Britain, during the
reign of Vespasian and his immediate successors, than they
had previously been. In his younger days, the emperor
had himself been engaged in British wars; and being de¬
sirous of reducing the island completely under the Roman
yoke, he gave the command to Cneius Julius Agricola, a
man of extraordinary merit, a general and a statesman
worthy of the best days of Rome. Not only the southern
division of the island was subdued by this distinguished com¬
mander, but even the more remote regions of Caledonia,
hitherto impervious to the Roman legions, were laid open.
Jhe gallant resistance of the brave Caledonians, under their
leader Galgacus, was ineffectual; their untaught valour could
not withstand the steady discipline of the Roman army, and
they sustained a severe overthrow at the base of the Gram¬
pians. The Roman fleet coasting along the shore, ascer¬
tained the insular character of Britain ; but so formidable
were the mountain fastnesses of Caledonia, that Agricola
did not attempt to penetrate farther into the country, con¬
tenting himself with constructing a chain efforts between
the Friths of Clyde and Forth, to defend the southern dis¬
tricts, and to restrain the recoil and assaults of the uncon¬
quered Caledonians.
Thus glorious abroad, and beloved at home, Vespasian’s
life began to draw near its termination. Feeling the effects
of age and weakness, he retired to Campania, to enjoy the
benefits of a purer air than that of Rome, together with some
relaxation from the cares of state. There he was seized with
a malady which his own sensations told him would speedily
prove mortal. His anticipations proved true ; and he ex¬
pired in the arms of his attendants, in the seventieth year of
his age, and the tenth of his reign. It is worthy of remark,
that Vespasian was the second of the Roman emperors that
died a natural death, and the first that was succeeded by
his son.
Roman
History.
A.D. 79.
Titus Flavius Vespasian, the conqueror of Jerusalem, as- Titus,
cended in peace the peaceful throne of his father. The very
first acts of his reign gave promise of a period of unexam-
pledfelicity. Previously to that time he had indulged slight¬
ly in pleasures of a somewhat licentious character. From
that hour he discarded all the ministers of his looser days,
and being resolved to reform the state of public morals, be¬
gan by reforming himself. Although strongly attached to
the beautiful Berenice, daughter of Agrippa, the last king of
Judea, he relinquished her society entirely, because he knew
that such a connexion w'as disagreeable to the Roman se¬
nate and people. He abolished also the law of treason, un¬
der the sanction of which so many acts of tyranny had been
committed; and he not only discountenanced, but severely
punished, all spies and informers. His whole time was de¬
voted to the duties of his high station ; his chief pleasure
consisted in rendering services and kindnesses to his friends
and to his people. His courtesy and benevolence would
doubtless find ample scope ; yet it is recorded of him, that
one evening recalling to mind the events of the day, and not
finding that he had done any thing during its course bene¬
ficial to mankind, he exclaimed in accents of regret, “ My
friends, I have lost a day!” This well-known exclamation,
and the course of benevolent deeds by which it was accre¬
dited, procured for him the truly glorious title of The de¬
light of mankind.
Yet the reign of that gentle-hearted and benignant em¬
peror was signalised by some remarkable public calamities.
In its first year Campania w as laid wraste by the most dread¬
ful eruption of Vesuvius ever recorded. It devastated the Great erup-
surrounding country for many miles, overwhelming several tion of
cities, of which Herculaneum and Pompeii w^ere the chief. Vesuvius.
The remains of these cities, excavated in modern times,
have supplied inestimable stores to the antiquarian, and
thrown great light upon the habits and customs of the Ro¬
mans in domestic life." Pliny, the celebrated naturalist and Death of
philosopher, lost his life in this eruption, being suffocated Fh11/-
in consequence of allowing his curiosity to attract him too
near the fearful and dangerous scene. This calamitous con¬
vulsion of nature was followed by a destructi ve conflagration
at Rome, which raged for three days, and destroyed a great
number of edifices, both public and private. Titus exerted
ROMAN HISTORY.
406
Roman himself to the utmost to alleviate these visitations of suffer-
History. jng; and while so engaged, his sympathies were called forth
afresh by a dreadful plague which carried away vast multi¬
tudes at Rome. These disastrous events deeply grieved the
benignant heart of Titus, and he strove incessantly to lighten
the weighty calamities which pressed so heavily upon the
empire. In the midst of these exertions and anxieties, he
was seized with fever, against the fatal effects of which nei¬
ther the skill of physicians nor the strength of his constitu-
A.D. 81. tion could avail. After a short reign of two years ten months
and a few days, he died in the forty-second year of his age,
leaving behind him the reputation of being, if not the hap¬
piest, at least the best of monarchs.
Pomitian. Flavius Domitian, the younger brother of Titus, now as¬
cended the vacant throne without opposition. On his first
accession to imperial power, he seemed desirous of emula¬
ting the conduct of his brother. He paid the strictest atten¬
tion to justice, bestowing a large portion of his time in hear¬
ing causes that had been appealed, and shewing himself ready
to reverse every inequitable sentence. Pretending great
disregard for wealth, he refused to accept the property be¬
queathed to him, distributing it among the natural heirs.
To prevent his chief officers of state from receiving bribes,
he bestowed upon them large sums, that they might be raised
above the reach of temptation. He was, at the same time,
remarkably liberal in granting donations, and providing the
most expensive shows and amusements to the people. He
confirmed all the grants made by his predecessors to the sol¬
diers, and increased their pay, thus securing their favour
and support. All the public buildings which Titus had
begun he caused to be finished, sparing no expenditure to
have them completed in the most splendid manner.
Having by these popular displays and manifestations se¬
cured the favour of the army and the populace, Domitian
began to throw aside the mask which he had for a short time
uneasily worn. Vanity and timidity seemed to be the lead¬
ing elements of his character. The first led him to be
inordinately desirous of obtaining popular applause, or even
private flattery, however gross; the second rendered him in¬
capable of performing any noble exploit, constantly afraid
of public danger or private conspiracies, and consequently
cruel to excess, when his victims were completely in his
power. For it is an obvious truth, that cowardice and cruelty
are inseparably allied; and the opposite is equally true, that
the bravest man is also the most merciful. The vanity of
Domitian made him desirous of a military triumph; and in
order to obtain it he made an expedition into Gaul, against
the Catti, a warlike German tribe which had invaded the
province. Without having even seen the enemy, he de¬
manded a triumph; and the servile senate granted the request
of their weak and inglorious sovereign.
The intelligence of the really glorious exploits of Agri¬
cola in Britain, excited the envy of Domitian; and he recalled
that celebrated general, under a pretence of appointing him
to the government of Syria. Agricola was too prudent to
require a triumph, and retired into private life, which, how¬
ever, he did not long enjoy, his death being hastened, as
some suspect, by the guile of the emperor. He was soon
afterwards involved in a more formidable war, in consequence
Dacian of an irruption of the Daci and Getae, who, under the corn-
war. mand of their brave king Decebalus, crossed the Roman
frontiers, and defeated the armies sent to oppose them. Do¬
mitian had now an opportunity of acquiring the renown of
a warrior, but he wanted a warrior’s heart. He did indeed
march against the invader in person, taking care to turn his
course so as to encounter the less-dreaded Marcomanni, by
whom he was nevertheless defeated. Not daring to come
to an engagement with the Daci, he actually purchased a
A. D. 90. peace, agreeing to pay Decebalus an annual sum of money,
provided he w ould withdraw from the Roman dominions.
This war is memorable, as being the first in which the
northern barbarians attacked the empire not only with im- Roman!
punity, but with success; the pernicious precedent being History
thus established of purchasing peace, notwith steel, but gold,
in direct contrast to the old Roman usage.
In proportion as Domitian became truly despicable, did
he increase in the most absurd and preposterous vanity. He
now deified himself, and commanded his own statue to be
worshipped as a god, at the very time that his mind was agi¬
tated with constant dread of plots against his life. Sur¬
rounded with spies and informers, he became more and more
cruel, reviving the law of treason, and putting into terrific
force all its bloody provisions. An unsuccessful revolt of the
army in Upper Germany gave an opportunity to the timid
yet sanguinary tyrant to indulge his ferocity, by putting
to death all whom he suspected of disaffection. About
the same time, a persecution was commenced against the
Christians, partly because they refused to worship the statue
of the emperor, and partly because his ignorant and super¬
stitious mind had formed some vague notion of their con¬
nexion with the Jews, coupled with the dread, not yet either
extinct or understood, of the appearance of a person born
in Judea, who was to obtain the empire of the world. In
this persecution several persons of illustrious birth and sta¬
tion perished, among whom was Flavius Clemens, a relation A.D. 95.
of the emperor; which shews that Christianity was beginning
to make progress among the higher ranks of society.
But the end of this weak, vain, and cruel tyrant drew near.
In order to secure the support of the army, he had augmented
the pay of the troops one-fourth; and in order to meet the
increased expense, he increased the number of those judi¬
cial murders, by the law of treason, which caused the pro¬
perty of the victims to be confiscated and become his own.
He was in the habit of inscribing on a roll the names of
those persons whom he designed to put to death, and kept it
carefully in his own possession, treating them, in the mean-
w hile, with the most flattering attention. I his fatal roll wras
one day taken from under the cushion on which he was re¬
clining asleep, by a child who was playing about the apart¬
ment, and who carried it to the empress. She was struck
with astonishment and alarm at finding her own name on the
dark record, together with the names of others apparently
highest in his favour. To them she communicated the
knowledge of their danger; and they immediately resolved
to preserve their own lives by destroying that of Domitian.
This was accordingly done, notwithstanding all the precau¬
tions which cowardice and cunning could suggest; and, with
the connivance of the praetorian prefect, Domitian perished AD. 95.
by the daggers of Stephanus and Parthenius, officers of his
own household.
He was the last of the emperors commonly described as
<{ the twelve Caesarsalthough, in reality, the Caesarean
family terminated with Nero, and even previously its con¬
tinuation had been only in the female line. Marcus Cocceius
Nerva was chosen by an unanimous vote of the senate, on Iverva.
the very day of Domitian’s death, that they might anticipate
any attempt of the praetorian guard to make an emperor.
He wras of foreign extraction, though a naturalized citizen
and senator of Rome, and owed his elevation to the throne
solely to his stainless reputation. He commenced his reign
by punishing informers, redressing grievances, repealing
iniquitous statutes, enacting good laws, and dispensing fa¬
vour's with boundless liberality. He had made a resolution
that no senator should be put to death by his command; but
this, together with proofs of equal unwillingness to inflict
punishment, encouraged the turbulent to indulge in their
evil practices. An insurrection broke out in the praetorian
guard, and to appease it Nerva was obliged to yield up the
murderers of Domitian to their vengeance. Feeling his
inability to control these seditious troops, he resolved to
adopt as his colleague and successor in the empire Marcus
Ulpius Trajan, by whose firmness and decision they might
ROMAN HISTORY.
\.D. S8.
Trajan.
Roman be kept in awe. The effect proved the wisdom of Nerva’s
choice. So high was the character of Trajan, that no per¬
son could be named equally worthy of the empire; and even
the seditious praetorian bands submitted without a murmur.
This, as it was the best, was almost the last act of Nerva’s
short reign. He was soon after seized with a fever, of which he
died, having reigned only one yearfour months and nine days.
The peaceful and virtuous reign ofNerva was the har¬
binger of happy days to the Roman empire. The selection
of Irajan prevented any contests for imperial power at the
death of Nerva; so that the new emperor entered without
the necessity of bloodshed upon the discharge of his high
functions. He was by birth a Spaniard, though of Italian
extiaction; and had been early inured to the discipline of
the army under his father, a commander of considerable re¬
putation. W hen he himself became a general, he continued
to practise the simple habits of a soldier, excelling his troops
not in personal indulgences, but in courage and virtue. On
the throne he continued to exhibit the same excellencies,
only enhanced by the acquisition of a wider scope for their
full development. Being superior to fear, it was natural that
he should also be above harbouring suspicion. He there¬
fore abolished the law of treason, (judicia majestaiis,) and
prepared to restore as much of the free Roman constitution
as was compatible with the existence of a monarchy. He
restored the elective power to the comitia, complete liberty
ot speech to the senate, and to the magistrates their former
authority; and yet he ruled the empire with unrivalled firm¬
ness, holding the reins of power with a strong and steady
hand. Of him it has been said, not in the language of pane-
gjric, but of simple sincerity, that he was equally great as a
ruler, a general, and a man: and only such a man could with
safety, as emperor, have used the remarkable words, when
giving a sword to the prefect of the praetorian guards,
“ Take this sword, and use it, if I have merit, for me; if
otherwise, against me.”
Soon after the accession of Trajan, the Dacian monarch,
Decebalus, sent to demand the tribute with which Domi-
tian had purchased a disgraceful peace. This Trajan indig¬
nantly refused; and levying an army, marched against the
Dacians, who had already resumed their predatory incursions.
The hostile armies soon came to an engagement, for both
were equally eager; and after a desperate struggle the Da¬
cians were routed with dreadful carnage. But so great was
the loss of the Romans, that for some time they were not
able to follow up their victory. It wras however decisive;
and the Dacians were compelled not only to forego their
demands, but even to become tributaries to Rome. But
unaccustomed to servitude, and led by their gallant king
ecebalus, they mustered fresh forces as soon as they
had somewhat recovered from their overthrow^, and pre¬
pared for another contest. The warlike emperor was
equally ready for the shock of arms. Not satisfied with ex¬
pelling the invaders, he now determined to carry the war into
the country of the enemy. For this purpose he erected a
stupendous bridge over the Danube, with a strong fortifica¬
tion at each end, defeated the Dacians in every battle,
marched into the heart of their country, and made himself
master of the capital. Decebalus, despairing of success,
Kdled himself, and Dacia was reduced to a Roman pro¬
vince, and secured in subjection by several colonies and
standing camps. On his return from the Dacian war, the
emperor was honoured with a triumph which lasted for the
unprecedented period of 120 days.
The deepest stain which rests on the memory of Trajan is
t le sanction which he gave to the persecution of the Chris-
tians. This persecution raged chiefly in the Asiaticprovinces,
where Christianity was most prevalent; and when Pliny the
younger, at that time proconsul of Bithynia, wrote to Tra¬
jan for instructions respecting a matter which was causing
407
the death of so many men who could not be convicted of Roman
any public crimes, the emperor returned an ambiguous an- History,
swer, the purport of which was, “ that the Christians should ^
wan
-C. 106
not be sought for, nor indicted on anonymous information,
but that on conviction they ought to be punished.” Such
an answer was contrary to every principle of justice; for if
criminal, they ought to be sought for, if not criminal, they
ought not to be punished. The persecution being some¬
what discouraged, was gradually suffered to abate.
Tiajan & passion for military "fame had been but excited, Parthian
not satiated, by his Dacian conquests. He next directed war.
ms attention to the East, and resolved to wrest from the
Parthians, the most dreaded foes of Rome, the empire of
central Asia. I he first scene of his glory was Armenia, which
le speedily reduced to a Roman province. Hence he ad¬
vanced into Mesopotamia, throwing across the rapid Tigris
a bridge not less remarkable than that which spanned the
Danube. The greater part of what had been the Assyrian
empire was overrun by his conquering arms. Selucia yield-
ed to his might; Ctesiphon, the capital of the Parthian king¬
dom, could not resist his prowess; all opposition appeared
fruitless, and victory seemed the companion of his march.
Following the course of the Tigris, he arrived at the head
of the Persian gulf, where he fitted out a fleet, and sailed
to the entrance of the Indian ocean. Having thus traced
the steps of Alexander the Great, emulating his conquering
caieer, and with almost equal celerity, he began to retrace
his course, returned to Ctesiphon, and placed a newr sovereign
on the throne of Parthia.
Age had now somewhat tamed his ambitious spirit, and
seriously diminished the vigour of his hardy but overworn
frame. He began to make preparations for his return to
Rome, which he intended to be celebrated in a manner that
should far outshine the most glorious triumphs of any of his
imperial predecessors. But this triumph he was not destined
to see. He had only reached Cilicia when he was seized
with an illness which proved fatal, after a few days of para-a D. J17
lytic stupor. During this period of comparative insensibi¬
lity, the empress Plotina, wdio had accompanied him, con¬
trived to procure Trajan’s signature to a will nominating as
his successor in the empire P. ^Elius Adrian, his cousin, who
was at that time with the army.
Adrian having been declared emperor by the soldiers, im- Adrian,
mediately communicated to the senate the intelligence of
Trajan’s death, and of his own accession, excusing his not
having waited till their sentiments should be made known,
by pleading the impatient impetuosity of his troops. The
senate were but too happy that the army had made no worse
choice, and gave their ready concurrence. Adrian not hav¬
ing either the ambition or the military talents of Trajan, was
more desirous of securing peace than of extending the em¬
pire : he therefore abandoned all the conquests of his prede¬
cessor, broke down the bridge across the Tigris, and re¬
duced the empire within the boundaries marked out by Au¬
gustus, with the exception of Dacia. On his return to
Rome the senate offered him a triumph, which he declined
on his own account; but as great preparations had already
been made, the triumph was celebrated, the statue of Trajan
occupying the most conspicuous position. The ashes of that
imperial warrior were afterwards placed in a golden urn on
the summit of a magnificent column, 140 feet high, erected
in the Forum Trajani to commemorate his victories, and
still known by the name of Trajan’s pillar.
But though Adrian wTas of a pacific disposition, he well
knew what was required for the protection of the empire.
He therefore restored the discipline of the army, and kept
it in complete subordination. He also effected a general
and vigorous reform in the internal administration of affairs,
and displayed great personal aptitude for the study of com¬
prehensive politics. To him the jurisprudence of Rome was
408
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History
Adrian’s
wall.
Jewish
deeply indebted, for the systematic order to which he re¬
duced it. Being aware that little reliance could be placed
on the accounts received from the distant provinces, and
stimulated by the curiosity of an active temperament,
he resolved to visit every province in the empire. In his
visit to Britain, he followed the same policy which he had
shewn w’ith regard to the East; and instead of attempting
a further reduction of Caledonia, relinquished a portion ot
Agricola’s conquests, and erected a new wall, as a houn-
dary-line of defence, from the Solway Firth to the Tyne,
near Newcastle. He traversed Gaul and Germany, and
revisited Asia, where he allayed some commotions that
had arisen during his absence. Africa was also honouied
by his presence. He spent a winter at Athens, again travel sed
the eastern provinces and Egypt, and then gratified his
learning and his taste by another temporary residence m
Greece. He was passionately fond of literature and the
fine arts, and possessed of no inconsiderable attainments;
and by his patronage of the productions of genius, he
called forth another Augustan age, though not of equal bril¬
liancy. „ , . .
During his reign, the persecutions of the Christians were
renewed with great barbarity; and the emperor scarcely
seemed to think it worth his while to protect that most un¬
offending class of his subjects. To the Jews he shewed no¬
thing but insulting cruelty. He gave orders that a Roman
colony should be established at Jerusalem, and changed its
name to Afiia Capitolina. These indignities led to a fierce
insurrection of the Jews, headed by an impostor who pre¬
tended to be the Messiah, and assumed the name of Barco-
hab, (the son of a star). A furious and sanguinary war, of
var. nearly three years duration, almost entirely destroyed the
very name and nation of the Jews, and it was decreed a
capital crime if any Jew should again come within Judea.
After his return to Rome, he adopted Commodus Verus
as his successor, and on his death, Titus Antoninus. .He
was soon afterwards seized with dropsy, and the sufferings
he endured made him almost frantic. Neithei the attention
of his physicians, nor the company of philosophers and poets
could sooth him. Death at length terminated his sufferings
A. D. 138. at Baiae, in the sixty-third year of his age, and after a reign
of twenty-one years.
Antoninus. T. Aurelius Antoninus, the adopted son and successor
of Adrian, next ascended the throne. The first care of his
reign was to prevent the senate from dishonouring the name
of Adrian, by whose somewhat peevish and cruel conduct
during his last illness, they had been offended. Not only did
he succeed in this attempt, but the amiable anxiety which he
displayed to protect the memory of his predecessor, earned
for him the honourable designation of the pious; hence the
name Antoninus Pius, by which he is best known in history.
It had been arranged by Adrian, not only that Antoninus
should succeed him, but also that Antoninus should adopt
both Marcus Aurelius as his immediate successor, and
Cesonius Commodus Yerus, the son of that Verus whom he
had first adopted. This arrangement Antoninus Pius im¬
mediately ratified, by giving his daughter Faustina in mar¬
riage to Aurelius, while he tolerated the profligate conduct
of Verus, solely out of regard to the memory of Adrian.
The reign of Antoninus Pius furnishes few materials for
the historian, passing away like a placid dream in the midst
of universal tranquillity. It was undoubtedly the most
peaceful and happy period that ever Rome knew, whether
as a republic or an empire. It seemed to realise the ideal
speculations of those philosophical politicians who looked
for good government or rational happiness then, and then
only, when philosophers should be kings, or kings phi¬
losophers. It is no mean portion of his praise, that he
put an end to the persecution of the Christians throughout
the empire. Few and slight were the wars of this reign.
Of these, perhaps the most memorable was that waged in
Roman
History.
Britain by Lollius Urbicus, who not only repressed the in¬
cursions of the Caledonians, but recovered the district be¬
tween the wall of Adrian, and the line of forts erected by
Agricola. By the directions of the emperor, the newly ac¬
quired territory was secured by a complete wall, consist¬
ing of ditch and rampart, along the line traced by Agri-Wall of
cJla, and since known as the wall of Antoninus, or Graham’s Antonin
dike. . . .
But the character of Antoninus was a more powerful pro¬
tection to the Roman dominions than armies and military
ramparts: so highly were his virtues respected through the
world, that contending princes referred their disagreements
to his arbitration, rather than to the fierce decision of the
sword. The administration of all public affairs was con¬
ducted with the same spirit as if under the eye of the em¬
peror, because every instance of malversation was immediately
checked by removal from office, every instance of fidelity
and judgment rewarded by the perpetuation of official rank.
While the financial department was managed with the ut¬
most frugality, no expenditure was spared which was evi¬
dently beneficial to the welfare of the community, in the
foundation or improvement of useful institutions, such as the
erection of public schools, and the maintenance of teachers.
A liberal and enlightened encouragement was also given to
commerce, with the view ot rendering Rome the mistress
of arts, as well as of arms, the centre of an empire acquired
by the sword, but consolidated by civilization.
Thus peaceful, happy, and beloved, Antoninus Pius A. D. 16!
reigned for a period of about twenty-three years, and died
of a fever at one of his villas, universally regretted, and
leaving to his own family nothing but his private property,
and the inestimable heritage of a name, against which not
even calumny had dared to insinuate a charge.
Marcus Aurelius, called also Antoninus from having been Aurelius,
adopted by his predecessor, and the Philosopher, from his
proficiency in learning and his attachment to the opinions
of the Stoics, succeeded to the throne, with the cordial ap¬
probation of both senate and people. According to the ar¬
rangement of Adrian, Aurelius associated with himself in the
empire Lucius Verus, a person of a very dissimilar charac¬
ter, to whom he gave his daughter in marriage. This dis¬
similarity however rendering any thing like rivalry im¬
possible was perhaps the cause of the cordial harmony
which subsisted between the colleagues during the course
of their common reign. Verus took the command of the
army which was sent against the Parthians, over whom, by
the skill and valour of his generals, he obtained several con¬
siderable victories, and captured several towns, while he was
himself revelling in debaucheries at Antioch. At the con¬
clusion of this war, Verus returned to enjoy the honours of
a triumph which he had no share in obtaining. Unfortun¬
ately, the eastern army brought with it to Rome the inflic¬
tion of a pestilential disease which was then raging in Asia,
and which soon spread its ravages throughout almost the
whole of the Roman empire. A dreadful inundation of the
Tiber about the same time laid a large part of the city un¬
der water, and swept away immense quantities of grain from
the fields and the public storehouses. This was followed
by a famine which consumed great numbers, in spite of the
utmost exertions of the emperor.
While thus weakened by pestilence and famine, the em¬
pire was assailed by a most formidable confederacy of the
Germanic nations. The Marcomanni, and other tribes o
similar origin, began to press forward with great force up¬
on the Dacian province. The two emperors left Rome to
take the field in person against these dangerous antago¬
nists. Verus died, however, soon after the beginning of the
war, leaving Aurelius to take the sole command, and to ex¬
change his philosophic studies for the din of arms. e
proved himself not unequal to the task, although the war
was protracted and chequered by various vicissitudes, vie
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman tory not always inclining to the side of Rome. During this
History. war occurred an event which has engaged the pens
several controversial writers. The Roman army happen¬
ing to be reduced to great straits, blocked up by the Quadi,
and in want of water, were relieved, and their enemies en¬
tirely discomfitted by a sudden storm of rain, accompanied
with thunder and lightning, which flashing fiercely in the
faces of the barbarians, filled them with terror, and scattered
them into headlong flight. This event was considered as
miraculous, and it is said to have been immediately preceded
by the prayers of the twelfth legion, which was composed of
Christians, and which afterwards received the name of the
thundering legion.
A peace, or rather a cessation of hostilities, followed the
victory tnus obtained, and the emperor having returned to
Rome, triumphed along with his son Commodus. An insur¬
rection which had broken out in Syria, probably hastened
his return ; but Aurelius wras not required to march against
the rebel Avidius Cassius, who was killed by his own sol¬
diers. The emperor treated the insurgents with great
clemency, and took the family of Cassius under his protec¬
tion, forbidding the senate to doom to death any wrho were
suspected of being implicated in the rebellion.
Notwithstanding the general mildness of the personal
character and the administration of Marcus Aurelius Anto¬
ninus, his memory is greatly disgraced by the systematic
persecution against the Christians which he encouraged.
It. was not now merely the consequence of tumultuary vio¬
lence, arising out of the intolerance of the idolatrous pagans,
but was deliberately resolved upon, for reasons of state; the
philosophic emperor, although despising all religion in his
stoic pride, yet strictly prohibiting all change from the re¬
ligions and customs of former times. Among the most il¬
lustrious victims of imperial intolerance was Justin Martyr,
celebrated for his writings in defence of Christianity.
The war against the Grerman nations was soon renewed,
and assumed the most formidable aspect. Not merely the
tribes on the frontiers of the empire took up arms, but
» throughout the interior of all the northern nations there
was a general commotion, a wide upheaving and unsettling
of whole races, and a pressing forward of a living tide, which
threatened to overwhelm every thing in its progress. This
was in fact the first symptom of the great migration of na¬
tions, then beginning, and which ceased not till it complete¬
ly subverted the Roman empire, filling it with a new po¬
pulation, whose descendants constitute the kingdoms of
modern Europe.
In order to stem, if possible, the progress of this barbarian
innundation, Aurelius again left Rome, and marched to Ger¬
many. His first efforts were crowned with success; but before
he could follow them up, he was seized with a dangerous ill¬
ness, which terminated his life, in the fifty-ninth year of his age.
With Aurelius, the glory and the happiness of the Roman em¬
pire may be said to have expired, and that not uncharacteris¬
tically, in the reign of an emperor who was distinguished by
considerable acquirements in learning, taste, philosophy,
and by external respect for all religions, but real regard
for none.
The commencement of the reign of Commodus, son of
the late emperor, was rendered disgraceful by a treaty which
he formed with the Marcomanni, and which he obtained
chiefly through the influence of money. Notwithstanding
the care which M. A. Antoninus had bestowed upon his
education, he was ignorant to an extreme degree, having
neither abilities nor inclination for profiting by the imperial
example and instruction. On his return to Rome he speedi¬
ly shewed the bias of his natural disposition, giving himself
np to the most unrestrained indulgence in the grossest vices.
That he might do so without impediment, he entrusted all
power to Perennis, praefect of the praetorian guard, a man
of stern and cruel temper, who was at last slain by his sol-
VLO. XIX.
409
igration
nations.
D. 180
nmo-
dters for his severity. A conspiracy against the life of Com- Roman
modus failed, and was followed by a long succession of ju- History,
dicial murders, to gratify the vengeance of the cowardly and
vindictive tyrant. He was next threatened by a new
danger of a very peculiar character. It had become cus¬
tomary for the licentious soldiery to desert in considerable
numbers, especially in Gaul, and to roam about the coun-
try as bands of robbers and freebooters. A common sol¬
dier, named Maternus, put himself at the head of these ban¬
ditti, and excited sucb terror, that he became an object of
attention to considerable armies. Being surrounded, and
in danger of ruin, Maternus formed the bold project of kill¬
ing the emperor in the heart of his capital, and seizing the
throne. Dispersing his adherents, they all hastened to Rome,
individually or in small parties, and had nearly filled the city,
when they were detected, and Maternus was put to death.
The cruelty and rapacity of Cleander, the freedman and
new favourite of Commodus, excited a new insurrection,
vyhich nothing could allay, the praetorian cavalry being de¬
feated in the streets by the populace, till the headof Cleander
was, by the emperor’s command, thrown to the insurgents.
In the mean time, Commodus was indulging his base tastes
and appetites, not only by gross sensuality, but by endea¬
vouring to rival the gladiators in their savage occupation.
Being a very skilful archer, and of great personal strength,
he delighted in killing wild beasts in the amphitheatre, and
thus pretending to rival Hercules. In the gladiatorial con¬
tests, he publicly engaged so often, that he was the con¬
queror in 735 combats. Within the palace itself, a con¬
spiracy was at length formed by Marcia, one of the em¬
peror’s concubines, his chamberlain, and the prefect of the
praetorian guards. Poison was administered by Marcia, in a A. D. 192.
cup of wine; and while under the influence of the deadly
draught, he was assailed and strangled by a common wrest¬
ler, who had been prepared for that purpose.
Immediately upon the death of Commodus being known pertinax.
to the senate, they elected Publius Helvius Pertinax to the
vacant throne; a man of obscure birth, but of great personal
merit, by which he had raised himself to a distinguished
rank in the state, and in the estimation of all virtuous men.
The undesired power thus offered to him, he reluctantly
accepted ; but prepared to use it for the general good of the
empire. In order to accomplish this most desirable object,
Pertinax was obliged to begin his reign by checking the
lavish expenditure by which Commodus had sought to se¬
cure the support of the guards, and to introduce discipline
and subordination into this turbulent band. This neces¬
sary reform was immediately followed by an insurrection, in
which Pertinax was killed, after a brief reign of sixty-six a. D. 193.
days.
During this scene of contest and blood, the citizens ab¬
stained as much as possible from all interference, though
strongly attached to Pertinax ; and after his death they re¬
mained quiet in their houses, waiting the new master whom
the pretorian guards might nominate. These seditious
troops having fortified their quarters, waited also to see
what the senate would do ; but finding themselves left in
possession of imperial power, they issued a proclamation, of¬
fering the empire for sale to the highest bidder. Didius ju
Julianus became the purchaser, and thus disgracefully ac-]ianus p”ur"
quired the throne. But the intelligence of these base and chases the
lawless transactions excited the indignation of the armies emph'e.
in the provinces, who considered themselves better entitled
to appoint an emperor, than a factious band of only about
ten thousand men. The army of Hlyricum proclaimed their
general, Septimius Severus; thatofSyria,Pescennius Niger;
and that of Britain, Clodius Albinus. A bloody civil war Civil war
was the inevitable consequence of so many competitors for
the sovereignty. In the mean time, the wretched Didius
was still the nominal emperor. But the rapid advance of
Severus towards Rome alarmed the senate, who passed a
3 F
410
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman decree for his dethronement and death, which was almost
History, instantly executed, thus depriving Didius of the enjoyment
of his ill-purchased honours in the short space ot two
A.D. 193. ninths,
Severus. Severus began his reign by accomplishing what Perti-
nax was murdered for attempting. He disarmed and dis¬
banded the praetorian guards, and banished them to a dis¬
tance of one hundred miles from Rome, death being the
penalty of a nearer approach. The murderers of Pertinax
were executed without mercy, and some degree of or¬
der and subordination restored. But Severus, accustomed
to military sway, knew no other method of maintaining his
authority except by force of arms. Though he punished
the late praetorian guards, he replaced them with a chosen
body of his own troops greatly more numerous ; not reflect¬
ing that the enjoyment of similar leisure, and the posses¬
sion of similar favour, would soon render them equally licen¬
tious and turbulent.
Having thus seized the sceptre, it was necessary to de¬
fend it against those rivals who were eager to wrench it from
his grasp. As he was most apprehensive ot danger from
Pescennius Niger, he wrote deceptive letters to Clodius Al¬
binos, styling him Caesar, and thus lulling him to inaction.
He then marched against Niger, whom, after several con¬
tests, he finally defeated in a great battle near the Issus.
Niger was soon afterwards slain ; and Severus put to death,
without remorse, all whom he suspected of being favourable
to the cause of his competitor. He next attempted to com¬
pass the death of Albinus by assassination; but the plot
being detected, Albinus prepared to defend himself by de¬
throning his enemy. Severus hastened towards Britain, and
Albinus crossed from thence to Gaul. The two rivals met
near Lyons; and a verybloody battle was fought between two
disciplined and numerous Roman armies, which ended in
Severus saining a complete victory. When he saw that his
hopes were destroyed, Albinus fell by his own hand; and Se¬
verus, after insidting the dead body of his antagonist, again
displayed the innate ferocity of his heart, by murdering in
cold blood all his friends and adherents. A second Parthian
war demanded the presence of Severus in the East, where he
was again victorious, and where his exploits almost rivalled
those of Trajan.
The avarice and insolence of Plautianus, commander of
the praetorian guard, produced great oppression and suffer¬
ing, till he was killed by Caracalla, the son of Severus, in
the very presence of the emperor. Severus next turned his
attention to Britain, where the Romans had been losing
ground, partly in consequence of Albinus having withdrawn
a great portion of the army in his attempt to elevate himself
to the throne. The emperor being at the head of a very
powerful army speedily drove back the independent natives
of Caledonia, and regained the country south ot the wall of
Antoninus, but lost so many troops in the successive battles
which he was obliged to fight, that he did not think proper to
push his conquests beyond that boundary. Feeling at length
A.D. 211. his end approaching, he retired to Eboracum (York), where
he appointed his two sons, Caracalla andGeta,to succeed him
and reign conjointly, and soon afterwards expired, in the
eighteenth year of his reign.
The two brothers, Caracalla and Geta, had scarcely be¬
gun their reign, when they also began their dissensions.
After their return to Rome, the utter impossibility of any
permanent reconciliation taking place between them, led to
a proposal by mutual friends that they should divide the em¬
pire. To this neither would agree; and soon aftenvards
A.D. 212. Geta was murdered in the arms of his mother by the hand
of the furious and savage Caracalla.
Having now obtained the undivided possession of a throne
stained with the blood of his brother, he prosecuted his mur¬
derous course, exhibiting the tiger-like propensities of his
savage nature, by destroying almost indiscriminately men
Cara cal la
and Geta.
and women, young and old, wealthy and humble. He la- Romai
vished presents, treasures, and amusements among the sol- Histon
diery with an unsparing hand, trusting by their means toj'-^V*
maintain his power, and setting at defiance the hatred of
senate and people. He traversed the provinces along the
Danube, partly in a hostile, partly in a friendly manner;
thence passed into Asia, where, by treachery, he obtained
some advantages over the Parthians ; thence to Egypt,
where, being enraged against the Alexandrians, who had ri¬
diculed his pretensions to be regarded as another Alexander,
he almost depopulated the city by a dreadful massacre.
Vengeance at length overtook the sanguinary tyrant; and A.D. 2
he was murdered by the orders of Maerinus commander of
the praetorian guards.
Marcus Opelius Macrinus was next placed at the head Macrim.
of the empire, by the soldiers, who were not aware that he
had been accessory to the death of Caracalia. The new
emperor was soon engaged in a war against the Parthians,
where he gained no laurels, being obliged to purchase peace
on terms highly disadvantageous to Rome. Some attempts
which he made to restrain the extreme licentiousness of the
soldiery excited a spirit of disaffection, of which Maesa, ma¬
ternal aunt of the late emperor, availed herself to procure
the empire to her grandson, a youth of fourteen, said to be
the son of Caracalla, and a priest in the temple of the Sun at
Emesa in Syria. This youth, named Heliogabalus, was pro¬
claimed emperor by the legionary forces, on account of their
attachment to the memory of his reputed father, Caracalla.
Macrinus was defeated in an attempt to crush this rebellion, A.D. 21;
and fell while endeavouring to escape by flight. His son,
Diadumenus, whom he had associated in the empire, shared
his fate.
Heliogabalus, thus raised to the throne, repaired to Rome. Heliogab
and began a course of licentiousness unparalleled in thelus.
annals of depravity. He was, in short, the most infamous
wretch that e\&er disgraced a throne; his very existence
seemed a stain upon human nature. To form some check
to his shameless conduct, his grandmother caused him to
assume his cousin, Alexander Severus, as his partner in the
empire; but the abandoned and brutal boy attempted to
procure his assassination, an attempt which soon proved fatal
to himself. The praetorian guards, disgusted with the effe¬
minate, licentious, and cruel tyrant, mutinied, and discover¬
ing him in a loathsome hiding place, a cloaca, dragged him A.D. 22'.
through the streets, put him to death in the most ignomini¬
ous manner, and threw his body into the river, loaded with
weights, that it might not be found and buried.
The new emperor, Alexander Severus, was of a character Alexande
diametrically opposite to that of his predecessor. Among the Severus.
first acts of his sovereignty, he banished all the guilty and
abandoned creatures of Heliogabalus, restored the authori¬
ty of the senate, and chose his counsellors and ministers of
state of the best members of that body, and revoked all the
persecuting edicts that had been issued by his predecessor
against the Christians. This just and merciful procedure
is thought to have been adopted by the advice of his mother,
Mammaea, who maintained an intercourse with some of the
most distinguished Christians, among others the celebrated
Origen, and who was perhaps herself a convert. She was un¬
questionably a woman of great virtue, wisdom, and amiabi¬
lity of character ; and as Alexander paid the utmost defer¬
ence to her opinions and wishes, to her may be ascribed
much of what was meritorious in the conduct of this young
and excellent monarch.
But however desirous of peace, that he might prosecute Revolut.
his schemes of reform, Alexander was soon called to en-m Persia
counter the perils and toils of war. A revolution in the
east, which began in the fourth year of his reign, was pro- A.D. 2-
ductive of consequences deeply important to all Asia. Ar-
deshir Babegan, or Artaxerxes, who pretended to be de¬
scended from the imperial race of ancient Persia, raised a
rebellion against the Parthian monarchs, the Arsacidae.
The Paithian dynasty was overturned, and the ancient Per¬
sian restored; and with its restoration was renewed its claims
to the sovereignty of all Asia, which it had formerly pos-
sessed. 1 his claim gave rise to a war against the Romans,
and Alexander led his troops to the East to maintain their
imperial sway over the disputed territories. In the army
he displayed the high qualities of a warrior, and gained a
great victory over the Persians, but was prevented from
following up his success in consequence of a pestilencebreak-
*n.f..out amon& his troops. The Persians, however, were
willing to renounce hostilities for a time, and the emperor
returned to Rome in triumph.
Scarcely had Alexander tasted repose from his Persian
war, when he received intelligence that the Germans had
crossed the Rhine, and were invading Gaul, He at once
set out to oppose this new enemy, but he encountered an¬
other still more formidable. The armies in Gaul had sunk
into a great relaxation of the rigid discipline necessary for
even their own preservation. Alexander began to restore
the ancient military rules, to enforce discipline, and to re¬
organise such an army as might be able to keep the barbari¬
ans in check. The demoralised soldiery could not endure
the change. A conspiracy was formed against him, and the
A.D. 23a. youthful emperor was murdered in his tent, in his twenty-
ninth year, after a short but glorious reign of thirteen years.
ROMAN HISTORY.
411
. . sceptre was now seized by the chief instigator of the
Haximinus. mutiny, Caius Julius Maximinus, by birth a Thracian peasant.
He was a man of gigantic stature and strength, indefatigable
hardihood, and great personal daring; but to the wily cunning
added the savage ferocity ofan ignorant barbarian. Hebegan
his reign by murdering all the friends of the late emperor, and
sent orders to the senate to ratify his bloody deeds. Hav¬
ing thus, as he thought, fixed himself firmly on the throne,
e pi osecuted the war against the Germans with great suc¬
cess, routed them in several battles, and devastated an im¬
mense extent of the country, selling the inhabitants for
slaves. He next marched against the Sarmatians and the
Hacians, over whom he gained several victories; and elat¬
ed with success he was resolved to subdue their country,
till he should reach the northern ocean. But an insurrec-
tion arose in Africa, caused by his insatiable avarice, and
Goidian, proconsul of Africa, was proclaimed emperor. On
receiving this intelligence, Maximinus quitted Sirmium and
began his march towards Italy, resolved to glut his savage
heart with vengeance. In the meantime, Gordian was de¬
feated and slain by Maximinus’s lieutenant; but the senate,
knowing it in vain to expect mercy, chose as emperors,
mlbinus and Pupienus, who, to gratify the people, gave
the title of Caesar to the youthful Gordian, a boy of twelve
years old. Maximinus had by this time entered Italy, and
laid siege to Aquileia. He met with a gallant resistance ;
n oqo ancl. . own trooPs suffering excessively during the siege,
• ■ mutinied, and slew him while he lay asleep in his tent.
an* of Maximinus left the throne in the possession
of the youthful Gordian, and prevented the horrors of a civil
war. But the empire continued to be assailed by the rest¬
less hordes of barbarians, the Carpi, who had crossed the
Danube, ravaging the province of Moesia, while the Per¬
sians were invading the eastern dominions. In this emer¬
gency, Gordian was ably supported by his father-in-law,
Misitheus, prefect of the praetorian guards, who possessed
at once the qualities of a statesman and a general. Sapor,
the second prince of the new Persian dynasty, the Sassanides,
had made some daring and successful inroads upon the Ro¬
man dominions ; but the emperor, aided by the skilful sup¬
port of Misitheus, drove back the invaders, defeating them
m every encounter, and penetrating to the very heart of
^ iT teriA°r'es- These successes wrere dearly purchas¬
ed by the death of the wise and brave Misitheus, to whom
they are chiefly ascribed. Gordian appointed Philip the
Arabian to the station vacant by the death of Misitheus; Roman
an prosecuted the war with undaunted courage and undi- History,
mimshed success. But Philip found means to raise in the
army such a mutiny as could not be subdued, without
his olevatmn to an equality with Gordian in the empire.
1 his success in guilt stimulated Philip to additional crimes
or the promotion of his lawless ambition, and he rested not
till he procured the murder of this young emperor, who
excellence pr°0i'S ^ antl sucl1 promise of future A.D. 244.
Philip to secure his tenure of power, concluded a peace phiiK
with the Peisians, and hastened to Rome, where he endea¬
voured to persuade the senate that the death of Gordian was
caused by disease. He did not long enjoy his sovereignty
undisturbed. Insurrections of a formidable character broke
out m different parts of the empire, especially in Panno-
ma. _ 1 rajanus Decius, whom Philip had sent to suppress
this insurrection, had scarcely reached his army when he
was compelled to assume the imperial diadem. Philip march¬
ed against his unwilling antagonist, but was defeated and
slain near Verona. In the reign of Philip the secular games a D 040
were celebrated, in what was computed to be the one thou¬
sandth year from the foundation of the city.
1 he reign of Trajanus Decius is memorable on two ac- Trajanus
counts. Its annals are stained by one of the most sanguinary Decius.
persecutions that ever tried the sincerity and zeal ofthe Chris¬
tian church. Almost innumerable multitudes of Christians Great per-
were banished, imprisoned, or tortured to death with thesecution of
most relentless cruelty. The revolution in Persia, which Christians,
established the dynasty of the Sassanides, restored the
worship and the tenets inculcated by the followers of Zo¬
roaster ; and caused the retreat ofthe Asiatic Christians in¬
to the dominions ofthe Romans, at that time more tolerant.
But these Asiatic Christians brought with them many ofthe
notions peculiar to the East, and thus gave rise to dissen¬
sions among the Christians themselves. Decius, a man of
stem and unaccommodating temper, determined to put an
end to all such discussions, by completely suppressing Chris-
tianity itself; and he published a bloody edict, prohibiting
all innovations in religion, and strictly enjoining compliance
with the ancient idolatrous worship of Greece and Rome.
The horrors occasioned by this cruel edict could not be enu¬
merated, and it is not our province to make the attempt.
But it ought to be mentioned that the ascetic and mystic
notions prevalent in the East, when driven to excess by this
persecution, induced numbers to betake themselves to wild
and desert solitudes to seek for safety; and from this ex¬
cessive development of the ascetic spirit at length arose
the monastic, that fertile source of so many errors and abuses.
The other memorable event in the reign of Decius, is Goths,
the flrst appearance of the Goths among the contending
nations by whom the Roman empire now began to be
regarded as a common enemy, or rather perhaps as a
common prey. The origin of this mighty people is in¬
volved in deep obscurity, which the utmost researches of
learned men have not been able entirely to remove. The
most probable opinion, however, appears to be, that which
regards them as a powerful branch of the great Indo-Teu-
tonic race, by which, both northern Asia and northern Eu¬
rope w^ere peopled, at some indefinitely remote period, be¬
fore which the southern districts had already been inhabit¬
ed, very probably by the Pelasgian race. After having
been settled for ages in Scandinavia, they appear to have
resolved on a southern migration, passed along the lower
shore of the Baltic, followed the course of the Borysthenes,
(Dnieper,) and the Tanais, (Don,) and took possession of
the Ukraine. Thence they afterwards directed their course
south-west, ravaged the province of Dacia, and crossing
the Danube, appeared in great strength in Moesia. When
information respecting these new and formidable invaders
was carried to Rome, Decius immediately marched against
412
Roman
History.
ROMAN HISTORY.
A.D.25I
Gallus.
them. He was worsted in the first engagement, and the Goths
succeeded in taking Philippopolis ; butDecius having recruit-
' edhis forces, defeated them, and reduced them to the utmost
distress. It was his aim to inflict upon them such an over¬
throw as should deter them from renewing their invasions
of the empire. A battle was fought, in which the Goths,
animated with the terrible energy and courage of despair,
and being skilfully posted on the edge of a morass, resisted
all the efforts of the Roman forces to break them ; and
young Decius having fallen, the emperor, eager to revenge
the death of his son, plunged furiously into the morass,
sunk struggling into its absorbing depth, and disappeared.
The Roman army suffered an immense loss, but the Goths
were in no condition to prosecute their victory.
Gallus was proclaimed emperor by the surviving army, , the country along the Po.
relian marched rapidly againat ,hem,J„flicted on tin
Claudius, and they had renewed their invasion. They were Rom
met by Aurelian, and a bloody battle was fought, to which
night, not victory on either side, gave a temporary suspen-"—vi¬
sion. Wearied with mutual slaughter, both parties were
averse from renewing the undecided combat, and a treaty
was formed, by which Aurelian consented to relinquish that
part of Dacia which lay beyond the Danube, and to make
the river the boundary of his empire in that direction. Ihe
Goths furnished a body of cavalry as auxiliaries to the
Romans, and engaged to abstain from future invasion.
By this treaty, Aurelian strengthened the Roman empire
in that quarter, obtaining a well-defined boundary, and
leaving to the enemy a devastated region, no longer worth
^The Alemanni, in the mean time, had entered the Roman
mminions, and laid waste the country along the Po. Au¬
relian marched rapidly against them, inflicted on them se-
unrestrained indulgence. His son Voluscan he created invaders.^The^apdals,ulso sunk before
Caesar, and contrived to get ^ SOna ge_ his matdiless valour and conduct; and having now secured
power, and put him to death. His con^f ehXC‘t^;1| t’ the we9tern .)art 0f the empire, he directed his arms against
neral indignation against him ; and at length ^mihanus ^ a feLle antagonist.
commander of the forces in Mcesia, raised the This was the iustly celebrated Zenobia (Zeinab) queen Zenobw
revolt against him. A battle was fought, m winch Gallus fh s was Len on'
A D. 253. revolt against him. A battle was fought.
was defeated and slain, his son sharing his fate. In three
months, /Emilianus himself was deposed and killed, the
army declaring in favour of Valerianus, general of the army
stationed in Gaul.
Valerian. Of Valerian, who had been distinguished by his virtues
while in a private station, great expectations were formed,
xr • . wio orvrv Gdlipmis to he his associate in
Inis was uie justly — — vx
of Palmyra, widow of Odenathus, who had been one of the *1 ®
numerous claimants of imperial honours during the reign
of Gallienus, and to whom that easy monarch had been
willing to grant the title of his colleague. Palmyra, or I ad-
mor, is stated in the Bible to have been built by Solomon.
The situation of that beautiful spot, a green island in the
A.D. 259.
Gallienus.
A.D. 268
Marcus
Aurelius
Claudius.
A.D. 270
Aurelian.
while in a private station, great expectations were i • f d arui ahnost equidistant between the
Having appointed his son Galhenus to be his associate in ^ coast, pointed it out to the
the empire, he left him to defend it against the incursions EuP“a^s place ’f(fr commercial enter-
of the Goths and Germans, and marched to the East o op- wis admirably adapted to promote his great idea of
pose the Persian king Sapor or Shah Pur. Valerian was ScourS between the east and the
defeated and taken prisoner by the Persians, who rea S the Red gea t0 t}ie Euphrates, and rendering
him with great and contemptuous cruelty. Hisdege e p , ’ine not Egypt, the great emporium of nations. After
son Gallienus made no eftort to obtain his release, bei g ^ dgC]ine of the kingdom of Israel, this idea seems to have
apparently more satisfied to reign alone. r ui k ar. roRnnnUhpd • but still Palmyra continued to form an
The captivity of Valerian, and the accession of the feeb e e Intermediate station between the Euphrates and
Gallienus, seemed to be the signal for a umv^rsa! assaul ex^of ” in the Indian and
upon the defenceless empire. It was invaded on all sides ^ ^n0r, tor the ^rav 8 in ^lthj if not in political
by the hostile barbarians, who seemed to vie with each
other in striving for the honour of being the destroyers o po e4nires each in its turn, and seeking nothing
Rome. Several victories over the Germans were game l ’ction> Prom tjie parthians it seems to
by the generals of Gallienus ; but each army resolving o 10 fpprpfi no iniury j but the revolution which gave cen-
make its own general emperor, a period of hopeless and ^ve suffered no the
helpless anarchy ensued, which threatened the immediate tral Asia to the dyn3’b gome to ha/e been an
disruption of the empire. The host of competitors which 8™-! warfare Sj^able of the inha-
thus sprung up in all quarters, ts known by the designation Arab Emu-, was one ot tne^ b of the per.
of “ the thirty tyrants,” though not actually amounting to bitants of Pal i > • hiih-soirited wife, Zenobia,
so many. The very number of these contending rivals im- sians, and «*£**** ^ SU to the plan:
peded the success of any, no one being possessed of suffi- he hcadcd s country successively defeated
dent power to strike a decisive blow. At length Galhenus dering ™s“nnt not resc„e
. was killed while besieging Aureolas, one ot the usurpers, in c*ry the war into the enemy’s coun-
Mi!t"' succeeded by Marcus Aurelius Claudius, a man try, and to advance to the gates of Ct“1Pf'?n; !" “
of great courage, skill, and virtue, capable of upholding the time all JncagueV GalHeSus. Odenathus
his march thither, he was seized by a pestilential disease, f arsd^d. 8 16 the ^ud title she had assumed,
of which he died at Sirmium, alter having reigned two years, her dominions, justi > g P st whom
bA^IS«r" ISnateKSrX^: ^f„° *0^^ U no disgrace .0 lead iu person his Ko-
ed man to show what could be accomplished by an imperial o capitulate and ^as take had
hero. The hopes of the Goths had revived on the death of tempting to make her escape mto rersia o J
ROMAN HISTORY
413
Roman
History.
lA.D.271
D. 275,
• D. 276
lorianus.
I obus.
D. ^ 2.
Aurelian withdrawn his forces, when the Palmyrenians
again revolted ; and the angry conqueror having again
made himself master of this city of romance, reduced it to
ruins, of which the extent, beauty, and magnificence still
amaze the traveller. Among the victims of the emperor’s
wrath was Longinus, the secretary of Zenobia, and the re¬
puted author of an admirable treatise on the sublime.
Having thus reduced and destroyed Palmyra, he sup¬
pressed an insurrection in Egypt, and returned to Rome,
where he celebrated his victories and conquest by a tri¬
umph the most remarkable that the city had ever witness¬
ed. Zenobia, who had been compelled to grace this tri¬
umph, by walking on foot in the train of her conqueror,
received afterwards from him a small estate at Tibur, where
she spent in tranquillity the remainder of her life as a Ro¬
man matron, leaving a family which was not extinct in the
fifth century.
A violent sedition soon afterwards arose at Rome, in con¬
sequence of an attempt by Aurelian to debase the coinage.
It was followed by so much bloodshed, and gave so much
offence to the emperor, that his native sternness, and the
pitiless decision of a warrior, degenerated into harshness and
cruelty. Being again obliged to lead his army against
the Persians, he left the city, and sought the more conge¬
nial pursuits of war ; but was afterwards assassinated at the
instigation of his private secretary Mnestheus. The mur¬
derers were torn to pieces by the enraged soldiery, who al¬
most adored their warlike emperor.
Nothing can better prove the effect of the masculine go¬
vernment of Aurelian, and the regulated subordination which
it had given to the troops, than the fact that the army ac¬
tually allowed six months to pass in tranquillity, while they
awaited the election of an emperor by the senate. That
body at length elected Marcus Claudius Tacitus, an aged
senator of high character, and a decendant of the cele¬
brated historian of that name. He had scarcely begun
to prove the wisdom of their choice, by the enactment of
some salutary laws, when he was compelled to march
against the Alani, a Scythian tribe, who were devastat¬
ing Asia Minor. He was successful in the war; but the
fatigues and anxieties of the campaign were too severe for
a frame already enfeebled by age, and he died in Cappa¬
docia.
The imperial diadem was immediately assumed by Flori-
anus, brother of the late emperor; but the Syrian army
chose Marcus Aurelius Probus, a general of great and va¬
ried merit, to be the successor to the throne. Florian find¬
ing himself opposed by a man against whom he could not
hope for success, put an end to his own life, and thus left
the empire to his rival.
Closely resembling Aurelian in personal bravery, and, like
him, also a native of Sirmium, Probus began a reign scarce¬
ly less warlike and glorious than that of his great country¬
man. He defeated the Germans in several battles, and
drove them beyond the Rhine and Danube, which were now
considered the natural limits of the empire. To complete
the boundary-line in that quarter, he constructed a strong
wall from the Danube to the Rhine. Passing along the
northern frontier of the empire, he reduced the Goths to
quiescence, entered Asia, and led his army against Varames
(Bahram) king of Persia. That monarch not daring to en¬
counter the hardy veterans of Probus, consented to a peace
of which the terms were dictated by the emperor. Three
competitors next fell before his power, and he now seemed
at leisure to cultivate the arts of peace, for which he had a
strong natural predilection. He accordingly employed his
legions in draining pestilential fens, planting vineyards, and
improving instead of devastating the face of the country.
This restoration of the ancient and wdse military discipline
of earlier and more virtuous days, gave offence to the licen¬
tious soldiery; who mutinied and slew the brave and good Roman
emperor. History.
Reverting to the custom formerly so prevalent, the army
proclaimed as emperor Carus, prefect of the praetorian
guards, and the senate reluctantly ratified their choice.
In the hope of promoting tranquillity, and securing the
inheritance of the imperial dignity in his own family, Cams
gave the title of Caesar to his two sons, Carinus and Nu-
merianus, who were thus his appointed successors. He
led his army against the Goths, who had renewed their
predatory incursions, and defeated them ; but was prevented
from following up his victory in consequence of a new in¬
vasion of the Persians. Leaving Carinus to protect the
western provinces, and taking Numerianus along with him,
he marched into Asia, and gave the Persians a complete
overthrow. Pursuing the defeated enemy, he entered
their own country, advanced to Ctesiphon, and began the
siege, when he was killed in his tent, some authors say
by a flash of lightning, more probably by some secret con- A. D. 283.
spiracy.
Numerianus was acknowledged by the army as his sue- Numeria-
cessor; but his gentle and pacific disposition exposed him mis.
to the ambition of Aper, pnefect of the praetorian guards,
by whom he was privately murdered, and his death was con¬
cealed till the traitor might have time to secure his own
elevation. But the bloody deed being discovered, a tumult A. D. 284.
arose in the army, in the midst of which Diocletian slew
Aper, and was proclaimed emperor in his stead. He did
not, however, at once obtain undisputed possession; for Ca¬
rinus, hearing of his brother’s death, assembled a powerful
army, and began his march against the usurpers. On his
way he encountered and defeated another rival, Julianus, and
advancing into Mcesia, was met and opposed by Diocletian.
The troops of Diocletian, however, were unable to contend
with the hardy veterans of Carinus, who gained the victory,
but was slain in the moment of his success by a tribune, to
avenge the violated honour of his wife; and thus, though
defeated, Diocletian remained in possession of the dia¬
dem.
The reign of Diocletian is one of much historical import- Diocletian
ance. It was rendered conspicuous by the introduction of and Max-
a new system of imperial government, and by the last andimlan-
greatest persecution of the Christians. Very soon after his
accession to the throne, Diocletian, feeling the weight of
the imperial government greater than he was disposed to
bear alone, chose as his colleague Maximianus, who had been A. D. 286.
his companion in arms, and to whom he was willing to de¬
legate the chief part of the military cares. Maximian had
soon an opportunity of using his power and displaying his
courage, in consequence of an insurrection in Gaul. This
insurrection he speedily suppressed, and obtained some vic¬
tories over the German invaders of the province. In the
mean time, Diocletian had been equally successful against
the Sarmatians and the Persians. But scarcely had they
obtained these victories, when new disturbances and new
invasions broke out in every part of the wide empire, the
wandering nations pressing inwards from all quarters, and
threatening to crush the entire Roman power. To make
head against so many invading armies seemed impossible,
without a further division of power. For Diocletian seems
to have entertained the opinion, that to entrust large armies
to experienced commanders was only to put it in their power
to become aspirants for the throne; and that the only way
to secure their fidelity was to give them such a share in the
imperial government as should engage their own interest in
its preservation.
In pursuance of this scheme, he induced his colleague
Maximian to name as his Caesar and successor Constantius A. D. 292.
Chlorus; while he himself chose Maximinus Galerius. In
this choice Diocletian was apparently guided by the same
414
ROMAN HISTORY.
British
war.
Roman principle which had led to his selection of Maximian as his
History. own col]eague, the principle of dissimilitude. A man com¬
paratively peaceful himselfj he chose to be associated with
Maximian, a rough warrior: to this rugged Augustus, or
emperor, he assigned a peaceful and mild Caesar, Constan tius,
again choosing for his own Caesar the warlike and fierce
Galerius. A new division of the empire followed. Dio¬
cletian took the eastern provinces; Galerius was appointed
to Thrace and Illyricum ; Maximian received Italy and Af¬
rica; and Gaul, Spain, and Britain, were entrusted to Con¬
stantius. Each of the Caesars, although they differed in
their dispositions, wTas a man of courage and military expe¬
rience ; and for a time the arrangement seemed productive
of the very best consequences, but it ultimately tended to
hasten the dismemberment of the empire and its consequent
overthrow.
Constantius, to whom Britain had been assigned, had to
begin his tenure of power by a war for its possession. The
usurper Carausius had several years before raised himself to
the chief command in Britain, which he retained in spite of
the efforts of the imperial generals. He wras slain by Allec-
tus, a new usurper, just as Constantius was preparing to
cross from Gaul against him. Constantius speedily defeat¬
ed Allectus, and gained the complete possession of his pro¬
vince, which he maintained with equal valour and modera¬
tion, governing with such justice as to make himself equahy
beloved by his army and the native inhabitants. In the
mean time, Galerius was equally successful on the Danube,
where he defeated the invaders; Maximian in Africa, and
Diocletian in Egypt; so that this division of power seemed
to secure the defence of the empire, by enabling its rulers
to oppose every new assailant. A war against the Persians
threatened more disastrous consequences. Diocletian had
sent for Galerius to conduct this war; but in the first bat¬
tle the Persians gained the victory, and inflicted on the Ro¬
mans a very severe defeat. Next year Galerius, at the
head of a more powerful army again invaded Persia; but
profiting by experience, he kept his forces on the hilly
regions of Armenia, where the Persian cavalry could not
act, and watching his time, rushed like a mountain torrent
on the Persians, and gave them a terrible overthrow. The
rout was complete and irrecoverable, and so greatly were
the Persians dispirited, that they were glad to yield to the
conditions of peace offered by the conqueror. The pro¬
vince of Mesopotamia was ceded to the Romans, and
the Tigris again became the eastern boundary of the em-
pire.
These successful wars might have been followed by a pe¬
riod of peace and prosperity; they ushered in scenes of un-
secutiorfof paralleled atrocity. Diocletian had made the city of Nico-
the Chris- media the seat of his residence; and there he maintained
tians. a court of eastern splendour, to which he invited men of
learningand philosophy. But the philosopherswho frequent¬
ed his court being all animated with extreme hatred against
Christianity, exerted themselves in instigating the em¬
peror to extirpate a religion too pure and lofty to suit their
polluted minds. Galerius is said also to have stimulated
Diocletian to undertake the destruction of a religion, the
gentle and peaceful spirit of which he could neither under¬
stand nor appreciate. Three imperial edicts were succes-
A.D. 303. sively published, requiring the books of the Christians to be
everywhere sought for and burned, forbidding them to meet
together for the purpose of religious worship on pain of
death, inflicting punishments of every kind, imprisonment,
slavery, infamy, and death upon all the dignitaries of the
church, and sanctioning the employment of every possible
method to produce, enforce, or compel apostacy, and a re¬
turn to the established idolatry of the empire. 1 he barba¬
rities which followed upon the issuing of these edicts were
utterly inconceivable. Malicious ingenuity was racked to
Roman
History,
Persian
war.
the utmost to devise tortures for the persecuted followers
of Jesus. For the space of ten years did this persecution ^
rage with scarcely mitigated horrors; and such multitudes
were massacred in all parts of the empire, that at last the
imperial murderers ventured to erect a triumphal column,
bearing the barbarously boastful, yet false inscription, that
they had extinguished the Christian name and superstition,
and restored the worship of the gods to its former purity
and splendour.
The scheme of this great and bloody persecution was
devised by the emperor Diocletian and his Caesar Gale¬
rius, during a winter residence in the palace of Nicome-
dia. Soon after the issuing of the persecuting edicts, Dio¬
cletian repaired to Rome, and there, along with his col¬
league Maximian, enjoyed the honours of a triumph for the
various victories which had been gained in their joint sove¬
reignty. This was remarkable as the last triumph that ever Last Ro-J
entered the proud gates of Rome. Diocletian had already man tri¬
set the example of a residence in the provinces; and otherumph.
causes soon conspired to render this example both common
and expedient, so that Rome ceased to be the capital of even
the Roman world. Wearied with the cares of government,
offended with the rude freedoms of the citizens of Rome,
and feeling the effects of advancing age, Diocletian began
to entertain serious intentions of abdicating the imperial
power. These intentions were confirmed by a severe ill¬
ness under which he laboured, after his return to Nicome-
dia; and at length he prevailed on his reluctant colleague
Maximian to accompany him in his abdication, as he had in
his assumption of the toils and the honours of sovereign domi¬
nion. Accordingly, the two emperors formally relinquished A_ D b0;
the imperial station, power, and titles; and were succeeded
by Galerius and Constantius, who now from being Caesars, Ga]erii]s
became each an Augustus. A new division of the empire J)d Con
necessarily followed, of which Galerius seized the lion s shai e, staI)tjUs, j
without however provoking any hostile opposition from
Constantius. Galerius retained all the eastern provinces,
together with Italy and Africa; Constantius was satisfied
with the possession of Spain, Gaul, and Britain. Gale¬
rius appointed two Caesars, Severus, to whom he consign¬
ed Italy and Africa, and Maximin, to whom he entrusted
the Asiatic provinces. Diocletian survived his abdication
about nine years, which he spent in tranquillity, ease, and
luxurious retirement at Salona (Spalatro), amusing himself
in the erection of a magnificent palace, and the calm plea¬
sures of rural and horticultural pursuits, resisting every at¬
tempt to induce him to return to the paths of ambition, and
declaring that he had never known the true enjoyment of
life till after his resignation of power.
Constantine, son of Constantius, was detained for some
time by Galerius, who was apprehensive of danger from the
talents"of that young prince ; but he contrived to escape,
and by a rapid flight secured his safety, and joined his fa¬
ther in Britain, who was preparing to march against the
Scots and Piets, as the inhabitants of the northern regions
of that island now began to be called. While Constantius
wras on his march northwards, he was seized with a mortal
illness, and died at York, having nominated as successor, a. D. 30t
his son Constantine, who was accordingly saluted Augus¬
tus by his army. Galerius refused to ratify this elevation
to the imperial dignity of a prince whom he at once hated
and feared; but sanctioned his being termed a Caesar, be¬
stowing the now vacant rank of Augustus upon Severus,
one of his own Caesars. This dignity had been expectec
by Maxentius, son of the abdicated emperor Maximian. In¬
dignant at his disappointment, Maxentius caused himself to
be proclaimed emperor by his army; and to colour this
usurpation, he induced his father to leave his retreat, ant
resume the imperial title. A scene of contention followed,
scarcely paralleled in the annals of Rome. Severus marc *
Roman ed against the two usurpers; but was abandoned by his own
stfistoiy. troops, yielded, and was slain. Galerius levied a great army,
*D^07,at!d m]arched int0 Italy against Maximian and Maxentius;’
^ ■ who, dreading his power, retired to Gaul, and endeavoured
to procure the support of Constantine. This politic prince
did not consider it expedient to provoke a war at that time,
and for no better cause; and Galerius having withdrawn
from Italy, and returned to the east, Maximian and Max¬
entius returned to Rome. To aid him in the struggle Ga¬
lerius conferred the title of emperor on his friend Licinius;
and thus there were at once six pretenders to the sovereign¬
ty of the empire, namely, Galerius and Licinius, Maximkn
and his son Maxentius, Maximin, who had been nominated
Caesar by Galerius, and Constantine, the son and successor
of Constantius. Among these rivals, Constantine possessed
a decided superiority in prudence and abilities, both mili¬
tary and political.
The harsh temper of Maximian soon led to a quarrel be¬
tween him and his son Maxentius; and finding himself un¬
able to^obtain an ascendancy over one who was no less in¬
tractable than himself, he quitted Rome, and went to Gaul
to Constantine. There also he found himself disappointed
of that power which he so greatly longed to possess, and
began to plot against the life of Constantine, his son-in-law.
D. 310. But being detected, he was condemned to death, the only
favour shewn to his age and former dignity being permis¬
sion to choose in what manner he should die. Thus perished
one competitor for the throne. Nor did Galerius long sur¬
vive him. A loathsome disease, contracted by excessive
indulgence in habits of sensuality, brought his turbulent life
D. 311. to its termination, leaving his power to be divided between
his Caesars, Maximin and Licinius. There were now four
rivals contending for the empire, Constantine, Maxentius,
Maximian, and Licinius. Maxentius speedily provoked open
hostilities with Constantine, who marched at the head of a
powerful army towards Rome.
It was while Constantine was proceeding on this moment-
i s ?u® exPeddion, that he made an open and public declaration
, 7 m favour of Christianity. Before that time, the persecuting
istian, f 1C*S ° Diocletian had been much mitigated by the for-
311. bearance and leniency of Constantius ; and Constantine not
only followed his father’s example, in being merciful to the
persecuted Christians, but even shewed them some marks
of positive favour. Very considerable numbers of them, in
consequence, flocked to his standards, and swelled the
ranks of his army. Their peaceful, orderly, and faithful
conduct, contrasting most favourably with the turbulent and
dissolute behaviour of those who formed the mass of com-
rnon armies, won his entire confidence. To what extent
this led Constantine to form a favourable opinion of Chris¬
tianity, or inclined him to view with esteem and respect
tenets which had produced such results, cannot be ascer-
tained. How far his avowed reception of Christianity was
influenced by the prudence of the politician, how far by
the convictions of the convert, it is impossible to deter¬
mine. Ihe accounts of his dream, and his vision, which
united to enforce his trust in Christianity, bear too much
the aspect of fiction, or of having been the illusive con¬
sequences of mental anxiety, brooding intensely on the
possible results of a great religious revolution, to be woven
mto the narrative of sober history. This, at least, is cer-
ROMAN HISTORY.
415
Roman
History.
D. 312.
istan-
tain, Constantine caused the cross to be employed as the
tory^ Standarcl’ and advanced with it to promised vic-
After the armies of Maxentius, led by his generals had
sustained two successive defeats, he found it imperatively
necessary to rouse himself from his sensual and inactive life
at Rome, and to advance against his formidable assailant.
He accordingly mustered a very numerous army, put him-
Cnn^nt8 ’ ITch1ed out of a"d met the host of
Constantine near the little river Cremera, about nine miles
from the city. A dreadful encounter took place, both
parties being stimulated by every motive that could ani¬
mate men to erect the utmost energies of mind and body.
It was not merely a battle of emperors; it seemed also a
strife of religions. At length the troops of Maxentius gave
way, wavered, broke, and fled in headlong and irretrievable
con usion ; Maxentius himself, endeavouring to enter the
city by the Milvian bridge, amidst the crowd of fugitives,
was precipitated into the Tiber, and perished, partly weighed a
down by his armour, and partly encumbered and overwhelm¬
ed among numbers of struggling wretches, whose dying gripes
knew not to respect the purple. & & R
Constantine entered Rome victorious, restored to the ^
senate their authority, disbanded the praetorian guards, and^Tfa'
oestroyed their fortified camp, from which they had so long Licinius.
awed the city and given rulers to the empire. After a
bnei stay in Rome, he proceeded towards Illyricum to
meet Licimus, with whom he had formed a secret alliance
before marching against Maxentius. The two emperors
met at Milan, where their alliance was ratified by the mar¬
riage of Licinius to Constantine’s daughter. During this
calm interview, Constantine prevailed upon Licinius to con¬
sent to the repeal of the persecuting edicts of Diocletian,
and to the issuing of a new edict, by which not only the
sanguinary enactments of the former emperor were revoked,
but Christianity was encouraged, its religious teachers were
mnoured, and its adherents advanced to places of trust and-^*
influence in the state.
This placid and beneficial intercourse between the em¬
perors, was speedily interrupted by an irruption of the
r ranks into Gaul, to which they afterwards gave their name.
Constantine hastened to oppose them. Anxious to take
advantage of this opportunity to crush separately the two
emperors, whom united he could not match, Maximin made
a very rapid march against Licinius, and almost succeeded
in overpowering him unawares. Licinius, however, kept
his enemy at bay till he had mustered sufficient force, and
then gave him a total overthrow near Adrianople. Maximin
fled almost alone to Nicomedia, and there died, either of A. D. 313.
poison or of mortified rage and despair.
The peace, which had seemed to be established on so
firm a foundation between Constantine and Licinius, was
soon interrupted. A war, conducted with great skill and
courage on both sides, arose for the sole supremacy of the
empire. But the activity, talents, and enterprise of Con¬
stantine prevailed. Licinius was defeated in a bloody bat¬
tle near Sirmium ; but though defeated, he was not over¬
powered. He speedily rallied the remains of his beaten army,
mustered fresh forces, and again met his rival in the field,
again to sustain another and a more complete discom¬
fiture. Through the intervention of Constantine’s daugh-
attention of bok^cciesiasticaUrid Tr!ktnrim of th® ceIe.brated dream and vision of Constantine, which have so much engaged the
he was marching1 towards Rfim, Vr •anS’ ^ule circumstances> according to the best authorities, were the following. While
Lminou“ banffltfl|ga'n MaXentU,S> head of his army, on a sudden there appeared in the air, about noon-day a
<*»•«»«. During Se ensuing night,' he was direcSin
monogram of the sacred name of Christ6 ThI! sucl,1' .""VT'' aud '“scribe on it, and on the shields of his soldiers, the labarum, or
beyond dispute ■ for therealitv of d ’ m h a h . .standard was at that tlme used, and that Constantine conquered, are historical facts
historians. ’ ^e reality of the dream and the vision, we must refer to the testimony of the emperor himself, and of contemporaneous
416
roman history.
Roman
History.
A. D. 3-24
Constan¬
tine.
Establish¬
ment of
Christiani¬
ty-
Seat of em
pire trans¬
ferred to
Constanti*
siople-
ter, an agreement soon afterwards took place, by which the
provinces south of the Danube were ceded to the conquer¬
or, and the dominions of Licinius limited to the Asiatic re¬
gions. For about eight years a sort of uneasy peace conti¬
nued between the two rival emperors, Licinius feeling, and
hating to feel, the natural superiority of Constantine. An¬
other open rupture was unavoidable; and both parties now
made preparations for a contest, the issue of which should oe
final. The two hostile armies met on the banks ot the Hem us,
near Adrianople. Licinius had taken up a strong and ad¬
vantageous position, in which he waited the attack of his at -
versary. For some days the two armies lay and watched
each other’s evolutions. At last Constantine with great skill
drew his enemy from his position, and forced him to an en¬
counter on equal terms. The battle was herce, obstinate,
and sanguinary; but the commanding genius, and heroic
courage of Constantine secured him a complete victory.
The spirit of Licinius was still unbroken. The siege
Byzantium detained Constantine, and allowed his anta¬
gonist to muster all his remaining strength, in order to strike
one more blow for life and empire. Chrysopohs was the
scene of the decisive conflict. But the raw levies of Li-
cir.ius could not withstand the conquering veterans of Con¬
stantine; the struggle produced rather a carnage than a bat¬
tle, and the utter annihilation of his last army left to Licimu
no resource but unconditional submission. He was depriv¬
ed of his imperial honours, and permitted to retire to 1 hes-
salonica, there to pass the remainder of his days in obscurity
and inglorious ease. But the life of a dethroned monarch
is not usually long. He was accused of tampering with the
barbarians, and conspiring with their aid to rekindle t e
flames of war. Such an accusation was of itself enough to
cause sentence of death to be pronounced; it was immedi¬
ately put in execution, and the empire was once more
transmitted to the sway of a single emperor.
Constantine, thus possessed of supreme power, imme¬
diately put in force some of those important purposes which
had long engaged his thoughts. He issued several edjcts
for the suppression of idolatry ; and at the same time restor¬
ed to the Christians both the churches and the property ot
which they had been deprived during the last persecution.
We have not sufficient information to enable us to judge
accurately respecting the intentions of Constantine, or re¬
specting the power of circumstances in obliging him to
modify his own schemes, so as to adapt them to certain
events which he could not altogether mould. But it is
scarcely possible to ascribe too much to the deep policy of
this emperor. He was well aware of the characters ot the
two conflicting religions, Christianity and Paganism. He
had also marked with discriminating eye the deep degene¬
racy of Rome and its inhabitants. Neither had the conse¬
quences of the partition of the empire by Diocletian escaped
his politic observation; and if the hope of preventing its
final dissolution was to be cherished, he saw it to be indis¬
pensably necessary to attempt a reconstruction of the em¬
pire, upon an arrangement entirely new. The whole fabric
of the ancient constitution of republican Rome had been
pervaded by its religious worship and institutions. It was
natural for him to determine that the new constitution of
the renovated empire, should be pervaded by the worship
and the institutions of Christianity. And as these had al¬
ready attained a considerable degree of maturity, he adopt¬
ed them as they were, partly perhaps because he durst not
venture to offend the Christians by any attempted reforma¬
tion, or reconstruction ; partly because the state of his own
religious knowledge, so far as we have any means ot judg¬
ing, was very inadequate and imperfect.
Being resolved to give a new constitution to the Roman
empire, and to make Christianity its basis and ruling prin¬
ciple ; being at the same time aware of the inveterate force
Roraai
Histon
of the associations connecting every thing in Rome witb fts
ancient idolatrous worship, enhancing immensely the ditti-^
culty of making any immediate and thorough change there;
and having before him the example of Diocletian, Constan¬
tine resolved to change the seat of empire, m order to faci¬
litate his change of the imperial constitution, ihe most
formidable enemies of the empire had for a considerable
time been the Goths and the Persians; and the necessity
of being nearer to the scene of danger, may have led to the
idea of selecting an eastern situation for the new seat ot
government. The siege of Byzantium, which Constantine
had formerly conducted in person, probably directed his at¬
tention to that city, as the most eligible situation ; and it
must be owned that it possesses advantages almost unequal¬
led, as the seat of an empire both European and Asiatic.
On it accordingly the emperor fixed his choice ; and receiv¬
ing from him immense additions and embellishments, toge¬
ther with a new name, it became Constantinople, the new
imperial city. . e
Previously, however, to this great change m the seat ot
sovernment, there had been held a general council of tne
Christian teachers at Nice, for the purpose of determining
the Arian controversy, which the emperor attended m per¬
son ; and where he obtained the opportunity of making such
enactments respecting the civil constitution of the church, A. D.;!
as he either deemed it expedient, or found himself enabled
to make. But the controversies which at that time, and tor
a long period afterwards, divided the church, furnished un¬
happily the means, and set the precedent, ol persecutions
conducted by one body of Christians against another ; and A. D. 3
in which both were too ready to sacrifice their spiritual in¬
dependence, for the purpose of obtaining the aid of the civil
power in crushing their antagonists.
In the arrangements of his new imperial constitution, New co
Constantine adopted much of the pomp and ceremony of an stitutiw
Asiatic court. A complete disjunction between civil andtheenp
military authorities took place ; and all the great officers ol
state were modelled anew, with new titles suited to the new'
arrangements, as officers of the court, of the army, and ot
the civil department. The officers of the court and of state,
were chiefly the lords or counts of the bed-chamber and
the palace (comites cubiculi, et palatii), and the ministers
of the interior, of the finances, of justice, of the crown-trea-
sury, and of the household troops, or body guards, the
officers of the army were the general-in-chief, and the
generals of cavalry and of infantry ; the next class were the
counts and dukes (comites et duces) of the army. 1 he civ i
department was divided into four great prefectures, ^
had its diocese, and each diocese its province, administer¬
ed bv vreefecti prcetorio, vicarii, and rectores provmciarum,
which officers had no military authority, as the military and
state officers had no civil power. A new system of taxation
was also established, consisting chiefly of a land-tax, a tax
upon trade, and the obligatory enforcement ot what had
formerly been a free gift to the emperor upon extraor¬
dinary occasions. Such is a very brief outline of the
constitution given by Constantine to the empire, obvious¬
ly more Oriental than European or Roman m its chaia
16 Notwithstanding the Asiatic aspect thus imparted to his
government, Constantine retained his ability and readiness lor
war, when enemies dared to insult his dominions. Severa
defeats repressed the hostile invasions of the Sarmatians a
Goths, who had renewed their attempts upon Ihrace; an
the Persian monarch did not venture to provoke the power
of an emperor equally renowned for his military and or his
civil virtues. Disease at length assailed a frame that had bee
long and severely tried by the toils, cares, and indulgences
of imperial state ; and after being openly admitted by bap
tism into that church of which he had been so long an
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman avowed adherent, he expired in the thirtieth year of his
History, reign.
'j’hg three sons of Constantine had been named Csesars by
A.D. 337. their father, and on his death they divided the empire among
.oonstan- Constantine obtained Gaul, Spain, and Britain; Con-
Constan- stantius, the Asiatic provinces, with the capital, Constantin-
rius. ople ; and Constans, Italy and Africa. The late emperor
Constans. had assigned provinces to his two nephews, Dalmatius and
Hannibilianus; but the three new emperors, on the ground
of a false accusation, barbarously murdered their uncles, cou¬
sins, and every member of the imperial house, except two
cousins, Gallus and Julian, one suffering under a hopeless
malady, the other a mere child. This bloody deed did not
long secure to the brothers the quiet possession of their
dominions. A dangerous war arose in the East, where Con¬
stantins was unable to resist the growing power of the Per¬
sians, but suffered several heavy defeats, and was in danger
of losing the whole of Mesopotamia, when the Persians were
obliged to offer a peace, in consequence of their own do¬
minions being assailed by the nomad tribes beyond the
Oxus.
In the mean time, ambition had kindled a war between the
other two imperial brothers, Constantine and Constans. Not
satisfied with his portion of the empire, Constantine first
seized upon Africa, and then attempted to wrest Italy
from Constans. He crossed the Alps, and began to ravage
the country round Aquileia ; when falling into an ambuscade
Death of he was slain, together with the greater part of his troops.
Constan- Constans immediately took possession of his fallen brother’s
dominions, and thus became the sovereign of two-thirds of
' the empire. Satisfied, apparently, with this great acquisi¬
tion, he plunged into the most dissolute indulgences, refused
to cede any portion to Constantius, and even allowed that
prince to wage an unequal war against the Persians, refusing
Death of to lend him any assistance. At length his general, Mag-
Jonstans. nentius, raised the standard of revolt. Constans fled to-
' ’ ‘ ^ wards Spain, but was overtaken and killed near the Py¬
renees.
While Constantius was preparing to avenge the death of
his brother, a new revolt broke out in Illyricum. The army of
that province compelled their general, Vetranio, to assume
the purple; and Constantina, sister of the emperor, encou¬
raged him to the deed, and even urged him to form an alli¬
ance with the usurper Magnentius, who had so recently slain
her brother Constans. Not deeming it prudent to engage
in a war of such magnitude without providing for the admi¬
nistration of affairs during his absence, Constantius placed
his cousin Gallus in the rank of Caesar, and advanced to Con¬
stantinople, which Vetranio had seized while the emperor
was engaged in the Persian w ar. Pretending to be willing
to admit Vetranio to an equal share of power with himself,
he obtained permission to enter the imperial city; and im¬
mediately roused the feeling of the army and the people so
far, that they declared him sole emperor. Vetranio quietly
submitted, his life was spared, and he retired to Prusa,
where he spent the remainder of his life in calm seclusion.
Maxentius, fully determined to maintain his usurped power,
marched at the head of a strong army into Pannonia to
meet Constantius. The hostile forces came to an encoun¬
ter on the plains of Mursa, and a furious combat ensued.
It terminated in favour of Constantius, but the victory
was purchased by the loss of his bravest troops; a loss
which the exhausted state of the population could not ade¬
quately supply. Next summer Constantius gained posses¬
sion of Italy ; and Maxentius having fled to Gaul, sustained
there another defeat, and seeing further resistance in vain,
put an end to his own life.
Constantius w as not long permitted to enjoy his triumph in
tranquillity. His cousin Gallus, whom he had created Cae¬
sar, instigated by the ambitious Constantina, and being him¬
self of a morose and haughty disposition, caused so much
VOL. XIX.
417
dissatisfaction in the provinces of the East, that Constantius Roman
was obliged first to recall him, and soon afterwards to put History,
him to death. Of the race of Constantine the Great, there
now remained only Julian, the cousin of the present em-
peror; and he escaped the fate of his brother Gallus,
partly in consequence of the intercession of the empress
Eusebia, partly because he had hitherto preferred a scholar’s
life to the dangerous eminence of military fame. He was
permitted to prosecute his studies among the philosophers
of Athens, from whom he imbibed that love of the mytho¬
logy of ancient Greece, which led to his subsequent apos-
tacy from Christianity.
Having thus once more arranged the affairs of the empire,
Constantine paid a visit to Rome, where he was received
with demonstrations of the most flattering character. But
he was again called away, in consequence of the Germanic
tribes assailing the western, and the Persians the eastern pro¬
vinces of the empire. He sent Julian to command the armies
in Gaul, and to oppose the Germans, while he himself en¬
deavoured to maintain the eastern provinces. In his cam¬
paigns he obtained but little success; and was even com-
peiled to abandon the siege of Bezade, which the Persians
had taken. Mean while, Julian was distinguishing himself
in a very remarkable manner in Gaul. Instead of a mere
scholar, ignorant of every thing but the jargon of the so¬
phists, as Constantius had thought him, he appeared at once,
when in command of the army, an intrepid soldier, and a
consummate general. The Franks he completely overthrew
in several engagements, gained by his personal courage and
his skilful conduct, even though the generals had secret or¬
ders rather to thwart than second his efforts. Having re¬
pelled the Germanic tribes, he crossed the Rhine, plunged
through the morasses, penetrated the forests, and traversed
the plains of Germany, spreading havoc and dismay among
these ancient enemies of the empire. Constantius, envious
of his renowm, and jealous of his rising power, demand¬
ed from him the best legions of his army, on the pretext
that their services were required in the Persian war. The
legions refused to obey, and proclaimed Julian emperor.
Both parties prepared for a war, to decide their preten¬
sions to the imperial diadem; but while Constantius was Death of
exerting himself to the utmost, and while his mind was filled Constan-
with rage and apprehension, he was seized with a fatal ill-tills'
ness, and left the throne to his rival without bloodshed. ^ 361.
The high reputation of Julian, which had preceded him, Julian the
procured for him a triumphant reception at Constantinople. Apostate.
Immediately on his arrival, he began a rigorous reform in
the whole administration ; banished the corrupt and servile
ministers of his predecessor; dismissed those whose sole
employment had been to gratify the sensual and luxuri¬
ous habits of the court; appointed men of talent and
activity to administer the affairs of the empire ; and revived
in Constantinople some of the forms of the ancient Roman
constitution, particularly the senate and the consular title.
But along with these reforms, he had planned a change of
a much more extensive nature, nothing less than the subver¬
sion of Christianity, and the establishment of a somewhat
reformed paganism in its stead. Trained as he was, in the
philosophic lore of Greece, he imagined that he saw the
deep mysteries of a true natural religion concealed beneath
the fables of the heathen mythology ; and though he did not
imagine the popular mind capable of understanding the deeper
meaning, he purposed to remove some of the grossest parts
of the external mythic rites, give these, so reformed, to the
people, and retain the secret mysteries for the learned. All
this, he was well aware, could not be accomplished at once.
But he adopted the most subtle methods to promote his ul¬
terior designs. He revoked all the edicts against idolatry ;
discouraged Christianity, by removing Christians from all
places of public honour and influence, and prohibiting them
from teaching in the public schools, with the evident design
3 G
HOMAN HISTORY.
Persian
war.
418
Roman of preventing them from being taught, that they might sink
History. int0 insignificance.
His attempt to rebuild the temple of Jerusalem was one
Attempt to0pt^e remarkable of his systematic endeavours to over-
'jerusalem throw Christianity. He was sufficiently acquainted with the
’ scriptures to know, that the final desolation of Jerusalem and
dispersion of the Jews had been predicted, and was a stand¬
ing miracle testifying to the truth of Christianity. This he
endeavoured to refute, and turn against the cause, by re¬
building the temple in more than its original splendour, and
restoring the Jews to their long-lost capital. But in this
daring attempt he was signally defeated. If we may cre¬
dit the testimony of contemporaneous historians, the work¬
men were driven from the attempt by thunders, whirlwinds,
and flames bursting from the foundations which they were
vainly endeavouring to lay, till terrified by these superna¬
tural events, they were compelled to abandon the enter-
prize.
From these fruitless endeavours for the subversion of
Christianity, Julian was called to take the field against the
Persians, who had renewed their aggressions. Though pe¬
culiarly desirous of literary and philosophic fame, Julian was
by no means destitute of military ambition. He returned
a very haughty answer to the Persian ambassadors who had
come to treat with him ; and set out at the head of a power¬
ful army of skilful veterans, determined to humble the pride
and the power of the Persian monarch. For some time his
expedition was one continued series of brilliant achieve¬
ments, till bearing down all opposition, he reached the walls
of Ctesiphon. But there he found himself too far from his
resources to be able to continue his operations in the siege
of a place which promised no speedy conquest. To advance
was impossible, to retreat highly dangerous, to remain de¬
struction. Reluctantly he commenced a disastrous retreat,
through sandy deserts, oppressed with intolerable heat, de¬
ficient in provisions for his troops, and surrounded by clouds
of swift Arabian cavalry. Several sharp encounters took
place, in which the Roman forces gained the advantage
whenever the enemy came to close combat, but suft'ered
dreadfully from the light skirmishing warfare which they
generally waged. At length a Persian arrow pierced the
unguarded breast of Julian, inflicting a wound of which he
A. D. 363. died in a few hours, after an active reign of about twenty
months.
Jovian. The distressed army could not be without a leader ; and
after a short consultation Jovian, the first of the domestics,
a title which conferred senatorial dignity, and a rank equal
to that of the military duces, was proclaimed emperor; and
after some severe conflicts with the Persians, was obliged
to conclude a treaty neither advantageous nor honourable
to the empire, except that it was necessary for the preser¬
vation of the wreck of the army. Returning to his own do¬
minions, he immediately revoked all the decrees issued by
Julian against Christianity, and in favour of paganism, thus
restoring the former to the supremacy which it had enjoyed
since the time of Constantine. Before he reached Constan¬
tinople, to which he was directing his course, Jovian was
A. D. 364. found dead in his bed, having been suffocated, as was sup¬
posed, by charcoal.
After a period of ten days spent in consultation and de¬
bate, Valentinian was chosen by the imperial ministers and
generals, and the army cordially ratified the choice. Soon
after his elevation, Valentinian raised his brother Valens
to the dignity of Augustus, and divided with him the em¬
pire, giving to Valens the eastern territories, and retaining
to himself Rlyricum, Italy, Gaul, Spain, Britain, and Africa.
Thus were the Roman dominions once more divided into
the eastern and western empires; and from the time of Va¬
lentinian, they were never again thoroughly united. Valen¬
tinian established his court, not at Rome, but at Milan, being
nearer the centre of his dominions; and he was almost im-
Romai
Histor
Valenti-
nian.
mediately engaged in hostilities with the restless and warlike
tribes of the Germanic race. He made the most energetic
efforts to drive back these invaders, and to maintain the'
extent of the empire undiminished; a task every year more
and more difficult, from the increasing torrent of invaders,
and the sinking strength of the exhausted empire. Not
only were the German tribes in motion, pressing into
Gaul, but the tribes bordering on the Baltic were begin¬
ning those piratical depredations which made them so long
the terror#*)f the adjacent maritime countries. In Britain
the Scots and Piets were overpowering the Roman pro¬
vince, so that in every quarter of the western empire,
nothing was to be seen but the march and countermarch of
contending armies. Theodosius, the Roman general in
Britain, succeeded in defending that province from its as¬
sailants, and thus gained the friendship of the emperor.
To give the appearance of greater stability to his throne,
Valentinian raised his son Gratian to the rank of Caesar,
and caused him to be received by the army as his suc¬
cessor.
In the mean time a dangerous war arose in Africa, where
the avarice and cruelty of Count Romanus, the military
governor, had excited general dissatisfaction. The com¬
plaints of the injured Africans having been guilefully mis¬
represented to Valentinian, he punished the complainers.
Despairing of redress, the people revolted, and chose Firmus,
the son of a man of great wealth and influence in the coun¬
try, for their leader. Romanus was quite unable to sup¬
press this rebellion; but Valentinian despatched the war¬
like Theodosius with a strong force, to reduce them to sub¬
jection. Immediately on his arrival, the aspect of affairs
was changed. Firmus was defeated with great loss, and
fled to a friendly tribe in the interior; but fearing to be
betrayed, he committed suicide, to avoid falling into the
hands of the conqueror. Valentinian himself had in the
mean time been engaged in conducting an expedition
against the Quadi, and other nations on the Danube, in A.D. 37a
which he was successful; but died suddenly of apoplexy,
near the modern city of Guntz in Hungary.
Gratian, the eldest son of Valentinian, succeeded his Gratian.
father in the western empire, and immediately associated
with himself his brother Valentinian II., at that time only
a youth of five years old, assigning to him Italy and Illyri-
cum. Among the first and the worst acts of his reign, was
the sanctioning the execution of Theodosius, whose brave
and skilful conduct had preserved Britain, and recovered
Africa. To this he was instigated by the calumnious in¬
sinuations of envious courtiers, who both hated and feared
the rising merit of that gallant warrior. The reign of Va¬
lentinian, though filled with wars, had been so prosperous
that it had secured for his sons a period of comparative
tranquillity, more suited to their youth and inexperience.
But the eastern empire had neither enjoyed equal prospe¬
rity, nor was enjoying the prospect of equal tranquillity.
Almost at the very commencement of his reign, Valens,
the eastern emperor, was compelled to make preparations
for a new Persian war; and, in the midst of these prepara¬
tions, was alarmed by a dangerous rebellion. This was
raised by Procopius, a distant relation of Julian, whose
pretensions to the throne were founded partly on his con¬
sanguinity to the former emperor, and partly on a rumour
that Julian had himself secretly invested him with the pur¬
ple. Procopius was at first successful; but his haughty
and cruel temper disgusting his own supporters, he was de¬
serted by them, taken by the emperor, and put to death.
The Persian war proceeded favourably, Sapor receiving a
severe defeat, w'hich was soon followed by a peace. But a
more important event occurred, formidable not only to \ a-
lens, but also to the whole of the western world. This was
the appearance of a new moving nation of barbarians, called ^
Huns. Respecting the origin of this people, there are va-
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman rious opinions, of which the most commonly received is
history, that which represents them as sprung from the great family
of the Mongolian Tartars, and in some way connected with
those tribes called by the Chinese, Hioung-Nou. But there
was also among them a manifest mixture of various nomad
tribes, of which the predominant were probably the Finnish.
It would indeed be absurd to imagine that a mighty mi¬
gration of nomad tribes, sweeping onwards from the wilds
of Mongolia to the Tanais (Don) and the Palus Meeotis
(Sea of Azov), could be other than a mingled mass of all
the various tribes whom they had conquered and absorbed
in their tide-like course. Crossing the Tanais, the Huns
drove before them the nations north of the Danube; and
these uprooted nations in their turn threw themselves head¬
long upon the Roman provinces, both impelled and sup¬
ported by the countless hordes that continued to press
resistless!y behind. The Goths, unable to repel these ter¬
rible barbarians, sought and obtained permission to settle
in the waste lands of Thrace, which formed part of the Ro¬
man province of Moesia. Unfortunately for both themselves
and the empire, the Goths had been taught Arianism, and
as a very violent hatred subsisted between the Arians and
the orthodox Christians, the Goths neither were well re¬
ceived by the Romans, nor entertained sentiments of much
friendship towards them. And not less unfortunately, the
officers whom Valens appointed to superintend the new
settlements of the Goths were men of the most depraved
and abandoned characters, and treated them with the ut¬
most perfidy and cruelty. At length Lupicinus, the chief
of these officers, attempted at a feast to murder Fritigern
and the other Gothic leaders ; but the plot being prematurely
discovered, the Gothic chiefs escaped, and arming their fol¬
lowers, massacred the greater part of the Roman troops in
the province. In the mean time, the Huns advancing on
their devastating career, drove the Ostrogoths before them
into the territories possessed by the Visigoths; and thus
mightily swelled the strength of the infuriated Goths.
Uniting themselves under Fritigern, the Goths lajd waste
Ihrace, Macedon, and Thessaly, and approached to the
very walls of Constantinople.
In this state of affairs, Valens, assailed by a strong and
vengeful foe, applied to Gratian, the young emperor of the
west, for aid. He had been engaged in warring success-
fully against the Germans, and was at that time in the field ;
but seeing the urgent necessity of saving the eastern em¬
pire, he immediately marched to the assistance of his uncle.
Before his arrival, the Gothic chief, Fritigern, thinking it
lawful to use deceit against a deceitful foe, found means to
draw Valens into a situation in which he was almost com¬
pelled to fight, without waiting for the arrival of succour.
L. 3/8. A decisive battle was fought near Adrianople ; Valens him¬
self was killed on the field, and nearly two-thirds of the
Roman army were cut to pieces. Not even on the dread¬
ful field of Cannae had the Romans sustained a more fatal
overthrow; and the stern unconquerable spirit of the re¬
public being no more, the fate of the eastern empire seem¬
ed to be inevitable. But what direct force might not
have been able to accomplish, was effected by a rare com¬
bination of wisdom, valour, and probity. In consequence
of his wars with the invaders of his own dominions, Gra¬
tian was unable to undertake the conduct of the w'ar against
’odo he called to his aid Theodosius, son of that
! °" Theodosius whom he had unjustly put to death, and whose
death he had bitterly repented. Him he now raised to the
dignity of emperor, and gave him at once the eastern em¬
pire, with the addition of the province of Ulyricum. Theo¬
dosius thus raised to the purple, speedily showed himself
worthy of the high trust committed to him, that of restor¬
ing the fortunes of a falling empire. The courage of the
Romans had been so much shaken by their late defeat, that
I heodosius did not think it prudent to hazard a general
engagement with the Goths; but, like another Fabius, he Roman
saved his own forces, harassed the enemy, taught his men History,
that the Goths were not invincible, and gradually restored
to them their courage, perfected by improved discipline
and temperate caution. At length Fritigern died ; and the
Goths having no longer a leader capable of controlling the
haughty chiefs of their ill-compacted confederacy, became
disunited, and one by one submitted to the superior skill,
policy, and authority of 1 heodosius. Great numbers of
them received the pay, and were incorporated into the
armies of that empire which they had so recently been on
the brink of destroying, and the remainder voluntarily en¬
gaged to defend the Danube against the Huns. Thus, in
about four years, the eastern empire was rescued from the
most formidable danger by which it had ever been assailed,
and seemed once more in a state of security.
\\ hile -Theodosius wras thus employed, another calamity
befel the western empire. The character and conduct of
Gratian hail defrauded the fair expectations formed of him
on his accession, and exposed him to the contempt of the
more warlike part of his subjects. Maximus, who held the
chief command in Britain, revolted against him, passed
into Gaul, and prepared to dethrone the feeble emperor.
The army violated its allegiance, and Gratian having fled A.D 383.
towards Italy, w^as overtaken and killed at Lyons. The
death of this prince left his young brother Valentinian II.
nominal emperor of the west, though the usurper Maximus Maximus,
assumed that title. Theodosius was obliged to conceal his
resentment against the murderer ofhis benefactor,not being
yet in a condition to quit his owrn dominions; and he even
entered into a treaty with him, leaving him in the undis¬
turbed possession of Gaul and Britian. But Maximus,
encouraged by the success with which his rebellion had
been followed, resolved to deprive Valentinian of even
the nominal power which he enjoyed in Italy. Unable
to defend his territories, he fled to Theodosius, and be¬
sought his aid. Theodosius having completed the paci¬
fication ofhis own dominions, immediately marched against A-D. 388-
the usurper, defeated him in two successive engagements,
and his own troops having yielded him up, put him to
death. Valentinian II. was thus restored to the throne Valenti-
of the western empire; a throne which his weak character"ia" H-
did not enable him to fill and to defend.
Theodosius, after his triumph over Maximus, resolved to Overthrow
visit Rome, and aid his imperial pupil in reforming the°fpaga«i-
abuses prevalent in that city. This visit is memorable onlsm at
account of the decrees published by Theodosius for the Rome'
complete suppression of idolatrous worship in Rome. All
sacrifices were prohibited under heavy penalties, the idols
were defaced, and the temples of the gods abandoned to
ruin and contempt. These decrees met but a feeble re¬
sistance, and from that time may be dated the complete
and final overthrow of pagan idolatry in Rome. It would
be an easy though an unpleasant task, to show how the ill-
judging teachers of (Christianity, in their zeal to make con¬
verts, in order to make the transition more easy to the
pagan multitude, adopted many of the rites and festivals of
the ancient idolatry, assigning merely to some saint what
had been ascribed to some subordinate deity, and thus in¬
troduced much of the ill-disguised heathenism which forms
so large a proportion of papal superstition: but this we leave
to the pen of the ecclesiastical historian. Having thus
completed the triumph of Christianity over paganism, Theo¬
dosius returned to the east, and employed himself in the
kindred task of putting an end to the heresies of the church,
establishing the predominancy of the orthodox over the
Arian party.
Valentinian II. had but a short time recovered possession
of the empire of the west, when he was murdered by Ar- A D. 392.
bogastes, a Frank of a bold and warlike character, who had
obtained a great ascendancy over him. Arbogastes did
420
ROMAN HISTORY.
Roman
History.
A.D. 394..
A.D. 395,
Stilicho,
master-
general of
the army.
War with
the Goths.
Alaric the
Goth,
not himself assume the purple, but gave it to Eugemus,
deeming it more safe to possess the power than the name
of emperor. Theodosius once more prepared to avenge
the murder of an emperor. He raised a powerful army,
forced the passes of the Alps, encountered the army of the
usurper, and inflicted on him a decisive overthrow. Eu-
genius was killed by his own defeated troops, and Arbogas-
tes, fearing the just resentment of the victor, died by his
own hand.
The whole Roman empire might have been once more
reunited under one imperial sovereign, had Theodosius
been ambitious of that sole dominion. But being per¬
fectly persuaded of the necessity of an emperor in each
of the imperial cities, he assigned to his younger son r on-
orius the sceptre of the western empire, and associated
Arcadius, the elder, with himself in that of the east. Scarce y
had be completed this arrangement, when his constitution,
which had always been feeble, overtasked with the exer¬
tions of this campaign and the cares of state, yielded to t le
shock, and .be expired, to the universal regret of the em¬
pire, which beheld the splendour of the Roman name passing
away with him its last great emperor.
The Roman world now presented the miserable spectacle
of two emperors of such imbecility as to be incapable of
conducting the administration of public affairs, in a time of
such peril and alarm as would have required the prudence
of an Augustus joined to the martial skill and talents of a
Caesar. That Theodosius was not unaware of the feeble¬
ness of his two sons, may be conjectured from the fact of
his assigning the care of at least the western empire to Sti-
licho, the master-general of the army. This able general
seems to have been a Vandal by origin, but had by bis cou¬
rage and his great abilities raised himself to the highest
military fame and station before the death of Theodosius ;
and to him that prudent emperor entrusted the guardian¬
ship of the empire. In the east, the crafty and avaricious
Rufinus enjoyed similar influence over the feeble Arcadius,
but without equal merit to sanction his possession of that
power. Stilicho governed by the inherent right of com¬
manding genius; Rufinus by the dark intrigues of a guile¬
ful and selfish nature. Stilicho seemed to regard himself
as entitled to the supreme care of both empires; and Ru¬
finus endeavoured to secure his authority in the east by
persuading Arcadius to marry his daughter. He was how¬
ever frustrated by the eunuch Eutropius, a person still more
crafty than himself, who induced the young emperor to share
his throne with the beautiful and accomplished Eudoxia.
In a short time afterwards, Rufinus was killed by the leader
of a body of Gothic troops in the confidence of Stilicho,
who did not however obtain the ascendancy over Arcadius,
being supplanted by the intrigues of Eutropius.
In the mean while, a dangerous war broke out in Africa,
under the command of Gildo, brother of Firmus, who had
been the leader of the last revolt. To suppress this insur¬
rection, Stilicho sent Mascezel, the brother and deadly foe
of Gildo. The Romans obtained the victory almost without
bloodshed; and Gildo terminated his days by his ow n act,
in a dungeon into which he had been cast. Mascezel did
not long enjoy his victory, having been drowned either
by accident, or, as some allege, by the contrivance of
Stilicho.
But the fiercest storm that had ever assailed the empire
was now ready to burst upon it in its hour of weakness. The
Goths had yielded to the arms, and especially to the policy
of Theodosius. After the death of Fritigern and of Athan-
ric, they had been for some time without a leader able to
to combine them into one body. A leader of equal craft
and courage now appeared in the famous Alaric, who hav¬
ing succeeded in establishing his authority over his country¬
men, only waited for a fair pretext, and a favourable oppor¬
tunity to put in practice a scheme of greater magnitude and
daring than had entered into the mind of any of Rome’s as- Roma:;!
sail ants since the time of Hannibal. The corrupt and ava- History,;
ricious ministers of Arcadius soon afforded him a pretext
sufficiently plausible, by withholding the subsidy paid to
the Goths since the agreement with Theodosius. Not
deeming the lands of Thrace worth his while, Alaric ledA.D.&j-i
his forces into Greece, passed the straits of Thermopylae
without opposition, devastated its fairest lands, and plun¬
dered Athens, Corinth, Argos, and Sparta. The unwarlike
emperor of the east and his effeminate courtiers did not dare
to meet the warlike barbarian; and Stilicho marched against
them to rescue Greece from her rude plunderers. The
great military genius of Stilicho was soon apparent in the
advantage he obtained over the Goths, whom he at length
succeeded in driving into a straitened position in Elis,
whence it seemed impossible for them to escape. Taking
advantage of the relaxation w;hich security had produced in
his antagonists, Alaric forced the lines of circumvallation,
crossed the narrow strait at the mouth of the gulph of Le-
panto, and resumed his ravages in Epirus. Before Stilicho
could again reach his enemy, he received information that
the emperor of the east had concluded a peace with Alaric,
and had even made him master-general of Illyricum.
Stilicho yielded to the unwise policy of Arcadius, and re- *
turned to Italy ; but was very speedily recalled to march
against his baffled but unvanquished foe. Resolved if pos¬
sible to make himself master of the western empire, Alaric
crossed the Julian Alps, and marched rapidly towards Milan,
where Honorius held his court. Stilicho hastened to recruit
his army and to defend the empire ; but before his prepar¬
ations were complete, the swif t march of Alaric compelled
Honorius to fly from Milan. In his flight he was almost
surrounded by the Goths, and took refuge in Asta, where
he was immediately besieged. Stilicho hastened to the
rescue of the emperor ; and gained a great, but not deci¬
sive victory over Alaric at Pollentia. Rallying the remains
of his shattered army, Alaric quitted the scene of his de¬
feat, and marched furiously to Rome, determined to wreak
his vengeance on that proud city, or to perish at its gates.
But Stilicho at the head of a chosen body of his army has¬
tened with scarcely less swiftness to the relief of the threat¬
ened capital, and arrived in time to protect it from the rage
of Alaric. Fie did not however deem it safe to force his
antagonist to a battle, dreading perhaps the almost in-
vincible energies of a brave enemy’s resolute despair; and
thought it preferable to purchase his retreat, though at the
expense of a very large sum of money.
Though frustrated in this attempt, Alaric did not relinquish
his intention of making himself master of the western em¬
pire. He retreated towards Gaul, and attempted to seize
Verona, intending to retain it as an open door by which to
invade Italy wdien he should be supported by the strength
of Gaul. Stilicho being apprised of his intention, followed,
beset, and brought him to an engagement at Verona, and
inflicted on him a second great overthrow, but could not
prevent his escape, with a spirit undismayed, and a resolu¬
tion only confirmed of implacable hostility to Rome. Af¬
ter this deliverance, Honorius went to Rome to enjoy the
honours of a triumph ; but this timid prince was not satis¬
fied with a residence in any city which was exposed to t le
dangers of invasion. He therefore withdrew to Ravenna,
a small fortified town on the banks of one of the mouths 0
the Po, deemed inpregnable from its situation ; and heie e
determined to fix his imperial residence.
Another enemy now appeared to summon forth afres
the energies of the brave and indefatigable Stilicho. IS
was another combined host of roving nations, chiefly ’an' .
dais, Alani, Suevi, and Burgundians, under the command The
of Radagaisus. On their march a large body of this mov
ing mass separated, and entered Gaul; while the 1 est un
der their chief entered Italy and laid siege to Florence.
ROMAN HIS T O R Y.
Roman Again did Stilicho by his superior tactics save his own army,
History. and overthrow that of the enemy, enclosing them witli-
•"’’V'^in such entrenched lines as they could not force, and re¬
ducing them to such distress that they were compelled to
surrender at discretion. Radagaisus was put to death; and
the greater part of his army sold as slaves. Of this fresh
tide of migrating barbarians, the portion which turned to¬
wards Gaul was more successful. They devastated the
whole of that country, crossed the Pyrenees, and formed
a settlement in Andalusia.
Stilicno was now suspected of a secret intercourse with
Alaric, whom he had several times defeated, but always
suffered to escape. A correspondence certainly existed be¬
tween them ; and Stilicho even attempted to persuade Ho-
norius to frame a treaty with Alaric, and to give him the
province of Illyricum. In the midst of these political in¬
trigues, Olympius found means to gain the confidence of
Honorius, and procured the murder of the brave and able
Stilicho, the deliverer of Italy. As if to prove the infatua-
..D. 408. tion of guilt, Olympius next procured the murder of the
wives and children of the barbarians throughout Italy,
which, instead of weakening their power, strengthened it
by the just resentment which so atrocious a deed awoke in
their fierce, yet human bosoms. They immediately invited
Alaric to head them in avenging the slaughter of their fa¬
milies; and thus about thirty thousand brave and disciplined
men were by one bloody and treacherous deed converted
from auxiliaries into the most implacable foes, while the
death of Stilicho encouraged Alaric to invade a country no
longer defended by that renowned warrior, before whom
his own martial genius had stood rebuked.
Delighted to see his great scheme so nearly within his
reach, Alaric once more entered Italy and marched di¬
rectly against Rome.1 By a skilful arrangement of his
forces, he cut off all supplies, and the devoted city was
soon subjected to the aggravated horrors of war, famine,
and pestilence. Safe in his retreat at Ravenna, the em¬
peror made no effort to save his capital; and after suffering
the most dreadful miseries, the senate purchased a cessa¬
tion of hostilities and the retreat of the besieging army, by
the payment of an enormous ransom. Alaric withdrew to
Tuscany, and waited the ratification of this treaty by the
emperor, being unwilling to come to extremities, under the
hope of yet obtaining such an alliance with Honorius as
should raise him to the command of the armies of the
whole western empire, which he might govern in the name
of the emperor, as Stilicho had done. Honorius refused to
ratify the treaty ; and Alaric once more invested Rome.
In this second siege Alaric took measures to secure a more
speedy triumph. He seized upon the harbour of Ostia,
which contained the granaries for supplying the city; and
the Romans were compelled at once to capitulate. Still
the conqueror modified his triumph, contenting himself with
raising Attains, prasfect of the city, to the empire. Not¬
withstanding this virtual dethronement of Honorius, Alaric
continued to negotiate with that feeble monarch, whose
name bore a higher dignity than that of Attalus. Having
again failed to obtain his wishes, he deposed Attalus, and
marched against Rome, resolved no longer to control the
strong impulse which had long urged him to the sack of
Rome. The barbarian army once more approached the
walls. During the darkness of night the Gothic slaves
within the city seized one of the gates, and threw it open
to their countrymen, setting fire to some adjacent houses
|ime be¬
lied.
D. 408
ifll-
8.
). 409,
421
to light their entrance and to begin the work of devastation, Roman
spoil, and carnage. For six successive days of horror the History.
Got is were allowed to glut their furious appetites in the
saek of the prostrate queen of the world, restrained only TakinS of
by their own respect for the churches, where numbers of ^me by
the trembling inhabitants found a sanctuary. ,,,
It was not the intention of Alaric to destroy Rome, but
rather to make himself itssovereign. After he hadattempted
this by policy and intrigue, he accomplished it by force. His
ambition now expanded with his success; and he resolved
to subjugate all Italy, pass into Sicily and add it to his con¬
quest, thence into Africa, and annex it to his dominions,
and thus to make himself the sovereign of the whole west¬
ern empire. But while on his march through southern
Italy for the accomplishment of these vast designs, he was n Qfx,
suddenly smitten with a mortal malady, and died near Con- Alaric
sentia. Before his death he gave orders that he should A. D. 410.
be interred in the channel of the small river Busentinus.
I he river w as turned aside by the labour of captives, the
royal sepulchre dug in the vacant bed, the body, richly
adorned with the spoils and trophies of Rome, was depo¬
sited, the waters were restored to their channel, and the
prisoners who had executed the work w^ere murdered, that
it might not be known where he lay, and that the hand of
man might never insult the ashes, and the foot of man never
ti ead upon the grave, of Alaric the Goth, the conqueror of
Rome.
After the death of Alaric, the command of the Gothic
army devolved upon his brother Adolph, wdio, though not
destitute oi talents, possessed neither the fierce passions
nor the high ambition of Alaric. He concluded a peace
with llonorius, consenting to quit Italy upon condition of
the princess Placidia being given to him in marriage.
This being done, he acted as a Roman general, led his
forces into Gaul, and reconquered that country for the
emperor. 1 hence he passed into Spain, and began a fierce
war against the other barbarian nations by whom that coun¬
try had been invaded; but was murdered in the midst of
his victorious career. His successor Wallia continued the
war with equal vigour and success, till he subdued nearly
all Spain, and founded the Gothic monarchy. Placidia was
sent back to ner brother Honorius, on the remonstrances
of the emperor’s victorious general Constantius, at the head
of a powerful army; and she wras afterwards given in
marriage to the brave leader by whom she was thus reco¬
vered.
Constantius did not long enjoy his dignity; and upon his
death Placidia sought a retreat in the court of Theodosius,
taking with her to Constantinople her two infant children
Valentinian and Honoria. Within a few months after this
event, which renewed the intercourse between the imperial
families of the East and of the West, the emperor Hono- A.D. 423.
rius died of dropsy. The throne was immediately siezed
oy John, the Primicerius, or principal secretary of the late
emperor. I hedosius II. who had succeeded his father Ar-
cadius in the empire of the East, prepared to place his cousin
on the throne of Rome. The eastern army took Aquileia,
and obtaining possession of Ravenna, where the usurper
then was, put him to death, and secured the Italian crown.
After some little delay, the son of Honorius, an infant only
six years old, was raised to the throne, by the name and title
of Valentinian III., emperor of the West; the administration
of affairs being conducted by his mother Placidia. It is wor- Valentin-
thy of remark, that both divisions of the Roman empire ian III.
* The state of Rome at that eventful period cannot be better described than in the language of Gibbon. « It had attracted the vices
£ U,.nv®rSe’ anf tke manners °f the most opposite nations. The intemperance of the Gauls, the cunning and levity of the Greeks, the
a^e ? stl"a.cy 111 the Egyptians and Jews, the servile temper of the Asiatics, and the dissolute, effeminate prostitution of the Syrians,
• m1"/ 111 . varions multitude ; which, under the proud and false denomination of Romans, presumed to despise their fellow-sub¬
jects, and even their sovereigns, who dwelt beyond the precincts of the Eternal City.”
4y2
ROMAN HISTORY
Roman
History.
The two
rival gene¬
rals, Boni-
facius and
iEtius.
Genseric
the Vandal
Attila the
Hun.
were at this juncture governed by females; the East by
Pulcheria, in the name of her brother Theodosius II., and
the West by Placidia, in the name of her son Valentinian
III.
While Rome was assailed on all sides by fierce barbarian
nations, it was extremely necessary that either the sceptre
should be swayed by a warlike monarch, or that men of
military talents should occupy the chief places of trust and
influence. The western empire was governed by a woman
in the name of an infant; but there were two men at the
head of its armies equal to the burden of its support and
defence, had they not been rendered foes by jealousy and
intrigue. These were Bonifacius in Africa, and jEtius in
Italy, both men of great abilities, but the latter envious and
designing. In order to ruin his less cunning rival, iEtius
wrote to Bonifacius to inform him that the empress Placi¬
dia wished his death, and meant to recall him from Africa
for that purpose ; and at the same time he persuaded Pla¬
cidia that Bonifacius meant to rebel, and advised her to re¬
call him for the purpose of proving his obedience. When
the order reached Bonifacius, it confirmed the fallacious
statement of iEtius, and he refused to return; this refusal
convinced Placidia of his traitorous design, and she caused
him to be proclaimed a traitor, thus driving him into re¬
bellion. Bonifacius was well aware that he could not hope
to contend successfully against the veteran troops of Rome,
led by iEtius ; and he therefore had recourse to the aid of
Genseric, king of the Vandals, at that time settled in Spain.
This ambitious and daring barbarian immediately crossed
the straits of Gibraltar, entered Africa, and commenced a
course of dreadful devastation. Bonifacius learned, when
too late, how he had been deceived ; and he then attempted,
but in vain, to check the progress of the savage invaders.
He was defeated, the cities that opposed the Vandals were
taken, and Africa was wrested from the power of Rome,
and completely overrun by the barbarians.
As the innocence of Bonifacius had been proved by the •
deceitfid letters of iEtius, he was received on his return to
Italy, with marks of favour by the empress. This roused
the utmost wrath of iEtius, and a sort of civil war arose be¬
tween the two rivals, in which Bonifacius was slain ; but
the empress, who was now thoroughly acquainted with the
treachery of iEtius, proclaimed him a traitor, and he fled
to the Huns, with whom he had maintained a secret alli¬
ance. In a short time afterwards he returned to Italy, re¬
questing re-admission to the councils of the empire, and
supported in his requests by an army of sixty thousand bar¬
barians. Placidia was obliged to accept his proffered as¬
sistance, to raise him to the dignity of a patrician, and to
the command of the imperial armies, and consequently to
the government of the empire.
No sooner had iEtius secured this object of his ambition,
than he resolved to recover the lost province of Africa ; and
for this purpose, availing himself of the indignation which
the cruel and barbarous treatment of his sister by Genseric
had excited in the mind of Theodoric, king of the Visi¬
goths, he endeavoured to frame such a treaty with that mo¬
narch as should induce him to aid the Romans against the
common foe. This politic design was however discovered
by the crafty barbarian, Genseric, who defeated it by in¬
ducing the terrible Attila, king of the Huns, to invade the
empire. For some time this powerful barbarian had ruled
with despotic sway over the whole nation of the Huns, and
kept both the courts of Rome and Constantinople in terror,
levying a tribute from each, as the price of his temporary
forbearance. The death of Theodosius II., and the acces¬
sion of Marcian, the nominal husband of Pulcheria, infused
a more determined spirit into the councils of the eastern
empire ; and the fury of Attila might have been directed
against it, rather than the west, had it not been for the in¬
trigues of Genseric, who induced the fierce king of the
Huns to bend his course westward, and pour the torrent
of his almost countless multitudes through Germany into
Gaul. The haughty barbarian had also another pretext.
The princess Honoria, daughter of Valentinian, is said to
have offered him her hand ; and Attila, availing himself of
the proffer, demanded her in marriage, together with a por¬
tion of the empire as her dowry, and advanced at the head
of an immense army to enforce his demands. All opposi¬
tion was in vain, till he reached Orleans in Gaul, which
sustained a siege for some time, in the hope of succour from
the confiderate forces of iEtius and Theodoric. At length
the allied army appeared, when the Huns were actually
forcing their way into the town, and Attila called them back,
and retired into the plains around Chalons, {in campis Cata-
launicis,) to obtain space for the evolutions of his mighty
army. After a battle, fierce, varied, obstinate, and bloody, Battle o
in which the nations from the Wolga to the Atlantic were Chalons
engaged, Attila was beaten back to his camp, and the field, ■ ^
covered with the dead bodies of 162,000 slain, remained in
the possession of iEtius, Theodoric having fallen in the
battle. Attila retreated into Germany, still too formidable
to be more than harassed on his march.
During the following spring, he renewed his attempt, but
now directed his course into Italy itself, and laid siege to
Aquileia, which he took after a protracted and desperate
resistance. iEtius could not induce the Visigoths to ren¬
der him any assistance, and his own forces were unable to
meet the vast armies of the Huns ; yet he continued to keep
the field, and to impede the progress of the dreadful invad¬
er. His march was now to be directed against Rome,
when he was prevented, partly by the offers of an embassy
sent to him from the timid Valentinian, and partly in con¬
sequence of a superstitious feeling of apprehension for his
own life, both friends and foes reminding him that Alaric
had not long survived the taking of Rome. He consented
to accept a large ransom and the .princess Honoria, threat-
• ening to return filled with implacable vengeance, should the
stipulations of the treaty not be fulfilled. Soon after his
return to his almost imperial village, he fell a victim to in¬
temperance, and died by the bursting of a blood-vessel, on Death of
the night after a feast held in honour of his own nuptial Attila.
engagement with the fair Udico. Ihus perished the ter-A.D.
rible Attila, a man of matchless energy of character, a bar¬
barian surpassing all in the barbaric pride and cruelty in
which he delighted; who directed his ambassadors to say
to the two emperors of Constantinople and Rome, “ Attila,
my lord, and thy lord, commands thee to provide a palace
for his immediate reception who delighted in uttering the
ferocious boast, that the grass never more grew on the spot
once trodden by his horse; and who actually adopted the
appellation given to him by a trembling enemy, the
scourge of God.
Upon the death of Attila, the kingdom of the Huns was
torn to pieces among his followers ; and Rome might have
enjoyed safety, had not the jealoiisy and ingratitude of Va¬
lentinian led him to murder with his own hand the brave
Altius, the only person capable of protecting the empire.
Not long afterwards, Valentinian himself was killed by the A.D. J
patrician Maximus, whose wife the weak and dissolute ty¬
rant had violated, and who ascended the throne thus ren¬
dered vacant. •
Soon after his assumption of the imperial dignity, theMaxinmi
wife of Maximus died ; and wishing to obtain a sanction for
his elevation, he married Eudoxia, the widow of Valentin¬
ian, and sister of the eastern emperor. In some moment of
strange imprudence, he told the empress that he had caus¬
ed the murder of her first husband Valentinian ; and to
revenge the deed, she privately invited Genseric, the \ an-
dal conqueror of Africa, to invade Italy, and dethrone the
usurper. Genseric had built and equipped a powerful fleet,
which rendered him master of the sea, and put it in his
tl
ROMAN HISTORY.
i Roman
History.
lome
Aen by
power to devastate the maritime countries around the Me¬
diterranean. His answer to Eudoxia was the speedy ap¬
pearance of a Vandal fleet in the Tiber. The terror of the
Roman citizens vented itself on Maximus, who was put to
death in a tumult of popular indignation ; but Genseric
landed and took possession of the city, which immediately
f became a scene of horrors, surpassing those caused by the
;e": storm and pillage of Alaric and his Goths. For the space
l,U‘ of fourteen days and nights did the savage Vandals indulge
their rapacious appetite for plunder, by seizing upon all the
public and private wealth which had escaped the Goths, or
been accumulated since their departure. Eudoxia herself
was despoiled of her jewels, and compelled, along with her
two daughters, to embark on board the vessels of the bar¬
barous plunderer. Great numbers of the Roman citizens
were carried away to Africa as slaves, the only mitigation
of their sufferings being what was purchased from the Van¬
dals by Deogratias, bishop of Carthage.
■vitus. Before the death of Maximus, he had appointed a noble
Gaul, named Avitus, to the command of the troops in that
country. When the death of Maximus left the empire
without a sovereign, the army proclaimed Avitus; and the
friendship of Theodoric, the king of the Visigoths, induced
him the more readily to accept the dangerous honour. But
he enjoyed his elevation a short time. Ricimer, command¬
er of the barbarian mercenaries in the armies of the em¬
pire, descended of the royal race of the Visigoths by the
mother’s side, and of the nation of the Suevi by the father’s,
having defeated the Vandals in a naval action, and been
hailed “ deliverer of Italy,” found himself strong enough
on his return, to depose Avitus, who was allowed to become
D, 456. bishop of Placentia, but he did not live to enjoy his eccle¬
siastical preferment.
For a short time Ricimer continued to govern the empire
without the appointment of an imperial ruler ; but at length
ijonanushe raised to that position Majorianus, a man of courage and
merit, who had been trained under the care of iEtius, and
was equally skilled in the arts of the field and the cabinet.
His first attempt was to check the growing degeneracy of
Rome, by amending the laws, making a new distribution and
arrangement of the taxes, restoring and reforming the ma¬
gistracies, preventing the destruction of public edifices, and
especially by such a vigorous resumption of the ancient dis¬
cipline of the armies, as should render them able to meet
their enemies with their former certainty of victory. He
levied troops, repelled an invasion of the Vandals, con¬
structed a fleet, and prepared to carry the war into Africa,
for the recovery of that province, which had long been the
very granary of Rome. But it w as not the policy of Rici¬
mer to allow a truly able and heroic monarch to occupy the
imperial throne, lest he might rouse the Romans from their
deep degeneracy. He fomented a sedition in the army, in
consequence of which Majorianus was compelled to abdi-
0.461. cate ; and five days after his abdication he died, as was re¬
ported, of a dysentery, more probably of treachery. In him
perished the hopes and the prospects of Rome, of ever
again obtaining deliverance from the degradation of barba¬
rian sway.
( At the command of Ricimer, the senate named as em¬
peror Libius Severus, an obsequious dependant of the im¬
perious barbarian, who continued to hold the nominal dig-
"jty emperor for a period of six years, during which
the whole power was so completely retained by Ricimer,
that the name of Severus is scarcely ever mentioned by
the historians of the time. At length the growing power of
the Vandals in Africa, and their incessant depredations on
the coast of Italy, compelled Ricimer, who had no naval
orce to oppose them, to apply for aid to the emperor of
e east, and to offer him the appointment of a western
emperor as an inducement. The opportune death of Se-
423
lus
erus.
verus enabled Ricimer to make this offer freely, if indeed Roman
he had not caused that death; and Leo, the eastern sove- History,
reign, nominated Anthemius to that ill-omened station. A'v '
combined armament was prepared by the Constantinopoli-Anthemiu9
tan and Roman emperors, and sent against the Vandals ;A-D' 467'
but the superior conduct of Genseric prevailed, and the
confederate force was almost totally destroyed. Bereft of
his eastern support, Anthemius w'as unable to maintain him¬
self against the powerful and ambitious Ricimer, who first
withdrew from Rome to Milan, and there held a separate
and independent court, and then marched toward Rome in
open rebellion against the emperor. For some months
Anthemius defended the city ; but at length it was car- a.D. 472.
ried by storm, and the unhappy emperor being dragged
from concealment, was murdered by the command of Ri¬
cimer.
Anycius Olybrius, the son-in-law of Valentinian III. was Anycius
next placed on the throne, by this daring and successful Olybrius.
setter-up and puller-down of emperors. Within about a a.D. 472
month after this exploit, Iticimer himself followed his im¬
perial victims to the grave, being cut off by a painful dis¬
ease ; and before other two mouths had elapsed, Olybrius
died a natural though an early death.
Even ambition could not rouse the sluggish court of the
east to activity, although the death of Ricimer rendered it
probable that the nomination of a new emperor would meet
with little opposition. At length Leo named to that dig¬
nity Julius Nepos, who had married a relation of the em-Julius
press, and had previously held the government of Dalmatia. Nepos.
In the meantime, Gundobald, the Burgundian prince, and
nephew of Ricimer, had raised to the throne an obscure
soldier named Glycerins ; but upon the approach of Nepos, Glycerius.
supported by the troops of Leo, Glycerius fled, the Bur- a.D. 474.
gundians not thinking proper to engage in a war for his de¬
fence, and he is said to have consulted his safety in the new
character of bishop of Salona.
Nepos enjoyed the sovereignty but a very short time.
The barbarian confederates, or auxiliary troops, broke out
into a violent sedition, and marched, under the command
of their general, Orestes, a native of Pannonia, of high de¬
scent, against Ravenna, where Nepos had his court. In¬
stead of confiding in the strength of the fortress, and haz¬
arding the contest, Nepos fled across the Adriatic to his
former Dalmatian province, and lived in obscurity till he
was murdered by the instigation of his former rival Gly-A.D. 475.
- cenus.
Orestes did not himself think proper to assume the pur- Romulus
pie, but gave it to his son Romulus, or, as corrupted by the Augustulus
half-barbarian half-Greek pronunciation of Pannonia, Mo-
myllus, to whom, as raised to the imperial dignity, was also
given the name of Augustus, afterwards changed into Aug¬
ustulus ; in whom thus met, by a strange combination, the
names of the founders of the city, and of the empire. But
Orestes soon found that it was easier to usurp than to retain
supreme power. The barbarian mercenaries, headed by
Odoacer, a bold and enterprizing chief of the Heruli, de- Odoacer,
manded a partition of the lands of Italy among them, to at king of the
least a third ; and upon the refusal of Orestes, they flew to Heruli.
arms, mustering from all quarters, besieged and took Pavia
into which Orestes had thrown himself, and put him to
death. Odoacef next directed his march to Rome, and
was met by Augustulus, who voluntarily abandoned the in¬
signia of imperial sway, and appealed to the clemency
of the conqueror. His life \^as spared, and he was allowed A.D. 476.
to retire to the villa which had belonged to Lucullus, w here
he was allowed a sum of money for his support. Odo¬
acer retaining the entire sovereignty, contented himself
with the title of king, and thus put an end to the Roman
Empire of the West, in the 1229th year from the foundation
of Rome.
424
R O M E.
Statistics Though this was the actual termination of the Roman
of Rome. Empire, yet it ought to be added, that Odoacer never as-
w-v'^^eurned the purple ' and diadem, or the title of king of Italy,
being satisfied with the regal title alone, without any local
application : and that after a comparatively peaceful, pros¬
perous, and prudent reign of fourteen years, his fortunes
Tbeodoric sunk before the superior genius of Theodoric, the king of
the Ostro- the Ostrogoths, a prince alike capable of founding or re-
goth. constructing a monarchy, under whose sway all vestiges or
the imperial government were swept away, or remodelled,
and Italy was formed into a kingdom.
There is no portion of profane history more pregnant
with important instruction, than that which relates to the
rise, the growth, the fluctuations, and the fall ol Home. It
equally demands the studious attention of the scholar, the
statesman, the philosopher, and the Christian. In its lite¬
rature, the scholar will find treasures second only to those
Hills of
Rome
of Greece; in its political struggles and changes, the states¬
man will find much to guide him in his endeavours to
mould the constitution of his own country; in its peculiar'
mental aspect and character, the philosopher will find a
full development of one of the most vigorous and striking
phases of mind that have ever been displayed in the his¬
tory of humanity ; and in its resistance to the pure and
simple truths of the gospel, the Christian will be led hum¬
bly to ponder on the deep depravity of man, and the dan¬
ger of rejecting that system of religion which can alone
elevate the character of individuals, and promote the secu¬
rity and happiness of communities. To point out the full
application of these views would require a dissertation far
beyond our limits ; and we must therefore leave the intelli¬
gent and inquisitive reader to trace them for himself, well
assured that the labour will amply prove its own reward.
(b. o.)
Statis"
of Ron
STATISTICS OF ROME.
Having thus related at length the rise and progress, de-
cline and fall, of the empire of Rome, we now proceed to
give a topographical and statistical description 01 that fa¬
mous city. _ .
Rome, by the shortest route, Brighton, Dieppe, Bans,
Geneva, Simplon, Milan, Bologna, Florence, and Sienna,
s about 1169 English miles distant from London.
The hills of Rome are chiefly composed of volcanic gra¬
nular tufa, but the greater part of the Capitoline is hthoid
tufa, which resembles the peperine stone of Albano, and the
same material is found in some parts of the Csalian and
Aventine hills. The valleys among the hills are chiefly of
siliceous-calcareous sand, but argillaceous substances are
very prevalent in the soil of Rome.1 dhe height, in Eng¬
lish feet, of the principal hills above the sea, is as follows:
Capitol, at west angle of Tarpeian rock, 151; at north end,
160; Palatine, 170; Aventine, 148; Caelian, 146; Esqui-
line, 180 ; Quirinal, at Pope’s palace, 150 ; Pincian, 206.
Modern Rome occupies a triangular space, each side of
which is nearly two miles long. The ground upon which it
is built covers about 1000 acres,_ or one mile and a half
square ; its walls form a circuit of fifteen miles, and embrace
an area of 3000 acres. The greatest part of the population
of Rome is now comprised within the limits of the Campus
Martius. Three of the seven hills are covered with build¬
ings, but are only thinly inhabited; the Transtiberine dis¬
trict, including the Borgo, contains the rest of the inha¬
bitants. The ancient city, however, was more than treble
the size of the modern, for it had very extensive suburbs
beyond the walls. The greater portion of the city stands
extremely low, being only from forty to fifty feet above the
sea, though sixteen miles distant from it. The Tiber, where
it enters the city, is only about twenty feet above the level
of the sea.
According to the unanimous opinion of all ancient writers,
Rome was originally confined to the Palatine hill,2 and af ter
the union of the Romans with the Sabines, the latter, vith
their king Tatius, had their abode on the Capitoline. After
the death of Romulus, a temple to his honour, under the
name of Quirinus, was erected by Numa on the Quirinal
hill, to which it gave the name.3
The Caelian hill was added by Tullus Hostilius, who had
his own dwelling there, and appropriated part of the mount
for the residence of the conquered Albans.4 The Aventine
mount was annexed to Rome by Ancus Martius, the fourth
king, who gave it for the accommodation of the Latins after
his conquest of their country.5 Fie also surrounded mount
Janiculum with a wall, and erected upon it a fort, lest this
advantageous post should fall into the possession of an ene¬
my. He likewise connected it with the city, by throwing
across the Tiber the famous bridge called the jPons Sublicius.
When the waters of the river are not above their usual level,
the traveller may still see the foundations of this bridge, the
scene of the heroic exploit of Horatius Codes.6 Ihe city,
which now contained four hills, the Palatine, tne Capitol, the
Caelian, and the Aventine, was enclosed with a stone wall by
Tarquinius Priscus; and his successor Servius Tullius having
added the Quirinal, Viminal, and Esquiline hills, surrounded
the whole city with a wall, built of large squares of peperine
stone, and fortified it on the eastern side behind the Viminal
hill, by his celebrated “Agger,”7 which was finally completed
bv Tarquin the Proud. All around the wall, on both sides,
* Brocchi’s Description of the Soil of Rome; Burgess’s Antiquities of Rome, vol. i. tw.,* . «< a FVn
3 It is impossible to ascertain the precise limits of the city of Romulus, but an outline of it has been trace }y • 8 _
Boario, ubi ireura Tauri simulacrum adspicimus, quia id genus animalium aratro subditur, sulcus designandi oppidi cceptus, ut mf*g'a
Herculis mm amplecteretu,. Me cmis i„,c,jec,i l.pite, per tarn mon.i. Palatini ad Aram Con.., mox «d Cn,.» vote e., un, rf
sacellum Larium : Forumque Romanum et Capitolium non a Romulo, sed a Tito Tatio additum urbi credidere. Tacit. Ann. b.
cap. 24- Compare also Dionysius, lib- ii. cap. 50; and Sextus Aurelius Victor in Romulo.
The Palatine was nearly a square, and hence Rome was sometimes called “ Roma Quadrata.”
“ Et quis extiterit Romae regnare quadraiae?”
Ennius, quoted by Festus.
3 “ Tura ferant, placentque novum pia turba Quirinum.
Templa Deo fiunt, collis quoque dictus ab illo ;
Et referum certi sacra paterna dies.”
Ovid. Fast. lib. ii. 507, &c.
Tepov fiev oxv auToi eo-rt KaTC<TKC\)a(rixtvov ev ra \6<fia> to, Y.vplvm npoo-ayopevopevcp 8i el<eL^' Rom,llo »
4 Tit. Liv. lib. i. cap. 30. Eutropius in Tull. Host. &c. “ Cielium montem intra mcenia clausit, numero et potentia crescente Roma
Vide Messala Corvino, lib. de August. Progen. p. 696. Aug. Histor. &c. ^ arv Wium esset;
3 “ Aventinum novae multitudini datum, &c Janiculum quoque adjeetum, non inopia loci, sednequando ea arx b°st ^
id non rnuro solum, sed etiam ob commoditatem itineris, ponte Subhcio turn primum in Tiben facto conjungi urbi pbmuit.
qq 6 EjIV. 11D. 11» CHp. OtC. ^
“ iggere et fossis et muro circumdat urbem ; ita Pomcerium profert." Tit. Liv. lib. i, cap. 44. See also Pirn. Hist. lib. ui. cap. • •
ROME.
! Statistics
of Rome.
j Palatine
r.ount.
3a!ace of
lie Caesars.
was a circle of ground, called the Pomcerium, consecrated
by the augurs, and held sacred ; and it was unlawful to build
'within its limits, or even to pass the plough over it,1 This
consecrated circle, however, was not necessarily preserved
close to the walls, and it was frequently extended without
any change being made in the walls themselves. But the
boundaries of the city could only he enlarged by those who
had made any acquisition of territory to the Roman state.2
The first who took advantage of this privilege was Sylla, and
his example was followed by Augustus, Claudius, Nero, and
Trajan.3 All their improvements, however, consisted in
restoring or enlarging the Pomoerium ; and no change was
made in the walls of Rome till the time of Aurelian, who
built a wall round the city, and enlarged it so as to compre¬
hend the Janiculum and the Pincian hill, with great part of
the Campus Martins.4 Various exaggerated accounts have
been given of the walls ot Aurelian, and antiquaries are
much divided respecting them, but their probable compass
appears to have been about twenty-one miles. The walls
of Rome were repaired during the reign of the emperors
Arcadius and Honorius. One-third of them was destroyed
by Totila about the middle of the sixth century. His rava¬
ges were hastily restored with rude and dissimilar mate¬
rials, by Belisarius, to stand the second siege. Since that
period they have been so often shattered, repaired, and re¬
modelled, that but little of their original structure can now
remain.
The number and situation of the ancient gates of the city
are involved in hopeless obscurity. Rome at present has
sixteen gates, including the four of the Citta Leonina, but
several of them have been walled up.
The Palatine mount is about a mile and a half in cir¬
cuit, and is nearly square. The ruins of the successive
edifices which have stood upon it have raised the soil
around its base considerably above the ancient level. About
one-half ot the surface of it is called the Villa Farnese,
which occupies all the north-west side, and about one-half
of the two sides contiguous, and is let and cultivated as a
kitchen-garden. Adjoining, on the south, is the Villa Spada,
which lies along a part of the west side overlooking the site
of the Circus. Another part of the hill is covered by the
upper and lower gardens. Roncioni, and the side opposite
to the Cselian mount, is partly occupied by the convent and
gardens of Saint Bonaventura. This celebrated spot, which
contained the whole Roman people, till the destruction
of the republic, was the site of the dwellings of her senators,
and the temples of her gods. But the mansions of the
Gracchi, of Hortensius, Crassus, Clodius, Catiline, Cicero,
and many others, were all swept away, to make room for the
palace of Augustus,3 which is supposed to have stood on the
north-west part of the Palatine, looking down on the pul-
chrum liltus, “the beautiful shore” near the Tiber. His
successor, Tiberius, erected a dwelling for himself on the
north side of the Palatine, looking into the Velabrum.6
Another was built on the north-east corner fronting the Ca¬
pitol by Caligula, who joined the Palatium and the Capitol
by a bridge thrown across the Forum.7 But by far the most
425
magnificent was the “ Domus Aorea,” erected by Nero. The Statistics
omy description on record of this gorgeous palace is that of of Rome.
Suetonius, which we shall give in his own words • “ In no-
thing was he so ruinous as in building. He erected a house
extending from the Palatine as far as the Esquilite. At first
he called it his House of Passage; afterwards, when it had
been destroyed by fire and restored again, he gave it the
name of the Golden House. To form an idea of its extent
and magnificence, it may suffice to state the following par¬
ticulars. The vestibule admitted his colossal statue, which
was 120 feet high. The building was on so large a scale
that it had a triple portico a mile long, also an immense pool
like a sea, enclosed by buildings, presenting the appearance
of towns. There were moreover grounds laid out for til¬
lage, and for vineyards, and for pasturage and woods, and
stocked with a vast number of every description of cattle
and wild animals. In other respects, every thing was over¬
laid with gold, embellished with gems, and with mother-of-
pearl. The ceilings of the banqueting-rooms were fretted
into ivory coffers, made to turn, that flowers might be show¬
ered down upon the guests, and were furnished with pipes for
discharging perfumes. The principal banqueting-room was
round, and by a perpetual motion, day and night, was made
to revolve after the fashion of the universe." There were
baths streaming with salt and sulphurous waters.” 8 “ On
the ruins of his native country,” says Tacitus,9 “ Nero erected
a palace, in which the profusion of gold and precious stones
did not laise the chiei admiration, for these were ornaments
that widely-diffused luxury had rendered common; but uni¬
versal astonishment was excited by its spacious glades, and
large artificial lakes, by its thick woods and shades, like vast
wildernesses, by its ample lawns and avenues, and far ex¬
tended prospects. fhe successors of Nero made various
alterations on the imperial palace. It suffered by fire for
the third time under Com modus.10 The Goths and Van¬
dals, in the fifth century, pillaged it of most of its treasures,
but they do not appear to have rendered it uninhabitable;
for even so late as the beginning of the seventh century He-
raclius held a state ceremony in the palace of the Ciesars.
Its final destruction seems to have been in a great measure
the work of the Farnese popes and princes, who carried off
its materials to build their palaces and villas, and buried its
magnificent halls beneath their wretched gardens. Many
extensive chambers and halls have at different times been
discovered, but after being rifled of their statues and orna¬
ments, they have all been filled up again. The whole mount
is now one mass of confused and undistinguishable ruins.
The very soil is formed of crumbled brick-work. Nothing
has been told, nothing can be told, to satisfy the belief of
any but a Roman antiquary.
The celebrated Capitoline hill, the least of all in extent, Capitolino
but greatest in fame and importance, is 470 yards long andhilb Uh
185 broad, and contains about sixteen acres. It exhibits
two summits separated by a valley, which is called by anti¬
quaries the Intermontium. The height of this hill has been
materially diminished, both by the ruins around its base,
and by the repeated earthquakes that have shattered the
* Vide Tit. Liv. lib- i. cap. 44.
t omoeiio aiiterri neinini pnncipum licet addere, nisi ei qui agri Barbarici aliqua parte Romanam rempublicara locupletaverit; addidit
u Augustus, addidit Trajanus, addidit Nero,” ike. Vopiscus in Aurelian, cap. 21.
Et Pomoeriutn auxit Cssar, more prisco ; quo iis, qui protulere imperium etiam terminos urbis propagare datur. Nec tamen
(luces Komam, quanquam magnis nationifms subactis, usurpaverant nisi L. Sulla et Divus Augustus.” Tacit. Arinal. lib. xii. cap. 23. See
also Uion. Cassius—l)e August, lib. iv. cap. 6, tom. ii. p 776.
s v°P'S»»? Aurelian, cap. 21; Ovid, cap. 39; Aurelius, Victor. De Caesar, cap. 35; Roma Antica Nardini, lib. i. cap. 8.
^ Vide Middleton’s Life of Cicero ; Suetonius’ Life of Augustus.
h 'IrT S^°U^ ^,e however, that when mention is made of the houses of the emperors, it does not mean that these were all separate
m mgs, but sucli parts of the imperial palace as the emperors added, and which bore their respective names. Vide Josep. Antiq. lib.
X1X8 1-.seCf- 15- 5 Suet, in vit. Caligul- cap. xxiu
Suet m vit. Neron. cap. xxxi. Vide Alexan. Ponct. de Urb. Vetera, lib. iii. apud Gnevium, tom iii. p. 68. Dr. Adam's Roman
iq1?' P" ^b . s Tacit. Annul, lib. xv. cap- 42.
Lion. Cassius—In Commod. lib Ixxii. p. 1224. Euseb. Chronicon. a.d. 186.
VuE. XIX. 3 H
/
426 R O
Statistics friable tufa of which it is composed, and have thus both low-
of Rome. ere(j the actual height and filled up the base. On the sum-
mit of this famous mount
Capitol.   the Capitol,
Above the rest, lifted his stately head ;
On the Tarpeian rock her citadel,
Impregnable.
Here also stood the temple of Jupiter Feretrius, the tem¬
ple of Jupiter Capitolinus, and many other interesting ob¬
jects. The temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus was one
of the largest and most splendid of the ancient world. Its
roof was of burnished gold, the pavement of the finest ma¬
terials, the columns were of precious marbles, the doors of
bronze overlaid with gold, the statues of ivory; and many
other objects of surpassing costliness and art embellished
the whole interior.1 In the centre of the temple was the
statue of Jupiter Capitolinus seated on a throne of gold, with
Juno on his left, and Minerva on his right side. This splen¬
did edifice was destroyed during the civil wars between Ma¬
rius and Sylla, but was shortly after rebuilt by the latter,
who enriched it with the spoils of Greece. It was a second
time destroyed by fire during the bloody conflict that took
place in the Capitol between the partisans of Vitellius and
Vespasian.2 The Capitol rose again from its ashes, wfith
renewed splendour, and through the liberality of Ves¬
pasian, and especially of his son Domitian, it greatly sur¬
passed its former magnificence. Its immense wealth ap¬
pears to have remained untouched till the time of Ho-
norius, when the necessities of that emperor forced him
to lay hands upon the gold which ornamented it; and
about seven years after his death, it was completely despoil¬
ed of its treasures by Genseric king of the Vandals. Of all
the ancient splendours of the Capitoline hill, scarcely a ves¬
tige now remains. Its invulnerable citadel, its temples and
golden statues, its triumphal arches and splendid porticoes,
ali have been sw'ept away, and its very name is now almost
lost in the semi-barbarous appellation, Campidoglio. At
present the Capitoline mount is covered with buildings,
which, although not devoid of elegance, are unworthy of a
spot which was once so august.
At the base of the northern and principal ascent to the
Capitol, are two colossal lionesses of Egyptian porphyry,
pouring a stream of water into spacious basins of marble;
and at the top of the ascent are two ancient colossal statues
of Grecian marble, representing Castor and Pollux stand¬
ing by the side of their horses. Here we enter the square,
supposed with great probability to be the Intermontium, in
the centre of which stands the equestrian statue of Marcus
Aurelius. In front, and on each side, are three palaces,
erected by Michael Angelo ; that of the senators, the con-
servatori, and the statue gallery. The Museum Capitoli-
num contains a splendid collection of busts, statues, sarco¬
phagi, &c., and the staircase is lined with an old plan of Rome,
which formed originally the pavement of a temple in the
forum, but unfortunately it is not entire. Beneath the se¬
nators’ palace are the remains of an ancient edifice, sup¬
posed to have been the Tabularium, where the laws and
public records were suspended on tables of bronze; and in
its stables, cellars, and gardens, are considerable remains of
the ancient fortifications of the citadel. Near the base of
the Capitoline hill are the remains of the Mamertine prisons,
built (according to Livy) by Ancus Martius. A lower cell,
called the Tullianum, was added by Servius Tullius.3 There
are still two dungeons remaining, an upper and a lower; and
M E.
in ancient times, prisoners who w ere condemned to be stran- Statistic
gled, or to die of hunger, were thrust down into the lower 0 Borne
cell by a circular aperture called Robus. It was in these'
dungeons that Jugurtha was suffered to die ot hunger.1
Here the accomplices of Cataline, when, through the in¬
fluence of Cicero’s eloquence, they were condemned to im¬
mediate death, were conducted from the senate house and
strangled.5 Here too Sejanus, the minister of Tiberius, met
the just punishment of his crimes ;6 here Perseus, the cap¬
tive king of Macedonia, lingered in hopeless confinement; and
here Simon, the bravest of the Jewish leaders, wras put to
death, while Titus ascended in triumph to the temple of Ju¬
piter Capitolinus.7 The northern and highest summit ot
the Capitoline mount is occupied by the church and mo¬
nastery of Ara Caeli; and on that part of the hill which lies
towards the river, is the
steep Tarpeiari,
The promontory whence the traitor’s leap
Cured all ambition.
The Aventine, well known for the unpropitious augury Aventine
of Remus, is the most western of the seven hills. It is se-hill.
parated from the Palatine by the valley of the Circus Maxi¬
mus, and the Tiber flows round its northern base. It has
two distinct summits, which are divided by a valley. On
this mount stood the famous temple of Diana, erected in the
joint names of all the Latin tribes. Here also stood the
temple of Juno Regina; the temple of the Bona Dea; the
temple, portico, and library ot Liberty, the first public li¬
brary in Rome.8 But of these, and many other magnifi¬
cent and celebrated edifices, no traces now remain, nor is
their place supplied by any buildings, even of modern
times, except some decaying churches and half deserted
convents.
The Coelian, which is the most southern of the seven hills, Cselianhii
is of a triangular form, and is crossed by the lofty and ruin¬
ous arches of Nero’s aqueduct It is stated by Tacitus,
that this mount was originally called Querquetulanus, from
the quantity of oak trees that grew upon it; and that it re¬
ceived its name from Caelius Vibenna, an Etruscan chief,
who inhabited some part of it when he came to the succour
of Tarquinius Priscus.9 Tiberius commanded that it should
be called Mons Augustus, but the intention was never car¬
ried into effect.10 The name of Lateran has prevailed in
modern times, derived from a senator named Lateranus,
who had a splendid edifice upon it in the time of Nero.11
Deserted as it now is, the Caelian mount was once covered
with temples and monuments of magnificence; but of these
splendid buildings every trace has long since vanished, and
the surface of the hill is strewed over with shapeless ruins,
of which the date, the author, and the object, are alike un-
knowm. The only buildings worthy of particular attention
are the curious and interesting church of San Stephano Ro-
tondo, which is universally admitted to be an ancient temple,
though antiquaries are by no means agreed respecting the
name of its tutelar god; and the sumptuous basilica of St.
John Lateran, which stands on the eastern summit of the
hill.
The Esquiline is more extensive than any of the rest, Esquilm*
and more irregular in its form. It is partly covered with hill,
the buildings of modern Rome, and partly abandoned to de¬
solation. The Esquiline hill was added to Rome by Ser¬
vius Tullius, and it was in his flight from the senate-house,
to his palace on the Esquiline, that he was murdered by the
emissaries of Tarquin his son-in law. A street called Vicus
i Vide description of it by Dion. Halicarnassus and Pliny ; Liv. lib- vi. cap. 29 ; Id. lib- iii. cap. 17; Lxv. hb xxxv. cap. 41.
* Tacit. Hist. lib. iii. cap. 71. 3 Liv. lib. i. cap. 33; Varro de Ling. Lat. lib. iv. cap. 32. 4 Sallust de Bello. Jugurt.
s Sallust de Bello Catilin. cap. 35. c Dion. Cassius, lib. Iviii. p. 885; Tacit. Annal. hb v. cap. 9.
7 Plutarch’s Life of jEmilius Paulus ; Josephus de Bello, Jud. lib. vii. cap. 5. 8 Pliny vii. 30. xxxv. 2. ; Mart. xn. 3. o.
9 Varro de Ling. Lat. lib. iv.; Tacit. Ann. lib. iv. cap. 65. 10 Sueton. in vita. Tibern, cap. 4£.
11 Tacit. Annal. lib. xv. sect. 49, 60; Juv. Sat. x. 15.
ROME.
Statistics
of Rome.
427
Sceleratus, between the forum and the Esquiline, was the beautiful columns near the pi.- i -n
scene of his daughter’s horrible impiety, when she caused nerallv railed « the 1 P^Latl,ne hlll> ?e‘ Stailstlcs
.lirinal
ll.
rum.
scene of his daughter’s horrible impiety, when she caused
' her chariot wheel to pass over the body of her father.1
Before the Augustan age, the Esquiline mount was inha¬
bited by the meanest of the Roman people; and in that
part of it which was without the wall their unburied bodies
were promiscuously deposited.2 Maecenas having receiv¬
ed a piesent of the ground from Augustus, covered it with
gardens and groves, and erected on its summit a palace.3
nerally called the disputed columns.” Of the immense °f Rome,
number of other buildings of all kinds, temples, basilicas,
columns, statues, which once stood here, not a vestige
now remains, and their very situations are a matter of
ib‘ .tIer tPU %CAt t lr north'easl corner of the Forum
is the church of Santa Martina and St. Luke, which is sup¬
posed, with some probability, to occupy the site of the beau-
n! I ”S, *rC^V!n.?fr’ by August,,,.
On this mount Julius Caesar was born. Here also‘was the Near it is the church of St! Adrian ^alledY/
house of the younger Pliny, part of Nero’s golden house, from the Roman forum, and the forumi of Tn^fr^^
and the palace and baths of the emperor Titus. Here Vir- and Augustus, of which it forms the connect^ point bT
gil also is said to have had a house, near the palace of his hind these are three fluted Corinth;^ i g P , B
patron Maceuas It is stated by Suetonius, 'tbat Horace iaster of ^0 Zurof the g ndklZ mSf
was buned near the tomb of Maecenas, at the extremity of style of architecture, supposed fo be the remaTnsrfthe
the hill. The Esquiline mount has two summits, the Cis- forum of Nerva. To the eastward, and at the base of the
pius, on which stands the basilica of Santa Mari Maggiore, and
which was supposed to have been anciently occupied with the
temple of Juno Lucina; and the Oppius, crowned with the
church of St. Pietro in Vincula, built upon a part of the
'iminal
m.
Quirmal hill, is the forum of Trajan, the centre of which
has been excavated, down to the level of the ancient pave-
ment, by the French. Here stood the famous equestrian statue
. . r» rrx., rr, "7 k T" "•—"f—'' 01 ^ raJan> which excited the admiration and enw nf Cnn
extensive baths of Titus. Toward the extremity of the Es- stantine,« and many other honorary statueTof dUtinguished
quihne, and not far from the Porta Magg.ore, in a vineyard, individuals; and here still stands the triumnha cEn of
sends a ruined edifice called the temple of Minerva Medica. Trajan, the finest in the world. This superb pi to is of the T,,ia„'s
Nothing now remains but the walls and part of the vault- finest white marble, about 128 feet in height, SdTs covered piff
grounds thtufborder'it!^ ^ W ^ ^ ^ ^ rf tL’TmpeTor1' Tretam ree.rheSenti”g ‘he ^“phs
The Vunmal lull, which probably derived its name from winding staircase of 185 step^of solid REmTtrble.^ A
little to the north is the triumphal column of Marcus Aure¬
lius, formed of the same materials and workmanship, though
-/erior in the beauty and perfection of its sculpture to that
 ’ yjueiji y ucuvttu 1LS llcllllt; II OII1
the osiers (viminesj that grew upon it,5 lies between the
Esquiline and the Quirinal, but the fall of the ruins from
these hills has rendered it almost impossible to recognize
• rr-,, , . r - — m 11 aim peliecnon ot its sculDture to that
it. Ihe only conspicuous object upon it is the church of of Trajan. These columns formerly supported each a colossal
S. Lorenzo in Pane Perna, with its adjoining buildings and statue of Trajan and Marcus Aurelius, but they have Ion-
vineyards. Near the Viminal hill stood the celebrated since disappeared, while bronze statues of the apostles Pete?
nr), whirh forms snr*h a i  i _
praetorian camp, which forms such a distinguished object in
the decline of the Roman empire.
The Quirinal hill was adorned in ancient times with the
famous temple of Romulus Quirinus. On the opposite side,
the magnificent temple of the Sun, built by Aurelian, is
supposed to have stood. The Quirinal is the only one of
the seven hills that is populous. It is covered with palaces,
and Paul have been substituted in their stead. In a de-
seited spot, which was once the forum boarium, or cattle-
market of Rome, there is a magnificent four-fronted arch,
commonly called Janus quadrifrons, which is the only one
now remaining of the many ancient Jani of ancient Rome.
It is built of immense blocks of Grecian marble, now so
, i i - — —   ”**'** w-v-o, darkened and discoloured by time, and covered with bushes
churches, streets, and fountains. But the only remains of and ivy, that it has a peculiarly picturesque and venerable
antiquity that it can now boast, are the vestiges of the baths appearance. Near this arch, by passing under some low
of Constantine, in that part of the Colonna gardens which brick vaults opposite the church of S. Giorgio in Velabro, the
overlooks the Piazza Pilotta, and a considerable part of the best view is obtained of the celebrated “ Cloaca Maxima,” Cloaca
oaths of Diocletian, one of the grandest remains of ancient unquestionably the most ancient of all the ruins of Rome, Muxima
spiendour. and the only remains of the work of her kings. This stu-
1 he site of the Roman Forum is between the Palatine and pendous and useful w ork was executed by Tarquinius Su-
Capitolme hills. Its present surface is from fifteen to twenty perbus.7 In ancient times the arches were so large, that it
is stated by Strabo and Pliny, that a waggon load of hay
might pass through them.8 Though greatly choked up bv
the elevation of the soil of modern Rome, it still, after a
lapse of 3000 years, serves as the common sewer of the city.
Almost close to the cloaca maxima is the far-famed foun¬
tain of Juturna.9
Proceeding along the Via Sacra, we come to some ruins
which are supposed to be the remains of Vespasian’s temple
of Peace, built at the close of the Jewish war. It was one
of the most magnificent temples of antiquity, and within it
were deposited the spoils taken from the temple of Jerusa¬
lem. Others maintain, however, that these ruins belonged
to the basilica of Constantine. Crossing to the opposite
side, and passing under the broken and defaced trium¬
phal arch of Titus, we behold the majestic ruins of the
mighty Coliseum. This stupendous building was erected Coliseum,
by Vespasian and Titus, on the spot which had previously
i   *  ~~~ Iiwiij liltccil IU IWtMUV
feet above its ancient level, and various excavations are now
making in it in the hope of discovering some relics of anti¬
quity. “ Here were held the comitia, or assemblies of the
people; here stood the rostra from w hich the orators ha¬
rangued them; the curia, or senate-house; the basilica, or
courts of justice; the public tribunals, the statues and me¬
morials of great men, and some of the most sacred temples
of religion.” After the destruction of the republic, another
forum was built by Julius Caesar; and his example was fol¬
lowed by Augustus, Nerva, Domitian, Trajan, Vespasian,
and Antoninus Pius. The only remains of antiquity that
now stand within the limits of the Roman forum are those
commonly designated as the triumphal arch of Septimius
beverus, the temple of Jupiter Tonans, the temple of For¬
tune, and the temple of Concord, and the solitary column
dedicated by the Greek Exarch, Smaragdus, to the em¬
peror Phocas, the ruined wall of the curia, and the three
a ^vr’ bb'r’ Ca^' Horace5 Sat. lib. i. viii. 7, 17 ; Juvenal, &c. s Hor. Carm. iii. 29. 4 Suet, in vita Herat,
iii 7| mina 18 a Jove Viminis quod ibi arae sunt ejus, aut quod ibi vimineta fuerunt.” Varro de Ling. Lat. lib. iv.; Juvenal, Sat. lib.
5 Ammian Marcel. Hist. lib. xvi.
Strabo, Geograph, lib. v.; Plin. Hist. Nat. lib. xxxv cap. 15.
7 Livy, lib. i. cap 56.
9 Vide JEn. lib. xii. 878.
423
ROME.
Statistics been covered with the pools belonging to the £ golden
of Rome, bouse of Nero ” Owing to the stability of its construc-
’ tion, it survived the era of barbarism, and was so perfect in
the thirteenth century, that games were celebrated in it
for the amusement of all the nobility of Italy. Its destruc¬
tion was, in a great measure, the work of the Romans them¬
selves, who carried off the materials to build their own
dwellings.
 From its mass
Walls, palaces, half cities have been rear’d ;
Circus
Maximus
till at length Benedict XIV. secured it from further di¬
lapidation, by erecting a cross in the middle of the arena,
and proclaiming it to be consecrated ground, hallow'ed by
the blood of the martyrs. The form of the Coliseum is
elliptical; the length measures 591^ feet, and the breadth
508f ; it is l683f feet in circumference, and 147 in height.
The exterior elevation presents four divisions or storeys, ot
which the three lower are supported by half columns, and
the uppermost bv pilasters. The interior elevation, begin¬
ning from the arena, presented first the podium, a kind ot
covered gallery, destined for the use of the emperor am
persons of the first description ; then three successive or¬
ders of seats for the spectators, called collectively the cavea;
and at the top the attic, with the velarium or awning. It
has been calculated that the cavea, with the podium, could
contain 80,000 persons seated; but taking into account the
upper gallery, and the number of persons necessarily en¬
gaged about the arena, that not less than 100,000 souls
have sometimes been contained within these w alls. Att e
dedication, which lasted one hundred days, 5000 wild beasts
were exhibited and slain.1 * The arena also was overflowed
with water, and made the scene of a mock naval fight. The
northern side is pretty entire ; but on the south, the stu¬
pendous arches have been stripped ot their external deco¬
rations. In the interior the destruction is more complete ;
the marble steps are all torn away, the steps and vomitories
overthrown, and the sloping walls and broken arches are
covered with weeds and shrubs. Around the arena the
pictured representations of the fourteen stages of our Lord s
passion are placed at regular intervals. In the centre of
it stands a huge black cross, which oft'ers the liberal recom¬
pense of one hundred days’ indulgence to every person who
devoutly kisses it. A broad pathway runs through the mid¬
dle ; the rest is covered with a smooth green sod. “ Here,
says Mr. Forsyth, “ sat the conquerors of the world, coolly
to enjoy the tortures and death of men who had never
offended them. Two aqueducts were scarcely sufficient to
wash off the human blood which a few hours’ sport shed in
this imperial shambles. Twice in one day came the sena¬
tors and matrons of Rome to the butchery. A virgin al¬
ways gave the signal for slaughter; and when glutted with
bloodshed, those ladies sat down in the wet and steaming
arena to a luxurious supper. Such reflections check our
regret for its ruin. As it now stands, the Coliseum is a
striking image of Rome itself, decayed, vacant, serious, yet
grand, half grey and half green, erect on one side and fallen
on the other, with consecrated ground in its bosom ; inha¬
bited by a beadsman, visited by every cast; for moralists,
antiquaries, painters, architects, devotees, all meet here to
meditate, to examine, to draw, to measure, and to pray.
Between the Aventine and Palatine hills stood the Cir¬
cus Maximus, which occupied the whole valley; and though
all traces of the building have disappeared, its form is still
very apparent. This circus was first laid out by Farquinius
Priscus ;3 but it does not appear to have attained any great
degree of splendour till the time of Julius Caesar, who en¬
larged the whole space, and rendered it capable of contain- Statisti
ing 150,000 spectators. Pliny states that in the time of
Trajan it held 250,000.* It was the last place where games
were celebrated in Rome. So late as the close of the fifth
century, it was filled for the last time with spectators of the
gladiatorial combats, when Telemachus, an Asiatic monk,
having ineffectually tried remonstrance, descended into the
arena to separate the combatants, and was stoned to death
by the enraged people. But the sacrifice was not made in
vain, for from that day Honorius abolished the combats of
gladiators. The last remains of the Circus Maximus were
removed by Paul III., “ that universal destroyer of antiqui¬
ties.” Attached to this circus were the shops or taberna:,
in which, during the reign of Nero, began the conflagration
that consumed ten out of fourteen quarters of the city. Of
all the circuses of ancient Rome, one only is sufficiently
entire to shew what a circus w7as. It stands on the Via
Appia, beside the tomb of Cecilia Metella, and is called the
circus of Caracalla, though there is no reason for believing
it to have been built by that emperor. It is still in excel¬
lent preservation.
On the outside of the Coliseum are the mouldering ruins
of a building, supposed to have been that famous fountain
the Meta Sudans, which existed even in the time of the
republic.5
One of the most attractive of the ancient edifices of
Rome, is the Pantheon or Rotondo, “the pride of Rome.” Pantheo
That glorious combination ot beauty and magnificence,
which was erected by Agrippa, is 132 feet in height, the
same in diameter, and 396 feet in circumference. It is
generally believed that the body of the building is of ear¬
lier erection than the portico ; that it was built for a ther¬
mal hall, or something belonging to the baths of Agrippa,
and that the portico was afterwards added in order to con¬
vert it into a temple. It has long been a matter of dispute
to whom the Pantheon was dedicated. The popular belief
is, that it was dedicated to Jupiter and all the gods of an¬
tiquity ; but Pliny expressly says that it wras dedicated to
Jupiter the Avenger.6 In the year 608, Pope Boniface
IV. obtained permission of the emperor Phocas to conse¬
crate it for a Christian church. It then received the title
of St. Maria Rotondo, which it still preserves. About fifty
years after its consecration, Constans II. stripped off the
bronze covering of the roof, the bronze bassi felievi of the
pediment, and the silver which adorned the interior of the
dome, and carried away the spoil to send it to Constantin¬
ople ; but being murdered at Syracuse on his return, these
ornaments were afterwards conveyed by the Saracens to
Alexandria. In 1632, Pope Urban VIII., one of the Bar-
berini family, carried off all the bronze that was left, and
moulded it into ornaments for St. Peter’s tomb in the
Vatican, and cannon for the castle of St. Angelo. It has
been calculated that upwards of forty-five millions of pounds
weight of metal was taken away on that occasion. This
gave rise to the pasquinade, “ Quod non fecerunt Barbari
Romse, fecerunt Barberini.” The same pope disfigured the
building by placing before the dome two hideous belfries,
as a perpetual monument of his wretched taste. As a sort
of compensation, however, he replaced one of the three
deficient columns of the portico. The other two were
restored by Pope Alexander VII. The portal has been
pronounced to be “ positively the most sublime result that
was ever produced by so little architecture.” The original
folding doors are said to have been carried off by Genseric;
but the present gates are obviously ancient also, and are
supposed to have been taken from some other Roman
building. The four grand recesses in the interior, each
1 Suet, in vita, Titi, cap. 7. Dion. lib. Ixvi. tom. ii.
3 Livy, lib- i. cap. 35. Dion. Antiq. Rom. lib. iii. cap. 68.
5 Seneca, Op. 57.
* Forsyth’s Italy, p. 159.
* Plin. Hist- Nat. lib. xxxvi. cap. 15-
« Pliny, Hist. Nat. lib. xxxv. cap 5. Dion. Cassius, lib. liv. tom. x.
0
ratisfics supported by two magnificent columns, and two pilas-
Rome. ters of giallo antico, are truly beautiful; but the niches
'^V^^in the intermediate spaces are wretchedly mean, and in
bad taste. Behind the altars which crowd the principal
recesses, are placed on shelves the busts of the most dis¬
tinguished men of modern Italy. The pavement, which
is supposed to be the work of Septimius Severus, is com¬
posed of porphyry and yellow marble, and of pavonazzetto,
laid down in large slabs, alternately round and square. The
splendid dome which rises over the whole is still uninjured.
A large circular aperture at the top, surrounded with a
girth ot metal, admits a flood of light sufficient to illuminate
the whole building. The remains of Raphael are interred
in the Pantheon, together with many of those whose names
reflected lustre on modern Italy in her proudest days. The
situation of the Pantheon is extremely unfavourable. It
is sunk in the dirtiest part of modern Rome. The con¬
gregated filth of the pavement, the incessant uproar, and
the crowds of clamorous beggars, tend materially to lessen
the enthusiasm with which the spectator gazes upon this
monument of the taste and magnificence of antiquity. Yet
in spite of all this, and of the dilapidations which it has suf¬
fered from the lapse of eighteen centuries, and the rapacity
of baibai ians, still, under every disadvantage, it is pre-emi¬
nently beautiful. “ The pure and perfect architecture, the
greatness of design, the harmony, the simplicity, and the
imposing majesty of the whole, command our never satiated
admiration, our approbation, and our praise.” “ Though
plundered ot all its brass, except the ring which preserves
the aperture above ; though it has been twice the prey of
fire; though it is always open to the rain, and is sometimes
flooded by the river, yet no monument of equal antiquity is
so well preserved as this rotondo.”1
emple of Near the Tiber there is a beautiful little temple, popu-
eata. larly called the temple of Vesta, though no satisfactory
reason can be given for the designation. Its form and ele¬
gance have been much admired ; and bronze models of the
“little temple of Vesta” are dispersed over most of Eu¬
rope. It is entirely built of Parian marble, and its portico
is composed of a circular colonnade of twenty fluted Corin¬
thian columns. Of these only one is wanting ; but all the
architrave is lost. The small circular cell within the colon¬
nade is now converted into a chapel, dedicated to “ La Ma¬
donna delf Sole,” (the virgin of the sun.)
| hurches. Opposite to this beautiful building, stands the church of
St. Maria in Cosmedin, built by Adrian I. on the ruins of
an ancient temple, the name of which is unknown. It ap¬
pears, like the Pantheon, to have eight columns, and fif¬
teen at the sides. Six of the front columns of the most
beautiful Parian marble may still be traced, built up into
this hideous compound of deformity and bad taste. The
church of S. Maria Egizziaca has been formed out of an¬
other ancient temple, which is usually called by the name
ot Fortuna Virilis. On that ruin-covered spot, which
now bears the name of the Roman Forum, but without its
ancient limits, stands the temple of Antoninus and Faus¬
tina. It is a fine specimen of ancient architecture. Its
noble portico, which, though entire, has evidently suffered
from fire, is composed of six Corinthian columns of Cippol-
hno marble in front, and two on each side. The exquisite
chiseling of the friese and cornice, the sculptured griffins,
candelabras, vases, &c. which form the ornaments, are
scarcely equalled in any Roman monument of the kind in
existence. A little farther on is the church of the saints
Cosmo and Damiano, supposed to be the double temple of
Romulus and Remus. Near the Coliseum are the remains
of Hadnans magnificent temple of Venus and Rome.2 Statistics
Some striking ruins of the interior of the fitbric still exist of Rome,
m the middle of the site. Pope Honorius I. covered the
whole of St. Peters basilica with bronze tablets which he
took from the roof of this temple.
Many other ruins of the magnificent temples of ancient
Rome are scattered throughout the city, but their remains
are so scanty that it is impossible to obtain any information
respecting their origin or extent. J
_ Xrr^mporarV,eatrfs “rto We been erectei1
at different tunes in Rome, but the first that was built of
stable materials in this city was the theatre of Pompev. It
was rebuilt by Tiberius, and again by Claudius, but there
is not a single vestige of it now remaining. The theatre
of Marcellus was built by Augustus, who named it after his
nephew, whose death has been commemorated by Virgil hi
such pathetic strains.* Of this once magnificent edifice
nothing now remains except a very small portion of the
two lower arcades, which are considered models of archi¬
tecture.
Ancient Rome possessed a number of noble porticos, Porticos,
but all that now remains of these is a fragment of the por¬
tico of Octavio. It originally consisted of a double line of
marble columns covered with a roof, so as to afford shelter
to those who walked within it. In the open square stood
the temples of Jupiter and Juno, the first in Rome that
were built of marble. Here were exhibited many splendid
pamtings and statues ; and this portico contained one of
the three public libraries which Rome possessed in the Au¬
gustan age. The only remains of this magnificent build¬
ing are four Corinthian columns, and three pilasters of beau¬
tiful marble, with a part of the ancient pediment. They
stand in what a modern traveller has pronounced the “filth¬
iest spot upon the whole face of the globe—the pescheria
or fishmarket, the crowded quarter where the Jews are con¬
demned to reside.”
It has been justly said that no monument of ancient ar- Thermae,or
chitecture is calculated to inspire such an exalted idea of baths.
Roman magnificence, as the ruins of their thermae, or baths.
These magnificent structures were not, however, erected
foi bathing alone; but in them there were rooms for al¬
most every kind of athletic exercises; walks shaded by
rows of trees ; fountains adorned with statues and precious
marbles ; libraries ; spacious halls and vestibules decorated
with the finest objects of art, where poets recited, orators
declaimed, and philosophers lectured. A splendid descrip¬
tion has been given by Pliny of the sculptures and paint-
ings, the magnificent seats of solid silver, the silver pipes
and baths, the polished vases, the pavements of precious
stones, and all the sumptuous decorations of these magni¬
ficent buildings dedicated to the luxury and idleness of the
Romans.4 The thermae of ancient Rome are known to
have stood in all their original magnificence so late as the
fourth century, and their destruction seems to have been
almost entirely owing to the rapacity of the modern Ro¬
mans. Of all the thermae that adorned imperial Rome,
the ruins of those of Titus, Diocletian, and Caracalla, are
all that now remain in any considerable degree of preserva¬
tion. I he thermae of Caracalla are situated at the base
of Mount Aventine, on the Via Appia. They were left in¬
complete by Caracalla, and were finished by Heliogabalus,
and by Alexander Severus.5 These baths, together with
the outworks, were one mile in circumference, and their
ruins still cover a vast extent of ground ; but it is impossi¬
ble to form from them any idea of the peculiar destination
of the particular parts. They form a succession of immense
1 Rome in the 19th Century. Forsyth’s Italy, p. 147.
A3n. fib. vi. 8f>l. * Pii™ lik
Mn rn, Or 1 •L e- 2 Vide Dion. Cassius, Hist. Rom., fib. Ixix. p. 1153.
6 Vide Soarthm "in M A ^ llb- XX!t,n* C®P- ^ Rome in the 19th Century, vol. ii. p. 83. Seneca. Epist. 86. Statius.
Etitrop. in SS. £ r'v. ST* C3P' Lampridius in Arp IMingab. cap. 17. Ibid, in Ala*. Saver, eap. »J.
430 ROME
Statistics halls, in the midst of which some aged trees have taken
of Rome. r0ot in the soft green turf which now supplies the place of
the pavement of costly marble and rich mosaic. One of
these halls, the famous Celia Sole ares, held 1600 seats of
polished marble,1 and was entirely covered with a flat roof
of stone, supported by cancellated work of brass or copper,
which, from the resemblance to the lacing of a sandal, is
supposed to have given the hall its designation. On the
western side of the ruins there are the remains of a rotondo,
and a great number of smaller divisions of all sizes and
forms. This enormous fabric was adorned with an im¬
mense number of statues and paintings. The celebrated
Farnese Hercules, the Glycon, the bull, now in the mu¬
seum at Naples, the Torso Belvidere, the Flora, the Cal-
lypigean Venus, together with many other statues, co¬
lumns, bas reliefs, &c., were all found in these ruins. The
thermae and palace of Titus were built with the mate¬
rials, and on the site of the buildings and pleasure grounds,
of Nero’s golden house. They were finished or enlarged
by Trajan, and afterwards repaired and embellished by Ha¬
drian. ' They appear to have been of remarkable extent
and magnificence. Part of the theatre of one of the tem¬
ples, and of one of the great halls, still remains above, and
many vaults and long galleries under ground. Some of
these subterraneous apartments are curiously painted, and
the ceiling of one of them contains some most exquisite
specimens of paintings in arabesque, which afforded a mo¬
del to the genius of Raphael, and enabled him to restore an
art which had been lost for so many centuries.2 In the
time of Leo X. some excavations were made, and the fa¬
mous group of the Laocoon was discovered in one of the
halls, and several pillars of granite, alabaster, and porphyry,
have since been found in various partial researches. In
another part of the Esquiline Hill stand the Sette Salle,
nine halls of one hundred feet in length, by fifteen in
breadth, and twenty in depth, which have evidently been
immense reservoirs of water, to supply the baths of Titus,
and occasionally the enormous arena of the Coliseum, when
naval engagements were represented.
The thermae of Diocletian, which are scattered over
the summit of the Quirinal and Viminal hills, are said to
have surpassed all the thermae of ancient Rome in extent
and splendour. One of the circular halls has been con¬
verted into a granary, another into the church of St. Ber¬
nard. The xystum penacotheca, or great covered hall of
the thermae, has been transformed into the church of St.
Maria degli angeli, and still retains much of its original
grandeur. It is 350 feet in length, 80 in breadth, and 90
in height. It was paved and incrusted with the finest mar¬
ble by Benedict XIV. The vaulted roof is supported by
sixteen Corinthian columns, eight of which are ancient, and
are formed of one vast piece of Egyptian granite. This
noble edifice is adorned with a variety of paintings ; among
others, with the martyrdom of St. Sebastian, by Domeni-
chino ; and the circular vestibule contains the monuments
of Salvator Rosa and Carlo Maratti.
Bridges. Seven bridges formerly conducted over the Tiber to the
Janiculum and the Vatican Mount. Three of these, the
^ Pons Sublicius, the Pons Palatinus, and the Pons Trium-
phalis, were long ago destroyed. Those which now re¬
main are the Bridges of the Island, the Ponte Sisto, and
the Ponte San Angelo. Out of Rome there is only one
bridge over the Tiber, the famous Milvian or dEmilian
bridge, now corrupted into Ponte Molle. Here the am¬
bassadors of the Allobroges were seized by the vigilance of
Cicero ;3 and here was fought the eventful battle in which
Constantine defeated Maxentius. About three miles from
Rome, the Anio, now the Teverone, is crossed by the Ponte Statute
Lamentano, formerly the Pons Nomentanus, beyond which of Ron
rises the broad green height of Monte Sagro, the famous "
Sacer, to which the Roman army and people twice retired
from the tyranny of the Patricians.4 The Ponte Salario,
a very singular and picturesque structure, which also crosses
the Anio, about three miles beyond the gate of the same
name, was the scene of the celebrated combat between
Manlius Torquatus and the gigantic Gaul.5 The ground
on the other side of it is supposed to be that on which Han¬
nibal encamped during the few days he remained before
Rome.
Rome contains the ruins of a number of triumphal arches. TriumpI
The most important of these are the arches of Titus, ofarches-
Septimius Severus, and of Constantine. The arch of Titus
is the oldest triumphal arch now existing in Rome. It is
peculiarly rich in sculpture. The interior is decorated with
two fine bas reliefs, representing on one side Titus in his
car of triumph, and, on the other, the spoils of the temple
of Jerusalem and the captive Jews. It was greatly muti¬
lated, but has been recently restored. The arch of Severus,
though more entire, is much less beautiful. The arch of
Constantine is thought by far the most noble of the trium¬
phal arches of Rome, but its columns, its beautiful sculp¬
tured medallions and bas reliefs, have evidently been pil¬
fered from one of the triumphal arches of Trajan.
Of all the stupendous aqueducts of ancient Rome, two alone Aqueduc
remain even in ruins, the Martian and the Claudian. The
former, which was built by Quintus Martius Rex the praetor,
125 years b. c., conveyed to Rome three different waters in
three distinct channels; the latter was built by the emperor
Claudius, and conveyed two waters to Rome, the aqua
Claudia, and the Anio vetus. The first was conveyed a
distance of thirty-five, the last of sixty-two miles. There
is reason to believe that the aqueducts were destroyed by
Totila, but notwithstanding their destruction, Rome is still
the city in the world the best supplied with water, three
popes having conducted to it three noble streams.0
Rome alone, of all the cities of the world, boasts those
sublime monuments of antiquity, the obelisks of Egypt.7
The most important of these are the obelisk that stands in
the Piazza del Popolo; it was the first ever seen in Rome,
and was brought from Egypt by Augustus, and placed in
the Circus Maximus, where it served as the gnomon of a
dial; the obelisk in the grand piazza of St. Peter’s, brought
from Egypt by Caligula; the obelisk in front of the Late-
ran church, the largest of them all, transported from Egypt
by Constantins; the obelisk mentioned by Pliny, which
was brought to Rome by Augustus, and erected in the
Campus Martius: it now stands on Monte Citorio; and the
obelisk which stood in the circus of Sallust, and now crowns
the lofty summit of the Pincian hill.
The Roman tombs were distinguished by their impres- Tombs,
sive grandeur and magnificence. All along the long line
of the Appian way are the mouldering remains of the ruin¬
ed and blackening sepulchres,
“ Where Caesars, heroes, peasants, hermits lie,
Blended in dust together.”
But among the immense number of proud sepulchres of the
most distinguished Romans which crowded that “ Queen
of ways,” all, with a very few exceptions, are unknown.
About sixty years ago the tomb of the Scipios was brought
to light, but “ the Scipios tomb contains no ashes now.”
Exactly on the opposite side of the road to it is the sepul¬
chre of the Maniglia family. The tomb of Cecilia Metella,
the daughter of Metellus, and “ the wealthiest Roman s
1 Olympiodorus in Bibliothec. Photii, p. 114.
a Sallust, Bell. Catil.
6 Rome in 19th century, vol. ii. p 150.
2 Eustace’s Classical Tour, p. 388. Rome in the 19th Century, vol. n. p. 99.
4 Livy, lib. ii. cap. 32. s Ibid- hb. vii. cap. 10.
’ Ibid. p. 158—165.
ROME.
atistic® wife,” is generally acknowledged to be a most beauti-
liome. fid sepulchral monument.1 It consists of a round tower
formed of immense blocks of Tiburtine stone fixed to¬
gether without cement, and adorned with a Doric marble
frieze finely sculptured. This beautiful tower was at one
time turned into a fortress by the family of the Gaetani. In
the sepulchral vault was found the beautiful marble sarco¬
phagus of Cecilia Metella, now in the Palazzo Farnese. Near
the Porta San Paolo, in the “ Prati del Popolo Romano,”
(“ the meadows of the Roman people,”) stands the grey
pyramid of Caius Cestius. It rises about a hundred and
twenty feet in height, and is entirely built of marble. Its
form is graceful, and its appearance very picturesque. The
“ Prati del Romano” are planted round with mulberry trees,
and now form the burial place of foreigners, excluded by
their religion from the other cemeteries. By far the greater
part of the strangers interred here are English.
[acombs The extensive catacombs found about Rome owe their
origin to the large excavations which were made by the
Romans for obtaining pozzolano, an immense quantity of
which they used, and exported for sand and mortar, and
other purposes. These subterraneous labyrinths branch
out many miles in various directions. Those under the
church of St. Sebastian alone are said to have been explored
to the extent oi above fifteen miles. Fhose dreary regions
afforded shelter to the first Christians during the dreadful
persecutions which they suffered under the emperors. They
were also used as sepulchres, but all the bones which they
once contained have been carried off as precious relics.
The chambers are all square, with arched recesses, and rec¬
tangular gaps, both in the walls and flooring, to receive
coffins.
It has been said that perhaps no city in the world abounds
with such numbers of churches as Rome, or with fewer
handsome ones as respects their architecture. Many of the
old churches of Rome are still called basilica,2 * 4 but that title
properly belongs to the following seven, St. Peter’s, St. John
Lateran’s, Santa Maria Maggiore’s, S. Paolo/won le muro,
Sante Croce in Gierusalemme, S.Sebastiano, and S. Lorenzo
Peter’s./MOn le muro. St. Peter’s is the finest church in the world,
excelling all others, not only in magnitude but in beauty.
It was projected by Pope Nicholas V. in the middle of the
fifteenth century; it was not, however, till the pontificate of
Julius II. in 1506, that the first stone of the edifice w as laid,
and the whole building was not finished till the year 1621,
during the pontificate of Paul V. No fewer than twenty-
four popes, counting from Nicholas V., assisted in the erec¬
tion of this magnificent structure. It is said to cover twenty
acres, and to have cost many millions sterling. It is
entirely built of Travertine stone, which looks as bright
and fresh as if newly finished. The length of the building
is 609 feet, and of the transept 500 feet, the height of the
dome is 440 feet, the height of the nave 154, and its breadth
90 feet. The plan of the building was frequently changed.
Ihe original architect was Braemante, but the greater part
was from the design of Michael Angelo, which, however, has
431
ilica.
unfortunately been marred by Paul V. and Carlo Moderni, Statistic,
justly stigmatized as “ a wretched plasterer from Como, of Rome.
who broke the sacred unity of the master-idea, and     
we must execrate tor the Latin cross, the aisles, the attic,
and the front.’3 From the front of the church on eithe^
side, a grand semicircular colonnade, composed of four rows
of columns, sweeps round and encloses the immense circular
area in the centre of which stands a noble Egyptian obelisk
of red granite, between two most beautiful fountains. The
general effect is greatly injured by the Vatican Palace, which
is built on one side of St. Peter’s, overlooking the top of
the colonnade, and destroying its uniformity. A covered
portico extends along the whole breadth of the building
vaulted with gilt stuccos, and paved with various marbles.
It lengthens on the eye by a grand succession of doors,
ruches, statues, and fountains, till the perspective terminates
with the equestrian statue of Charlemagne. The nave is
infinitely grand and sublime, and is impannelled with the
laiest and richest marbles, and adorned with every art of
sculpture and of taste.
The splendid canopy of the great altar, and the wreathed -
columns which support it, were formed out of the bronze
taken from the Pantheon by Urban VIII. A double mar¬
ble staircase leads down to the confessional or tomb of St.
Peter, illuminated by more than a hundred never-dying
lamps. His sepulchre is surrounded by a circular vault,
which is lined with the tombs of popes, saints, emperors, and
deposed or abdicated princes, among whom are the last of
the Stuart family, the emperor Otho, &c.
The stupendous dome, viewed in its design, its altitude,
or even its decoration, is altogether unrivalled, and has just¬
ly been pronounced the triumph of modern architecture.
A broad paved road leads up to the top of the church, and
from thence the dome may be ascended by a succession of
ingeniously contrived staircases. From the top an exten-
slT.ProsPect may obtained of the beautiful amphitheatre
of foils which encloses the Campagna. The summits of the
loftier Apennines behind, wreathed with snow; the Tiber in
its sinuous windings through the waste; in the distance the
blue waters of the Mediterranean gleaming in the sunbeams;
and, far beneath, Rome, with her churches, her palaces, her
dark and distant ruins, the rich verdure, and golden fruit
of the orange gardens of her convents, contrasting with the
deep shade of their mournful cypresses.4
Ihe church or basilica of St. John Lateran was built by gt. j0hn
Constantine, and during many ages before the erection of Lateran.
St. Peter s church, was regarded as the mother of churches,
and head of the Christian world. It derived its name from
Plautius Lateranus, the leader of the first and unsuccessful
conspiracy against Nero/> This church has been frequent¬
ly rebuilt, enlarged, and improved, and the old architecture
now lies completely concealed in the modern. It is a very
large but by no means handsome building, and its architec¬
ture^ is deformed by many glaring defects.
I he old basilica of St. Paul, founded by Constantine, and St. Paul’s,
rebuilt by Honorius, contained a hundred and twenty pillars
1 There is a stem round tower of other days,
Finn as a fortress with its fence of stone.
Such as an enemy’s baffled strength delays,
Standing with half its battlements alone,
And with two thousand years of ivy grown, 
The garland of eternity, where waves
The green leaves over all by time o’erthrown.
What was this tower of strength ? Within its cave
What treasuraaiay so lock’d, so hid ? A woman’s grave.
s « a » CMde Harold, c. iv. st. 100.
hies wW>> ” lCa Sefems at ffrst to have been part of a palace. It is sometimes represented as a simple portico. It then included the build-
the DrimiHvY nv, ^ terwar(ls annexed. Some of these buildings which had served as basilica for law and trade, became places of worship to
basilic* and the hrst churches that were erected expressly for that worship, erected perhaps on the site of some ancient
4 p ’ .alned tiie same name. —Forsyth's Italy, p. 87. 3 Ibid. p. 195.
Rome in 19th Century, vol. ii. p. 277. ' s Tacit. Ann. ‘l5. Juvenal. Sat. x. 17.
432
R O M E.
St. Cle¬
ment’s.
Statistics of the rarest marble and granite, the spoils of some of the
of Rome. nobiest edifices of antiquity. A few years ago this church
was destroyed by fire, but it is now rebuilding in a style of
great magnificence.
The church of St. Clements on the slope of the Esquilme
has the reputation of being the oldest existing church in
the world. The churches of the Jesuits and of St. Ignatius
are distinguished for their riches, and the immense number
of ornaments which they contain. The church of Santa
Maria sopra Minerva, built on the site of Pompey s temple
of Minerva, contains the celebrated Christ of Michael An¬
gelo, and in the church of St. Pietro in Vincoli, is the a-
mous statue of Moses by the same artist. Many of the
churches of Rome are adorned with fine paintings by the
greatest masters, but their beauty and colouring as gene
rally suffered much from time, neglect, dirt, and damp. In
the church of Santa Maria della Pace are the four Sibyls of
tends a mile in length, but is scarcely fifty feet in breadth. Static,
This, and all the other parts of the city, consist of buildings .
from three to five stories in height, built of stone, and plas- ^
tered over. Every considerable tenement has a bust or por¬
trait of the Virgin stuck upon one corner of it, at the second
story, with a lamp in front at night, and an ornamental plas¬
ter moulding round it, into which are generally wrought some
figures of angels or saints. Rome has no squares, and of
the piazzas, the Piazzo del Popolo, and that in from Oi St.
Peter’s, are the only two that deserve notice. Both are
adorned with obelisks, statues, and fountains. Gas light is
unknown in Rome? and the lamps attached to the shi ines ot
the Virgin were the only street lights until the French came
and introduced the “ reverberes” used in Paris.
contains 500 streets, 275 lanes, 148 places, and 5500
S Rome has about 335 palaces, or noblemen’s houses. Of Palace'
, n. _  ~ unit!
in fresco by Domemchmo Am ^ buiidtags once Monged live sunk into poverty, and their
bon Lragi de Fiancesi. archanUl Michael residences are now turned into ecclesiastical colleges or ho-
«£. or let to foreign ambassadors or consul. In the others
cis and a fresco of Giotto representing St. Peter walking
upon the waves, also adorn this church. Daniel da Volterra s
deposition from the cross, which Nicholas Poussin pronoun¬
ced to be the third picture in the world, once enriched t e
church of the S. S. Trinita de Monti, but it was totally de¬
stroyed by the French in their clumsy attempt to remove
it. Here is the tomb of Claud Lorraine, and his house
stands beside the church; on the opposite side of the way
is tlie house <-|'Nia.olas PouSSin)and close by it ^b.mse —destitute of architec-
once ‘" “d'Ced by ba vator l: . b ^ ^ of ^ anPd in the interior, notwithstanding the mag-
drea deL* ^lle ^b\ J[ h c Pfcll. It contains some nitude of the apartments, and the magnificence of the deco-
pagan tern- lace, and to let the principal apartments to_ lodger. Over
pies in their plan and decoration, pictures, statues, worship
of images, holy places, altars, and vqtive offerings, mu ti-
LClOj C/1 ICt> LC/ CV i a a ky n. ^ ^
which have escaped this fate, the lower storey is sometimes
let for shops, sometimes retained for stables, coach-houses,
and servant’s rooms. The second storey is generally a pic¬
ture gallery, consisting of a suite of rooms all opening into
one another, and richly adorned with marble columns and
painted ceilings. The owner of the building and of these
precious works of art, lives in the third or highest story, and
generously throws open the gallery to artists and to all who
choose to give two or three paoli to the servants. 1 he ex-
WA J [   / '
plied ceremonies, and pompous processions.
There are in Rome
54 parishes, and 300 churches,
154 churches served by secular clergy,
13Q     by regular clergy (monks,)
64 monasteries and convents for men,
5q   for women.2
the gates of the palace are the escutcheons of the family,
and as if in mockery, the initials S. P. Q.. R- (Senatus Po-
pulusque Romanus.) The immense palaces of the Dona,
the Colonna, and the Borghese, are still occupied only by
their own families and dependants. 1 he Dcria palace con¬
tains the largest collection of paintings in Rome, among
which are found some of the finest specimens of the ancient
masters. The princely house of Colonna has produced more
illustrious men, and can boast a nobler descent, than any
in Rome. The gallery of their palace, which is by tar the
Streets.
  —- in ivome. ane  ’ 7 c
Nothing strikes a stranger with more admiration on his sold. The palace garden,
arrival in Rome than the immense number of fountains g’ SOn the steep side of the Quirinal hill, contains
which pour forth on every side an inexhaustible supp y •turesoue remains of a magnificent ancient edifice, the
the finest water. They shew a great variety m their com- thepvc^ue of the Barberini
position. Some of them are beautiful, one or two gra , f ‘ fermer] containea tilat celebrated museum of ancient
but they are all, generally speaking, deficient in simp ici y, J vages § mec|als, &c., which was so long the
and several of them, such as the renowned fountain of levi, - 1 _ ^ a(1^fration 0p Europe, but it is now sold and
are completely overloaded with mythological sculpture. The famous Portland vase was brought from this
The water of this fountain, which is the chief supply of daspersed. I ¥ famous rort a onCe contained a
modern Rome, is the delicious Aqua Vergine, .be same .bat U* best
flowed into Rome in the age ot Augustus. collection of nainturns in Rome. In the Palazzo Mas-
The streets of Rome are narrow, crooked, badly ig - . . tWmms "biscobalus the finest in the world,
ed, and dirty. The best street is the Corso so named 18 ‘h**“dfr.he villa Palon.bari on the Es-
from being used for the course or promenade of carnages ,, 7-, pa]azz0 Spada contains the celebrated
at the Carnival. Part of it is the ancent v,a an, the %*£*$*£ a^X foot o “hich Ctesar fell. In the
rest follows the line of the Via rrmmphalis. It us al- stands the beautiful colossalst
rnost the only street that has the merit ot being st aig i c ■ \ . i _ j   4-k^ c-*.fo nf anrien'
and that can boast of trottoirs for foot passengers. It ex- Antir
In the
statue of
i Rome in 19th Century, vol if p- 370. Middleton’s Letter from Rome.
* Melchiori’s Guide Methodique de Rome,
Blunt’s Vestiges of Ancient Manners in Italy and Sicily
JJ.
ROME.
Statistics The palace of Lucien Bonaparte possesses a small collection,
)f Rome, but entirely composed of masterpieces, and kept in beauti-
^'V^'ful preservation. The Palazzo Nuovo di Torlonia, the resi¬
dence of Torlonia the Roman banker, who has purchased
the title and estate of the Duca di Bracciano, is fitted up
with all the magnificence that wealth can command. The
gallery is adorned with Canova’s colossal group of Hercules
and Lydias. The Farnese palace contains the far-famed
gallery painted in fresco by Annibal Caracci.
The Vati- The Vatican has long been celebrated for its unrivalled
m. splendour and magnificence. Its ceilings richly painted in
fresco; its pictured pavements Af ancient mosaic; its mag¬
nificent gates of bronze; its polished columns of ancient por¬
phyry, the splendid spoils of the ruins of imperial Rome;
its endless accumulation of Grecian marble, Egyptian gra¬
nites, and Oriental alabasters; its bewildering extent and
prodigality of magnificence; but, above all, its amazing trea¬
sures of sculpture, far surpass even the gorgeous dreams of
Eastern magnificence.1 In common with all the other col¬
lections of the fine arts in Rome, the Vatican suffered mate¬
rially from the rapacity of the French, but on the downfall
ofBonaparte the stolen treasureswere restored to theirright-
ful owners. The Vatican contains a museum filled with the
most splendid specimens of ancient sculpture;—the tapestry
chambers hung with tapestry woven in the looms of Flan¬
ders, and copied from the cartoons of Raphael;—a picture gal¬
lery, filled with the masterpieces of painting ;—the Cumere
and Loggie of Raphael, painted in fresco by himself and his
pupils;—the Sistina and Paolina chapels, painted in fresco by
Michael Angelo ;—and the library, the halls and galleries of
which alone are more than thirteen hundred feet in length.
The view from the balcony in front of the windows gave the
name of Belvidere to the museum, and in consequence to
the matchless statue of Apollo Belvidere, pronounced by
universal consent to be the finest statue in the world. It
was found near Antium, in the ruins of a Roman villa, sup¬
posed to have originally belonged to Nero. The name of
its artist is unknown. Here, also, is the celebrated group
of the Laocoon, which Pliny states to have been executed
by Agesander the Rhodian, and Athenodorus and Polidorus,
who are believed to have been his sons.2 This w onderful
masterpiece was found in the palace of Titus, on the very
spot where it is described by Pliny to have stood, and every
successive generation that has passed since it was formed,
has gazed w ith admiration on its matchless sublimity. The
Vatican also contains the two finest paintings in the world,
the Transfiguration by Raphael, and Domenichino’s Commu¬
nion of St. Jerome. The library contains a splendid collec¬
tion of books, and is peculiarly riel) in rare and valuable manu¬
scripts. But a minute account of the immense treasures of
art accumulated in this magnificent building would occupy
too much of our space.
Another of the Pope’s palaces, the Lateran, has been con¬
verted into an hospital.
lusenm of The museum of the Capitol contains a very extensive col-
e Capitol, lection of specimens of ancient sculpture. The finest w orks
in it are the famous statue called the Dying Gladiator, found
at Antium in the same spot with the Apollo Belvidere and
the Fighting Gladiator; the two Furietti Centaurs; the old
shrivelled crone, which some have called the Praefica, others
a^ Sybil, others Hecuba ^ the group of Cupid and Psyche ;
Cupid bending his bow7; the Osiris and Isis; the professor
of the gymnastic art; the noble seated statue of Agrippina,
the wife of Germanicus ; the Camiilus; the child play¬
ing with a swran ; the bronze urn wTiich bears the name of
Mithridates; the four doves, a mosaic, which must be either
toe original or a copy of the famous mosaic of Sosus, in the
433
temple of Pergamus, described by Pliny ; and the bas-reliefs Statistics
of the dispute between Agamemnon and Achilles; the Nine °f Rome.
Muses ; and the battle of the Amazons.3 The Capitol con-
tains also a museum of painting, but it is of very inferior in¬
terest,
I he academy of St. Luke, in the Forum, contains Ra¬
phael’s famous picture of St. Luke painting the Virgin’s por¬
trait. Here is preserved the skull of Raphael under a glass
case.
Rome contains eleven public libraries, some of which are
excellent. In the Augustine convent there is one contain¬
ing upwards of one hundred thousand volumes, which is onen
to the public.
There are a great many villas in the immediate vicinity Villas,
of Rome, and even within its walls. Every villa has at least
one building, called a casino, containing a suite of entertain¬
ing rooms, fitted up w ith all the luxury of painting and sculp¬
ture. The villa and garden of the Borghese, which are by
far the most beautiful pleasure grounds at Rome, are open
as a common drive to the whole metropolis. The vilia Lu-
dovisi, within the walls of the city, is nearly two miles in cir¬
cuit. It contains an invaluable collection of celebrated
pieces of ancient statuary, of which no copies are known to
exist. The magnificent villa Medici, on the Pincian hill,
is now7 converted into the French academy, where a number
of young artists of promise are supported at the charge of
the French government, with the view of enabling them to
enjoy the advantages of a few7 years study at Rome. The
villa Albani is enriched with the most precious collection of
ancient sculpture that any private cabinet ever contained.
The finest specimens of this collection are the famous Apollo
Sauroctonos, the most beautiful bronze statue now left in
the world, and which, in the judgment of Winkelman, is
the original of Praxiteles, described by Pliny; the statue of
Minerva, which is pronounced by Winkelman to be the
only monument now existing at Rome of the sublime age
of art that lasted from the age of Phidias to that of Praxi¬
teles ; and the far-famed relievo of Antinous, which, says
Winkelman, “ after the Apollo and the Laocoon, is perhaps
the most beautiful monument of antiquity which time has
transmitted to us.” 4
The castle of St. Angelo, “ the mole which Hadrian rear’d Castle of
on high,” was originally called “Moles Adrian!,” from the Sr. Angelo
name of its founder, w7ho destined it to hold his remains for
ever. It is a circular building, and w7as formerly reckoned
very strong; it has stood many sieges, but as a tbrtress it is
wholly untenable against modern tactics. It has been so
olten taken and retaken, repaired and altered, that but little
of the original structure now remains, except the wails. It
communicates with the Vatican by a long covered gallery,
made by Pope Alexander VI., to afford him a way of escape
from the just fury of his subjects. The castle of St. Angelo
is now used as a place of confinement for prisoners sentenced
to the galleys. The upper part of it also serves as a state
prison for criminals of rank, and those who fall under the sus¬
picion and displeasure of the Pope.
The population of Rome, which in 1800 amounted to p0pU]Ktj0n
153,004, gradually diminished till it was only 117,882 in
1813. Since that period, however, it has progressively in¬
creased, and in 1836 consisted of 153,678, exclusive of Jews,
who amount to 3700. On the dismemberment of the Pon¬
tifical territory in 1800, the population of those parts which
now. form the government was 2,400,000, in 1829 that po¬
pulation had increased to 2,679)524, being an augmentation
of about one-eighth.
The population returns for the city of Rome in 1836, are
thus given by the authorities :—
1 Rome in 19th Century, vol. i. p. 144—178.
J Rome in 19th Century, vol. ii. p. 428—450. Forsyths It>4y, p. 229.
4 Winkelman, Hist de 1’ Art. liv. vi. chap. 7. sect. 28. Rome in I9ih Century, vol. iii. p.
VOL. XiX.
2 Pliny, lib. xxxiv. cap. 8.
109—116.
3 i
434
ROME.
Statistics Parochial churches,... 54
of Rome. Families, 34,895
N'C>^<^5W Bishops,  37
Priests,  .... 1468
Monks,  2023
Nuns,   1476
Seminarists and colle-
giates,  
Heretics and Turks,
(Jews excluded,)...
541
201
Communicants,  112,940
Non-communicants, 40,738
Marriages,  1119
Boys baptised,  2258
Girls baptised,  2115
Males dead,  1683
Females dead,  1592
Male population,  81,488
Female population,.. 72,190
Produc¬
tions.
the births
The increase of population from 1835 is 1221
are as 1 to 35; the deaths as l to 47.
The following is a correct statement of the extent of the
surface of the different districts in the Roman States. A
third part of the surface is cultivated:
Surface.
Superficies in |
Tavole Quadrate
Censuarie.1
Rome and Agro Romano,
Comarca di Roma, 
Bologna, 
Ferrara, 
Forli, 
Ravenna, 
Urbino and Pesaro,... ....
Velletri, 
Ancona, 
Macerato, 
Camerino, 
Fermo, 
Ascoli, 
Perugia,  
Spoleto,  
Rieti, 
Viterbo, 
Orvieto, 
Civita Vecchia, 
Frosinone e Ponte Corvo,
Benevento, 
Totals,.
2,101,947
2,095,242
3,358,305
2,736,093
1,774,163
1,751,908
3,559,086
1,593,420
1,155,738
2,135,278
811,847
890,294
1,145,084
3,973,376
2,820,683
1,438,655
2,900,985
762,159
968,509
1,873,281
139,191
Value in Scudi
and Bajocchi.
39,985,236
13,043,679-39
10,122,937.35
19,046,841.03
14,293,823.59
12,489,821.66
10,270,541.91
10,060,247.50
4,589,789.56
7,231,281.25
9,869,941.98
1,187,047.89
3,606,128.89
2.426.337.87
13,383,842.71
6,920,604.81
4,492,890.31
9,243,772.59
1,717,985.49
3.553.944.87
5,052,802.95
1,546,535.
164,150,798.54
The principal productions of the country are corn, such
as wheat and maize, vegetables, rice, hemp, wines, vinegar,
brandy, tartar, wine lees, oil, timber, charcoal, tobacco. The
produce of secondary importance is fruit, potatoes, flax, seeds,
and oleaginous vegetables, dye-woods, and barks of the cork
and other trees, potash, soda, hay, mulberry-trees, aniseed,
&c. The main agricultural products are cattle, both large
and small, with their secondary productions, such as wool,
cheese, butter, hides, bacon, &c.; silks, wax, honey, tal¬
low, horns and bones, parchment, &c. Buffalos, goats,
mules, and other animals for carriage, are found, but not in
large numbers. Domestic fowls, and game of all sorts, are
in abundance.
The cultivation of rice, vegetables, potatoes, hemp, olives,
mulberry-trees, silk worms, horned cattle and sheep, with
cheese and wool, is on the increase, while, on the con¬
trary, corn, firewood, charcoal, wood, pine-kernels, horses,
and the salted sardinias of the Adriatic are diminishing.
The fishing-trade generally is declining or almost extinct.
Other produce is nearly stationary.
With respect to the mineral productions of the Pontifical
States, but little information can be given. They possess ex- Statist*{
cellent earths, argillaceous and others, fit for various manu- of Roa
factures, and especially for earthenware. Pozzolano is found
at Rome and elsewhere; travertine, peperine, and other
building stones, at Tivoli, Albano, &c. Millstones, sili¬
ceous and fire-stones, fuller’s earth, alabaster, are also
found. In some parts are marbles, variegated and sculp-
tuary. Rock crystals are found at Tolfa, and elsewhere.
They produce also salts and bitumens, alum, vitriol, fos¬
sil coal, pitch and naphtha. They have no fossil, but 1
abundance of marine salt, the annual produce of which
is 76,000,000 lbs. There are many salt-springs in Ro¬
magna and the frontiers, and abundance of salubrious
mineral springs, both hot and cold. Of metals there
are indices of gold and silver in various places, but the
quantities are small. Iron ore is believed to exist in the ter¬
ritory of Terni, Viterbo, Bologna, and elsewhere, but no
sufficient trial has been made to enable a correct estimate
to be formed of the probable produce. Copper ores, quick¬
silver, marcasite and lead, have also been found. Pozzo-
lana is employed for subaquatic works, and is exported to
some extent. The Viterbo vitriol mines produce more than
100,000 lbs., one-half of which is exported. There are many
mines of fossil coal, which were worked with great success,
and the coal was found most abundant and excellent, but
they have of late been utterly neglected. About four mil¬
lion lbs. of sulphur are dug in Romagna, Pesaro, and Tor-
mignano. The government works only the alum mines, all
the rest are private undertakings.
Roman agriculture is by no means in a flourishing state. Agricult
Most of the lands in the Agro Romano, and generally in the
Maremme, extending from the confines of Tuscany to those
of Naples, are divided into large properties. The extent
varies much, some containing no less than 8000 hectares,
and others not exceeding a few hundred hectares; but, ge¬
nerally speaking, the landed properties vary from 500 to
1000 hectares. All the tract of country from the Apennines
to the Mediterranean, with the exception of the suburban
districts near the towns and villages, is divided into posses¬
sions of considerable size. But the number of wealthy pro¬
prietors is very small, perhaps there are not twenty land¬
holders of ample fortune. The great majority of them are
poor, a few of them are tolerably well off, but the opulent
are rare indeed. The value of land is almost infinitely va¬
rious ; the rent in the Maremme varies from a half to four
crowns per hectare. Beyond the Maremme it is sometimes
let at twenty crowns per hectare (L.4) per annum, and in
some cases the rental exceeds that sum. Lands do not or¬
dinarily render more than two and a-half or three per cent.
In the neighbourhood of the large towns of the State, land
readily sells for forty years’ purchase. The agricultural la¬
bourers are grossly ignorant, and they have no means of
acquiring education, though they are neither indolent nor
unwilling to better their condition. They in general live
badly, using, for the most part, maize bread and polenta,
beans and pulse, and other vegetables, but they seldom are
able to obtain animal food. In winter their beverage ispfc-
chetta, a mixture of wine and water, and in summer wine
alone. In the populous districts, wages vary from one to two
pauls(5d. to I0d.) and in the Maremme from two to four
pauls per day, according to the employment, the season,
and the locality.
In the most populous and best cultivated districts, there
is usually an annual change from spring grasses to corn pro¬
duce, but in the Maremme the soil is often left to repose for
from three to seven years. No operations on a large scale
can be carried on there in summer, owing to the state of
the climate. In the summer season, the animals are driven
i The Tavola censuale =, 1,000 square metres ; so that 39,985,235 T. □ C. = 11,632,745 miles □ Italian, of 60 to the degree.
ROME.
Statistics
af Rome.
from the plains to the mountains, and after the gathering of
the harvest, the Maremme are abandoned, on account of the
■''malaria The leases in these districts are sometimes subset
to smaller cultivators, and even subdivided into small frac¬
tions. But in other parts of the country leases are rarely
granted ; land is almost all colonized, that is, farmed on the
mezzeria principle, a system which is productive of the worst
results. The general ai-rangement is, that the landowner
shall receive from the coloni half the produce of the soil;
but there are many cases in which the amount received is
not one-sixth of the produce. The coloni are generally in
debt to their landlords, and are often in a state of insol¬
vency.
The Roman states produce a supply of cattle sufficient
for the ordinary consumption. Horses are exported, and
there is a small importation of oxen and swine. The breed
of sheep is improving, and the export of wool is considera¬
ble, and is rapidly increasing. Olive plantations were long
one of the most productive investments; but they are now
less so than the cultivation of the white mulberry, which would
spread widely were capital abundant. Vineyards have been
too extensively planted, and now yield no return equivalent
to the outlay. The culture of the wheat has diminished
solely from the absence of external demand, and the con¬
sequent decline of prices. The instruments of husbandry
employed are of the rudest kind. The heavy customs have
prevented the introduction of improved implements, and
the arts are too little advanced to allow their production at
home. The principal impediments in the Roman states
to agricultural improvements are, the political situation of
the country; the protecting system, which keeps all the
producing powers in backwardness; the want of capital;
the want of population in the Maremme, and the mezzeria
system elsewhere; the want of knowledge, and more espe¬
cially of agricultural knowledge; the extreme difficulty
proprietors have in finding managers for their estates who
are able and willing to introduce the improvements that
have been adopted elsewhere; mortmain, the heavy bur¬
den of taxation falling particularly on proprietors, agricul¬
turists, and their productions, and the difficulty of sales
from restricted relations.1
The population of the Roman states in general is rather
agricultural than manufacturing, and their manufactures
serve only for the home consumption. There is little de¬
mand for them abroad. The papal government has made
enormous sacrifices, by protections, prohibitions, and pre¬
miums, for the encouragement of what is called native in¬
dustry ; but these measures, so far from increasing and im¬
proving manufacturing produce, have been the main causes
of decline and decay. Their only effect has been to reward
and to render permanent the most rude and ignorant pro¬
cesses of manufacture. Scarcely a valuable discovery' has
been introduced into their manufactories, and the looms are
still such as were generally employed in the fourteenth cen¬
tury. Many a town in Great Britain, consisting only of
30,000 souls, produces a greater quantity of manufactured
articles than the three million inhabitants of the pontifical
states. The principal manufacture is that of woollens of
ordinary quality. Rome is the chief seat of this manufac¬
ture, and the value of the fabrics produced annually, is calcu¬
lated at 300,000 crowns, (L.60,000.) Next to woollens
stands the manufacture of hats. They are well made every
where, but especially at Rome, and to the amount of
200,000 crowns, (L.40,000.) There are silk manufactories
in Rome, Bologna, Camerino, and Brugia; but the trade is
declining. Next in importance to woollen and silk manu¬
factories, are those of tanned and dressed leather. Gloves
435
orfnnl?^ /a0016 and Bolo"na’ to the extent of from Statistics
90,010 to 100,000 pairs annually. Roman musical strings °1 Rome,
enjoy a very ancient and deserved reputation. The annual
quantity made amounts in value to 10,000 crowns. There
are scarely any manufactories of cotton goods. The go¬
vernment has made great sacrifices to maintain an estab¬
lishment at the Diocletian baths, but without success. The
fabrics of hemp and flax are more numerous than those of
cotton, but there are no factories; all the goods produced
are manufactured either in public schools, orphan asylums, or
private houses. The other articles of manufacture are
lopes and cordage, wax and tallow candles, paper, cream
ot tartar, liquorice juice, pig iron, copper manufactures,
earthenware, and glass. An extensive trade was formerly
carried on in alum, which was dug in large quantities in the
mountains of Tolfa, but the introduction of artificial alum,
by lowering the prices, has greatly diminished this trade.
Raw sulphur is found in large quantities and of excellent
quality. After supplying the home consumption, both raw
and refined sulphur are exported to the amount of four
million lbs. giving an annual proceed of 120,000 crowns.
The sulphuric manufactures of Bologna produce annually
50,000 lbs. of sulphuric, and 10,000 lbs. of nitric acid.
The trade of the Roman states is far from extensive or Trade,
flourishing. The principal exports are corn from Romagna
and the frontier districts; but this trade is diminishing.
Sheep 50,000 yearly, swine 40,000, oxen 10,000. The ex¬
port to England of Roman wool is become very considera¬
ble, and is increasing rapidly. The provinces on the west
of the Apennines export from 800,000 to 900,090 lbs. of
wool for Piedmont and France. A million lbs. of cheese
go to Tuscany and Sardinia; of lambs skins, about 400,000
lbs. are shipped to England, Piedmont, and Naples. Of
horns and bones, there is an export of 15,000 lbs.; of honey,
10,000 lbs.; of skins, 100,000 lbs.; of tallow, 200,000 lbs.;
of lard and fat, 150,000 lbs.; of hemp, 30 millions of lbs.;
of white and brown rags, 3 millions lbs.; of oil, 1 million
lbs.; of tobacco, 300,000 lbs., but the government mono¬
poly is a great impediment to the extended cultivation of
a plant to which the soil is well adapted. There is a large
export of planks to Spain, America, and France, besides
other articles.
The imports are to some extent affected by the circum- Imports,
stance, that a chain of mountains traverses the country,
making the north-west almost inaccessible to the south, so
that while one part of the state is exporting, another is im
porting the same article. Colonial produce is received
principally from England and France; and the consumption
is, of raw sugar, 10,000,000 lbs.; coffee, 1,600,000 lbs.;
pepper, 1,000,000 lbs.; cocoa, 50,000 lbs.; cinnamon,
40,000 lbs.; cloves, 35,000 lbs.; and raw cotton, 150,000
lbs. Of other principal articles, the yearly imports are,
from 40,000 to 50,000 sheep ; from 12,000 to 13,000 calves
or oxen; 8000 to 9000 swine; 16,000 to 18,000 cows;
some costly horses, principally for the capital; hides, about
1,200,000 lbs.; raw skins, 50,000 lbs.; coarse wool for
mattresses, 1,000,000 lbs.; cheese, 1,300,000 lbs.; butter,
70,000 lbs.; wax, 700,000 lbs.; cochineal and kernes, salt
fish from England, 8,700,000 lbs.; about 3,000,000 lbs.
more of pilchards, Sardinian salmon, &c. are brought from
Spain, France, Sicily, and Russia.
The tariff which regulates the import and export duties
of the Pontifical states, is dated 28th April 1830.2
The prohibitions in the Roman states are not nu¬
merous. On imports they include the articles farmed, as
salt, tobacco, alum, vitriol, playing cards, pictures, en¬
gravings, &c.
^ See the comirwuiication of one of the largest landed proprietors in the Roman States, in Dr. Bowring’s Report, &c. p. 78, 79.
Report on the Statistics of the Roman States, by Dr. Bowring. 1837.
ROME.
436
Statistics
of Rome.
Roads.
The Corn-Laws in the Roman States are as follows.
S tat is)
of Roi
Mediterranean.
Wheat, when the price is
Under 14 crowns
up to 14
up to 15
up to 16
Flour, under 16
up to 16
up to 17
up to 18
Adriatic.
Under 12 crowns, per G40 lbs.
Up to 12
Up to 13
Up to 14
Under 14
Up to 14
Up to 15
Up to 16
A similar legislation is applied to bread, maize, beans,
peas, potatoes, and chesnuts; but rice is subject to an ex¬
port duty of one bajocco per 100 lbs.
The exports to England are few, and consist mamly ot
o-rain, raw hemp, rags, raw and refined sulphur, silk, cream
of tartar, wood, lamb and kid skins, cork, &c. English
vessels load goods at Civita Vecchia, but the major part of
the above articles are shipped for England from Leghorn,
Genoa, and Marseilles.
Rome receives from England colonial produce, fish, me¬
dicines, drugs, and dye-stuffs, metals, cotton-twist, piece
goods of all sorts, hardware, and iron and steel goods, jewel¬
lery, glass, earthenware, porcelain, &c.
The roads of the Pontifical states are, generally speak-
in0-, well kept. They are best at a distance from the ca¬
pital, and worst in its immediate neighbourhood, from the
want of siliceous material for repairs. Ever from the time
of the ancient Romans, the roads have been divided into
the three classes of consular, provincial, and communal.
By a decree of the 23d October 1817, this arrangement
was regulated, and a board nominated to the charge of the
roads ;&and it was determined to levy a tenth part of the
praedial impost for the consular roads, a variable quota from
* _ . f*   " — " 1 m 4 I ^ Chip Q 4 4n
Duties.
Import.
Export-
Prohibited.
Crowns 2
... 1
No duty.
Prohibited.
Crowns 1 50
75
Free.
Free.
1
2
Probibited.
Free.
75
1 50
Prohibited.
two sides of the Apennines. The rate of wages paid in
town and country are as follows:—
In town, a valet 10 crowns per month, lodging and food.
In country,
waiting-maid ... 6
footman  8
maid-servant  2
wardrobe-keeper 4
coachman 10
rider  7. 50
groom   6
cook 10
boy  3
labourer  6
shepherd   4
boy  3
ditto, ditto,
ditto, and clothing,
ditto, lodging and clothing,
ditto, ditto,
ditto, and clothing,
ditto, ditto,
ditto, ditto,
ditto, lodging and food,
ditto, and food,
ditto, lodgings and food,
ditto, ditto,
ditto, ditto.
The monthly expenses of maintaining a family in the
country, composed of six individuals, are, (including rent,)
17 crowns, 10 bajs., making 2-85 crowns per person, with¬
out calculating medical charges, so that, according to the
above estimate, a family of six person living in the country
can subsist on 17s. a-week, or about L.41 per annum. But
in Rome, the monthly expenses of a family of the middling
classes, composed of six individuals, would be 52 crowns,
33; that is to say, 8 72 per individual, about L.2, 12s. 6d.
the provinces for the provincial roads, and another at the er wee}c> or abo’ut L.125 a-year, for the expenditure of a
charge of the municipalities for the communal roac s. family of the trading classes.
The bankers Torlonia recently proposed a scheme ot prjces 0f ordinary articles of consumption in the markets
great utility, that of introducing steam navigation on the of Rome<
Tiber, establishing a port on its mouth, extending steam
communication from it to Naples, Leghorn, and all the ad¬
joining coast. But after the steam vessels and omnibuses
were contracted for, and nearly ready, the government took
alarm, and put an interdict on the scheme. In the stage
coaches travellers pay 35 bajocchi per post, (somewhat less
than 2d. per mile, English). Money, jewels, and effects of
small bulk and large value, are conveyed from one end to
the other of the Roman states, if under 100 crowns, at 2 per
cent; from 100 to 500 at 1 per cent, &c. The government
messengers have the privilege of conveying travellers for
their own account, and their general charge is 60 bajocchi
per post, (somewhat more than 3d. per mile), half of which \yages paid for different classes of labour :—
Bread Bajocchi 2^ per lb. of 12 oz.
Flesh-meat * 6i „
Fish 6 »
Flour 3 »
Salt 3 „
Hogs’ lard 9 »»
Salt meat 12 „
Vegetables 2|- „
Wine 10 per bocaleA
Oil 40 „ £ 1 s^-
Wages.
they1 are required to pay to government. The price of tra¬
velling in ordinary vehicles averages at from 3 to 3^ crowns
per 100 miles per individual, comprising one meal to be
furnished by the vetturino. By carriage or carts the gene¬
ral charge for the carriage of goods is 1 crown per 100 miles.
Wages in the Roman states are low; and in general it
may be stated, that the services which in England cost a
shilling, in France a franc, in the Papal states cost a paid,
(54 centimes, or about 5^d. sterling). A day’s labour in
summer costs 30 bajocchi, (14d. sterling), but in wintei only
15 to 20 bajocchi, (7d. to lOd. sterling) ; and the prices of
the ordinary articles of consumption vary much in the dif¬
ferent parts of the Roman states. There is a very gieat
difference between those in the capital and those on the
Masons Pauls per diem 4^
Carpenters 6
Blacksmiths 6
House Painters 6
Stonemasons 6
Workers in stucco 6
Upholsterers .-4
Coachmakers 6
Sawyers 5
Potters 4
Dyers 5
Spinners 6
Weavers 5^
Printers Pauls per diem 5
Millers 3
Bakers 8
Walter at public-houses 3^
Goldsmiths   5
W’atch makers 4
Tailors 5
Milliners 2
Shoemakers 5
Hatters •••6
Agriculturists of vari¬
ous classes 3£
ROME.
I Civil go¬
vernment.
Statistics The civil government is in the hands of the College of
of Rome. Cardinals, and the executive is administered by the Cardi¬
nal \ icarius, who is a kind of prime minister. It has
been defined to be “ a government administered by
monks, who conduct the affairs of a nation by the rules of
a convent, and apply the maxims of the twelfth century to
the business of the nineteenth and the apathy and timi¬
dity, tne dread of independent thinking and of free innuiry
which it manifests, fully justify the statement. Such is the
dread of innovation, that even vaccination is not permitted
in Rome. The press is held in rigid durance, and all the
best works on mental philosophy are prohibited. As might
have been expected, these restrictions have proved in the
highest degree injurious to the prosperity of literature. The
state of science in Rome is still less flourishing, for it has
been the constant policy of the papal government from the
days of Galileo to the present time, to discourage as much
as possible the research after truth. Rome, therefore, has
not one eminent man of science; there are very few who
take even any interest in the matter; nor is there a single
museum of natural history, public or private, worth notice.
The constitution of society, too, is so framed as to hold
every man in the situation in which he is born. However
meritorious or enterprising he may be, he can scarcely
ever expect by his own personal exertion to raise himself
to a higher station, for there are barriers he can never pass.
The clergy constitute the nobility of Rome; they form
the court of the sovereign, and fill all civil offices as well
as ecclesiastical. The persons styled Roman princes are
few in number, and, with two or three exceptions, very
poor, and totally destitute of power or authority.
The inhabitants of the papal states, with very few excep¬
tions, profess the Romish faith. According to the official re¬
turns the number of Jews in Rome is 3700; of heretics
and Turks, 201. The Jews are compelled to reside in one
particular quarter of the city. There is now a Protestant
place of worship in Rome, in which an English clergyman
regularly officiates, but this is rather connived at than
openly tolerated. Of late years there has been a consider¬
able increase in the number of the clergy. In 1825 they
amounted to 4938 ; in 1835, to 5273. According to the
official statement, there were, in 1836, 37 bishops, 1468
priests, 2023 monks, 1384 nuns, and in houses of educa¬
tion, 698. There is thus in Rome one clergyman for every
Religion.
ten families; but it is supposed that the real number con- Statistics
siderably exceeds the official return. The state of morals, of Rome,
both among clergy and laity, is far from satisfactory.
1 ie absence of statistical accounts makes it impossi-Education,
ble to state what is the number of children in the schools
or the Roman territory. According to the calculation of
the government, it is about 1 in 50 of the population. A
bu ! was issued on this subject by Pope Leo XII., which was
followed by a “ Reglamento degli Studj,” erecting a board
intended to have the general direction of the business of
education, the control of all universities and schools, and
consists of certain cardinals in official stations, and others,
to be nominated by the pope. It established two primary
universities, Rome and Bologna, and six secondary univer¬
sities. The universities have four faculties, theology, law
medico-surgery, and philosophy. But of this Reglamento
only a very small portion refers to public schools. They
are placed almost entirely under the control of the bishop.
The teachers are elected by the communal council, but the
bishop must confirm the nomination, and he possesses a
perpetual power of dismissal without reference to the local
authorities. But the business of education is almost uni¬
versally neglected. The elementary schools in Rome are
872; the number of masters, 482, and of scholars, 14,099;
that is to say, in the infant schools, 4800; in the gratuitous
elementary schools for boys, 2694; for girls, 287; in the
schools where a small sum is paid for instruction, 2115 boys,
and 1600 girls. Many parts of Rome, however, as Trasta-
vere and the Borgo, are very ill supplied. Rome contains
four ecclesiastical boarding-schools, two seminaries, seven
ecclesiastical colleges, five secular colleges, two universi¬
ties, nine gratuitous parish schools, and sixty regionary;
seven schools kept by monks, one for the deaf and dumb,
five pious places of education for males, and fourteen for fe¬
males.
Two banks for savings have lately been established, one
in Rome, the other in Spoleto; that of Rome has been
very successful, and in six months has received 50,000
crowns in deposits. The Monte di Pieta of Rome has ex- .
isted for nearly three centuries. It has passed through
many vicissitudes, and has now a circulating capital of about
230,000 crowns advanced on about 200,000 pledges. It is
proposed to associate this establishment with the savings
bank, which is now attached to the lottery office.
The folloiving Table shews the Receipts and Expenditure of the Roman States.
General Heads of Receipt.
No. Particular Heads.
Predial imposts,
landed property,
&c 
Monopolies, cus¬
toms, and taxes
on consumption
Stamps and regis¬
tries 
Post-office 
Lotteries 
Total of receipts
Deduct 
Crowns.
3,280,000 00
4,120,000 00
550,000 00
250,000 00
1,100,000 00
9,300,000 00
2,220,000 00
7,080,000 00
Expenses of Administration.
No. Particular Heads.
Predial imposts,
landed proper¬
ty, &c 
Monopolies, cus¬
toms, and taxes
on consumption
Stamps and regis¬
tries 
Post-office 
Lotteries  
Total admini-)
stration and >-
charges j
Crowns.
760,000 00
460,000 00
90,000 00
150,000 00
760,000 00
2,220,000 00
State Expenses.
Heads.
Sacred palaces, sacred college, ec¬
clesiastical congregations, and di¬
plomatic body abroad 
Public debt 
Expenses of state government 
Justice and police 
Public instruction, fine arts, and
commerce 
Charities and acts of public benefi¬
cence 
Public works, cleaning and illumi¬
nating Rome 
Troops of the line and carabineers
Other military charges, health, and
marine   
Public festivals, aud extra expenses
Reserve fund 
Crowns.
500,000 00
2,680,000 00
530,000 00
920,000,00
110,000 00
280,000 00
580,000 00
1,900,000 00
290,000 00
44,000 00
100,000 00
Total of expenses of the state 7,934,000 00
*e'enue, ms the net receipts exhibit 7,080,000 crowns, and the The average cost of collection appears to be nearly one-
«LnernditUre ^’934,000 crowns, showing a deficit of fourth of the gross revenue. That of the predial imposts,
,000 crowns. 23 per cent.; of the customs. &c., 11 per cent.; stamps,
438
ROME.
Taxation.
Statistics &c., 16 per cent.; post-office, 60 per cent.; lotteries, 69
of Rome, per cent. The interest on the national debt absorbs about
' 38 per cent, of the net revenue.
If the population of the Roman states be estimated at
2,800,000, and the average expenditure at 9,000,000 crowns,
the amount of taxation per individual would be about
12s. lOd. per annum.
The principal taxes levied are,—
1. Tax on consumption (exclusive of that on flour) which,
if estimated on the whole of the male population above the
the age of 16, would give 60 bajocchi per head, (2s. 6d.
sterling.) _
2. The personal tax which is levied according to the
classification of the payers, with a reference to their wealth.
If averaged upon the males above 16 years, its amount
would be 40 bajocchi each, (Is. 7d. sterling.)
3. Additional impost on the value of the cadastral sur-
vey.
4. Various taxes of localities, markets, offices, &c., as on
weights and measures ; on fishing and hunting, &c.
The papal troops consist of
Polizia 4000
Custom-house officers.... 1500
Army.
Armed functionaries 5500
Artillery 1000
Cavalry 1000
Infantry 12000
Regulars 14000
And about 15,000 militia, who are not in active service.
Charitable It is a boast of the Romans that in no city is so large a
institutions sum devoted to public charity in proportion to the popula¬
tion. The proportional payments of Rome for charitable
purposes are about double those of Paris. Rome has a
yearly revenue from charitable funds ot 1,900,000 francs;
and the state grants annually 2,200,000, making a yearly
revenue of 4,100,000 francs. But of the immense number
of benevolent establishments in Rome, a great proportion
are of doubtful, ill-directed, and even pernicious charity; Statistics
and in spite of the liberality with which money is scattered, otKome.,
nowhere is more mendicity, wretchedness, idleness, and
want.
Besides the foundling hospitals, which are very numerous, Hospitals,
there are thirteen societies for giving dowries to girls on
their marrying, and pecuniary gifts on their taking the veil.
Of 1400 women who are married at Rome annually, no less
than 1000 receive dowries from the public purse, the annual
payment for this object being 32,000 crowns, or L.8000
sterling. Independently of public institutions, there is much
private almsgiving. There are in Rome twenty-two esta¬
blishments for the diseased, the insane, and the convales¬
cent, of which eight are public, eleven are private hospitals,
two are institutions for visiting the sick in their houses, and
one is for the burial of the dead. These hospitals can accom¬
modate about 4000 persons. The maximum of deaths is
11.60 per cent, the minimum 5.43. The average cost of
ordinary patients is two pauls per day, (lOd.)
Rome is one of the great recipients for abandoned chil¬
dren, which are brought thither from remote provinces, and
even from the kingdom of Naples. In St. Spirito 800 boys
are annually received ; the Conservatory receives ordinarily
800 girls; five other hospitals have 544 boys and 670 girls.
At the end of 1838, there were 1672 children in the St.
Spirito asylum ; 804 were deposited in that year, 684 had
departed, and 1552 remained from the former year. No
less than 580 children died in the year, being a mortality
of 72 per cent. , .
The latest official document respecting the administration Justice,
of justice is that of 1832 The number of condemned per¬
sons in that year was 2708, but about 8000 more must be
added to these for criminals already in prison, so that the
number of prisoners is generally about 6000. Criminal pro¬
ceedings in the Papal States are very dilatory. The pri¬
sons receive all offenders, whether of correctional or crimi¬
nal police; and as there is no liberation of the accused on
bail, there is necessarily a considerable aggregation of of¬
fenders. (B- Q’)
Statement of the Criminals in the different places of Detention, with the Classification of their Crimes
and Punishment in December 1832.
No.
Places of
Punishment.
CivitaVecchia,
Ancona, 
Porto d’Anzio,
Spoleto, 
Narni, 
St. Leo, 
Roma, Fort St.
Angelo, 
Fermo, ...
Civita Castellana,
Political, 
Criminal, 
}
Will
hold.
Num¬
ber of
Crimi¬
nals ac¬
tually
de¬
tained.
1200
450
200
500
200
30
150
250
130
15
Total,.
1146
408
191
436
80
21
36
309
58
23
3125
Length of Punishment.
220
3
556
■25
14
11
210
80
100
30
25
4
2708
225606
455
NATURE OF OFFENCES.
117 43
72
43
158
35
4
9
57
2
13
510
228
48
234
20
27
247
55
10
357
48
63
59
5
2
7
38
912
580
4321235,119
58 40 2; 44
18
66
11
17
60
3
24
4
3
277,295
6 32
1
1
46215 811
£ ^
H S
213 5
161
79
181
42
8
7
112
17
32
S
2^ S'
1240
2! io
14
6
l| 8! 2
610 2
8! 26
16 1
2...
58
Total.
93 1146
408
191
436
80
21
36
309
58
23
9l|26 76218 2708
Burgess’s Antiquities of Rome; Rome in the Nineteenth Century; Eustace’s Classical Tour; Forsyth’s Italy; Mel
chiorri, Guide Methodique de Rome; Dr. Bowring’s Report of the Statistics of the Pontifical States.
f the Pontifical
R O M I
Romilly- ROMILLY, Samuel, one of the most enlightened and
—virtuous public men whom England has ever possessed, was,
as his family-name indicates, the descendant of a French
family. He was the son of a jeweller in London, and was
born there on the 1st of March 1757.
The education of this child, destined in time to occupy so
distinguished a place, was conducted for some time with even
less care than might have been expected from the station
held by his family. But, heartily disliking his father’s busi¬
ness, he was at length allowed to change it for professional
employments, though as yet in an inferior department. At
the age of sixteen he was articled to one of the six clerks in
chancery ; and in the easy mechanical duties of his master’s
chambers, relieved by the zealous prosecution of his studies
both in English and Latin, parsed several years of his life.
He then resolved on coming to the bar, a step which, he
informs us, all his friends, with one exception, considered
as highly imprudent. One circumstance which helped to
determine Romilly was very interesting; the purchase of a
seat in the office in which he had been articled would have
cost a sum which he knew it would be inconvenient for his
father to advance.
He had completed his twenty-first year when he entered
himself at Gray’s Inn, becoming, at the same time, a pupil
of an able equity-draftsman. General reading both in Eng¬
lish and Latin, translation habitually practised from the lat¬
ter language into the.former, the composition of a few po¬
litical essays for the newspapers, and occasional attendance
on the houses of parliament, now alternated with a close¬
ness of application to legal study, which, after a time, in¬
jured his health, and compelled him to retire, first to Bath,
and afterwards to the continent. At Geneva he became
acquainted with some of the men who were then beginning
to attract notice in that city ; and, among acquaintances thus
made, the most valuable was that of Dumont. After visiting
some of the nearest scenery of the Leman Lake, and of
Savoy, Romilly proceeded to Paris, where he met D’Alem¬
bert, Diderot, and other eminent men.
On the last day of Easter term 1783, he was called to
the bar. For some years afterwards, he obtained an increas¬
ing employment in the drawing of chancery pleadings; but
during this time, as he says himself, he had hardly once oc¬
casion to open his lips in court. In the spring of 1784, he
went upon the midland circuit, which he continued to fre¬
quent until, even as admitted in his own modest Memoir,
he was decidedly its leader. His chancery business, how¬
ever, to which at length he entirely devoted himself, had
become very great before he confined himself entirely to
town; and his principal reason for remaining so long on
the circuit, is assigned by himself in one of his calmly cha¬
racteristic expressions of honourable ambition : he desired
to qualify himself for being & judge.
Long before he left the circuit, he had attained a dis¬
tinguished position in the eyes of those who were qua-
liiied to appreciate him, not merely as a lawyer, but as a
statesman. In 1784, he became acquainted w4th Mirabeau,
who was then in London, and of wdiose character he ap¬
pears to have formed an exceedingly just estimate. Mira-
beau was the medium through which Romilly became
known to Lord Lansdowne, and thus to the leaders of that
political party of which he had throughout been an honest
and warm adherent. To that nobleman he was recom¬
mended, both by the hearty praises of Mirabeau, and by a
pamphlet he had written, called “ A Fragment on the Con¬
stitutional Power and Duties of Juries.” Lord Lansdowne,
directing Romilly’s attention to a recent sanguinary tract
on Criminal Punishments, induced him to write an an¬
swer, which was published anonymously, under the title of
“ Observations on a late Publication, entitled ‘ Thoughts
on Executive Justice.’” In the mean time he continued
vigorously to prosecute in private the inquiries into the
L L Y. 437*
Reform ol the Laws, especially the Criminal Laws, of which Romilty.
he had thus begun to announce publicly the parts.
In the vacation of 1788, he paid a third visit to Paris. In¬
ti eductions from England, and other circumstances, brought
Romilly and his fellow-traveller Dumont into intercourse,
up00 this occasion, with many men distinguished then, and
witn others still more celebrated in the bloody struggle
that was about to ensue. Mirabeau at this time trans¬
lated into trench, and published, observations made by
Romilly on the Hospital and Prison of Bicetre. This
pamphlet had the honour to be suppressed by the police of
Paris, but in the original English was afterwards printed
by the author himself in an obscure London periodical.
In July 1789, Romilly wrote a pamphlet which was after¬
wards published; “ Thoughts on the Probable Influence of
the French Revolution on Great Britain.” But the lively
interest he took in the events which emerged in Paris,
while he was engaged in composing these remarks, led
him back to that city in August of the same year; and he
now saw, both in public and private, many of the persons
who had become most distinguished in the National As¬
sembly. Dumont’s observations upon the eventful summer
of 1789 in France, were translated into English by Ro¬
milly, and, with the addition of some observations by himself
on England, were published in 1792, receiving the title of
“ Groenvelt’s Letters.” Many of Romilly’s opinions on the
progress of the French Revolution are contained in his
published correspondence with Dumont, Madame Gautier,
Dugald Stewart, and others, and in a diary which he kept
during a journey to Paris in the autumn of 1802.
Vvhile Romilly was thus advancing to the highest rank
in his profession, and had gained the confidence and ad¬
miration of some of the best statesmen in England, his do¬
mestic position undenvent a most beneficial change, the im¬
mediate cause of which was a visit paid to Lord Lansdowne.
In his private Memoirs he thus speaks of a person whom
he accidentally met on this occasion. “ I saw in her the most
beautiful and accomplished creature that ever blessed the
sight and understanding of man. A most intelligent mind, an
uncommonly correct judgment, a lively imagination, a cheer¬
ful disposition, a noble and generous way of thinking, an ele¬
vation and heroism of character, and a warmth and tenderness
of affection, such as is rarely found even in her sex, were
among her extraordinary endowments. I was captivated
alike by the beauties of her person and the charms of her
mind. A mutual attachment was formed between us, which
at the end of little more than a year was consecrated by mar¬
riage. All the happiness I have known in her beloved society,
all the many and exquisite enjoyments which my dear chil¬
dren have afforded me, even my extraordinary success in my
profession, the labours of which, if my life had not been so
cheered and exhilarated, I never could have undergone,—
all are to be traced to this trivial cause.” The object of
this beautiful eulogium was the eldest daughter of Mr Gar-
bett of Knill Court in Herefordshire. His marriage with
this lady took place in January 1798, when lie had nearly
completed his forty-first year.
He continued to be chiefly occupied in the discharge of
his duties as a leader of the Chancery bar for several years,
after which he united with these the other avocations that
have given to his name so distinguished a place in the list of
British statesmen. In the autumn of 1805 he had received
from the Prince of Wales the offer of a seat in parliament,
which he declined upon grounds strongly marking his sturdy
independence of character. These reasons were the same
which, many years before, had made him interfere to pre¬
vent a similar offer from being addressed to him by Lord
Lansdowne. He said that, notwithstanding the declaration
made, in both cases, of his being totally unfettered, yet he
never could feel real independence while he thus held his
place in the Commons by favour; and, he adds, “ I formed
438*
R O M I L I, Y.
Ronailly. to myself an unalterable resolution, never, unless I held a
public office, to come into parliament but by a popular
election, or by paying the common price for my seat. As
to the first of these, I knew, of course, that I must never
look for it; and as for the latter, I determined to wait till
the labours of my profession should have enabled me to ac¬
complish it without being guilty of any great extravagance.”
He was soon rewarded for the scrupulous feeling of honour
which had thus forced him to decline a place, that held out
to him, as he confesses, very strong temptations.
In February 1806, he was appointed Solicitor General
under the government of Mr Fox and Lord Grenville,
with neither of whom had he previously any connexion.
He was obliged, much against his will, to accept the honour
of knighthood, and was elected to represent the borough of
Queenborough, accepting this seat, without scruple, from the
government. “ If I had come in,” says he, “ as a private
individual, I would not have accepted a seat from any body ;
but as long as I hold the office to which I have been appoint¬
ed, I must support the administration. As soon as they ap¬
pear to me unworthy to be supported, it will be my duty to
resign.” Of the public life which commenced under these
auspices, and was prematurely brought to a close in thirteen
years, Sir Samuel Romilly kept a minute and faithful diary,
the contents of which have lately been made known to the
world. No existing record of a political career presents
a purer picture than does this ;—the history of a course of
public conduct directed invariably by those qualities of
mind and heart which we have, even in this hasty sketch,
seen to have guided the earlier years spent in his family
and in his profession. It is impossible to embrace, within
these limits, so much as a catalogue of the parliamentary
measures in which he took a share, in the wray of inciting
others to action, in the way of himself acting and speaking
and writing in favour of reforms in the laws and constitution,
in the way"of resisting encroachments on public rights or on
just economical principles. And it a selection were to be
attempted of a few of his principal public acts, that selection
could not be made without omitting many which, in particu¬
lar views, might be considered more important than those
that would be specified.
But the design which lay closest to Romilly’s heart, and
occupied most of the energies of his capacious intellect, was
the amelioration of the law of England, especially in its
criminal sections. For such plans his official duties, added
to those of his profession and of his place in parliament,
allowed him at first no leisure; but from some of these
trammels he was speedily released, by the fall of the 'Whig
ministry in March 1807. In the new parliament he wns
returned for Horsham, on the Duke of Norfolk’s interest, en¬
gaging to pay L.2000 for his seat if he should be able to
keep it in spite of a petition, which was expected to be
presented in consequence of doubts entertained as to the
qualification of many of the voters. The petition proved
successful, and his next election was made on terms equally
characteristic. A seat was offered him for Wareham, for
which, although L.3000 were demanded, he was asked to pay
but L.2000, the remaining L.1000 being promised from a
fund subscribed for extraordinary purposes by the leaders
of the opposition. Romilly peremptorily refused to be in¬
debted even to the public men with whom he systematically
acted. He accepted the seat, but paid the whole price
himself.
He now occupied a very prominent position in parliament.
The eyes of the most liberally organized constituencies in
the country were directed towards him ; and in 1811, when a
dissolution was impending, it was proposed in several such
places to put him up as a candidate. For Liverpool, which
was one of these, he at once refused to stand, on account
of the disturbances which the contest was sure to occasion.
In regard to the county of Middlesex, a negotiation was atr
tempted by Major Cartwright, which was frustrated by Sir
Samuel’s flatly refusing to give, before his nomination, a'"
pledge in favour of annual parliaments, and of such reform
as should make the suffrage co-extensive with the taxation.
He however accepted a requisition from Bristol, but was
defeated by a coalition between the Tories and a section of
the Whigs. He then obtained a seat for Arundel, on the
interest of the Duke of Norfolk, an assurance of perfect in¬
dependence being given him by the patron, but no price
being paid on this occasion. Romilly’s justification of his
change of views is very briefly stated in his diary. His
known course in parliament protected him, as he thought,
from being either required by his patron to be subservient,
or suspected by the public of really being so ; and therefore
he could safely do that which, by a change of the law, it had
now become necessary for him to do if he wished for a seat
at all. “ Since Curwen’s bill,” says he, “ has declared illegal
the purchase of seats in the manner which was formerly
practised, there is no choice for a person like myself, but to
come into parliament upon such an offer as is now made
me, or to decline parliament altogether. And I cannot
think that it is my duty to decline it.” This seat Romilly held
till the dissolution in 1818, when he accepted a requisition
from electors in Westminster, upon which a severe contest
ensued. One of the two vacant seats was considered as
sure for Sir Francis Burdett; the return of Romilly for the
other was opposed not only by a ministerial candidate, but
by Hunt, Cartwright, and Douglas Kinnaird. Romilly and
Burdett were returned, the former standing at the head of
the poll from its opening till its close.
The results to which this great victory was expected to
have led, were unfortunately never realized. Romilly had
a constitutional tendency to hypochondria, or at least to
lowness of spirits, which his continual labour both of body
and mind prevented for years from reaching a dangerous
height, although perhaps this very labour it was, that at length
caused the overwrought organism to fall suddenly to pieces.
The health of his wife, whom he idolized rather than loved,
had for some time caused him serious uneasiness: she be¬
came alarmingly unwell. Soon alter Ins election for West¬
minster, on the 10th of October, he closed abruptly those
brief notices of her illness which had lately been the only
entries in his diary; and on the 29th of that month she
died at Cowes. Her husband travelled to town, labouring,
during his journey, or at any rate after it, under an inflam¬
matory fever ; and in one of its paroxysms he put an end to
his existence, three days after the death of his wife. He
died on the 2d of November 1818, when he had nearly
completed the sixty-second year of his age.
The public character of Sir Samuel Romilly would be
best drawn by a few warm and vigorous strokes, all of which,
with no exception worth noticing, w-ould convey images of
distinguished excellence. Ihese traits would exhibit his
manl/and ratiocinative oratory, lighted up into eloquence
by the fervour of his moral sense,—-the consummate capa¬
city, integrity, and knowledge of the law, and the compre¬
hensive and philanthropic views of legislation, which made
Romiir
it a national misfortune for England that he never became
one of her chancellors,—that antique spirit of mental inde¬
pendence, which bowed to the demands of no man, and of no
party, not even his own, unless his conscience told him that
those demands were just. And these virtues of the states¬
man and the jurisconsult, which, by their stern majesty,
commanded from those that viewed them at a distance an
awe not altogether unmingled with fear, were tempered
in private life by the warmest and kindest feeling, by the
most felicitous union of public labours with personal accom¬
plishments.
His private Memoirs and Diaries, with a selection from
his correspondence and other papers, w'ere published by his
sons in 1810, in two volumes octavo.
ROM
: Romford
Ronda.
ROMFORD, a market-town of the county of Essex, in
the parish of Hornchurch, and hundred of Havering, eleven
miles from London. The population was in 1801, 3179-
“'in 1811, 3244; in 1821, 3777; and in 1831, 4294.
ROMNEY, NEW, a town in the county of Kent, in the
Lathe of Sheepway, seventy-two miles from London. It
was once a place of much more importance than it is at
present. It is surrounded with rich but unhealthy marshes,
and is defended against the sea by a strong dyke, called
Dunchurch Wall, on which is a good carriage road over the
marshes. The population was in 1801, 755; in 1811, 841;
in 1821, 962, and in 1831, 983.
ROMORANTIN, an arrondisement of the department
of the Loire and Cher in France, seven hundred and thirty
square miles in extent. It comprehends six cantons, di¬
vided into forty-eight communes, containing, in 1836, 47,722
inhabitants. The capital is the city of the same name at
the junction of the Romorantin and the Saudre, and has
some beautiful promenades on the bank of the former river.
It contains 1200 houses, with 7181 inhabitants, who manu¬
facture to a considerable extent woollen cloth and tanned
leather.
ROMSEY, or Rumsey, a large market and borough
town of the county of Hants, seventy-three miles from Lon¬
don. It is in the division of Andover, of the hundred of
King’s Somborne, and stands on the river Test, on the road
between Southampton and Salisbury, and is surrounded by
pleasant meadows, which, by irrigation, are rendered highly
fertile. It is divided into two parishes; with one church
in common, a spacious building in the form of a cross,
which, in ancient times, was the chapel of a richly endowed
abbey. All the early abbesses were of royal blood, and so
distinguished by their piety as to be deemed saints. The
trade, which formerly consisted in making woollen stuffs,
has nearly been annihilated; by the late law it elected an¬
nually four aldermen and twelve counsellors, who chuse the
mayor. The population was in 1801, 4274; in 1811, 4297;
in 1821, 5128; and in 1831, 5432.
ROMPEE, or Rompu, in Heraldry, is applied to ordi¬
naries that are represented as broken; and to chevrons,
bends, or the like, whose upper points are cut off,
RONA, one of the Hebrides, is reckoned about twenty
leagues distant from the north-east point of Ness in Lewis,
and is about a mile long, and half a mile broad.
RONCESVALLES, a valley in Spain, in the province
of Navarne, and district of Sanguessa. It stands at the
foot of the Pyrenees, and is the largest valley in the pro¬
vince, but covered with wood. The town of the name is
small, but on the great road from France to Madrid, hav¬
ing a church, an Augustin monastery, and an hospital. It
has become a place of celebrity from the warlike deeds
which the spot has witnessed, both by the defeat of Roland
and the twelve peers of France at a remote period, and by
the operations under the Duke of Wellington and Marshal
Soult.
ROND A, a city of Spain, in the kingdom of Granada,
and province of Andalusia. Ronda is about four thousand
five hundred feet above the level of the sea, but being sur¬
rounded with mountains of vast elevation, it is, in fact, with
regard to them, a largely extended valley. The mountains
that surround it are more or less covered with snow through¬
out the whole year; and it is conveyed to the cities of
Seville, Cadiz, Gibraltar, and other places, for the daily,
consumption of their luxurious inhabitants. The plain on
which the city stands is one of the most verdant and fertile
spots in this the best part of Spain. This city, long a Ro¬
man station, under the name of Arunda, abounds with in¬
scriptions, monuments, and ruins of that people, which has
een diligently explored by sundry antiquarians. The in-
abitants amount to about twenty thousand. Longevity is
ROM
-iS a Proverb in Andalusia, that in
Ronda a man at eighty is still a boy. The public buildings
and convents’hbUt Th Str,kw& thouSh some of the churches
aid convents have the ornaments and riches so commonly
belong,ng to spiritual edifices in this country Y '
UOORTERPOOR, a considerable tow^of Hindustan
province of Delhi, district of Morabad, forty-two miles north
byTH)X8TttnarpllJy' Long- 79‘ 20- K Lat- 29- I-
msti; of P, ’ PETER^E’ f Fren<* poet, was born at the
castle of Poissonlere in Vendomois in 1524. He was de¬
scended of a noble family, and was educated at Paris in the
college of Navarre. Academical pursuits not suiting his
^enuis, he left college, and became page to the duke of
Orleans, who resigned him to James Stuart, king of Scots,
married to Magdalene of France. Ronsard continued in
Scotland with King James upwards of two years, andafter-
waixls went to France, where he was employed by the duke
of Orleans in several negotiations. He accompanied Laza-
rus de Baif to the diet of Spires. Having from the conver¬
sation of this learned man imbibed a passion for the belles-
lettres, he studied the Greek language with Baif’s son under
Dorat. It is reported of Ronsard, that his practice was to
study till two o clock in the morning; and when he went to
bed, to awaken Baif, who resumed his place. The muses
possessed in his eyes an infinity of charms; and he culti¬
vated them with such success, that he acquired the appel¬
lation of the Hrtnce of Poets of his time. Henry II.
Francis II Charles IX. and Henry III. loaded him with
favours. Having gained the first prize of the Jeux Flo -
raux, they thought the reward promised below the merit
of the work, and the reputation of the poet. The city of
I oulouse caused a Minerva of massy silver of considerable
value to be made and sent to him. This present was ac¬
companied with a decree, declaring him The French Poet,
by way of distinction. Ronsard afterwards made a present
of his Minerva to Henry II., and this monarch appeared as
much elated with this mark of the poet’s esteem for him, as
116 poet himself could have been had he received the pre-
sent from his sovereign. Mary, the beautiful and unfortu¬
nate queen of Scots, who was equally sensible of his merit
with the Toulonese, gave him a rich set of table-plate.
He wrote hymns, odes, a poem called the Franciad,
eclogues, epigrams, sonnets, &c. In his odes he takes bom¬
bast for poetic raptures. He wishes to imitate Pindar; and
by labouring too much for lofty expressions, he loses him¬
self in a cloud of words. He is obscure and harsh to the
last degree; faults which he might easily have avoided by
studying the works of Marot, who had, before he wrote,
brought French poetry very near to perfection. But what
could be expected from a man who had so little taste, that
he called Marot’s works, ‘ a dunghill, from which rich grains
of gold, by industrious working, might be drawn ?’ He has,
however, some pieces not destitute of real merit; and there
are perhaps few effusions of the French muse more truly
poetical than his Four Seasons of the Year, where a most
fertile imagination displays all its riches. Ronsard, though
it is doubtful whether he ever was in orders, held several
benefices in commendam; and he died at Saint-Cosme-les-
Fours, one of these, December 27, 1585, being then 61
years of age. He appeared more ridiculous as a man than
as a poet; he was particularly vain, and his immoderate in¬
dulgence in pleasure, joined to his literary labours, served
to hasten his old age. In his 50th year he was weak and
valetudinary, and subject to attacks of the gout. He re¬
tained his wit, his vivacity, and his readiness at poetic com¬
position, to his last moments. Ronsard’s poems have been
published in folio, in quarto, and in 10 volumes duodecimo,
in 1567.
ROOD, a quantity of land equal to forty square perches,
the fourth part of an acre.
439
Roorter-
poor
li
Rood.
440
roof.
Strictures
on various
kinds of
roofs.
Error of
Sir Christo¬
pher Wren
in the roof
ofStPaul’s.
Roof expresses the covering of a house or building, by
which its inhabitants or contents are protected from t le
injuries of the weather. It is perhaps the essential part ot
a house, and is frequently used to express the whole. Lo
come under a person’s roof, is to enjoy his P^°tect'on a"
society, to dwell with him. Tectum was used in the same
sense by the Romans. To be within our walls, rather ex-
presses the being in our possession. A root, therefore, is not
SnlyTn essential part of a house, but it even seems to be
ltS Th^Greeks, who have perhaps excelled all nations in taste,
and who have given the most perfect model °f architectonic
ordonnance within a certain limit, never ereeted a building
which did not exhibit this part in the most distinct manne ,
and though they borrowed much of their model from the orien¬
tals as will be evident to any one who compares their archi¬
tecture with the ruins of Persepolis, and of the tombs in the
mountains of Shiraz, they added that form of roof which their
own climate taught them was necessary for shekering them
from the rains. The roofs in Persia and Arabia are flat, but
those of Greece are without exception sloping. ^ seems
therefore a gross violation of the true principles ot taste in
architecture, at least in the regions of Europe, to ta^e a']'ay
or to hide the roof of a house; aud it must be ascribed to that
rage for novelty which is so powerful in the minds of the ric .
Our ancestors seemed to be of a very different opinion, and
turned their attention to the ornamenting of their roofs as
much as any other part of a building. They showed them
in the most conspicuous manner, running them up to a
great height; broke them into a thousand fanciful shapes,
and stuck them full of highly-dressed windows. We laugh
at this, and call it Gothic and clumsy ; and our great archi¬
tects, not to offend any more in this way, conceal the root
altogether by parapets, balustrades, and other contrivances.
* Our forefathers certainly did offend against the maxims
of true taste, when they enriched a part of a house with
marks of elegant habitation, which every spectator must
know to be a cumbersome garret. But their successors no
less offend, who take off the cover of the house altogether,
and make it impossible to know whether it is not a mere
screen or colonnade we are looking at.
We cannot help thinking that Sir Christopher Wren erred
when he so industriously concealed thereof ot St Pauls
Church in London. The whole of the upper order is a mere
screen. Such a quantity of wall would have been intoler¬
ably offensive, had he not given it some appearance of ha¬
bitation by the mock windows or niches. Even in this state
it is gloomy, and it is odd, and a puzzle to every spectator.
There should be no puzzle in the design of a building, any
more than in that of a discourse. It has been said that the
double roof of our great churches which have aisles is an
incongruity, looking like a house standing on the top of an¬
other house. But there is not the least occasion for such a
thought. We know that the aisle is a shed, a cloister.
Suppose only that the lower roof or shed is hidden by a
balustrade, it then becomes a portico, against which the
connoisseur has no objection. Yet there is no difference ;
for the portico must have a cover, otherwise it is neither a
shed, cloister, nor portico, any more than a building with¬
out a roof is a house. A house without a visible roo. is like
a man abroad without his hat; and we may add that the
whim of concealing the chimneys, now so fashionable,
changes a house to a barn or storehouse. A house shou.d
not be a copy of any thing. It has a title to be an ongina ,
and a screen-like house and a pillar-like candlestick are si¬
milar solecisms in taste.
The architect is anxious to present a fine object, and a
very ^Ple outline di^ all hU concern J,* the rorf.
Roof
very simple outline discusses ali ms concerns Little ; j
He leaves it to the carpenter, whom he frequently p ’tendonr.
by his arrangements, with coverings almost
execute. Indeed it is seldom that the idea of a roof is ad • 0f a bm.
mitted bv him into his great compositions; or if he doesing,
introduce it, it is from mere affectation, and we may say
pedantry. A pediment is frequently stuck up m the mid¬
dle of a grand front, in a situation where a roof cannot per¬
form its office ; for the rain that is supposed to flow down
its sides must be received on the top of the leve g
which flank it. This is a manifest incongruity. I he tops ot
dressed windows, trifling porches, and sometimes a Project¬
ing portico, are the only situations in which we see t ;e
figure of a roof correspond with its office. Having thus lost
sight of the principle, it is not surprising that the drauehts-
man, for he should not be called architect, runs into every
whim ; and we see pediment within P^^^^rdT-
diment, a hollow pediment, and, the greatest of all absurd
ties, a broken pediment. Nothing could ever reconcile us
to the sight of a man with a hat without its crown, because
we cannot overlook the use of a hat.
But when one builds a house, ornament alone will not Ad van
do. We must have a cover; and the enormous expe
and other great inconveniences which attend the conce‘ 1- e(J roof
ment of this cover by parapets, balustrades, and screens,
have obliged architects to consider the pent-roof as adm s-
sible, and to regulate its form. Any man of sense, not un¬
der the influence of prejudice, would be determined in this
by its fitness for answering its purpose. A high-pitched roof
will undoubtedly shoot off the rams and snows better than
one of a lower pitch. The wind will not so easily blow the
dropping rain in between the slates, nor will it have so much
power to strip them off. A high-pitched roof will exert a
smaller thrust on the walls, both because its strain is less
horizontal, and because it will admit of lighter covering.
But it is more expensive, because there is more of it. It
requires a greater size of timbers to make it equally strong,
and it exposes a greater surface to the win . Rema
There have been great changes in the pitch of roots. ^
forefathers made them very high, and we make them.,
lers maue uiem vci^ • - cnann"
verv low. It does not, however, appear that this change thep|of
h!as been altogether the effect of principle. In the simple
unadorned habitations of private persons, every thing comes
to be adjusted by an experience of inconveniences "hich
have resulted from too low-pitched roofs; and their pitch thm
will always be nearly such as suits the climate and covering.
Our architects, however, go to work on different principles.
Their professed aim is to make a beautiful object. Hie
sources of the pleasures arising from what w§ call taste ne
so various, so complicated, and even so whimsical, that it is
almost in vain to look for principle in the rules adopted b>
our professed architects. We cannot help thinking, tha
much of their practice results from a pedantic venerat on
for the beautiful productions of Grecian architecture. Such
architects as have written on the principles of the art m re
spect of proportions, or what they call the “ ordonnanc ,
are very much puzzled to make a chain of reasoning; and
1 the most that they have made of the Greek a^hltectme
that it exhibits a nice adjustment of strength and strain
But when we consider the extent of this adjustment, m e tina
fhatltTs wonderfully limited. The whole of yo-is^f
a basement, a column, and an entablature, and t e
filature, it is true, exhibits something of a connection'vflh
the framework and roof of a wooden building ; and w e be
lieve that it really originated from this in the hands ot
n
ROOF.
orientals, from whom the Greeks certainly borrowed their
forms and their combinations. We could easily show in the
ruins of Persepolis, and amongst the tombs in the moun¬
tains, which were long prior to the Greek architecture, the
441
posed to a transverse strain. The Greeks were enabled
to execute their colossal buildings only by using immense'
blocks of the hardest materials. The Norman mason could
raise a building to the skies without using: a stone which a
Roof.
fluted column, the base, the Ionic and Corinthian capitals, labourer could not carry to the top on his5back Their ar
and the Doric arrangement of lintels, beams, and rafters, chitects studied the principles of equilibrium -'and having
all derived from unquestionable principle. The only ad- attained a wonderful knowledge of It, they indulged them?
dition made by the Greeks was the pent-roof; and the selves in exhibiting remarkable instances. We call this fake
changes made by them in the subordmate forms of things are taste, and say that the appearance of insecurity is the great
such as we should expect from their exquisite judgment of est fault in it. But this is owing to our habits • our thoughts
beauty.
But the whole of this is very limited; and the Greeks,
after making the roof a chief feature of a house, went no
further, and contented themselves with giving it a slope
suited to their climate. This we have followed, because in
the milder parts of Europe we have no cogent reasoning for
deviating from it; and if any architect should deviate greatly
in a building where the outline is exhibited as beautiful, we
should be disgusted; but the disgust, though felt by almost
every spectator, has its origin in nothing but habit. In the
professed architect or man of education, the disgust arises
from pedantry. For there is not such a close connection
between the form and uses of a roof as shall give precise
determinations; and the mere form is a matter of indiffer¬
ence.
fference
tween
tAk
ptaa:
‘ eiffi!
We should not therefore reprobate the high-pitched roofs
of our ancestors, particularly on the Continent. It is there
!b ancient where we see them in all the extremity of the fashion ; and
modernthe taste is by no means exploded, as it is with us. A ba-
ifs. ronial castle in Germany and France is seldom rebuilt in the
pure Greek style, or even like the modern houses in Great
Britain ; the high-pitched roofs are retained. We should
not call them Gothic, and ugly because Gothic, till we show
their principle to be false or tasteless. Now we apprehend
that it will be found quite the reverse ; and that though we
cannot bring ourselves to think them beautiful, we ought
to think them so. The construction of the Greek archi-
may be said to run in a wooden train, and certain simple
maxims of carpentry are familiar to our imagination ; and
in the careful adherence to these consist the beauty and
symmetry of the Greek architecture. Had we been as
much habituated to the equilibrium of pressure, this appa¬
rent insecurity would not have met our eye; we should
have perceived the strength and relished the ingenuity.
The Gothic architecture is perhaps entitled to the name Rational
of rational architecture, and its beauty is founded on the nature of
characteristic distinction of our species. It deserves culti-tbe gothic
vation ; not the pitiful, servile, and unskilled copying of the arcll1itec'
monuments ; this will produce incongruities and absurdities ture‘
equal to any that have crept into the Greek architecture ;
but let us examine with attention the nice disposition of
the groins and spaundrels ; let us study the tracery and
knots, not as ornaments, but as useful members; let us ob¬
serve how they have made their walls like honeycombs, and
admire their ingenuity as we pretend to admire the instinct
infused by the great Architect into the bee. All this can¬
not be understood without mechanical knowledge, a thing
which few of our professional architects have any share of.
Thus would architectonic taste be a mark of skill; and the
person who presents the design of a building would know
how to execute it, without committing it entirely to the
mason and the carpenter.
These observations are not a digression from our sub¬
ject. The same principles of mutual pressure and equili-
tecture is a transference of the practices that are necessary brium have a place in roofs and many wooden edifices ; and
in a wooden building to a building of stone. To this the if they had been as much studied as the Normans and Sa-
Greeks have adhered, in spite of innumerable difficulties, racens seem to have studied such of them as were appli-
Their marble quarries, however, put it in their power to cable to their purposes, we might have produced wooden
retain the proportions which habit had rendered agreeable, buildings as far superior to what we are familiarly acquaint-
But it is next to impossible to adhere to these proportions ed with, as the bold and wonderful churches still remaining
with freestone or with brick, when the order is of magnificent in Europe are superior to the timid productions of our stone
dimensions. Sir Christopher \\ ren saw this ; for his me- architecture. The centres used in building the bridge of
chanical knowdedge was equal to his taste. He composed Orleans and the corn-market of Paris are recent instances
the front of St Paul’s Church in London of two orders, and of what may be done in this way. The last mentioned is a
he coupled his columns; and still the lintels which form dome of 200 feet diameter, built of fir planks ; and there is
the architrave are of such length that they could carry no not a piece of timber in it more than nine feet long, a foot
additional weight, and he was obliged to truss them behind, broad, and three inches thick.
Had he made but one order, the architrave could not have The Norman architects frequently roofed with stone. The Nor-
carried its own weight. It is impossible to execute a Do- Their wooden roofs were in general very simple, and their man archi-
ric entablature of this size in brick. It is attempted in a professed aim was to dispense with them altogether. Fondtects often
very noble front, the Academy of Arts in St Petersburg, of their own science, they copied nothing from a wooden r°°*etl w*tb
But the architect was obliged to make the mutules and building, and ran into a similar fault with the ancients one‘
other projecting members of the corniche of granite, and Greeks. The parts of their buildings which were necessa¬
rily of timber were made to imitate stone buildings ; and
Gothic ornament consists in cramming every thing full of
arches and spaundrels. Nothing else is to be seen in their
timber-works, nay even in their sculpture. Look at any of
the maces or sceptres still to be found about the old cathe¬
drals ; they are silver steeples.
But there appears to have been a rivalship in old times Effects of
between the masons and the carpenters. Many of the ba- the rival-
ronial halls are of prodigious width, and are roofed with Bbip be-
timber ; and the carpenters appeared to have borrowed
much knowledge from the masons of those times, and their carpentgrg
wide roofs are frequently constructed with great ingenuity, of ancient
Their aim, like the masons, was to throw a roof over a very times,
wide building, without employing great logs of timber. We
have seen roofs sixty feet wide, without having a piece of
3 K
many of them broke down by their own weight
effect Here is surely an error in principle. Since stone is the
| fusing chief material of our buildings, ought not the members of
ornamented architecture to be refinements on the essential
and unaffected parts of a simple stone building ? There is
almost as much propriety in the architecture of India, where
a dome is made in imitation of a lily or other flower invert¬
ed, as in the Greek imitation of a wooden building. The
principles of masonry, and not of carpentry, should be seen
in our architecture, if we would have it according to the
rules of just taste. Now we affirm that this is the charac¬
teristic of what is called the Gothic architecture. In this
no dependence is had on the transverse strength of stone.
No lintels are to be seen, and no extravagant projections.
Every stone is pressed to its neighbours, and none is ex-
vox.. XIX.
ROOF.
timber in it above ten feet long and four inches square.
The Parliament House, and the Tron Church of Edinburgh,
and the great hall of Tarnaway Castle, near Forres, are
specimens of those roofs. They are very numerous on the
Continent. Indeed Britain retains few monuments of pri¬
vate magnificence. Aristocratic state never was so great
with us f and the rancour of our civil wars gave most of the
performances of the carpenter to the flames. _ Westminster
Hall exhibits a specimen of the false taste of the Norman
roofs. It contains the essential parts, indeed, very proper¬
ly disposed ; but they are hidden, or intentionally covered,
with what is conceived to be ornamental; and this is an
imitation of stone arches crammed in between slender pil¬
lars, which hang down from the principal frames, trusses,
or rafters. In a pure Norman roof, such as 1 arnaway Hall,
the essential parts are exhibited as things understood, and
therefore relished. They are refined and ornamented ; and
it is here that the inferior kind of taste or the want of i
mav appear. And here we do not mean to defend all the
whims of our ancestors; but we assert that it is no more
necessary to consider the members of a roof as things to
be concealed, like a garret or privy, than the mernbers of a
ceiling, which form the most beautiful part of the Greek
architecture. Should it be said that a roof is only a thing
to keep off the rain, it may be answered, that a ceiling is
only to keep off the dust, or the floor to be trodden under
foot, and that we should have neither compartments m the
one, nor inlaid work or carpets on the other. The structure
of a roof may therefore be exhibited with propriety, and
made an ornamental feature. This has been done even in
Italy. The church of Santa Maria Maggiore in Rome, and
several others, are specimens; but it must be acknowledged
that the forms of the principal frames of these roofs, which
resemble those of our modern buildings, are very unfit for
agreeable ornament. As we have already observed, our
imaginations have not been made sufficiently familiar with
the principles, and we are rather alarmed than pleased with
the appearance of the immense logs of timber which form
the couples of these roofs, and hang over our heads with
every appearance of weight and danger. It is quite other¬
wise with the ingenious roofs of the German and Norman
architects. Slender timbers, interlaced with great symme¬
try, and thrown by necessity into figures which are natu¬
rally pretty, form altogether an object which no carpenter
can view without pleasure. And why should the gentle¬
man refuse himself the same pleasure of beholding scienti¬
fic ingenuity ?
Necessity The roof is in fact the part of the building which requires
of science the greatest degree of skill, and where science will be of
in forming more service than in any other part. I he architect seldom
knows much of the matter, and leaves the task to the car¬
penter. The carpenter considers the framing of a great
roof as the touchstone of his art; and nothing indeed tends
so much to show his judgment and his fertility of resource.
It must therefore be very acceptable to the artist to have
a clear view of the principles by which this difficult problem
may be solved in the best manner, so that the roof may
have all the strength and security that can be wished for,
without an extravagant expense of timber and iron. We
have said that mechanical science can give great assistance
roofs.
The little
attention
hitherto
paid to it.
echamcal science can give great assistance win ue r , . , t}iejr
We may add, that the framing of carpen- pled, swelling out in the middle, and its i
we may  & A, atw wh rh it is easily crushed by tne
in this matter.    ~ -
try, whether for roofs, floors, or any other purpose, affords
one of the most elegant and most satisfactory applications
which can be made of mechanical seience to the arts of
common life. Unfortunately the practical artist is seldom
possessed even of the small portion of science which would
almost insure his practice from all risk of failure ; and even
our most experienced carpenters have seldom any more
knowledge than what arises from their experience and na¬
tural sagacity. The most approved author in our language
is Price in his British Carpenter. Mathurin Jousse is in
piCU, swelling uut m    — - ,
mutual cohesion, after which it is easily crushed by
load. A notion may be formed of the manner in wiiien
these strains are resisted, by conceiving a cylindrical pipe
filled with small shot, well shaken together, so that eaci
sphericle is lying in the closest manner possible, that s,
in contact with six others in the same vertica plane,
being the position in which the shot will take t ic ®
room. Thus each touches the rest in six points. i\o
suppose them all united, in these six points only, by som
cement. This assemblage will stick together and form
like manner the author most in repute in France ; but the Roof,
publications of both these authors are void of every appear¬
ance of principle. It is not uncommon to see the works of
carpenters of the greatest reputation tumble down, in con¬
sequence of mistakes from which the most elementary know¬
ledge would have saved them.
We shall attempt in this article to give an account of the Purpose
leading principles of this art, in a manner so familiar and this arti ■
palpable, that any person who knows the common proper¬
ties of the lever, and the composition of motion, shall so far
understand them as to be able, on every occasion, so to dis¬
pose his materials, with respect to the strains to which they
are to be exposed, that he shall always know the effective
strain on every piece, and shall, in most cases, be able to
make the disposition such as to derive the greatest possible
advantage from the materials which he employs.
It is evident that the whole must depend on the prin-Principl
ciples which regulate the strength of the materials, relative which r
to the manner in which this strength is exerted, and theS“j
manner in which the strain is laid on the piece of matter. ^
With respect to the first, this is not the proper place for riais
considering it, and we must refer the reader to the article
Strength of Materials in Mechanics. We shall just
borrow from that article two or three propositions suited to
our purpose.
The force with which the materials of our edifices, roots,
floors, machines, and framings of every kind, resist being
broken or crushed, or pulled asunder, is immediately or ul¬
timately the cohesion of their particles. When a weight
hangs by a rope, it tends either immediately to break all
the fibres, overcoming the cohesion amongst the particles of
each, or it tends to pull one parcel of them from amongst the
rest, with which they are joined. This union of the fibres
is brought about by some kind of gluten, or by twisting,
which causes them to bind each other so hard that any one
will break rather than come out, so much is it withheld by
friction. The ultimate resistance is therefore the cohesion
of the fibre ; and the force or strength of all fibrous materials,
such as timber, is exerted in much the same manner. The
fibres are either broken or pulled out from among the rest.
Metals, stone, glass, and the like, resist being pulled asun¬
der by the simple cohesion of their parts.
The force which is necessary for breaking a rope or wire
is a proper measure of its strength. In like manner, the
force necessary for tearing directly asunder any rod of wood
or metal, breaking all its fibres, or tearing them from amongst
each other, is a proper measure of the united strength of all
these fibres; and it is the simplest strain to which they
can be exposed, being just equal to the sum of the forces
necessary for breaking or disengaging each fibre. And, it
the body is not of a fibrous structure, which is the case with
metals, stones, glass, and many other substances, this force is
still equal to the simple sum of the cohesive forces of each
particle which is separated by the fracture. Let us distin¬
guish this mode of exertion of the cohesion of the body by
the name of its absolute strength
When solid bodies are, on the contrary, exposed to great
compression, they can resist only a certain degree. A piece
of clay or lead will be squeezed out; a piece of freestone
will be crushed to powder; a beam of wood will be crip-
. •in.  ,1 li-wco thpir
R O O F.
akness
: -elation
trans-
||se
j lins.
cylindrical pillar, which may be taken out of its mould.
Now suppose this pillar standing upright, and loaded above.
The supports arising from the cement act obliquely, and
the load tends either to force them asunder laterally, or to
make them slide on each other : either of these things hap¬
pening, the whole is crushed to pieces. The resistance of
fibrous materials to such a strain is a little more intricate,
but may be explained in a way very similar.
A piece of matter of any kind may also be destroyed by
wrenching or twisting it. We can easily form a notion of
its resistance to this kind of strain by considering what
would happen to the cylinder of small shot if treated in this
way.
And, lastly, a beam, or a bar of metal, or piece of stone
or other matter, may be broken transversely. This will
happen to a rafter or joist supported at the ends when
overloaded, or to a beam having one end stuck fast in a wall
and a load laid on its projecting part. This is the strain
to which materials are most commonly exposed in roofs;
and, unfortunately, it is the strain which they are the least
able to bear ; or rather it is the manner of application which
causes an external force to excite the greatest possible im¬
mediate strain on the particles. It is against this that the
carpenter must chiefly guard, avoiding it when in his power,
and in every case diminishing it as much as possible. It is
necessary to give the reader a clear notion of the great weak¬
ness of materials in relation to this transverse strain. But
we shall do nothing more, referring him to the articles
Strain, and Stress, and Strength.
Let ABCD (fig. 1) represent the side of a beam project¬
ing horizontally from a wall
443
Fig. I,
in which it is firmly fixed
and let it be loaded with a
weight W appended to its ex¬
tremity. This tends to break
it; and the least reflection
will convince'any person, that
if the beam is equally strong
throughout, it will break in
the line CD, even with the
surface of the wall. It will
open at D, while C will serve
as a sort of joint, round which
it will turn. The cross sec¬
tion through the line CD is
for this reason called the sec-
tion of fracture; and the ho¬
rizontal line drawn through
C on its under surface is called the axis of f racture. The
fracture is made by tearing asunder the fibres, such as DE
or FG. Let us suppose a real joint at C, and that the
beam is really sawed through along CD, and that in place
or its natural fibres, threads are substituted all over the sec¬
tion of fracture. The -weight now tends to break these
threads, and it is our business to find the force necessary
tor this purpose.
It is evident that DCA may be considered as a bended
lever, of which C is the fulcrum. If f be the force which
will just balance the cohesion of a thread when hung on it
so that the smallest addition will break it, we may find the
weight which will be sufficient for this purpose when hung
on at A, by saying, AC: CD : p, and <p will be the
weight which will just break the thread, by hanging <p by
the point A. This gives us <p = fx —. If the weight
be hung on at a, the force just sufficient for breaking the
same thread will be =f x In like manner, the force <p,
which must be hung on at A in order to break an equally
strong or an equally resisting fibre at F, must be =/ x -v~*
Cv A
And so on of all the rest.
, ^ We suPP®se ah the fibres to exert equal resistances at
the instant of fracture, we know, from the simplest elements
of mechanics, that the resistance of all the particles in the
line CD, each acting equally in its own place, is the same
as it all the individual resistances wmre united in the middle
point ff. Now this total resistance is the resistance or
strength / of each particle, multiplied by the number of
particles. This number may be expressed by the line CD,
because we have no reason to suppose that they are at un¬
equal distances. Therefore, in comparing different sections
together, the number of particles in each are as the sections
themselves. Therefore DC may represent the number of
particies in the line DC. Let us call this line the depth of
the beam, and express it by the symbol d. And since we
are at present treating of roofs whose rafters and other parts
are commonly of uniform breadth, let us call AH or BI the
breadth of -the beam, and express it by b, and let CA be
called its length /. We may now express the strength of
the whole line CD by /X d, and we may suppose it all
concentrated in the middle point g. Its mechanical energy,
therefore, by which it resists the energy of the weight w,
applied at the distance /, isjf X CD X C </, whilst the momen¬
tum of iv is w X CA. We must therefore have f X CD X Cg
— w X CA, ox fd x\d — wl, and fd :w— /: ^d, or fd: to
=z 21: d. That is, twice the length of the beam is to its
depth as the absolute strength of one of its vertical planes
to its relative strength, or its power of resisting this trans¬
verse fracture.
It is evident, that what has been now demonstrated of
the resistance exerted in the line CD, is equally true of
every line parallel to CD in the thickness or breadth of the
beam. The absolute strength of the whole section of frac¬
ture is represented by fdb, and we still have 2 l: d—fdb : w ;
or twice the length of the beam is to its depth as the abso¬
lute strength to the relative strength. Suppose the beam
twelve feet long and one foot deep; then whatever be its
absolute strength, the twenty-fourth part of this will break
it if hung at its extremity.
But even this is too favourable a statement. All the fibres
are supposed to act alike in the instant of fracture. But
this is not true. At the instant that the fibre at D breaks,
it is stretched to the utmost, and is exerting its whole force.
But at this instant the fibre at g is not so much stretched,
and it is not then exerting its utmost force. If we suppose
the extension of the fibres to be as their distance from C,
and the actual exertion of each to be as their extensions, it
may easily be showm (see Strength and Strain), that the
whole resistance is the same as if the full force of all the
fibres were united at a point r distant from C by one third
of CD. In this case we must say, that the absolute strength
is to the relative strength as three times the length to the
depth ; so that the beam is weaker than by the former
statement in the proportion of two to three.
Even this is more strength than experiment justifies,
and we can see an evident reason for it. When the beam
is strained, not only are the upper fibres stretched, but the
lower fibres are compressed. This is very distinctly seen,
if wre attempt to break a piece of cork cut into the shape
of a beam. This being the case, C is not the centre of frac¬
ture. There is some point c which lies between the fibres
which are stretched and those that are compressed. This
fibre is neither stretched nor squeezed, and this point is
the real centre of fracture; and the lever by which a fibre
D resists, is not DC, but a shorter one Dc, and the en¬
ergy of the whole resistances must be less than by the se¬
cond statement. Till we know the proportion between the
dilatability and compressibility of the parts, and the relation
Roof.
ROOF.
between the dilatations of the fibres and the resistances which CD, because the
in this state of dilatation, we cannot positively y ^ Upwards at E and G, whilst a weight W holds
Root!
they exert in this state of dilatation, we cannot positively say
where the point cis situated, nor what is the sum of the actual
resistances, or the point where their action may be supposed
concentrated. The firmer woods, such as oak and chestnut,
may be supposed to be but slightly compressible ; we know
that willow and other soft woods are very compressible.
These last must therefore be weaker; for it is evident, that
the fibres which are in a state of compression do not resist
the fracture. It is well known, that a beam of willow may
be cut through from C to g without weakening it in the
least, if the cut be filled up by a wedge of hard wood stuck
We can only say, that very sound oak and red fir have
it down at C. ^ It tends to open It D, and C becomes the
centre of fracture. The strain therefore is the same as it
the half ED were fixed in the wall, and a weight equal to
o, that is, to the half of W, were hung on at G.
Hence we conclude, that a beam supported at both ends,
but not fixed there, and loaded in the middle, will carry
twice as much weight as it can carry at its extremity, when
the other extremity is fast in a wall. . . „T
The strain occasioned at any point L by a weight vv,
DE T p, p.
hung on at any other point D, is = W X X i-'J- ror
We can only say, that very sound oax aim rcu ^ & J
the centre of effort so situated, that the absolute stieng i ^ ag ^ to the pressure occasioned at G. This
is to the relative strength in a proportion jf not less man be balanced b gome weight g acting oyer the pul-
that of three and a half times the length of the beam to its ^ ^ ^ ^ tends to break the beam at Lj by acting
depth. A square inch of sound oak will carry about 80UU
ley h ; and this tends to break the beam at L, by acting
DE . ,
on the lever GL. The pressure at G is W X and there-
pounds. If this bar be firmly fixed in a wall, and project
twelve inches, and be loaded at the extremity with AJU
pounds, it will be broken. It will just bear 190, its rela¬
tive strength being ^ ofits absolute strength ; and this is
the case only with the finest pieces, so placed that then
annual plates or layers are in a vertical position. A larger
log is not so strong transversely, because its plates ie m vveight W hung on there, is W X
various directions round the heart.
Practical These observations are enough to give us a distinct no-
infcrences. tion of the vast diminution of the strength of timber when
the strain is across it; and we see the justice of the maxim
which we inculcated, that the carpenter, in framing roots,
should avoid as much as possible the exposing his timbers
cases!118Nly, thetltimateltmt arTsfug ^0^na- and is greatest when the load is laid on the middle of the
H We^o - ft f ^
bXe SXtVf,™ a ,oad a?D is to the strain b, the =e
DE T n
fore the strain at L is W X X EH.
In like manner, the strain occasioned at the point D by
x DG ; which is
therefore equal to ^ W when D is the middle point.
Hence we see that the general strain on the beam aris¬
ing from one weight, is proportional to the rectangle o
WxDExDG.
the parts of the beam (for gg- 18 as DE X DG),
the lead, tiling,'or slates. We must therefore consider this
transverse strain a little more particularly, so as to know
what strain will be laid on any part by an unavoidable load,
imposed either at that part or at any other.
Effect When We have hitherto supposed, that the beam had one of its
beams are ends fixed in a wall, and that it was loaded at the other end.
supported This is not an usual arrangement, and was taken merely as
at the ends affbj-ding a simple application of the mechanical principles
loaded T .  ,   i i-,„,.,-, 4-V.o V»c>am annnnrtpd at. thf
and
<+i!?:;<nt</ It is much more usual to have the beam supported at the
themid‘   -JJ1- Let the beam FEGH
die. ends, and loaded in the middle.
(fig. 2) rest on the props
E and G, and be loaded Fig. 2.
at its middle point C with i f
a weight W. It is re- • E
quired to determine the
strain at the section CD.
It is plain that the beam 2ET
will receive the same
support, and suffer the y @ JL
same strain, if, instead Qf)
of the blocks E and G,
Vv
q i-
A
load at L as DE to LE. These are all very obvious corol¬
laries, and they sufficiently inform us concerning the strains
which are produced on any part of the timber by a load
laid on any other part. ,
If we now suppose the beam to be fixed at the two ends,
that is, firmly framed or held down by blocks at I and K,
placed bevond E and G, or framed into posts, it will carry
twice as much as when its ends were free. For suppose it
sawn through at CD, the weight W hung on there will be
just sufficient to break it at E and G. Now restore the
connection of the section CD, it will require another weight
W to break it there at the same time. _ . , .
Therefore, when a rafter, or any piece of timber,
firmly connected with three fixed points, G, E, I, it "7'
bear a greater load between any two of them than if
connection with the remote point were removed; and it it
be fastened in four points, G, E, I, K, it will be twice
strong in the middle part as without the two remote con-
^OnTis apt to expect from this that the joist of a floor
will be much strengthened by being firmly built in the w^h
we“ ^ theropes^F/e, HA,, going over the pulleys / It is aWengh^ thus be
and ,, and loaded with proper weights e and ,. The weight given t° 1 1S ^ tQ shatter the wall, because, when it is
e is equal to the support given by the block E ; and , s and t A g Y ^ ^ ^ with a n_
turn of a Tong7 lever. Judicious builders therefore take care
not to bind the joists tight in the wall. But when the jois
of adjoining rooms lie in the same direction it is a gr^t
advantage to make them of one piece. y
equal to the support given by G. The sum of e and , is
equal to W ; and on whatever point W is hung, the weights
e and , are to W in the proportion of DG and DE to GE.
Now, in this state of things, it appears that the strain on
the section CD arises immediately from the upward action
of the ropes Ff and HA, or the upward pressions of the
blocks E and G ; and that the office of the weight W is to
oblige the beam to oppose this strain. Things are in the
same state in respect of strain as if a block were substitut¬
ed at D for the weight W, and the weights e and g weie
auvcuiiagt ——— . * . ,
twice as strong as when made m two lengths. Ife
It is easy to deduce from these premises the stram onlr
any point which arises from the weight of the beam itse ,
or from any load which is uniformly diffused over the whffie
or any part. We may always consider the whole of the
ROOF.
445
Nation
tween
l e weight
strains
1 the re-
1,-ive
| ength.
m
Roof, weight which is thus uniformly diffused over any part as
—v”"—' united in the middle point of that part; and if the load is
not uniformly diffused, we may still suppose it united at its
centre of gravity. Thus, to know the strain at D arising
from the weight of the whole beam, we may suppose the
whole weight accumulated in its middle point D. Also the
strain at L, arising from the weight of the part ED, is the
same as if this weight were accumulated in the middle point
d of ED; and it is the same as if half the weight of ED
were hung on at D. For the real strain at L is the up¬
ward pressure at G, acting by the lever GL. Now, calling
the weight of the part DE e, this upward pressure will be
exdE £ e X DE
EG ’°r EG ’
Therefore the strain on the middle of a beam, arising
from its own weight, or from any uniform load, is the weight
ED
of the beam or its load X X DG; that is, half the
EG
weight of the beam or load multiplied or acting by the lever
FD
DG ; for ^ is
Also the strain at L, arising from the weight of the beam,
or the uniform load, is | the weight of the beam or load
acting by the lever LG. It is therefore proportional to
LG, and is greatest of all at D. Therefore a beam of uni¬
form strength throughout, uniformly loaded, will break in
the middle.
It is of importance to know the relation between the
strains arising from the weights of the beams, or from any
uniformly diffused load, and the relative strength. We have
already seen, that the relative strength where
is a number to be discovered by experiment for every dif¬
ferent species of materials. Leaving out every circum¬
stance but what depends on the dimensions of the beam,
viz. d, b, and l, we see that the relative strength is in the
(Pb
proportion of —j-, that is, as the breadth and the square of
the depth directly, and the length inversely.
Now, to consider, first, the strain arising from the weight
of the beam itself, it is evident that this weight increases
in the same proportion with the depth, the breadth, and the
length of the beam. Therefore its power of resisting this
strain must be as its depth directly, and the square of its
length inversely. To consider this in a more popular man¬
ner, it is plain that the increase of breadth makes no change
in the power of resisting the actual strain, because the load
and the absolute strength increase in the same proportion
with the breadth. But, by increasing the depth, we in¬
crease the resisting section in the same proportion, and
therefore the number of resisting fibres and the absolute
strength; but we also increase the weight in the same pro¬
portion. This makes a compensation, and the relative
strength is yet the same. But, by increasing the depth,
we have not only increased the absolute strength, but also
its mechanical energy. For the resistance to fracture is
the same as if the full strength of each fibre was exerted
at the point which we called the centre of effort; and we
showed that the distance of this from the under side of the
beam was a certain portion (a half, a third, a fourth, &c.)
of the whole depth of the beam. This distance is the arm
of the lever, by which the cohesion of the wood may be
supposed to act. Therefore this arm of the lever, and con¬
sequently the energy of the resistance, increases in the pro¬
portion of the depth of the beam, and this remains uncom¬
pensated by any increase of the strain. On the whole,
therefore, the power of the beam to sustain its own weight
increases in the proportion of its depth. But, on the other
hand, the power of withstanding a given strain applied at Roof,
its extremity, or to any aliquot part of its length, is dimi->s—
nished as the length increases, or is inversely as the length ;
and the strain arising from the weight of the beam also in¬
creases as the length. Therefore the power of resisting
the strain actually exerted on it by the weight of the beam
is inversely as the square of the length. On the whole,
therefore, the power of a beam to carry its own weight
varies in the proportion of its depth directly and the square
of its length inversely.
As this strain is frequently a considerable part of the
whole, it is proper to consider it apart, and then to reckon
only on what remains for the support of any extraneous
load.
In the next place, the power of a beam to carry any Power of a
load which is uniformly diffused over its length, must be beam to
inversely as the square of the length; for the power ofcan7aloati
withstanding any strain applied to an aliquot part of thejj^”™^
length (which is the case here, because the load may be overks
conceived as accumulated at its centre of gravity, the length,
middle point of the beam) is inversely as the length; and
the actual strain is as the length, and therefore its momen¬
tum is as the square of the length. Therefore the power
of a beam to carry a weight uniformly diffused over it, is
inversely as the square of the length.
It is here understood, that the uniform load is of some
determined quantity for every foot of the length, so that
a beam of double length carries a double load.
We have hitherto supposed that the forces which tend Effect
to break a beam transversely are acting in a direction per- whfn tbe
pendicular to the beam. This is always the case in level the load"'
floors loaded in any manner; but in roofs, the action of0hij(me 13
the load tending to break the rafters is oblique, because
gravity always acts in vertical lines. It may also frequently
happen, that a beam is strained by a force acting obliquely.
This modification of the strain is easily discussed. Sup¬
pose that the external force, which is measured by the
weight W in fig. 1, acts in the direction Aw' instead of
AW. Draw Ca' perpendicular to Aw. Then the mo¬
mentum of this external force is not to be measured by
W X AC, but by W X a'C. The strain therefore by which
the fibres in the section of fracture DC are torn asunder,
is diminished in the proportion of CA to Ca', that is, in the
proportion of radius to the sine of the angle CAa', which
the beam makes with the direction of the external force.
To apply this to our purpose in the most familiar man¬
ner, let AB (fig. 3) be an oblique
rafter of a building, loaded with a
weight W suspended to any point C,
and thereby occasioning a strain in
some part D. We have already
seen, that the immediate cause of
the strain on D is the re-action of the
support which is given to the point
B. The rafter may at present be
considered as a lever, supported at
A, and pulled down by the line CW.
This occasions a pressure on B, and
the support acts in the opposite di¬
rection to the action of the lever,
that is, in the direction B 6, perpendicular to BA. This
tends to break the beam in every part. The pressure ex-
W xAE
erted at B is —7-5—, AE Demg a horizontal line. There-
AB
W X AE
fore the strain at D will be r-rr— X BD. Had the
AB
beam been lying horizontally, the strain at D, from the
W X AC
w’eight W suspended at C, would have been-—— X BD.
Fig. 3.
446
ROOF.
Roof.
Strength
of roofs
It is therefore diminished in the proportion of AC to AE,
that is, in the proportion of radius to the cosine of the ele¬
vation, or in the proportion of the secant of elevation to the
radius.
It is evident, that this law of diminution of the strain is
the same whether the strain arises from a load on any part
of the rafter, or from the weight of the rafter itself, or from
any load uniformly diffused over its length, provided only
that these loads act in vertical lines.
We can now compare the strength of roofs which have
<ji i'jwis different elevations. Supposing the width of the building
having dif-t0 be gjven; an(i that the weight of a square yard of cover-
ferent ele- ig gjvent Then, because the load on the rafter
conlnared. will increase in the same proportion with its length, the
load on the slant-side BA of the roof will be to the load of
a similar covering on the half AF of the flat roof, of the
same width, as AB to AF. But the transverse action of
any load on AB, by which it tends to break it, is to that of
the same load on AF as AF to AB. The transverse strain
therefore is the same on both, the increase of real load on
AB being compensated by the obliquity of its action. But
the strengths of beams to resist equal strains, applied to si¬
milar points, or uniformly diffused over them, are inversely
as their lengths, because the momentum or energy of the
strain is proportional to the length. Therefore the power
of AB to withstand the strain to which it is really exposed,
is to the power of AF to resist its strain as AF to Ab. If,
therefore, a rafter AG of a certain scantling is just able to
carry the roofing laid on it, a rafter A B of the same scant¬
ling, but more elevated, will be too weak in the proportion
of AG to AB. Therefore steeper roofs require stouter
rafters, in order that they may be equally able to carry a
roofing of equal weight per square yard. To be equally
strong, they must be made broader, or placed nearer to each
other, in the proportion of their greater length, or they must
be made deeper in the subduplicate proportion of their
length. The following easy construction will enable the
artist not familiar with computation to proportion the depth
of the rafter to the slope of the roof.
Let the horizontal line a f (fig- 4) be the proper depth of
a beam whose length is half the
width of the building; that is,
such as would make it fit for
carrying the intended tiling laid
on a flat roof. Draw the verti¬
cal line fb, and the line ab hav¬
ing the elevation of the rafter ;
make ag equal to af, and de¬
scribe the semicircle bdg ; draw
ad perpendicular to ab, then ad
is the required depth. The de¬
monstration is evident.
We have now treated in sufficient detail what relates to
the chief strain on the component parts of a roof, namely,
what tends to break them transversely ; and we have en¬
larged more on the subject than what the present occasion
indispensably required, because the propositions which we
have demonstrated are equally applicable to all framings of
carpentry, and are even of greater moment in many cases,
particularly in the construction of machines. These con¬
sist of levers in various forms, which are strained transverse¬
ly ; and similar strains frequently occur in many of the sup¬
porting and connecting parts. We shall give, in another
article, an account of the experiments which have been
made by different naturalists, in order to ascertain the ab¬
solute strength of some of the materials which are most
generally framed together in buildings and engines. The
house-carpenter will derive from them absolute numbers,
which he can apply to his particular purposes by means of
the propositions which we have now established.
We proceed, in the next place, to consider the other
strains to which the parts of roofs are exposed, in conse- Boo’
quence of the support which they mutually give each other,
and the pressures, or thrusts, as they are called in the lan¬
guage of the house-carpenter, which they exert on each
other, and on the walls or piers of the building.
Let a beam or piece of timber AB (fig. 5) be suspended Effect <
i- — * /-i — other
Fig. 4.
by two lines AC, BD ; or
let it be supported by two
props AE, BF, which are
perfectly moveable round
their remote extremities
E, F, or let it rest on the
two polished planes KAH,
LBM. Moreover, let G
be the centre of gravity
of the beam, and let GN
be a line through the cen¬
tre of gravity perpendicu-
lar to the horizon. The
beam will not be in equi-
librio unless the vertical
line GN either passes
through P, the point in
wdiich the directions of the
two lines AC, BD, or the directions of the two props EA,
FB, or the perpendiculars to the two planes KAH, LBM in¬
tersect each other, or is parallel to these directions. For the
supports given by the lines or props are unquestionably
exerted in the direction of their lengths, and it is well
known in mechanics that the supports given by planes are
exerted in a direction perpendicular to those planes in the
points of contact; and we know that the weight of the
beam acts in the same manner as if it were all accumulat¬
ed in its centre of gravity G, and that it acts in the direc¬
tion GN perpendicular to the horizon. Moreover, when a
body is in equilibrio between three forces, they are acting
in one plane, and their directions are either parallel or they
pass through one point.
The support given to the beam is therefore the same as
if it were suspended by two lines which are attached to the
single point P. We may also infer, that the points of sus¬
pension C, D, the points of support E, F, the points of con¬
tact A, B, and the centre of gravity G, are all in one ver¬
tical plane.
When this position of the beam is disturbed by any ex¬
ternal force, there must either be a motion of the points A
and B round the centres of suspension C and D, or of the
props round these points of support E and F, or a sliding
of the ends of the beam along the polished planes KAH and
LBM ; and in consequence of these motions the centre of
gravity G will go out of its place, and the vertical line GN
will no longer pass through the point where the directions
of the supports intersect each other. If the centre of gra¬
vity rises by this motion, the body will have a tendency to
recover its former position, and it will require force to keep
it away from it. In this case the equilibrium may be said
to be stable, or the body to have stability. But if the cen¬
tre of gravity descends when the body is moved from the
position of equilibrium, it will tend to move still xarther,
and so far will it be from recovering its former position, that
it will now fall. This equilibrium may be called a tottering
equilibrium. These accidents depend on the situations of
the points A, B, C, D, E, F; and they may be determin¬
ed by considering the subject geometrically. It does not
much interest us at present; it is rarely that the equili¬
brium of suspension is tottering, or that of props is stable.
It is evident, that if the beam were suspended by lines from
the point P, it would have stability, for it would swing like
a pendulum round P, and therefore would always tend to¬
wards the position of equilibrium. The intersection of the
lines of support would still be at P, and the vertical line
strains.
ROOF.
:oof.
topics,
drawn through the centre of gravity, when in any other si¬
tuation, would be on that side of P towards which this cen¬
tre has been moved. Therefore, by the rules of pendulous
bodies, it tends to come back. This would be more re¬
markably the case if the points of suspension C and D wrere
on the same side of the point P with the points of attach¬
ment A and B; for in this case the new point of intersec¬
tion of the lines of support would shift to the opposite side,
and be still further from the vertical line through the new
position of the centre of gravity. But if the points of sus¬
pension and of attachment are on opposite sides of P, the
new point of intersection may shift to the same side with
the centre of gravity, and lie beyond the vertical line. In
this case the equilibrium is tottering. It is easy to perceive,
too, that if the equilibrium of suspension from the points C
and D be stable, the equilibrium on the props AE and BF
must be tottering. It is not necessary for our present pur¬
pose to engage more particularly in this discussion.
It is plain that, with respect to the mere momentary
equilibrium, there is no difference in the support by threads,
props, or planes, and we may substitute the one for the
other. We shall find this substitution extremely useful,
because we easily conceive distinct notions of the support of
a body by strings.
Observe farther, that if the whole figure be inverted,
and strings be substituted for props, and props for strings,
the equilibrium will still obtain. For by comparing fig. 5
with fig. 6, we see that the vertical line through the centre
of gravity will pass through the intersection of the two
strings or props; and this is all that is necessary for the
equilibrium ; only it must be observed in the substitution
of props for threads, and of threads for props, that if it be
done without inverting the whole figure, a stable equili¬
brium becomes a tottering one, and vice versa.
This is a most useful proposition, especially to the unlet¬
tered artisan, and enables him to make a practical use of
problems which the greatest mechanical geniuses have found
it no easy task to solve. An instance will show the extent
and utility of it. Suppose it were required to make a man¬
sard or kirb roof whose width
447
Fig. 7.
is AB (fig. 7), and consisting
of the four equal rafters
AC, CD, DE, EB. There
can be no doubt but that
its best form is that which
will put all the parts in
equilibrio, so that no ties or
stays may be necessary for
opposing the unbalanced
thrust of any part of it. Make a chain acdeb (fig. 8) of four
equal pieces, loosely con
Fig. 8.
,4,
nected by pin-joints, round
which the parts are per¬
fectly moveable. Suspend
this from two pins a, 3,
fixed in a horizontal line.
This chain or festoon will
arrange itself in such a
form that its parts are in
equilibrio. Then we know
that if the figure be invert¬
ed, it will compose the
frame or truss of a kirb-
roof ay bib, which is also
in equilibrio, the thrusts of
the pieces balancing each _
other in the same manner that the mutual pulls of the hang¬
ing festoon acdeb did. If the proportion of the height df
to the width ab is not such as pleases, let the pins a, b be
pfaced nearer or more distant, till a proportion between the
width and height is obtained which pleases, and then make
the figure ACDEB, fig. 7, similar Roof,
to it. It is evident that this pro- Fig* 9. ^y-—■
position will apply in the same
manner to the determination of the
form of an arch of a bridge; but
this is not a proper place for a fur¬
ther discussion.
We are now enabled to compute
all the thrusts and other pres¬
sures which are exerted by the
parts of a roof on each other and
on the walls. Let AB (fig. 9) be
a beam standing anyhow oblique¬
ly, and G its centre of gravity.
Let us suppose that the ends of
it are supported in any directions
AC, BD, by strings, props, or
planes. Let these directions meet
in the point P of the vertical line
PG passing through its centre of
gravity. Through G draw lines
Go, Gb parallel to PB, PA. Then
The weight of the beam ^ r pQ
The pressure or thrust at A ^ is proportional to -- P«
And the pressure at B j
For when a body is in equilibrio between three forces,
these forces are proportional to the sides of a triangle which
have their directions.
In like manner, if A g be drawn parallel to P b, we shall
have
Weight of the beam l ( pr,
Thrust on A l proportional to ) PA
And thrust on B j (Aff
Or, drawing By parallel to Pa,
Weight of the beam 1 r py
Thrust at A >- proportional to ) By
And thrust at B j i pp#
. cannot be disputed that, if strength alone be con- The pro-
sidered, the proper form of a roof is that which puts thePerformof
whole in equilibrio, so that it would remain in that shape?.rovof !s. .
although all the joints were perfectly loose or flexible. If “ft, fhe
it has any other shape, additional ties or braces are neces- whole in
sary ioi preserving it, and the parts are unnecessarily strain- equili-
ed. When this equilibrium is obtained, the rafters which brio,
compose the roor are all acting on each other in the direc¬
tion of their lengths; and by this action, combined with
their weights, they sustain no strain but that of compres¬
sion, the strain of all others that they are the most able to
icsist. We may consider them as so many inflexible lines
having their weights accumulated in their centres of gra-
yity. But it will allow an easier investigation of the sub¬
ject, if we suppose the weights to be at the joints, equal to
11e real vertical pressures which are exerted on these points.
-These are very easily computed; for it is plain, that the
weight of the beam AB (fig. 9) is to the part of this weight
that is supported at B as AB to AG. Therefore, if W
represent the weight of the beam, the vertical pressure at
AG
B will be W X and the vertical pressure at A will be
13G
W X In like manner, the prop BF being considered
as another beam, and f as its centre of gravity and w as its
weight, a part of this weight, equal to to X is support-
A P
ed at B, and the whole vertical pressure at B is W X —
AB
fp
+ w X gp. And thus we greatly simplify the considera¬
tion of the mutual thrusts of roof frames. We need hard-
448
Hoof.
ROOF.
lv observe, that although these pressures by which the parts
' of a frame support each other in opposition to the vertical
action of gravity, are always exerted in the direction of the
pieces, they may be resolved into pressures acting m any
other direction which may engage our attention.
All that we propose to deliver on this subject at presen
may be included in the following proposition.
Let ABCDE (fig. 10) be an assemblage of ratters in a
Fig. 10.
force Ic is the equivalent of the contractile forces ch, cm,
and is therefore equal and opposite to the force of gravity
acting at C. In like manner, make dn — cm, and com¬
plete the parallelogram ndpo, having the vertical line od for
its diagonal. Then dn and dp are the contractile forces ex¬
cited at d, and the weight hanging there must be equal to od.
Therefore, the load at b is to the load at d as bg to do.
But we have seen that the compressing forces at B, C, D
may be substituted for the extending forces at 6, c, d.
Therefore the weights at B, C, D which produce the com¬
pressions, are equal to the weights at b, c, d which pioduce
the extensions. Therefore
V:*=FX^+Gx^:Hx§g + IX^,.
Let us inquire what relation there is between this pro¬
portion of the loads upon the joints at B and D, and the
angles which the rafters make at these joints with each
other, and with the horizon or the plumb-lines. Produce
AB till it cut the vertical Cc in Q.; then draw BR parallel to
CD, and BS parallel to DE. The similarity of the figures
ABCDE and AbcdK, and the similarity of their position
with respect to the horizontal and plumb lines, show, with¬
out any further demonstration, that the triangles QCB and
gbi are similar, and that QB : BC = : ib — hb: ib. There-
SS Z tha, “ Inrf - 'and XXI6 QB^
saa ?£.: =5."~
“^1 Fte'tht eq^riur “ I>a,tS mZ CB to th/co'^o„ o„ CD
C ^r^d^, »e weight WHO,
hoof.
+ G X
CG
BC‘
UVJ , -p, DH
The weight on C is in like manner G X + D X
presses B directly downwards is F X
BG
CH
and that on D is H X + I
El
DE'
BR
QC
Let AbcdE be the figure ABCDE inverted, in the man¬
ner already described. It may be conceived as a thread
fastened at A and E, and loaded at b, c, and d with the
weights which are really pressing on B, C, and D. It will
arrange itself into such a form that all will be in equilibrio.
We may discover this form by means of this single con- ^ ; _ ai
sideration, that any part be of the thread is equally stretched AB& sin. 6BC
throughout in the direction of its length. Let us therefore
investigate the proportion between the weight (3, which we
suppose to be pulling the point b in the vertical direction
b/3, to the weight b, which is pulling down the point c? in a
similar manner. It is evident, that since AE is a hoiizon-
tal line, and the figures AbcdE and ABCDE equal and si
to the load on D. Finally, combining all these ratios,
QC : CB = #& : bi = gb : be,
CB : BR — kc \bl — kc \ dn,
BR : BS = nd: no — dn : no,
BS : RS = no : do = no : do, we have finally
QC : RS — gb\od— load at B : load at D.
Now
QC : BC = sin. QBC : sin. BQC = sin. ABC
BC : BR = sin. BRC : sin. BCR = sin. CD<2
RS = sin. BSR : sin. RBS = sin. dDE
Therefore
RS = sin. ABC sin. CDc? sin. <£DE
sin. ABS,
sin. 6BC,
sin. CDE.
sin. CDE sin.
QC : RS =
Or
sin. ABC
sin. CDE
sin. rfDC sin. dDE
sin. AB6 sin. CB6
That is, the loads on the different joints are as the sines
tal line, and the figures AbcdV, and ACUUH, equal ana si- of the angles at these joints directly, and as Jbe pro ucts
SC the lines Bifcc, Drf, are vertical. Take Vto repre- the sines of the angles wh.ch the rafters make with
sent the weight hanging at b. By stretching the threads plumb-hnes inversely.
bA and be it is set in opposition to the contractile powers ~ ‘ ~    
mib-lines inversely. „ , . .
Or, the loads are as the sines of the angles of the joint
h\ and be it is set in opposition to the contractile powers ur, me ioaus aic as & s f
of the threads, acting in the directions bA and be, and it is directly, and as the products of the cosines of the ang
in immediate equilibrio with the equivalent of these two elevation of the rafters inversely. an!rles
CnSle Ws. Therefore make bg equal to bfi and Or. the loads at the jomts are as the srnes of 1 e ang es
make it the diagonal of a parallelogram hbig. It is evident at the joints, and as the products of the secants o * g
Tat M M, are *e forces'^ exerted by the threads bA, be. of elevation of the rafters jomtly; for the secants of angle.
Then, seeing that the thread be is equally stretched in both are inversely as the cosines ^ ^
directions make ck equal to bi ; ck is the contractile force Draw the horizontal line BT. It is e ,
which is excited at c by the weight which is hanging be considered as the radius of a circle, e m ’
terc. Draw S parallel to ed, and Im parallel to be. The BR, BS are the secants of the angles which these hne
* This proportion might have been shown directly without any use of the inverted figure, or ^ we wish to
the substitution gives distinct notions of the mode ot acting, even to P^'^s not much com e sa tin 2^ions a ^
make it familiar to the mind, because it gives an easy solution of the most comphcated p ob ems ^ ti^nshes ^e PrJcu ^ we
who has little science, with solutions of the most difficult cases by experiment A festoon, as we called it, may easily
are certain that the forms into which it will arrange itself are models of perfect frames.
R O
:’oof. make with the horizon ; and they are also as the thrusts
"-n—of those rafters to which they are pai-allel. Therefore, the
thrust which any rafter makes in its own direction is as the
secant of its elevation.
The horizontal thrust is the same at all the angles. For
it — k% — mtjj — nv — p<K. Therefore both walls are equally
pressed out by the weight of the roof. We can find its
quantity by comparing it with the load on one of the joints.
Thus, QC : CB = sin. ABC : sin. AB6
BC : BT = rad. : sin. BCT = rad. : sin. CB6.
Therefore, QC : BT = rad. X sin. ABC : sin. 6BA X sin.
6BC.
ie length It deserves remark, that the lengths of the beams do not
the affect either the proportion of the load at the different
irns (ie- joints, or the position of the rafters. This depends merely
Wl- Tlitson t^!e wei§hts at t^e angles. If a change of length affects
. bean-''the weight, it indeed affects the form also; and this is
i 3. generally the case. For it seldom happens, indeed it never
should happen, that the weight on rafters of longer bearing
is not greater. The covering alone increases nearly in the
proportion of the length of the rafter.
If the proportion of the weights at B, C, and D is given,
as also the position of any two of the lines, the position of
all the rest is determined. If the horizontal distances be¬
tween the angles are all equal, the forces on the different
angles are proportional to the verticals drawn on the lines
through these angles from the adjoining angle, and the
thrusts from the adjoining angles are as the lines which con¬
nect them. If the rafters themselves are of equal lengths,
the weights at the different angles are as these verticals and
as the secants of the angles of elevation of the rafters jointly.
] jicticiil This proposition is very fruitful in its practical conse-
i fences, quences. It is easy to perceive that it contains the whole
theory of the construction of arches; for each stone of an
arch may be considered as one of the rafters of this piece
of carpentry, since all is kept up by its mere equilibrium.
We may have an opportunity in a future article of exhi¬
biting some very elegant and simple solutions of the most
difficult cases of this important problem ; and we now pro¬
ceed to make use of the knowledge we have acquired for
the construction of roofs.
'’deter. We mentioned by the by a problem vrhich is not un-
ji4e the frequent in practice, to determine the best form of a kirb-
c Id™ r0°*‘ Couplet of the Royal Academy of Paris has given
r * a solution of it in an elaborate memoir in 1726, occupying
several lemmas and theorems.
Let AE (fig. II) be the width, and CF the height; it
Fig. 11.
O F. 449
is required to construct a roof ABCDE, whose rafters AB, Roof.
BC, CD, DE, are all equal, and which shall be in equili-
brio.
Draw CE, and bisect it perpendicularly in H by the line
DHG, cutting the horizontal line AE in G. About the
centre G, with the distance GE, describe the circle EKC.
It must pass through C, because CH is equal to HE and
the angles at II are equal. Draw HK parallel to FE, cut¬
ting the circumference in K ; draw CK, cutting GH in D ;
and join CD, ED. These lines are the rafters of half of the
roof required.
We prove this by showing that the loads at the angles C
and D are equal; for this is the proportion which results
from the equality of the rafters, and the extent of surface
of the uniform roofing which they are supposed to support.
Therefore produce ED till it meet the vertical FC in N ;
and having made the side CBA similar to CDE, complete
the parallelogram BCDP, and draw DB, which will bisect
CP in R, as the horizontal line KH bisects CF in Q. Draw
KF, which is evidently parallel to DP. Make CS perpen¬
dicular to CF, and equal to FG ; and about S, with the ra¬
dius SF, describe the circle FKW. It must pass through
K, because SF is equal to CG, and CQ — QF. Draw
WK, WS, and produce BC, cutting ND in O.
The angle WKF at the circumference is one half of the
angle WSF at the centre, and is therefore equal to WSC
or CGF. It is therefore double of the angle CEF or ECS.
But ECS is equal to ECD and DCS, and ECD is one half
of NDC, and DCS is one half of DCO or CDP. There¬
fore the angle WKF is equal to NDP, and WK is paral'el
to ND, and CF is to CW as CP to CN ; and.CN is equal
to CP. But it has been shown above that CN and CP are
as the loads upon D and C. These are therefore equal, and
the frame ABCDE is in equilibrio.
A comparison of this solution with that of M. Couplet
will show its great advantage in respect of simplicity and
perspicuity; and the intelligent reader can easily adapt,
the construction to any proportion between the rafters AB
and BC, which other circumstances, such as garret-rooms,
&c. may render convenient. The construction must be
such that NC may be to CP as CD to What¬
ever proportion of AB to BC is assumed, the point D' will
be found in the circumference of a semicircle H'D'/t', whose
centre is in the line CE, and having AB : BC = CH': HTl
= eh': A'E. The rest of the construction is simple.
In buildings which are roofed with slate, tile, or shingles,
the circumstance which is most likely to limit the construc¬
tion is the slope of the upper rafters CB, CD. This must
be sufficient to prevent the penetration of rain, and the
stripping by the wands. The only circumstance left in our
choice in this case is the proportion of the rafters AB and
BC. Nothing is easier than making NC to CP in any de¬
sired proportion when the angle BCD is given.
We need not repeat that it is always a desirable thing to The truss
form a truss for a roof in such a manner that it shall be in f°r :l roor
equilibrio. When this is done, the whole force of the struts
and braces which are added to it is employed in preserving eq^iiibrio.1
this form, and no part is expended in unnecessary strains.
For we must now observe, that the equilibrium of which we
have been treating is always of that kind which we call the
tottering, and the roof requires stays, braces, or hanging
timbers, to give it stiffness, or keep it in shape. We have
also said enough to enable any reader acquainted with the
most elementary geometry and mechanics, to compute the
transverse strains and the thrusts to which the component
parts of all roofs are exposed.
It only remains now to show the general maxims by General
w hich all roofs must be constructed, and the circumstances maxims for
which determine their excellence. In doing this we shall all roofs
be exceedingly brief, and almost content ourselves with ex-
450
ROOF
Roof.
Simplest
notion of
a roof.
hibiting the principal forms, of which the endless variety
of roofs’ are only slight modifications. We shall not trouble
the reader with any account of such roofs as receive part of
their support from the interior walls, but confine ourselves
to the more difficult problem of throwing a roof over a wude
building, without any intermediate support; because when
such roofs are constructed in the best manner, that is, de¬
riving the greatest possible strength from the materials em¬
ployed, the best construction of the others is necessarily
included. For all such roofs as rest upon the middle walls
are roofs of smaller bearing. The only exception deserving
notice is the roofs of churches, which have aisles separated
from the nave by columns. The roof must rise on these.
But if it is of an arched form internally, the horizontal
thrusts must be nicely balanced, that they may not push
the columns aside. ... ■ e
The simplest notion of a roof-frame is, that it consists ot
two rafters AB and BC (fig. 12), meeting in the ridge.
Best form
of rafters.
Fig. 12.
But even this simple form is susceptible of better and noise.
We have already seen, that when the weight of a square
yard of covering is given, a steeper roof requires stronger
rafters, and that when the scantling of the timbers is also
given, the relative strength of a rafter is inversely as its
length. < , ,
But there is now another circumstance to be taken in¬
to the account, viz. the support which one rafter leg gives
to the other. The best form of a rafter will therefore be
that in which the relative strength of the legs, and their
mutual support, give the greatest product. Mr Muller, in
his Military Engineer, gives a determination of the best
pitch of a roof, which has considerable ingenuity, and has
been copied into many books of
military education both in this
island and on the continent. De¬
scribe on the width AC (fig. 13)
the semicircle AFC, and bisect it
by the radius FD. Produce the
rafter AB to the circumference
in E, join EC, and draw the per¬
pendicular EG. Now AB : AD
AE, and AE = ant* is inversely
Fig. 13.
= AC
as AB, and may therefore represent its strength in relation
to the weight actually lying on it. Also the support which
CB gives to A B is as CE, because CE is perpendicular to
A B. Therefore the form which renders AE X EC a maxi¬
mum seems to be that which has the greatest strength.
AF V FC
AE = EC : EG, and EG - . ^ and is
But AC
AC
therefore proportional to AE X EC. Now EG is a maxi¬
mum when B is in F, and a square pitch is in this respect
the strongest. But it is very doubtful whether this con¬
struction is deduced from just principles. There is an¬
other strain to which the leg AB is exposed, which is not
taken into the account. This arises from the curvature
which it unavoidably acquires by the transverse pressure of
load. In this state it is pressed in its own direction by
tween this strain and the resistance of the piece is not very Roof,
distinctly known. Euler has given a dissertation on this v
subject, which is of great importance, because it affects
posts and pillars of all kinds; and it is very well known that
a post of ten feet long and six inches square will bear with
great safety a weight which would crush a post of the same
scantling and twenty feet long in a minute; but his de¬
termination has not been acquiesced in by the first mathe¬
maticians. Now it is in relation to these two strains that
the strength of the rafter should be adjusted. The firm¬
ness of the support given by the other leg is of no conse¬
quence, if its own strength is inferior to the strain. The
force which tends to crush the leg AB, by compressing it
in its curved state, is to its weight as AB to BD, as is
easily seen by the composition of forces; and its incurva¬
tion by this force has a relation to it, which is of intricate
determination. It is contained in the properties demon¬
strated by Bernoulli of the elastic curve. This determina¬
tion also includes the relation between the curvature and
the length of the piece. But the whole of this seemingly
simple problem is of much more difficult investigation than
Mr Muller w as aware of; and his rules for the pitch of a
roof, and for the sally of a dock-gate, which depends on the
same principles, are of no value. He is, however, the first
author who attempted to solve either of these problems on
mechanical principles susceptible ol precise reasoning. Be-
lidor’s solutions, in his Architecture Hydraulique, are be¬
low notice.
Reasons of economy have made carpenters prefer a low
pitch; and although this does diminish the support given
by the opposite leg faster than it increases the relative
strength of the other, it is not of material consequence,
because the strength remaining in the opposite leg is still
very great; for the supporting leg is acting against com¬
pression, in which case it is vastly stronger than the sup¬
ported leg acting against a transverse strain.
But a roof of this simplicity will not do in most cases. Thrust on
There is no notice taken, in its construction, of the thrusttlie'Vli 5
which it exerts on the walls. Now this is the strain which
is the most hazardous of all. Our ordinary walls, instead of
being able to resist any considerable strain pressing them
outwards, require, in general, some ties to keep them on
foot. When a person thinks of the thinness and height ot
the walls of even a strong house, he will be surprised that
they are not blown down by any strong puff of wind. A
wall three feet thick, and sixty feet high, could not with¬
stand a wind blowing at the rate of thirty feet per second
(in which case it acts with a force considerably exceeding
two pounds on every square foot), if it were not stiffened
by cross walls, joists, and roof, which all help to tie the dif¬
ferent parts of the building together. „
A carpenter is therefore exceedingly careful to avoid ever>’^)idc(i, '
horizontal thrust, or to oppose them by other forces. And
this introduces another essential part into the construction
of a roof, namely, the tie or beam
AC (fig. 14), laid from wall to wall,
binding the feet A and C of the
rafters together. This is the sole
office of the beam; and it should
be considered in no other light
than as a string to prevent the roof
from pushing out the walls. It is
indeed used for carrying the ceiling
of the apartments under it, and it is even made to sup¬
port a flooring. But, considered as making part of a root,
it is merely a string; and the strain which it withstands
tends to tear its parts asunder. It therefore acts with its
whole absolute force, and a very small scantling would suf¬
fice if we could contrive to fasten it firmly enough to the
foot of the rafter. If it is of oak, we may safely subject i
Fig. 14.
Its luau. JL1J LiUS SiaitJ U. IS [JICSSCU 111 lis n vn.     — W ' " • U C >0 -PP*
the abutment and load of the other leg. The relation be- to a strain of three tons tor every square inch o i »
ROOF.
Fig. 15.
tion. And fir tyill safely bear a strain of two tons for every
y square inch. But we are obliged to give the tie-beam
much larger dimensions, that we may be able to connect it
with the foot of the rafter by a mortise and tenon. Iron
straps are also frequently added. By attending to this of¬
fice of the tie-beam, the judicious carpenter is directed to
the proper form of the mortise and tenon, and of the strap.
We shall consider both of these in a proper place, after we
become acquainted with the various strains at the joints of
a roof.
These large dimensions of the tie-beam allow us to load
it with the ceilings without any risk, and even to lay floors
on it with moderation and caution. But when it has a great
bearing or span, it is very apt to bend downwards in the
middle, or, as the workmen term it, to sway or swag; and
it requires a support. The question is, where to find this
support. What fixed points can we find with which to
connect the middle of the tie-beam ? Some ingenious car¬
penter thought of suspending it from the ridge by a piece
of timber BD (fig. 15), called
by our carpenters the king-post.
It must be acknowdedged, that
there was very great ingenuity
in this thought. It was also per¬
fectly just. For the weight of
the rafters BA, BC tends to
make them fly out at the foot.
This is prevented by the tie-
beam, and this excites a pressure, by which they tend to com¬
press each other. Suppose them without weight, and that a
great weight is laid on the ridge B. This can be supported
only by the abutting of the rafters in their own directions AB
and CB, and the weight tends to compress them in the op¬
posite directions, and, through their intervention, to stretch
the tie-beam. If neither the rafters can be compressed, nor
thje tie-beam stretched, it is plain that the triangle ABC
must retain its shape, and that B becomes a fixed point
very proper to be used as a point of suspension. To this
point, therefore, is the tie-beam suspended by means of the
king-post. A common spectator unacquainted with carpen¬
try views it very differently, and the tie-beam appears to
him to carry the roof. The king-post appears a pillar rest¬
ing on the beam, whereas it is really a string; and an iron
rod of one sixteenth of the size would have done just as
well. The king-post is sometimes mortised into the tie-
beam, and pins put through the joint, which gives it more
the look, of a pillar wdth the roof resting on it. This does
well enough in many cases. But the best method is to
connect them by an iron strap like a stirrup, which is bolted
at its upper ends into the king-post, and passes
round the tie-beam. In this way a space is
commonly left between the end of the king¬
post and the upper side of the tie-beam. Here
the beam plainly appears hanging in the stir¬
rup ; and this method allows us to restore the
beam to an exact level, when it has sunk by
the unavoidable compression or other yielding
of the parts. The holes in the sides of the
iron strap are made oblong instead of round;
and the bolt which is drawn through all is made
to taper on the under side; so that driving it
farther draws the tie-beam upwards. A notion of this may
be formed by looking at fig. 16, which is a section of that
post and beam.
It requires considerable attention, however, to make this
suspension of the tie-beam sufficiently firm. The top of the
king-post is cut into the form of the arch-stone of a bridge,
and the heads of the rafters are firmly mortised into this
projecting part. These projections are called joggles, and
are formed by working the king-post out of a much larger
piece of timber, and cutting off the unnecessary wood from
451
Fig. 16.
Key.
/f'N
B'
the two sides ; and, lest all this should not be sufficient, it is Roof,
usual m great works to add an iron plate or strap of three
branches, which are bolted into the heads of the kingpost
and rafters. ° r
The rafters, though not so long as the beam, seem to
stand as much in need of something to prevent their bend¬
ing, for they carry the weight of the covering. This cannot
be done by suspension, for we have no fixed points above
them. But we have now got
a very firm point of support Fig. 17.
at the foot of the king-post.
Braces, or rather struts, ED,
FD (fig. 17), are put under the
middle of the rafters, where
they are slightly mortised, and
their lower ends are firmly
mortised into joggles formed
on the foot of the king-post. "
As these braces are very powerful in their resistance to com¬
pression, and the king-post equally so to resist extension,
the points E and F may be considered as fixed; and the
rafters being thus reduced to half their former length, have
now four times their former relative strength.
Roofs do not always consist of two sloping sides meeting Constnio
in a ridge. They have sometimes a flat on the top, with tion of flat-
two slopping sides. They are sometimes formed with a topped
double slope, and are called kirb or mansarde roofs. They roofs-
sometimes have a valley in the middle, and are then called
M roofs. Such roofs require another piece, which may be
called the truss-beam, because all such frames are called
trusses, probably from the French word trousse, because
such roofs are like portions of plain roofs trousses or short¬
ened.
A flat-topped roof is thus constructed. Suppose the three
rafters AB, BC, CD (fig. 18),
of which AB and CD are Fig. 18.
equal, and BC horizontal. It
is plain that they will be in
equilibrio, and the roof have
no tendency to go on either
side. The tie-beam AD with¬
stands the horizontal thrusts
of the whole frame, and the
two rafters AB and CD are
each pressed in their own di¬
rections in consequence of their abutting with the middle
rafter or truss-beam BC. It lies between them like the
key-stone of an arch. They lean towards it, and it rests
on them. The pressure which the truss-beam and its
load excites on the two rafters is the very same as if the
rafters were produced till they meet in G, and a weight
were laid on these equal to that of BC and its load. If
therefore the truss-beam is of a scantling sufficient for car¬
rying its own load, and withstanding the compression from
the two rafters, the roof will be equally strong, whilst it
keeps its shape, as the plain roof AGD, furnished with
the king-post and braces. We may conceive this another
way. Suppose a plain roof AGD, without braces to sup¬
port the middle B and C of the rafters. Then let a
beam BC be put in between the rafters, abutting upon little
notches cut in the rafters. It is evident that this must pre¬
vent the rafters from bending downwards, because the points
B and C cannot descend, moving round the centres A and
D, without shortening the distance BC between them. This
cannot be without compressing the beam BC. It is plain
that BC may be wedged in, or wedges driven in between
its ends B and C and the notches in which it is lodged.
These wedges may be driven in till they even force out
the rafters GA and GD. Whenever this happens, all the
mutual pressure of the heads of these rafters at G is taken
away, and the parts GB and GC may be cut away, and the
452
R O O F.
Hoof-
They are
not so
strong as
the plain
roofs.
roof ABCD will be as strong as the roof AGD furnished
' with the king-post and braces, because the truss-beam gives
a support of the same kind at B and C as the brace would
have done.
But this roof ABCD would have no firmness of shape.
Any addition of weight on one side would destroy the equi¬
librium at the angle, would depress that angle, and would
cause the opposite one to rise. To give it stiffness, it must
either have ties or braces, or something partaking of the
nature of both. The usual method of framing is to make
the heads of the rafters abut on the joggles of two side-
posts BE and CF, whilst the truss-beam, or strut as it is
generally termed by the carpenters, is mortised square into
the inside of the heads. The lower ends E and F of the
side-posts are connected with the tie-beam either by mor¬
tises or straps.
This construction gives firmness to the frame; for the
angle B cannot descend in consequence of any inequality
of pressure, without forcing the other angle C to rise. This
it cannot do, being held down by the post CF. And the
same construction fortifies the tie-beam, which is now sus¬
pended at the points E and F from the points B and C,
whose firmness we have just now shown.
But although this roof may be made abundantly strong,
it is not quite so strong as the plain roof AGD of the same
scantling. The compression which BC must sustain in or¬
der to give the same support to the rafters at B and C that
was given by braces properly placed, is considerably greater
than the compression of the braces. And this strain is an
addition to the transverse strain which BC gets from its
own load. This form also necessarily exposes the tie-beam
to cross strains. If BE is mortised into the tie-beam, then
the strain which tends to depress the angle ABC presses on
the tie-beam at E transversely, whilst a contrary strain acts
on F, pulling it upwards. These strains, however, are small;
and this construction is frequently used, being susceptible
of sufficient strength, without much increase of the dimen¬
sions of the timbers ; and it has the great advantage of giv¬
ing free room in the garrets.
Were it not for this, there is
a 'much more perfect form
represented in fig. 19. Here
the two posts BE, CF are
united below. All transverse
Itoof
Fig. 19.
action on the tie-beam is now
entirely removed. We are
Members
of which
the frame
of a roof
consists.
almost disposed to say that this is the strongest roof of the
same width and slope. For if the iron strap which connects
the pieces BE, CF wdth the tie-beam have a large bolt G
through it, confining it to one point of the beam, there
are five points, A, B, C, D, G, which cannot change their
places, and there is no transverse strain in any of the con¬
nections.
When the dimensions of the building are very great, so
that the pieces AB, BC, CD, would be thought too weak
for withstanding the cross strains, braces may be added as
is expressed in fig. 18 by the dotted lines. The reader will
observe, that it is not meant to leave the top flat external¬
ly ; it must be raised a little in the middle, to shoot off the
rain. But this must not be done by incurvating the beam
BC. This would soon be crushed, and spring upwards.
The slopes must be given by pieces of timber added above
the strutting-beam.
And thus we have completed a frame of a roof. It con¬
sists of these principal members : the rafters, which are im¬
mediately loaded with the covering; the tie-beam, which
withstands the horizontal thrust by which the roof tends to
fly out below and push out the walls ; the king-posts, which
hang from fixed points and serve to uphold the tie-beam,
and also to afford other fixed points on which we may rest
the braces which support the middle of the rafters; and,
lastly, the truss or strutting-beam, which serves to give mu- ^
tuarabutment to the different parts which are at a distance v
from each other. The rafters, biaces, and trusses aie ex¬
posed to compression, and must therefore have not only co¬
hesion, but stiffness. For if they bend, the prodigious com¬
pressions to which they are subjected would quickly crush
them in this bended state. The tie-beams and king-posts,
if performing no other office but supporting the roof, do not
require stiffness; and their places might be supplied by ropes,
or by rods of iron of one-tenth part of the section that even
the smallest oak stretcher requires. These members re¬
quire no greater dimensions than what is necessary for giv¬
ing sufficient joints, and any more is a needless expense. All
roofs, however complicated, consist of these essential parts ;
and if pieces of timber are to be seen which perform none
of these offices, they must be pronounced useless, and they
are frequently hurtful, by producing cross strains in some
other piece. In a roof properly constructed there should
be no such strains. All the timbers, excepting those which
immediately carry the covering, should be either pushed or
drawn in the direction of their length. And this is the rule
by which a roof should always be examined.
These essential parts are susceptible of numberless com- They an
binations and varieties. But it is a prudent maxim to make
the construction as simple, and consisting of as few parts, jegs™m
as possible. W e are the less exposed to the imperfections of na^onss
workmanship, such as loose joints, &c. Another essential variety
harm arises from many pieces, by the compression and the
shrinking of the timber in the cross direction of the fibres.
The effect of this is equivalent to the shortening of the piece
which abuts on the joint. This alters the proportions of
the sides of the triangle on which the shape ot the whole
depends. Now, in a 1’oof such as fig. 18, there is twice as
much of this as in the plain pent-roof, because there are
two posts. And when the direction of the abutting pieces
is very oblique to the action of the load, a small shrinking
permits a great change of shape. Thus, in a roof ol what
is called pediment pitch, where the rafters make an angle
of thirty degrees with the horizon, half an inch compres¬
sion of the king-post will produce a sagging of an inch, and
occasion a great strain on the tie-beam, it the posts are mor¬
tised into it.
This method of including a truss within the rafters of a
pent-roof is a very considerable addition to the art ol car¬
pentry. But to insure its full effect, it should always be
executed, with abutting rafters under the principal ones,
abutting on joggles in the heads of the posts. Without this
the strut-beam is hard¬
ly of any service. We Fig. 20.
would therefore recom¬
mend fig. 20 as a
proper construction of
a trussed roof; and
the king-post which is
placed in it may be em¬
ployed to support the
upper part of the rafters, and also for preventing the strut-
beam from bending in their direction in consequence ot
its great compression. It will also give a suspension for
the great burdens which are sometimes necessary in a the¬
atre. The machinery has no other firm points to which it
can be attached; and the portions of the single rafters which
carry this king-post are but short, and therefore may be
considerably loaded with safety.
We observe in the drawings which we sometimes have ot
Chinese buildings, that the trussing of roofs is understood
by them Indeed they must be very experienced carpen¬
ters. We see wooden buildings run up to a great height,
which can be supported only by such trussing. One ot
these is sketched in fig. 21. There are some very excel¬
lent specimens to be seen in the buildings at Deptford, be-
t
ROOF.
453
Tb
SUJCc’
of*
Jess
nil
Vff
longing to the victualling-office, commonly called the Red-
house, which were erected about the year 1788, and we be¬
lieve are the performance of Mr James Ar¬
row of the Board of Works, one of the most
intelligent artists in this kingdom,
larks Thus have we given an elementary,
-essed but a rational or scientific, account of this
tactical jmp0rt,ant par(; 0f the art of carpentry. It
enters. jg that any practitioner, with the
trouble of a little reflection, may always
proceed with confidence, and without rest¬
ing any part of his practice on the vague
notions which habit may have given him
of the strength and supports of timbers,
and of their manner of acting. That these
frequently mislead, is proved by the mutual
criticisms which are frequently published by the rivals in the
profession. They have frequently sagacity enough, for it
seldom can be called science, to point out glaring blunders ;
and any person who will look at some of the performances of
Mr Price, Mr Wyatt, Mr Arrow, and others of acknowledged
reputation, will readily see them distinguishable from the
works of inferior artists by simplicity alone. A man with¬
out principles is apt to consider an intricate construction
as ingenious and effectual; and such roofs sometimes fail
merely by being ingeniously loaded with timber, but still
more frequently by the wrong action of some useless pieces,
which produces strains that are transverse to other pieces,
or which, by rendering some points too firm, cause them
to be deserted by the rest in the general subsiding of the
whole. Instances of this kind are pointed out by Price in
his British Carpenter. Nothing shows the skill of a car¬
penter more than the distinctness with which he can fore¬
see the changes of shape which must take place in a short
time in every roof. A knowledge of this will often correct
a construction which the mere mathematician thinks un¬
exceptionable, because he does not reckon on the actual
compression which must obtain, and imagines that his tri¬
angles, which sustain no cross strains, invariably retain
their shape till the pieces break. The sagacity of the ex¬
perienced carpenter is not, however, enough without sci¬
ence for perfecting the art. But when he knows howr much
a particular piece will yield to compression in one case,
science will then tell him, and nothing but science can do
it, what will be the compression of the same piece in another
very different case. Thus he learns how far it will now
yield, and then he proportions the parts so to each other, that
when all have yielded according to their strains, the whole
is of the shape he wished to produce, and every joint is in
a state of firmness. It is here that we observe the greatest
number of improprieties. The iron straps are frequently
in positions not suited to the actual strain on them; and
they are in a state of violent twist, which both tends strong¬
ly to break the straps, and to cripple the pieces which they
surround.
In like manner, we frequently see joints or mortises in a
state of violent strain on the tenons, or on the heels and
shoulders. The joints were perhaps properly shaped for
the primitive form of the truss; but by its settling, the bear¬
ing of the push is changed. The brace, for example, in a
very low-pitched roof, comes to press with the upper part
of the shoulder, and, acting as a powerful lever on the te¬
non, breaks it. In like manner, the lower end of the brace,
which at first abutted firmly and squarely on the joggle of
the king-post, now presses with one corner in prodigious
force, and seldom fails to splinter off on that side. We
cannot help recommending a maxim of M. Perronet, the
celebrated hydraulic architect of France, as a golden rule,
viz. to make all the shoulders of abutting pieces in the form
of an arch of a circle, having the opposite end of the piece
for its centre. Thus, in fig. 18, if the joggle-point B be of
this form, having A for its centre, the sagging of the roof Roof,
will make no partial bearing at the joint; for in the sagging''““"■v'”""*''
of the roof the piece AB turns or bends round the centre
A, and the counter-pressurd of the joggle is still directed
to A, as it ought to be. We have just now said bends
lound A. T. his is too frequently the case, and it is always
very difficult to give the tenon and mortise in this place a
true and invariable bearing. The rafter pushes in the di¬
rection BA, and the beam resists in the direction AD.
The abutment should be perpendicular to neither of these,
but in an intermediate direction, and it ought also to be of
a curved shape. But the carpenters perhaps think that
this would weaken the beam too much to give it this shape
in the shoulder ; they do not even aim at it in the heel of
the tenon. The shoulder is commonly even with the sur¬
face of the beam. When the bearing therefore is on this
shoulder, it causes the foot of the rafter to slide along the
beam till the heel of the tenon bears against the outer end
of the mortise (See Price’s British Carpenter, plate C, fig.
IK). This abutment is perpendicular to the beam in
Price’s book; but it is more generally pointed a little out¬
wards below, to make it more secure against starting. The
consequence of this construction is, that when the roof set¬
tles, the shoulder comes to bear at the inner end of the
mortise, and it rises at the outer, and the tenon, taking hold
of the wood beyond it, either tears it out or is itself bro¬
ken. This joint therefore is seldom trusted to the strength
of the mortise and tenon, and is usually secured by an iron
strap, which lies obliquely to the beam, to which it is bolt¬
ed by a large bolt quite through, and then embraces the
outside of the rafter foot. This strap is very frequentlv
not made sufficiently oblique, and we have seen some made
almost square with the beam. When this is the case, it not
only keeps the foot of the rafter from flying out, but it
binds it down. In this case, the rafter acts as a powerful
lever, whose fulcrum is in the inner angle of the shoulder,
and then the strap never fails to cripple the rafter at the
point. All this can be prevented only by making the strap
very long and very oblique, and by making its outer end
(the stirrup part) square with its length, and making a
notch in the rafter foot to receive it. It cannot now crip¬
ple the rafter, for it will rise along with it, turning round
the bolt at its inner end. We have been thus particular
on this joint, because it is here that the ultimate strain of
the wffiole roof is exerted, and its situation will not allow'
the excavation necessary for making it a good mortise and
tenon.
Similar attention must be paid to some other straps, such
as those which embrace the middle of the rafter, and con¬
nect it with the post or truss below it. We must attend to
the change of shape produced by the sagging of the roof, and
place the strap in such a manner as to yield to it by turn¬
ing round its bolt, but so as not to become loose, and far
less to make a fulcrum for any thing acting as a lever.
The strains arising from such actions, in framings of car¬
pentry which change their shape by sagging, are enormous,
and nothing can resist them.
We shall close this part of the subject with a simple me-Mode of
thod, by which any carpenter, without mathematical sci-calculating
ence, may calculate with sufficient precision the strains or strains or
thrusts which are produced on any point of his work, what-L irilstf’-
ever be the obliquity of the pieces.
Let it be required to find the horizontal thrust acting
on the tie-beam AD of fig. 18. This will be the same as
if the weight of the whole roof were laid at G on the two
rafters GA and GD. Draw the vertical line GH. Then,
having calculated the wreight of the whole roof that is sup¬
ported by this single frame ABCD, including the weight
of the pieces AB, BC, CD, BE, CF themselves, take the
number of pounds, tons, &c. which expresses it from any
scale of equal parts, and set it from G to H. Draw7 HK,
454
ROOF.
Roof.
HL parallel to GD, GA, and draw the line KL, which will
' be horizontal when the tw'o sides of the roof have the same
slope. Then ML measured on the same scale will give
the horizontal thrust, by which the strength of the tie-beam
is to be regulated. GL will give the thrust which tends to
crush the rafters, and LM will also give the force which
tends to crush the strut-beam BC.
In like manner, to find the strain of the king-post BD of
fig. 17, consider that each brace is pressed by half the
weight of the roofing laid on BA or BC, and this pressure,
or at least its hurtful effect, is diminished in the propor¬
tion of BA to DA, because the action of gravity is vertical,
and the effect which we want to counteract by the braces
is in a direction Ee perpendicular to BA or BC. But as
this is to be resisted by the brace /E acting in the direc¬
tion/E, we must drawee perpendicular to Ee, and sup¬
pose the strain augmented in the proportion of Ee to Ef.
Having thus obtained in tons, pounds, or other measures,
the strains which must be balanced at/Ty the cohesion of
the king-post, take this measure from the scale of equal
parts, and set it off in the directions of the braces to G
and H, and complete the parallelogram G/H K ; and/K
measured on the same scale will be the strain on the king-
Fig. 23 is a kirb or mansarde roof by Price, and supposed
to be of large dimensions,
post.
Fig. 22.
Roof!,
having braces to carry the
middle of the rafters. It
will serve exceedingly w7ell
for a church having pil¬
lars. The middle part of
the tie-beam being taken
away, the strains are very
well balanced, so that there
no risk of its pushing
Fig. 23.
aside the pillar on which it
rests.
Strength of The artist may then examine the strength of his truss
the truss, upon this principle, that every square inch of oak will bear
at an average 7000 pounds compressing or stretching it,
and may be safely loaded with 3500 for any length of time ;
and that a square inch of fir will in like manner securely
bear 2500. And, because straps are used to resist some
of these strains, a square inch of well-wrought tough iron
may be safely strained by 50,000 pounds. But the artist
will always recollect, that we cannot have the same confi¬
dence in iron as in timber. The faults of this last are much
more easily perceived; and when the timber is too weak,
it gives us warning of its failure by yielding sensibly be¬
fore it breaks. This is not the case with iron ; and much
of its service depends on the honesty of the blacksmith.
Sketch of In this way may any design of a roof be examined. We
some trus- ]iere gjve the reader a sketch of two or three trussed
roofs, r00fS) which have been executed in the chief varieties of
circumstances which occur in common practice.
Fig. 22 is the roof of St Paul’s Church, Covent Garden,
Fig. 24 is the celebrated roof of the Theatre of the Uni-
Fig. 24.
rf
versity of Oxford, by Sir Christopher Wren. The span be¬
tween the walls is 75 feet. This is accounted a very in¬
genious, and is a singular performance. The middle part
of it is almost unchangeable in its form; but from this cir¬
cumstance it does not distribute the horizontal thrust with
the same regularity as the usual construction. The hori¬
zontal thrust on the tie-beam is about twice the weight of
the roof, and is withstood by an iron strap below the beam,
which stretches the whole width of the building in the
form of a rope, making part of the ornament of the ceiling.
In all the roofs which we have considered hitherto, the Cases in
thrust is discharged entirely from the walls by the tie-beam, which tli
But this cannot always be done. We frequently want greattbrustca.
elevation within, and arched ceilings. In such cases, it is
charged
a much more difficult matter to keep the walls free of allfronifithe
pressure outwards, and there are few buildings where it is ,rails by
completely done. Yet this is the greatest fault of a roof, the tie-
We shall just point out the methods which may be most beam,
successfully adopted.
We have said that a tie-beam just performs the office
of a string. We have said the same of the king-post.
Now suppose two rafters AB, BC (fig. 25), moveable
about the point B, and rest
Fig. 25.
London, the work of Inigo Jones. Its construction is sin¬
gular. The roof extends to a considerable distance beyond
the building, and the ends of the tie-beams support the
Tuscan corniche, appearing like the mutules of the Doric
order. Such a roof could not rest on the tie-beam. Inigo
Jones has therefore supported it by a truss below it; and
the height has allowed him to make this extremely strong
with very little timber. It is accounted the highest roof of
its width in London. But this was not difficult, by reason
of the great height which its extreme width allowed him to
employ without hurting the beauty of it by too high a
pitch. The supports, however, are disposed with judg¬
ment.1
ing on the top of the walls. If
the line BD be suspended
from B, and the two lines
DA, DC be fastened to the
feet of the rafters, and if these
lines be incapable of exten¬
sion, it is plain that all thrust
is removed from the walls as
effectually as by a common
tie-beam ; and by shortening
BD to Be/, we gain a greater inside height, and more room
for an arched ceiling. Now if we substitute a king-post
BD (fig. 26), and two stretch- pjg< 2q_
ers or hammer-beams DA, DC R
for the other strings, and con¬
nect them firmly by means
of iron straps, we obtain our
purpose.
r Let us compare this roof with a tie-beam roof in point
of strain and strength. Recur to fig. 25, and complete the
parallelogram ABCF, and draw the diagonals AC, BE,
crossing in E. Draw BG perpendicular to CD. We have
1 Tins church was burnt down after the present article was written.
ROOF.
455
iot‘. seen that the weight of the roof, which we may call W, is
to the horizontal thrust at C as BF to EC ; and if we ex-
W y. EC
press this thrust by X, we have X zzi —— , We may
BF
at present consider BC as a lever moveable round the joint
B, and pulled at C in the direction EC by the horizontal
thrust, and held back by the string pulling in the direction
CD. Suppose that the forces in the directions EC and
CD are in equilibrio, and let us find the force S by which
the string CD is strained. Xhese forces must, by the pro¬
perty of the lever, be inversely as the perpendiculars drawn
from the centre of motion on the lines of their direction.
XhereforeBG:BE=X: S,andS =X x — = W X -E,EC
* BG x BF-BG*
Xherefore the strain upon each of the ties DA and DC
is always greater than the horizontal thrust or the strain on
a simple tie-beam. Xhis would be no great inconvenience,
because the smallest dimensions that we could give to these
ties, so as to procure sufficient fixtures to the adjoining
pieces, are always sufficient to withstand this strain- But
although the same may be said of the iron straps which
make the ultimate connections, there is always some hazard
ot imperfect work, cracks, or flaws, which are not per¬
ceived. We can judge with tolerable certainty of the
soundness of a piece of timber, but cannot say so much of
a piece of iron. Moreover, there is a prodigious strain ex¬
cited on the king-post when BG is very short in compari¬
son of BE, namely, the force compounded of the two
strains S and S on the ties DA and DC.
But there is another defect from which the straight tie-
beam is entirely free. All roofs settle a little. When this
roof settles, and the points B and D descend, the legs BA,
BC must spread further out, and thus a pressure outwards
is excited on the walls. It is seldom therefore that this
kind of roof can be executed in this simple form, and other
contrivances are necessary for counteracting this superven¬
ing action on the walls. Fig. 27 is one of the best which
Fig. 27.
■vve have seen, and is executed with great success in the
circus or equestrian theatre (now, 1809, a concert-room)
m Edinburgh, the width being sixty feet. Xhe pieces EF
and ED help to take off some of the weight, and by their
greater uprightness they exert a smaller thrust on the walls.
he beam De? is also a sort of truss-beam, having some¬
thing of the same effect. Mr Price has given another very
judicious one of this kind (British Carpenter, plate IK, fig.
C), from which the tie-beam may be taken away, and there
will remain very little thrust on the walls. Xhose which
he has given in the following plate, K, are, in our opinion,
very laulty. Xhe whole strain in these last roofs tends to
break the rafters and ties transversely, and the fixtures of
the ties are also not well calculated to resist the strain to
which the pieces are exposed. We hardly think that these
roofs could be executed.
’ 1 It is scarcely necessary to remind the reader, that in all
‘ t iat we have delivered on this subject, we have attended
only to the construction of the principal rafters or trusses.
In small buildings all the rafters are of one kind ; but in Hoof,
great buildings the whole weight of the covering is made s—v-—"
to rest on a few principal rafters, which are connected bv
beams placed horizontally, and either mortised into them
or scarfed on them. Xhese are called purlins. Small raft-
eis are laid from purlin to purlin; and on these the laths
for tiles, or the skirting-boards for slates, are nailed. Xhus
the covering does not immediately rest on the principal
flames. Xhis allows some more liberty in their construc¬
tion, because the garrets can be so divided that the princi¬
pal rafters shall be in the partitions, and the rest left unen¬
cumbered Xhis construction is so far analogous to that
of floors which are constructed with girders, binding, and
bridging joists.
It may appear presuming in us to question the propriety
of this practice. Xhere are situations in which it is una¬
voidable, as in the roofs of churches, which can be allowed
to rest on some pillars. In other situations, where partition-
walls intervene at a distance not too great for a stout pur¬
lin, no principal rafters are necessary, and the whole may¬
be roofed with short rafters of very slender scantling. But
in a great uniform roof, which has no intermediate supports,
it requires at least some reasons for preferring this method
of carcass-roofing to the simple method of making all the
rafters alike. Xhe method of carcass-roofing requires the
selection of the greatest logs of timber, which are seldom
of equal strength and soundness with thinner rafters. In
these the outside planks can be taken off, and the best part
alone worked up. It also exposes to all the defects of work¬
manship in the mortising of purlins, and the weakening of
the rafters by this very mortising; and it brings an addi¬
tional load of purlins and short rafters. A roof thus con¬
structed may surely be compared with a floor of similar
construction. Here there is not a shadow of doubt, that
if the girders were sawed into planks, and these planks laid
as joists sufficiently near for carrying the flooring boards,
they will have the same strength as before, except so much
as is taken out of the timber by the saw. Xhis will not
amount to one-tenth part of the timber in the binding,
bridging, and ceiling joists, which are an additional load,
and all the mortises and other joinings are so many dimi¬
nutions of the strength of the girders ; and as no part of a
carpenter’s work requires more skill and accuracy of execu¬
tion, we are exposed to many chances of imperfection. But,
not to rest on these considerations, however reasonable they
may appear, we shall relate an experiment made by one on
whose judgment and exactness we can depend.
Xwo models of floors were made, eighteen inches square, Confirmed
of the finest uniform deal, which had been long seasoned, by experi-
Xhe one consisted of simple joists, and the other was framed ment.
with girders, binding, bridging, and ceiling joists. Xhe
plain joists of the one contained the same quantity of tim¬
ber with the girders alone of the other, and both were made
by a most accurate workman. Xhey were placed in wooden
trunks eighteen inches square within, and rested on a strong
projection on the inside. Small shot w-as gradually poured
in upon the floors, so as to spread uniformly over them.
Xhe plain joisted floor broke down with 487 pounds, and
the carcass floor with 327. Xhe first broke without giving
any warning, and the other gave a violent crack when 294
pounds had been poured in. A trial had been made be¬
fore, and the loads were 341 and 482; but the models
having been made by a less accurate hand, it was not
thought a fair specimen of the strength which might be
given to a carcass floor.
Xhe only argument of weight which we can recollect in
favour of the compound construction of roofs is, that the
plain method would prodigiously increase the quantity of
work, would admit nothing but long timber, which would
greatly add to the expense, and would make the garrets a
mere thicket of planks. We admit this in its full force;
456
ROOF.
Roof.
Of the
roofs put
on round
buildings.
but we continue to be of the opinion that plain roofs are
greatly superior in point of strength, and therefore should
be adopted in cases where the main difficulty is to insure
this necessary circumstance.
It would appear very neglectful to omit an account of
the roofs put on round buildings, such as domes, cupolas,
and the like. They appear to be the most difficult tasks in
the carpenter’s art. But the difficulty lies entirely in the
mode of framing, or what the French call the trait de char-
penlerie. The view which we are taking of the subject, as
a part of mechanical science, has little connection with this.
It is plain, that whatever form of a truss is excellent in a
square building, must be equally so as one of the frames of
a round one ; and the only difficulty is how to manage their
mutual intersections at the top. Some of them must be
discontinued before they reach that length, and common
sense will teach us to cut them short alternately, and al¬
ways leave as many, that they may stand equally thick as
at their first springing from the base of the dome. 1 hus
the length of the purlins, which reach from truss to truss,
will never be too great.
The truth is, that a round building which gathers in at
top, like a glass-house, a potter’s kiln, or a spire steeple, in¬
stead of being the most difficult to erect with stability, is
of all others the easiest. Nothing can show this more for¬
cibly than daily practice, where they are run up without
centres and without scaffoldings ; and it requires gross blun¬
ders indeed in the choice of their outline to put them in
much danger of falling from a want of equilibrium. In like
manner, a dome of carpentry can hardly fall, give it what
shape or what construction you will. It cannot fall, unless
some part of it flies out at the bottom. An iron hoop round
it, or straps at the joinings of the trusses and purlins, which
make an equivalent to a hoop, will effectually secure it.
And as beauty requires that a dome shall spring almost
perpendicularly from the wall, it is evident that there is
hardly any thrust to force out the walls. The only part
where this is to be guarded against is where the tangent is
inclined about forty or fifty degrees to the horizon. Here
it will be proper to make a course of firm horizontal joinings.
We doubt not but that domes of carpentry will now be
raised of great extent. The Halle du Bled at Paris, of two
hundred feet in diameter, was the invention of an intelligent
carpenter, the Sieur Moulineau. He was not by any means
a man of science, but had much more mechanical knowledge
than artisans usually have, and was convinced that a very thin
shell of timber might not only be so shaped as to be nearly
in equilibrio, but that, if hooped or firmly connected hori¬
zontally, it would have all the stiffness that was necessary ;
and he presented his project to the magistracy of Paris. The
grandeur of it pleased them, but they doubted of its possi¬
bility. Being a great public work, they prevailed on the
Academy of Sciences to consider it. The members who
were competent judges were instantly struck with the just¬
ness of M. Moulineau’s principles, and astonished that a
thing so plain had not been long familiar to every house-
carpenter. It quickly became an universal topic of conver¬
sation, dispute, and cabal, in the polite circles of Paris. But
the academy having given a very favourable report of their
opinion, the project was immediately carried into execution,
and soon completed; and now stands as one of the great
exhibitions of Paris.
The construction of this dome is the simplest thing that
can be imagined. The circular ribs which compose it con¬
sist of planks nine feet long, thirteen inches broad, and
three inches thick; and each rib consists of three of these
planks bolted together in such a manner that two points
meet. A rib is begun, for instance, with a plank of three
feet long standing between one of six feet and another of
nine; and this is continued to the head of it. No machinery
was necessary for carrying up such small pieces, and the
whole went up like a piece of bricklayer’s work. At various
distances these ribs were connected horizontally by purlins v
and iron straps, which made so many hoops to the whole.
When the work had reached such a height that the dis¬
tance of the ribs was two thirds of the original distance,
every third rib was discontinued, and the space was left
open and glazed. When carried so much higher that the
distance of the ribs is one third of the original distance,
every second rib, now consisting of two ribs very near each
other, is in like manner discontinued, and the void is glazed.
A little above this the heads of the ribs are framed into a
circular ring of timber, which forms a wide opening in the
middle ; over which is a glazed canopy or umbrella, with an
opening between it and the dome for allowing the heated
air to get out. All who have seen this dome say that it is
the most beautiful and magnificent object they have ever
beheld.
The only difficulty which occurs in the construction of
wooden domes is when they are unequally loaded, by car¬
rying a heavy lan thorn or cupola in the middle. In such a
if the dome were a mere shell, it would be crushed
Rod
in at the top, or the action of the wind on the lanthorn
might tear it out of its place. Such a dome must therefore
consist of trussed frames. Mr Price has given a very good
one in his plate OP, though much stronger in the trusses
than there was any occasion for. This causes a great loss
of room, and throws the lights of the lanthorn too far up.
It is evidently copied from Sir Christopher Wren’s dome of
St Paul’s Church in London ; a model of propriety in its
particular situation, but by no means a general model of a
wooden dome. It rests on the brick cone within it; and
Sir Christopher has very ingeniously made use of it for stif¬
fening this cone, as any intelligent person will perceive by
attending to its construction.
Fig. 28 presents a dome executed in the Register Office
in Edinburgh by James and Robert Adam, and is very
Fig. 28.
agreeable to mechanical principles. The span is fifty ieet
clear, and the thickness is only four and a half feet.
We cannot take leave of the subject without taking some
notice of what we have already spoken of with commenda- ^orm J
tion by the name of Norman roofs. We called them Nor- rooj\
man, because they were frequently executed by that people
soon after their establishment in Italy and other parts of the
south of Europe, and became the prevailing taste in all the
great baronial castles. Their architects were rivals to the
Saracens and Moors, who about that time built many Chris¬
tian churches; and the architecture which we now call
Gothic seems to have arisen from their joint labours.
The principle of a Norman roof is extremely simple,
rafters all abutted on joggled
The
king-posts AF, BG, CH, &c.
(fig. 29), and braces or ties
were then disposed in the in¬
tervals. In the middle of the
roof HB and HD are evi¬
dently ties in a state of ex¬
tension, whilst the post CH
is compressed by them. To¬
wards the walls on each side,
Fig. 29.
R 0 O
as between B and F, and between F and L, they are
/ braces, and compressed. The ends of the posts were gene¬
rally ornamented with knots of flowers, embossed globes,
and the like, and the whole texture of the truss was exhi¬
bited and dressed out.
This construction admits of employing very short tim¬
bers ; and this very circumstance gives greater strength to
the truss, because the angle which the brace or tie makes
with the rafter is more open. We may also perceive that
all thrust may be taken off the walls. If the pieces AF,
BF, LF, be removed, all the remaining diagonal pieces act
as ties, and the pieces directed to the centre act as struts ;
and it may also be observed, that the principle will apply
equally to a straight or flat roof or to a floor. A floor such
as obc, having the joint in two pieces ab, be, with a strut bd,
and two ties, will require a much greater weight to break
it than if it had a continued joist ac of the same scantling.
And, lastly, a piece of timber acting as a tie is much stronger
than the same piece acting as a strut; for in the latter si¬
tuation it is exposed to bending, and when bent it is much
less able to withstand a very great strain. It must be ac¬
knowledged, however, that this advantage is balanced by
the great inferiority of the joints in point of strength. The
joint of a tie depends wholly on the pins ; and for this reason
they are never used in heavy works without strapping the
R o o
457
joints with iron. In the roofs we are now describing the
diagonal pieces of the middle part only act purely as ties,
whilst those towards the sides act as struts or braces. In¬
deed they are seldom of so very simple construction as wre
have described, and are more generally constructed like the
sketch in fig. 30, having two sets of rafters AB, ab, and the
angles are filled up with
thin planks, which give Fig. 30.
great stiffness and strength.
They have also a double
set of purlins, which con¬
nect the different trusses.
The roof being thus divid¬
ed into squares, other pur¬
lins run between the mid¬
dle points E of the rafters. The rafter is supported at E by
a check put between it and the under rafter. The middle
point of each square of the roof is supported and stiffen¬
ed by four braces, one of which springs from e, and its
opposite from the similar part of the adjoining truss. The
other two braces spring from the middle points of the lower
purlins, which go horizontally from a and b to the next truss,
and are supported by planks in the same manner as the
rafters. By this contrivance the whole becomes very stiff
and strong. (b. b. b.)
Hooke.
ROOK. See Ornithology.
ROOKE, Sir George, a gallant naval commander, was
born of an ancient and honourably family in Kent in 1650.
His merit raised him by regular steps to be vice-admiral of
the blue, in which station he served in the battle of La
Hogue, on the 22d of May 1692, when it was owing to his
vigorous behaviour that the last stroke was given on that
important day, which threw the French entirely into con¬
fusion. But the next day he obtained still more glory, for
he had orders to go into La Hogue, and burn the enemy’s
ships as they lay there. There were thirteen large men
of war, which had crowded as far up as possible ; and the
transports, tenders, and ammunition ships, w^ere disposed
in such a manner that it was thought impossible to burn
them. Besides, the French camp was in sight, with all the
French and Irish troops that were to have been employ¬
ed in the invasion of England; and several batteries were
raised on the coast, which were well provided with heavy ar¬
tillery. The vice-admiral made the necessary preparations
for obeying his orders, but found it impossible to carry in
the ships of his squadron. He therefore ordered his light
frigates to ply in close to the shore; and having manned
all his boats, went himself to give directions for the attack,
burned that very night six three-decked ships, and the
next day six more, from seventy-six to sixty guns, toge¬
ther with most of the transports and ammunition vessels;
and this under the fire of all the batteries just mentioned,
and in sight of all the French and Irish troops. Yet this
bold action cost the lives of no more than ten men. The
vice-admiral’s behaviour on this occasion appeared to King
William so great, that having no opportunity at that time
of promoting him, he settled a pension of L.1000 per an¬
num on him for life ; and afterwards going to Portsmouth to
view the fleet, went on board Admiral Rooke’s ship, dined
with him, and then conferred on him the honour of knight¬
hood, having a little before made him vice-admiral of the red.
In consequence of other services, he was in 1694 raised
to the rank of admiral of the blue; towards the close of
the next year he became admiral of the white, and was also
appointed admiral and commander in chief in the Mediter¬
ranean.
During King William’s reign, Sir George wras twice
elected member for Portsmouth; and upon the accession
VOL. XIX.
of Queen Anne in 1702, he was constituted vice-admiral
and lieutenant of the admiralty of England, as also lieute¬
nant of the fleets and seas of this kingdom. Upon the de¬
claration of war against France, he was ordered to com¬
mand a fleet sent against Cadiz, the Duke of Ormond
having the command of the land forces. On his passage
home, having received an account that the galleons, under
the escort of a strong French squadron, had got into the
harbour of Vigo, he resolved to attack them ; and on the
11th of October he came before the harbour of Rondon-
dello, where the French commander had neglected nothing
necessary for putting the place in the best posture of de¬
fence. But notwithstanding this, a detachment of fifteen
English and ten Dutch men of war, of the line of battle,
with all the fire-ships, were ordered in; the frigates and
bomb-vessels followed ; the great ships moved after them,
and the army landed near Rondondello. The whole ser¬
vice was performed under Sir George’s directions, with ad¬
mirable conduct and bravery; for all the ships were de¬
stroyed or taken, prodigious damage was done to the enemy,
and vast wealth was acquired by the allies. For this action
Sir George received the thanks of the House of Commons,
a day of thanksgiving was appointed both by the queen and
the states-general, and Sir George was appointed to a seat
in the privy-council. Yet notwithstanding this, the House
of Lords resolved to inquire into his conduct at Cadiz. But
he so fully justified himself, that a vote was passed approv¬
ing his behaviour.
In the spring of the year 1704, Sir George commanded
the ships of war which conveyed King Charles III. of Spain
to Lisbon. In July he attacked Gibraltar, when, by the
bravery of the English seamen, the place was taken on the
24th, though the town was extremely strong, wrell furnish¬
ed with ammunition, and had a hundred guns mounted, all
facing the sea and the narrow passes to the land; an action
wrhich was conceived and executed in less than a week,
though it has since endured sieges of many months’ conti¬
nuance, and more than once baffled the united forces or
France and Spain. This brave officer being at last obliged,
by the prevalence of party spirit, to quit the service of his
country, retired to his seat in Kent, where he spent the re¬
mainder of his days as a private gentleman. He was thrice
married ; and by his second lady, Mrs Luttrel, left one son.
458
R O P
Koonay He died on the 24th of January 1708, in his fifty-eighth
II year.
Hope. ROONAY, a town of Bengal, in the district of Birbhoom,
which formerly possessed a small fort that commanded the
high road. Long. 87. 0. E. Lat 24. 26. N.
ROOPNAGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Ajmeer, belonging to the rajah of Jyenagur. Long. 75.
52. E. Lat. 26- 39- N.
ROOPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Delhi, belonging to the Sikhs, and situated on the south-east
bank of the river Sutlege. Long. 75. 50. E. Lat. 31. 7. N.
ROOT. See Algebra, Arithmetic, and Equations.
ROPE, a general name for all kinds of cordage, but
more correctly applied to such as is above one inch in cir¬
cumference, the smaller sorts being distinguished by the
names of twines, cords, and lines.
The art of twisting into lines and ropes various mate¬
rials, such as thongs of animal hide, the hairs of animals,
tough grasses, and vegetable fibres, is of remote antiquity,
and has existed even among the rudest people.
The tarabita or rope-bridge of the Peruvians, and the
lasso of the Chilian hunter, are formed by twisting together
thongs of ox’s hide ; and in our own country at the pre¬
sent day ropes for particular purposes are made of horse’s
hair. The coir-ropes of Ceylon and the Maidive islands
are made from the fibrous husk of the cocoa-nut; the
Manilla rope from the fibres of a species of the wild ba¬
nana, the Musa textilis; and the Sunn ropes from those
of the Crotolaria juncea.
Many other vegetables have fibres of great tenacity, and
fitted for the purposes of the rope-maker ; but preference
is given to those of the Cannabis scUtiva, or cultivated hemp,
and the Linum usitatissimum, or flax, the fibres of both of
which possess in a remarkable degree the essential qualities
of flexibility and tenacity. Some idea of the importance of
the manufacture under consideration may be obtained from
the fact that, in the year ending January 1839, the value of
the hemp alone imported into Great Britain and Ireland
was L.617,597, and the value of the cordage exported was
L.94,639.
The fibres of the hemp are first twisted together to form a
thread or yarn. Many yarns are then combined by twisting,
and form "a strand ; three strands are in like manner combin¬
ed, and form what is properly a rope, and technically termed
a shroud-laid rope or hawser-laid rope ; and three of these
Fig. 1.
HOP
duce the necessary compression amongst them, to prevent
them from sliding upon each other. If the thread be small,Vs
the fibres must be fine, and may be short; and if the thread
be large, then must the fibres be long. If the fibres be long
in proportion to the size of thread to be made from them,
less twisting will obviously be necessary to keep them from
sliding; and the finer and softer the fibres are, the more
may the .twist be diminished; for soft fibres enter into
closer combination with each other than those that are
hard. Long fibres requiring thus less twist than short ones,
it has been a standing rule with all theoretical writers, that
fibres should always be spun into the thread endlong, and
never by their bight or double. Now, in the practice of
hand-spinning, the fibres are always spun into the thread by
their bights, and never by their ends.
It is certainly an advantage in
threads which are to be used merely
as such, to secure as great a length
of fibre as possible, as any strain tends
directly to pull the fibres asunder;
and they are retained in their posi¬
tion merely by the compression among
the co-fibres, produced by twisting.
But many threads are combined in
forming strands; new forces are
brought into action, and so at every
further combination. This will be
better explained by the following dia¬
gram. Let aa be the primary fibres,
formed into threads b ; in each thread
the fibres are retained in their posi¬
tion by the compression produced by
twisting. Let bb be threads twisted
together to form a strand. Here the
threads mutually compress each other,
and the primary fibres of each thread
are compressed by the surrounding
threads. Let cc be strands twisted to
form a hawser-laid rope. In this the
compression on the primary fibres is again increased, and
so in the next combination, where the three hawser-laid ropes
are twisted into the cable-rope d.
We may from this deduce, that it is not the length so
much as the intrinsic strength of the fibre which fits it for
the purpose of the rope-maker; and practice perfectly fixes
ropes may be again combined, forming wrhat is termed a this position, the ropes made from the short waste fibre ot
cable-laid rope. The fibres should be so arranged that
each in the finished rope shall offer the greatest resistance
to its being torn asunder in the direction of its length.
If we take a bundle of fibres, equal in length and strength,
and fasten it at the ends, each fibre w ill, upon a strain being
applied to the bundle, bear its proper share of the stress ;
and the strength of the bundle will evidently be measur¬
ed by adding together the strength of the separate fi¬
bres. But if we twist this bundle so as to form a thread,
the strain will no longer be equally distributed among
the fibres; for, by the torsion, the external fibres of the
bundle will be wound round those that lie nearest to the
centre, and, in proportion to their distance from the heart of
the bundle, and the amount of twist given, will form spirals
more or less inclined from the axis of the thread. The ex¬
ternal fibres will in consequence be longer than the internal
ones, and the greatest share of the strain will be borne by
the latter. Further, by the operation of twisting, the fibres
in a thread are strained, and, on account of their position, the
external ones the most. It is of importance to consider
the proper length of the primary fibres, and the degree of tor¬
sion that ought to be given in forming them into a thread.
All threads require the fibres to be so fine, and of such a
length, that the quantity of fibres used, and the number of
the hemp called tow being by no means so weak when
compared with those made from the hemp itself, as theory
woulj lead us to suppose, seeing that these fibres are the
shortest and weakest of the material. It may therefore be
laid down as a rule, that in the making of ropes it is ot
greater consequence that the fibres should be strong, soft,
and finely hackled, than that they should be of great length.
Let us consider a little more how the twist of the thread
is affected by its future combination. The fibres are first
twisted in a certain direction to form threads. A collection
of these threads is then twisted together to form a strand;
and this last twist being in a direction contrary to that ol
the threads, untwists them to a certain extent.
Had the twist in the first instance been no more than
would just have kept the fibres from sliding upon each other,
it would now be inadequate to produce that effect. Hence
one would think it necessary to provide means to put more
twist into the threads as they were being formed into
strands, or to put as much more twist into the threads
while spinning, as the twisting of the strands abstracts from
them; but when these strands are combined to form a
hawser-laid rope, the direction of the twist is again the same
as that of the threads, and restores to them a certain portion
of what they had lost. If, however, three of these hawser-
turns each has round its axis, shall be so great as to pro- laid ropes are formed into a cable-laid rope, the threads are
HOP
R O P
pe. again to a certain extent untwisted. The untwisting suf-
fered by the thread in forming the strands is much greater
than the subsequent retwisting in forming the rope; and
if the thread had been at the first too little twisted, or too
soft, as it is termed, it would never make a serviceable rope ;
and for such ropes as require to be impervious to water, it
would be totally unsuitable.
It is, then, on the proper angle of twist in the combined
threads, and not in the threads when separate, that the ef¬
ficiency of the rope depends; and this can be determined
by experiment alone.
When many threads or yarns are combined to form
strands, the effects produced on the latter by strains are
analogous to those produced on the fibres when formed
into threads, and, from the greater size of the component
parts, are more apparent.
In the ordinary method of procedure the threads are all
stretched to the same length, and then twisted together in
a direction contrary to their individual twist. This, by wind¬
ing the external yarns round those beneath them, shortens
the whole mass, and puckers up the yarns nearest the cen¬
tre, and thus the greatest share of any strain is thrown on
the external yarns. It has therefore been considered of
primary importance in all inventions intended to improve
the making of ropes, to equalize the strain on the yarns in
the strands.
Belfour attempted to effect this by shortening the internal
yarns in the degree necessary to prevent their puckering up.
Now, although the fibres of hemp are not in themselves very
extensible, yet the rope formed from them is; and when
such an extension takes place in a rope formed by Belfour’s
method, the strain is thrown entirely upon the internal yarns,
which, if the strain be great enough, will break from the
centre outwards.
The manner in which the external yarns of a strand
lengthen, will be seen at once by fig. 2. Here a is a section
of a newly formed strand; d a section of the same strand af¬
ter having been used; while b'd is a part of the surface of
the first, on the stretch out; and b'd a part of the surface of
the other. By the straining produced by use, the yarns in
a are brought into closer contact, and the diameter of the
strand is reduced. If in the strand a, be represents the angle
at which any external yarn is
supposed to lie, this, by the
reduction of the diameter,
will in d be changed to b'd;
and if in a, de represents a
heart-yarn, this yarn in a!
must stretch to d, or break,
which, as it is very little
extensible, it is likely to do.
It is of importance to ob¬
serve, that the breaking of
the heart-yarns of a strand
in this manner is attended
with much greater danger
than the breaking of the ex¬
ternal yarns, as the injury not only remains concealed, but
water can easily penetrate to the core of the strand, which
in consequence speedily decays.
It would appear, then, that a certain degree of pucker¬
ing in the internal yarns of a strand is necessary to com¬
pensate for the extension that the superficial yarns undergo
by use; and where ropes are made by machinery, it would
be perfectly possible to arrange it so that, from the central
yarn outwards, every one could be wrought into the strand
in due length to allow for the stretching.
The further operations are the forming the strands into
hawser-laid ropes, and these again into cable-laid ropes.
The many uses to which ropes are applied preclude the
possibility of applying specific rules to their manufacture.
Fig. 2.
Some require flexibility, others impenetrability to water:
strength may in some be of primary importance, or it may
be secondary to other qualities which better adapt the rope
or its peculiar purpose. The goodness of the rope depends
upon the previous operations; but it must be a standing
rule m all the processes, never to make use of so much twist
as will impair the strength of the fibre.
To prevent the decay of such ropes as are exposed to
continual changes from wet to dry, the yarns fqrming them
are soaked in hot tar previously to their being worked up.
It would be well if some other substance than tar could be
found suited for this purpose, as it unfortunately happens
that ropes lose much of their strength in the operation of
tainng ; and after having been kept for some time, the lo«s
of strength is progressively increased, and this to a greater
extent in hot than in cold climates. M. Duhamel made
several experiments on this subject in 1741-1746, and from
the results obtained he concludes,
1st, I hat untarred cordage in constant use is one third
more durable than the same cordage when tarred *
2dly, That untarred cordage retains its strength for a
longer time wdien kept in store ;
ddly, That untarred cordage resists the ordinary influ¬
ence of the weather one fourth longer than when it is tarred.
Some experiments were made in 1803 by Mr Chapman,
civ il engineer, to determine the effects of a new process of
washing the tar to free it from the soluble substances con¬
tained in it, and for which process he had obtained a patent.
Yet although the result of these experiments proved beyond
a doubt the superiority of Mr Chapman’s method, it is sin¬
gular that it has never come into use. The same gentle¬
man made some other experiments in 1806-1807, confirma¬
tory of those of M. Duhamel. The result of one series is
given in the table below.
Date of Experi.
ment.
1806, Oct 2.
  Oct. 24.
1807, May 8.
White rope.
Tarred rope.
Same rope...
Girth in
Inches.
Breaking
Weight.
2-75
2-8
2-8
75 cwt.
55
41-4
Compara¬
tive
Strength.
100
73-3
55-2
Cwts. on
each Inch
of Square
of Girth.
9-9 cwt.
7
5-3
We shall now offer a few of the rules which have been
given by different authors for computing the strength of
ropes.
Mr Tredgold says, “ that in a hawser-rope, it may be
proved that the strength of the straight fibres of hemp is
to the strength of the rope as the radius is to the mean
between the square and the cube of the cosine of the angle
of twist, when the fibres are all equally extended, and the
angle of twist measured at the greatest stretch the rope will
endure without fracture. The cosine of the angle under
these circumstances is in general about 0’87, and therefore
the strength is about 0-708 times the strength of the hemp,
or very little exceeding two thirds of its strength ; but in
most cases the loss of strength will be greater than one third,
because the stretching of the different parts is unequal. And
in a cable-laid rope, that the strength of the hemp is to that
of the cable as the radius is to the mean of the third or
fourth power of the cosine of the angle of twist under the
same circumstances as before; or, that its strength is to
that of the ropes which form it simply as the cosine of
the angle of twist. This, in usual cases, will be nearly as
eighty-seven to a hundred, that is, there are thirteen parts
in every hundred of the strength lost in forming cable-laid
ropes.”
The following rule is given by Dr Robison for finding
the strength of ropes: Multiply the circumference of the
rope in inches by itself, and the fifth part of the product will
be the number of tons which the rope will carry. Thus,
in the experiment of Mr Chapman, the weakest tarred rope
459
Hope.
460
Hope-
making.
HOP
R O P
broke with two tons, and by our rule we find that it ought Ws hand -d bJ
DrOKe wiiu w   j : . , , .
to carry with safety one ton eleven hundredweight.
' The following rule may also be of use. Io find the
weight in pounds of a foot in length of any hempen rope,
multiply the square of the circumference m inches by 0*04o
for shroud-laid ropes, and by 0*027 for cables. («• s.)
Rope-making is the art of combining fibrous materials,
by twisting in such a manner as to form a continuous fiexi-
We have before stated, that the fibres used for this pui-
the fibres nearly to where he grasps the bunch. He then
takes hold 'of the finished end, and operates on the part
w hich he before had grasped. To facilitate these operations,
he from time to time oils the hemp with a little whale-oil.
When the hemp is combed out and split as perfectly as the
first size of hackle enables the workman to do, he carries it,
if it be necessary for the purpose intended, to the next in
degree, and so on to the last. The short fibres which are
pulled out of the bunch by the hackle, and remain sticking
We Have oeiore suucu, umi, ^ „ a L :t arp collected from time to time bv the workman, as
pose are those of flax and hemp; the former for small lm<* “'‘’i and are laid aside. They are after-
and cords only, and the latter for all k'nds of cor*, hrom tne^ ^ ^ ^ hactle t0 lay the fibres straight, and
the smallest to the largest. The preparation , d t] name 0f tow use(i in making inferior ropes,
tore of hemp and flax into such articles as ”e ^ are “nder^^ h.3 J he iays
ed for, being the same m both, we mean, in the tollowm^ them aside in bu„dles for the spinner.
sketch of these operations, to spea j. K; nd The operation of hackling would seem to require little
rial made use of. This article we ^‘a-" "om K.0a “0 , of the workman. but this is by no means
St Petersburg Whence "fife to the case, as bad workma nship would convert the greater
bundles, weighing, according to quality, from forty-five o tn® case, 'Hackling is performed in a
sixty-five poods each, the pood bang ?qual to *irty-s,x gart o‘ rte hemp^ ^ ^ b| neal. t0 where
pounds avoirdupois. °n *d fis thrown flimthe the threads are spun, that the spinners be not put to un-
great bundles are cut up, a I i hi h necessary expense of time in getting their stuff.
about twelve ^jut^s.^Thes^sttwlUjundlerareTermed heads; ^-The place where the operat.
Hop
makii
and in this condition the rope-manufacturer gets his raw
“rhffibres of hemp, of a good quality, should be long,
fine, and thin ; smooth and glossy on the surface ; of a yel-
The place where the operation of spin¬
ning is carried on, is one division of a walk or alley termed
the rope-walk, and is generally enclosed by walls, and roof¬
ed over ; and in some places where ropes and twine are made,
the building is in two stories, the rope-yarns being spun
fine, and thin ; smooth anu ^ y ^ small ieces of below, and the twine in the loft above
lowish-green colour i and free P whic^ remain The walk for rope-yarns is, according to circumstances,
the boon or woody fibre ot the ‘it b y f om 600 t0 i200 feet long, and the width is regulated by
after the operation of braking i ^d fiiey should, above a , ^ of the busines°to be carried on. One end of
possess the essential ^a ? 1 lyin| iong in the walk is termed the head or fore-end, and the other the
Hemp loses miny of J l losef its foot or back-end; at both ends the machines for commum-
warehouses; an^ "™n shippe p and is cating twist t0 the yarns are erected; and along both sides
glossy appearance, be<»mes what ^ ‘e > th| walli> at equal distances, and opposite to each other,
’“pernio erected Pos?s. Between every pair of posts a rad
following order, viz.
1st, Hackling the hemp. ,
2dly, Spinning or twisting the fibres into threads or yarns.
3dly, Tarring the yarns.
4thly, Making the yarn into strands.
5thly, Laying or forming the strands into ropes, called
hawser-laid ropes. ui i • ^
Gthly, Laying or forming hawser-laid ropes into cable-laid
r°?lst, Hackling.—To prepare the fibres for the use of the
spinner, they are drawn over pronged instruments called
hackles, which clear from them the refuse, and split them
into different degrees of fineness, to suit the size ot thread
into which they are to be spun. . ,. ,
Fig 1 is a representation ot a hackle of the laigest kind*
called a cag. Here aa is a strong board; and bb steel
prongs, polished and tapered, and made very sharp at the
point.
The prongs of the next
size of hackle are smaller
and closer set, and so on,
diminishing to the finest
size, which reduces the
fibres to the last degree
of tenuity.
The operation of hack¬
ling is performed in the
following manner, rpUa
stretches across the walk, at the height ot eight feet above
the ground; and along the under side of the rail, hooks are
fixed, on which the yarns are hung as they are spun; and to
one of the upright posts of each pair a large hook is fasten¬
ed, on which the yarns are hung when collected together.
Fig. 2 shows this arrangement; aaaa being the upright posts,
Fig. 2.
bb the rails stretching across the spinning walk, ee the h^
for the yarns, and cc the large hooks on which the collected
mass of yarns is hung. At the head of the walk a stout
post is fixed in the ground, and to it the yarns are fastened
as they are finished. At the foot of the walk a similar po,
is fixed for the same purpose. These posts must be at that
side of the walk on which the large hooks are fixe .
The walks on which small threads lor twines and small
operator stands at a convenient distance in front of the cords are SP™’m1pla1^0f]yhi^ mortises sunk in the
hackles, which are fixed on a steady bench at a proper about three [ee^ lo^^t loosely ^t ^ ^ ^ above the
height. He then takes a bundle of hemp, and divides it top of upright posts, ab - upright pins are fixed,
into0 such portions as he can conveniently grasp. One of ground; and along the top of the rail upn0ht i
these he holds firmly by one end, and draws it over the to keep the tin eads separate. j of tw0 up.
hackle, beginning with the end of the bunch farthest from The spinning machines toi rope >ains
n
HOP E-M A K IN G.
461
right posts, aaa, fig. 3, between which the wheel bb is hung
on its axis c. A belt from this
wheel passes over and gives Fig. 3.
motion to a number of small
pulleys, called whirls, ddd, in¬
serted in a circular arc ee,
called the head, fixed to the
1 top of the posts. The axis of
‘ each of these pulleys is pro-
! longed in front of the head,
3 and bent into a hook, as shown
more distinctly at f; and on
1 this hook the fibres of hemp
are hung to be twisted.
s The spinning-wheel for the
smaller sorts of threads differs
e ; from this chiefly in being smal-
is ler, and having the parts slight-
:r ly modified to suit the dimi-
a nation of size.
‘e The operation of spinning
p is conducted as follows. The
spinner takes a bundle of hemp of sufficient size to make
v one or more threads the whole length of the walk; he puts
d this bundle round his waist, the bight or double being in
f- front, and the ends passing each other at his back; and he
e,
in
)y i
of I
he '
ii- |
es I
er, $■
ail fl- I
ve |
ire >■
to |
in- (
er. [
its, I
i*
[ed
jot
ied
Ost
ia!
iall
ills
he
he
r
secures it in this position by buckling a strap round it, or by
fastening it with his apron. He then draws out from the
face of his bundle as many fibres as he thinks will make the
size of yarn required ; the bight of these fibres he hangs on
one of the whirl-hooks, and the wheel being now turned by
an assistant, it throws twist or turn into the fibres. The
spinner having laid a piece of thick wToollen cloth in the
hollow of his right hand, with the end hanging over his fore¬
finger, grasps with it the fibres he had drawn out, pressing
them firmly with his thumb and forefinger, the interposed
cloth preserving his fingers from being cut by the fibres as
they pass. He now walks backward down the wTalk, that is,
from the head to the foot, the wheel-man all the w’hile
turning the wheel just so fast as to keep the turn or twist
up to the spinner, of which he is admonished by signs made
by the left hand of the latter, or, in complete establish¬
ments, by a bell, the cord of which traverses the walk. The
aim of the spinner is to regulate the supply of fibres from
his bundle in such a manner as to render the thread equal
in size throughout. This he does with his left hand, draw¬
ing back the fibres as they enter his right hand in too great
number, and pulling forward more when the supply is de¬
ficient in quantity. He takes care, too, that many ends of
fibres do not come together in the same place, and that they
so arrange themselves as that the strength of the thread
shall be equal throughout. If the spinner slacken his grasp
of the fibres with his fore-finger and thumb, the turn will
pass his hand, and the thread will be spoiled; and it is ne¬
cessary not only that the thread be firmly grasped by the
thumb and fore-finger, but also by the w'hole hand, that it
may be compressed and moulded into a cylindrical form.
We have hitherto described the operation as performed
by one spinner; but as many spinners may work together
as there are whirls in the head. Suppose, then, that all
the spinners have set on, as the fastening of their threads
to the whirls is termed. They proceed together down the
walk, and when they are a few paces below the first rail,
b, fig. 2, every man throws his thread on one of the hooks,
and so at each rail, until they arrive at the foot. They
then join the ends of every pair of yarns, and hang them
over the post already mentioned ; and for the convenience
of afterwards separating them, the pairs are kept apart in
the following manner. A piece of twine is tied by its mid¬
dle to the first pair, a little in advance of the post; the se¬
cond pair is then put over the post, and the string is tied
over them ; and in like manner every pair is tied in. This Ilope-
is called nettling. The spinners now set on at the foot or making,
back-end wheel, and spin up the walk. The fore-end wheel-
man having unhooked the yarns from the whirls of his
wheel, and hung them over the post, and tied them in pairs
as at the back-end, proceeds down the walk, collecting the
yarns from the hooks of the rails, and laying them in a
heap in the large hooks c, c, fig. 2. When the spinners again
spin down the walk, these same operations are performed
by the back-end wheel-man. When the collected yarns
number about 400, they are coiled up in a haul, and are
ready either for tarring, or laying into white ropes. Pre¬
vious to the haul being taken up for tarring, there is a
slight turn put into it to keep it from getting entangled in
the tar-kettle. In the government rope-works, by the re¬
gulations of 1802, the spinners had to produce, from a bun¬
dle of hemp weighing 64 lbs., 18 threads of 170 fathoms
each; 400 of such threads constituted a haul, and weighed
12 cwt. 2 qrs, and when tarred 15 cwt.
3dly, Tarring.—The next operation is that of tarring.
This is variously performed. Here we shall describe the ‘
simplest method of doing it.
The apparatus used in tarring consists of a copper bedded
in brickwork with a proper furnace below, and flues around
it. The copper is termed the tar-kettle, and at one side of
it is erected a strong frame, in which a capstan works.
Fig. 4 shows this arrangement. Here a is the kettle; bb the
frame; cc the capstan, which may be turned either by ma¬
nual labour, or horse or other power; dd a truck, on which the
haul is being coiled away as it comes from the capstan ; and
ee small rollers by which the haul is supported. In the up¬
right nearest the boiler is fixed the nipper for squeezing the
superfluous tar out of the haul. The nipper is drawn to a
Fig. 4.
meter ; above it another plate bb
slides, and out of its lower edge a
semicircular piece is cut, corre¬
sponding to the hole in the lower cgeft
plate, so that by sliding this plate
down, the aperture is diminished.
A lever dd of the second order is
fixed at one end to the chain c,
and presses on a stud fixed on the
upper plate, so that by moving the
weight on the lever the yarn may be pressed to the degree
necessary as it passes through the aperture", and as the tar
oozes out of the yarn, it is received and carried back to the
kettle by the spout/, fig. 4.
The tar having been put into the kettle and heated to
the proper degree, which is about the temperature of boil¬
ing water, and is known to the workman, in the absence of
more correct means, by a scum closing over its surface, the
462
R O P E-M A KIN G.
Rope- superintendent begins to pass through the haul. A rope
making. attaciied to the capstan is passed through the nippers, and
 attached to the end of the haul. The haul is then coiled
gradually into the kettle, and the capstan is moved round.
The haul is thus drawn slowly through the tar, and the
superfluous tar squeezed out of it as it passes through the
nippers, the superintendent regulating the weight on the
lever, so as to produce the required pressure ; and the end
of the haul, as it comes from the capstan, is coiled away, or
reeled upon large reels. In this operation the heat of the
tar is the most important point to be attended to. It it be
too hot, the yarn will be charred ; and it too cold, it will be
black, whereas yarn intended to be made into ropes should
be of a bright-brown colour. The proper heat is indicated,
as was before stated, by a scum closing over the surface of
the tar, which takes place at
about 212° Fahrenheit. If
this scum do not rise, the tar
is too cold ; and if there be
an appearance of ebullition,
the tar is too hot.
Stilly,Forming Strands.—
The yarn is now ready for
the next operation, which is
the making of the strands.
This comes under the head
of laying. The place where
this and the subsequent
operations are carried on is
termed the laying-walk; it is generally part of the alley
of which the spinning-walk forms a portion, and it may be
of such a width as to allow of many ropes being made at
one time. The fixtures of this walk consist of tackle-
boards and wheels for twisting strands, and stakes and stake-
heads for supporting them. The tackle-board for twisting
large strands is fixed at the head, and is represented in fig.
6 ; aa strong upright posts, bb a plank pierced with holes
corresponding to the
number of strands in Fig. 7.
a rope, which is gene¬
rally three. Through
these holes winches,
called forelock hooks,
work. Fig. 7 is an en¬
larged section of the
board, with a forelock
hook in its place; a is
the handle, b a collar
working against the
board, and c the fore¬
lock let into an eye in that end of the hook which points down
the walk. Fig. 8 is a re-
Figr. 9.
porting the strands when twisting, and extending from the
top to the bottom of the walk. These
are represented in fig. 9, where aa is an
upright post, called the stake, firmly
fixed, and standing four feet above
the gi'ound ; and b the stake-head, let
through a mortise in the upright at
foot below the head of the post. In'
the stake-head there are upright pins,
between which the strands are laid,
as seen by the drawing. There are
also posts at the head and foot for fas¬
tening the yarns to when run out for laying. As twisting
the strands shortens them, it is necessary to provide at the
foot moveable machines for communicating twist. These
are called sledges; the largest are formed as in fig. 10, and
the smaller sizes as in fig. 11.
Fig. 10.
b
Itoj.
makj
presentation of one of the
wheels for twisting smaller
strands ; bbb being pinions
with their axes prolonged,
and bent into hooks at b'; aa
is the driving-wheel, moved
round by the winch c, and
dd is a strong post fixed at
the head of the walk, and
to which the wheel is at¬
tached in such a manner
that it can be easily dis¬
engaged, and a larger or
smaller wheel applied, as
the rope may require. Cor¬
responding to every twist¬
ing apparatus, at the head
there is a row of bearers
or stake-heads for sup-
Fig. 8.
In fig. 10, aa corresponds to the tackle-board, and is call¬
ed a breast-board; it is bolted to the uprights lb, which
again are firmly fixed and stayed to the frame cccc. The
part of the frame behind the uprights is called the tail ot
the sledge, and on it are laid weights to afford pressure
enough to keep the strands stretched. These weights con¬
sist of old tar-barrels filled with clay, and are called press-
barrels. In laying large ropes, sufficient pressure cannot be
obtained by the barrels; and in that case a double block
and tackle is used, one end being fastened to a strong bolt
behind the sledge, and the other to the tail of the sledge,
and with the tackle-fall a turn or two is taken round a
post. The smaller sledges (fig. 11) have only one upright
post, to which some one of the wheels, similar to fig. 8, is
fixed ; and they have likewise two trucks to run on.
Fig. 11.
the first are the tops
Fig. 12.
Of the smaller implements used,
(fig. 12) for laying the strands into
a rope. These consist of conical
blocks of wood, of different sizes,
having three equidistant grooves
along their surface, and pins through
them laterally, serving for handles.
A piece of soft rope is attached to
each handle of the top by its bight,
and the ends are used to wrap round
the rope in the process of laying.
These ropes are called tails. When
the top is very large, it requires to
be supported on a sledge, as shown in fig. 13; and in that
HOP E-M A K IN G.
pe- case the tails are attached to the
“’g- sledge. Woolders are stout pins
with a rope fastened to one end,
and are used to assist the action of
the machine in twisting the rope.
In addition to the above, there is
used in making white ropes a rub¬
ber, formed of steel rings inter¬
woven like linked mail; and it is
probably from the resemblance that it is termed a mail.
In the operation of laying, the yarn is first warped for
the strands. The haul is run out along the bearers of the
laying walk, and the number of yarns' for the size of rope
about to be made is separated from it by means of the
nettling. The separated yarns are then divided into three
equal portions. Each portion is laid in a separate division of
the bearers, and hung upon its hooks at the tackle-board
and sledge. I he sledge is then pulled backwards by the
tackle-purchase before described, until the yarns are all
stretched tight, and press-barrels are now laid on. When
things are in this position the threads are examined, and if
any be longer than the others, they are drawn up until
every yarn is equally tight. The hooks at each end are
now heaved round in time, and in a direction contrary to
the spinning twist; and each collection of yarns is twisted
round its axis, and becomes a strand. The twisting of the
strands shortens them, and draws the sledge up the walk.
When the torsion in all the strands is sufficient, or when,
in technical language, the strands are full hard, the twisting
is stopped. The sledge is then drawn up the walk a small
piece to slacken the strands and allow the outer ones to be
taken off their hooks and hung on the middle hook. It is
again drawn back by the purchase, and the top (fig. 12) is
inserted among the strands which will occupy its grooves.
The top is now forced back as near the hook of the sledge
as possible, and the workmen at the head again turn their
hooks in the same direction as before. As soon as the
workmen at the sledge perceive it moving forward, they
remove some of the pressure, and begin to turn their hook
in a direction contrary to its former motion. The top is
by this forced forward, and the three strands closing be¬
hind it form the rope. When the top gets far enough
from the sledge to admit of their application, the tails are
wrapped round the rope, and by their friction they enable
the workmen to keep the top from moving forward by jerks,
and they also make the rope close better. The care of the
topman is to regulate the speed of his top in relation to the
twist at both ends, the mean of doing which is simple. He
makes a mark across the strands at every bearer previous
to putting in the top. If, when the top reaches a bearer, he
find the mark above the bearer, then the turning at the fore¬
end is too fast for the motion of the top ; and if below the
bearer, then the. turning is too slow.
In the case of a very thick rope, the power of the men
applied to the hook of the sledge is insufficient of itself to
pass the turn up the rope. To aid them, other workmen
apply the woolders at necessary intervals between the sledge
and the top. The strap of the woolder is wrapped round the
rope, and the pin used as a lever to heave round the twist;
the workmen at the woolders keeping time in their heaving
with those at the hook of the sledge. And in the case of a
heavy rope, the top sledge (fig. 13) is made use of to sup¬
port the top.
I he mail is used for white ropes only. When the strands
are hardened, and before the top is put in, workmen rub the
strands with the mail to smooth down any rough fibres, and
give a good surface to the rope.
We have now seen that in the processes described, every
step is dependent on the skill of the workmen. In supply¬
ing fibres of hemp in due quantity to form the thread, in
giving the proper degree of twist to the thread, in giving
the strand the degree of hardness required, and in the pro¬
per speed of the laying top, the workman has no certain
guide ; and it is surprising that, although machinery for the
improvement ot almost every other manufacture had been
introduced, no attempt appears to have been made to apply
it to the art under consideration, until about 1783, when a
machine to supersede the necessity of a rope-ground was
invented by a Mr Sylvester; and this invention was followed
up by many others. Such of these as have come under our
notice are briefly described in the following account of them,
arranged according to their dates.
1783. About this time Mr Sylvester’s machinery was in¬
vented. In it the threads were spun by bobbins and spin¬
dles ; the three several quantities required for the strands
were wound on three separate reels, which turned individu-
ally lound their axes, and also round a common centre, by
which motions the rope was formed; and by the machinery
it was further wound up as it was made. This invention
was not patented, and w^as never carried into effect.
1784. In this year a patent w^as taken out by a Mr Sey¬
mour for improvements in rope-making ; but the invention
consisted in the substitution of animal for human power to
drive the ordinary machinery of the rope-work.
1792. In this year the Rev. Edward Cartwright took out
a patent fbi a rope-machine, which he called a cordelier.
A part of this machine was adopted by Mr Huddart in a pa¬
tent taken out by him in 1805. 1
In the machines of Sylvester and Cartwright the only
advantage proposed was the saving of labour. There was no
attempt made to improve upon the old defective principles
of rope-making ; the merit of the first attempt to do this is
due to the next inventor.
1793, March 16. John Daniel Belfour, of Elsineur, ob¬
tained a patent for machinery “ to improve the manufac¬
ture of ropes and cordage, by making every yarn employed
in the composition thereof bear its proper and equal propor¬
tion of the stress.” This the patentee proposed to effect
by keeping every yarn tight at the time of its being twisted
into the strand, so as to prevent its being puckered up in
the inside of it. For this purpose the yarns were by ma¬
chinery wound regularly on separate reels. The reels were
suspended in tiers in a square frame on iron spindles on
which they could turn freely; and by a contrivance the reels
could be made to turn round along with the spindles when
requiied, and motion in a similar direction could be given
to all the spindles at the same time. The yarns were spread
regularly on the reels by a simple apparatus. M hen the
yarns were so wound upon the reels in the frame, the ends
of those on the first or lowest tier of reels were carried down
the rope-walk, and dropped into the separators, one of which
was placed at every fifteen fathoms or so. These separators
consisted of a series of vertical bars, fixed to a frame at their
lower end, the upper ends being left free ; into the inter¬
vals between these bars the yarns were dropped, and the
different tiers kept separate by horizontal iron rods passed
through holes in the side bars, so as to divide the whole
frame into a series of reticulations; and these rods were
so contrived as to be withdrawn separately or together. By
being passed through these reticulations, the threads would
be suspended at equal distances from each other from the
top to the bottom of the walk, and, if meant to form one
strand, would be hung on the hook which was to give them
motion; and on the reels in the frame would be left just so
much yarn as the strand should take up in hardening. The
strand would then be ready for twisting; and to do this in
such a manner as to make every yarn occupy its proper
place, Mr Belfour employed an instrument called a top-mi¬
nor. This was a block of wood formed somewhat like a
sugar-loalj and having inserted round its larger circumfe¬
rence a number of projecting pins. Into the recesses form¬
ed by these pins the yarns were inserted, and motion being
463
Rope-
making.
464
HOP E-M A K I N G.
Hope-
making.
given to the wheel, the top was moved slowly up the walk
by the workman, the reels at the same time giving out the
yarns as they were taken up by the twisting. When the
workman arrived at the first separator, the iron rods were,
by the contrivance already alluded to, at once withdrawn, and
the yarns left free, and so the workman proceeded until he
arrived at the reel-frame, when the turning or heaving at the
hook was stopped, and the strand prevented from untwist¬
ing, by being seized in a kind of nipper formed of iron.
The ends of the yarns were then unfastened from the reels,
and the strand was completed. By increasing the size of
the reel-frames and separators, and by using three top-
minors fixed to a sledge or otherwise, three strands could
at the same time have been formed. I he strands formed
by this machinery were then laid together into ropes in the
ordinary manner. .
1793. In April 12th of this year, Mr Richard Fothergul
obtained a patent for rope-machinery, embracing the follow¬
ing objects: First, freeing the hemp from its native husk,
and fitting it for the subsequent processes ; secondly, dress-
in0- the hemp, and drawing it out into slivers fit for spin¬
ning ; thirdly, spinning the hemp; and, fourthly, twisting or
making it into ropes or cordage. All these operations re¬
quired no rope-walk to carry them on. Engravings oi the
machinery wall be found in the fourteenth volume of the
second series of the Repertory of Arts.
1793. In April 25th, Mr Joseph Huddart took out a pa¬
tent for certain improvements in the formation of ropes.
His method of registering the strands, in order to acquire
an additional degree of strength, by giving the length of
the yarns which compose the strand a certain ratio, ac¬
cording to the angle and hardness or compression the rope
is intended to be" laid with, and thereby acquiring a more
equal distribution of the strain upon the yarns than ropes
made in the common way, consisted of the following prin¬
ciples : First, by keeping the yarns separate from each other,
and drawing them from bobbins which revolve, to keep up
the twist whilst the strand is forming; secondly, by passing
through a register which divides them by circular shells of
holes,"the number in each shell being agreeable to the dis¬
tance from the centre of the strand, and the angle the yarns
make with a line parallel to it, and gives them a proper
position to enter; thirdly, by a cylindrical tube, vyhich com¬
presses the strand, and maintains a cylindrical figure to its
surface ; fourthly, by a gauge to determine the angle which
the yarns in the outside shell make with a line parallel to
the centre of the strand when registering, and according
to the angle made by the yarns in this shell, the length of
all the yarns in the strand will be determined; lastly, by
hardening up the strand, and thereby increasing the angle
in the outside shell, which compensates for the stretching
of the yarns and compression of the strand.
In this, as in Bel four’s invention, the registering appara¬
tus was moved up the rope-w-alk by the twisting of the
strand; but the machine differs from Belfour’s in the fol¬
lowing particulars. First, in place of the bobbins or reels
being fixed in an upright frame, they are placed in hori¬
zontal ranges, each range rising higher from the front to¬
wards the back part of the machine. Secondly, in place of
the separator of Belfour, sets of horizontal rails, notched
to receive the yarns, and hung in cleats fixed to upright
posts, are placed at regular intervals down the walk, so as
to keep the yarns separate the wEole length of the strand.
Thirdly, in place of Mr Belfour’s top-minor, a plate pierced
with concentric circles of holes is made use of, the circles
beine; about two inches asunder; and behind this plate a
smaller plate, pierced wdth a similar number of holes, is
fixed, the holes in the latter plate being so close together
as merely to keep the yarns clear ot each other. Imme¬
diately behind this last plate is fixed a tube made of thin
steel, of a spring temper, and in two parts longitudinally;
the thin edges of the one part overlapping those of the Ropo
other, and the two parts being compressed by a thong or ^makl1
wire wound round them several times, and fastened to the
jaws of an instrument called a heaver. By means of this,
the yarns, in passing through the tube, can be compressed
by a constant force; and if the yarns be thicker or smaller
in different parts of the strand, the tube will expand or con¬
tract, to suit the difference of size.
In addition to these, an instrument called a register-gauge
is used to measure the angle of twist ot the yarns in the
strands, with the view to employ the same twist w’hen the
strands are formed into a rope. Some of the parts of the
machinery above noticed, it will be seen, have been adopted
by other inventors, and some of them are still in use.
1797, September 13. At this time Mr William Chap¬
man of Newcastle obtained a first patent for laying, twist¬
ing, or making ropes or cordage, ot any number of yarns
or strands, or any number of threads tarred or untarred,
from the size of a cable down to the smallest line formed
of more than one thread. The machinery for this purpose
was less complicated than those formerly mentioned, but
was only capable of forming ropes on the common prin¬
ciple. In the month of January 1798 he obtained a pa¬
tent for Scotland for further improvements in rope-machi¬
nery, and containing the substance of his former one and
of another taken out for England on the 6th of March
1798. The inventions embrace the making of ropes either
by stationary machines, or by moving machinery on a rope-
walk. In the former, the operations of forming the yarns
into strands, twisting the strands into a rope, and coiling
away the rope, on reels or otherwise, go on at the same
time. One of the arrangements of the machinery by which
these different operations are carried into effect, is as fol¬
lows. Three or more discs, according to the number of
strands, are placed round a common centre, with their
planes inclined to each other in such a manner that their
produced axes would meet in a given point. These discs
are by7 the inventor termed strand-tables, and each ot them
is fixed to a hollow shaft, capable of revolving round its
axis ; which shaft is called the strand-shaft or upper shaft.
These shafts are on the sides of the discs which are inclin¬
ed to each other. On the opposite sides of the discs yarn-
reels are suspended on spindles, on which they can turn
freely. The yarns from the reels are passed through the
shafts, and by the turning of the discs or strand-tables they
are twisted into strands. ^ In a part of the shaft there is a
transverse opening to admit of two blocks of hard wood oi
other matter being applied on each side to press the yarns,
and retard their passage through the shafts, so that they may
be twisted to the degree required. These blocks are call¬
ed press-blocks or compressors, and are held together by
springs or weights. Instead of blocks the patentee some¬
times substitutes rollers moving round their, axes, and hold¬
ing the yarns by their friction. Besides these, the yarns
pass through a perforated plate called a yarn-guide.
The strand-tables all move round in one direction, and
the strands as they proceed from the shafts are concen¬
trated into a point, over a fixed grooved block, correspond¬
ing to the top in the ordinary process. Behind this block
the strands are received into a hollow axis, which turns
round in a direction contrary to the twist of the strand-
tables, and in which the strands are formed into a shroud-
laid rope, by being twisted by the apparatus attached to
the shaft. This consists of a pair of wheels or sheaves,
moving easily on their axes, to admit the rope a free pas¬
sage, and at the same time compel it to twist equally round
with the shaft. These sheaves are grooved in such a man¬
ner as to prevent the rope from turning sideways, and are
called twisting-sheaves. Instead of the sheaves moving
freely on their axes, such a motion may be given to them as.
in every revolution of the rope-shaft, which makes one turn
HOP E-M A K IN G.
ope-
king.
of the rope, the groove of the sheaves shall move such a
space as is equivalent to the length of rope that is designed
^ to be made by every turn. When the rope has passed
through these sheaves, it is coiled upon a reel in such a
manner as merely to require tying up ; but if too unwieldy
for reeling, it is coiled on a revolving platform. Such is
an outline of the process of making shroud-laid ropes by
Mr Chapman’s machinery. For cable-laid ropes the same
or similar machinery is used, the chief difference being, that
in cable-laid ropes the twists are contrary, and the disparity
of turns in the strands and rope not so great as in shroud-laid
ropes ; for which reasons, if the same machine be used, the
means must be provided for making the shaft to assume
contrary motions, and making them to move in different
proportions.
“ By the method previously described,” says Mr Chap¬
man, “ for making a complete rope at one operation, I,
during the act of making the strands, unite them into a
rope by means of what I then call a rope-shaft, in which
they are all concentred, and receive the twist which forms
them into a rope ; but I also occasionally omit the concen¬
tring of them, and the subsequent part of the operation,
during the making of the strand or strands, and in place
of twisting them into a rope, I only draw the strand for¬
ward as made, and coil it or them in any manner whatso¬
ever, they in this instance having no rotative motion.
The apparatus for drawing them forward is not fixed to
the revolving shaft, containing the reel or reels and other
necessary appendages, but may be permanent, and receive
its motion in any proportion whatever to the revolutions or
twists given to the strand by that shaft.
“ The principles of making the strand in these two dif¬
ferent ways are obviously portions of the process that would,
as has been described, make the whole rope at one opera¬
tion. And these two methods of making the strand, inde¬
pendently of making the complete rope, are reducible to
the following principle : That in making a strand simply,
one end need only to be twisted, and the other held from
turning, but that both be permitted to pass forward, and
progressively change place; and that the yarns be, if deemed
necessary, so regulated as to come off these reels in such a
manner as the part of the strand they come into may require.
“ There is a third method of making a strand, com¬
pounded of the two preceding, which may be followed,"viz.
that of using two revolving shafts in place of one ; the reels
being placed on one of them, and the strand coiling upon
the other. These two shafts ought to turn in contrary di¬
rections to each other.”
The part of the invention in which a common rope-walk
is made use of is thus described by the inventor : “ At the
head of the ropey, or in any other part, I fix upon pins so
many reels as will contain all the yarns requisite for a strand,
or the given number of strands determined to be made at
one time, each reel containing one or more yarns; then in
the instance of making three strands, I fix to three different
hooks on the foreboard of a sledge, so many yarns, separate¬
ly concentring to each other, as are requisite; the yarns
being previously passed through the openings of these se¬
parate fixed tops or yarn-guides, one opposite to or corre¬
spondent with each hook. Before, or on the face, or on the
face of each top, toward the sledge, there may or may not be
fixed a cylinder, such as I have described, below the laying
block at the head of the rope-shaft. The yarns are then to
be prevented from passing too easily off their reel, either by
a pressure on the reels themselves, or on the yarns in their
passage to or upon their separate tops, or in any manner that
will permit them to come off as wanted.
“ The men are then to heave upon, or turn round, the
hooks of the sledge in the usual way; and the only re¬
maining difference consists in the sledge being drawn pro¬
gressively backwards, as the strand is making, until the
. VOL. XIX.
whole, or any determinate part, of the strand be made.
The process of drawing back the sledge may be done in (
various ways ; amongst others, by a rope to a capstan,'
moved either by a horse or men, according to the strength
requisite.” W7 hen the strands are thus twisted, the rope
may be completed in the usual wray. Such, then, is a brief
outline of the general features of these important inven¬
tions of Mr Chapman; but his own specification, with il¬
lustrative drawings, will be found in the ninth volume of the
first series of the Repertory of Arts.
1798. In this year also Mr Belfour obtained a patent for
an improvement on his former machinery; and in 1799 Mr
Belfour’s machinery was adopted in the government-yards,
and the sum of L.4000 was paid to the inventor for his su¬
perintendence of the erection of his machine, and the use of
his patent.
1798. November 8th, Mr Chapman at this time patent¬
ed an invention, which was so to regulate the motion of the
sledge that for every revolution of the strand it should move
backward through the exact length of axis assigned to it,
and thus render the twist uniform. The sledge, in this case,
travelled backwards on a railroad; and along the whole length
of the walk, a rope, called a ground-rope, was laid. This rope
was passed in the form of an S round two or more grooved
wheels, which were pressed together so as to bind the rope,
and having upon their axles toothed wheels connecting
them with each other, and with the hooks for twisting the
strands, which in this case were driven by one great crank.
Thus, when the hooks were driven by the crank to twist
the strands, the sledge wTas also moved backwards by the
grooved wheels acting upon the rope ; and by changing the
connecting toothed wheels the backward motion could be
given in any ratio to the twist of the hooks. Besides this,
Mr Chapman connected the sledge by a rope to a horse
capstan at the foot of the walk; and as the horse’s power
applied to the capstan could not draw the sledge faster back¬
wards than the ground-rope permitted, the spare power was
of course given in aid of the twisting of the strands by means
of the wheels which connect that operation with the back¬
ward motion.
1798. November 17th, Mr John Curr of Sheffield took a
patent for forming flat ropes for the use of mines, &c.
“ The said flat rope may be formed,” says Mr Curr, “ by
connecting two or more small ropes sideways together, by
sewing or stitching, lapping, or interlacing them with thread,
or small rope made of hemp, flax, or other fit material, or
with brass or iron wire, in such a manner as to prevent their
separating from each other, and so as to cause them to ex¬
hibit, as nearly as possible, a flat form, or flat pliable rope.
1799. April 30th, Mr Belfour obtained another patent
for a further improvement on his invention. This consisted,
among other things, in winding a number of yarns, not ex¬
ceeding four, upon each reel, and forming them, as before,
into strands. He farther proposed to spin the hemp after
having been tarred; and also to place a spinning-wheel at
each end of the rope-walk, to enable the spinners to spin
both up and down in the manner now practised. If we
mistake not, this method of spinning up and down is men¬
tioned by Duhamel as being in use in his time. However
this be, it was, on Mr Belfour’s recommendation, adopted
in the government rope-works, and, according to the report
of Mr Fenwick, the master rope-maker at Chatham, a sav¬
ing was effected by it to the amount of a sixth part of a
day’s work to each man.
1799. July 26th, Mr William Chapman, in conjunction
with Mr Edward Chapman, took a patent for many improve¬
ments in the art; the first of which was for machinery to spin
the yarns in such a manner that the fibres of hemp, on en¬
tering the thread, were shortened in proportion to their proxi¬
mity to the axis ; and further, that by this machinery, wo¬
men, children, and invalids could be employed as spinners.
3 N
465
Rope-
making.
466
Rope-
making.
R G P E-M A KIN G.
Although the yarn thus produced was of superior strength
to hand-spun yarn, yet, as it was attended with additional
' cost in the manufacture, the invention was laid aside.
The next part of the invention was in the application of
locomotive power to the machinery of the rope-work. Part
of this consisted in the application of an endless rope, reach-
ins from' end to end of the rope-walk, and moved with
considerable speed, to any of the machines, whether station¬
ary like the fore-end wheels, or changing position like the
sledges. The application of the endless rope to the sledge
was effected by passing a turn round suitable grooved
wheels fixed to "the sledge, and capable of giving motion to
its machinery. By this machinery great advantages were
gained, as each revolution of the strands and the rope, and
the proper motion of the sledge, were predetermined and fix¬
ed by changes of wheels. For this purpose tables were made
out to show what wheels were to be used for each kind of
rope. Instead of two hundred men, the number usually
employed in closing a twenty-one inch cable, fourteen only
were required ; and they, with the help of the steam-engine,
which was only of eight horse power, were able to coil
away the rope w hen made.
1799. In the same month Mr Mitchell obtained a patent
for a “ method of manufacturing cables, hawsers, or shroud-
Jaid ropes, and other cordage, on scientific principles.”
These principles consisted in combining by twisting the
integral yarns of a strand, in numbers of two, three, or more,
previous to their being formed into the strand, and there¬
by lessening the strain on the external yarns when ulti¬
mately formed into a rope. I he strain on the external
yarns would doubtless be by this method lessened, but the
number of yarns exposed to external injury would, at the
same time, be increased. The ropes formed on this prin¬
ciple wrere by the patentee termed selvagee cordage.
1799. August 20th, Mr Huddart took out a patent for
an improvement on his apparatus of 1793. In this the re¬
gistering apparatus, instead of being moved up the walk,
was, like Mr Chapman’s press-blocks, fixed to the tackle-
board, and the machinery for twisting the strands was sta¬
tionary, and also contained apparatus for winding the strands
upon reels as they were formed.
* 1799. In the same month Mr Grimshaw obtained a patent
for improvements in rope-machinery, which consisted, first,
in dressing the hemp preparatory to spinning; secondly,
in winding up the yarn; thirdly, in preparing the yarns for
tarring ; and, fourthly, in laying the ropes or cordage. The
first step appears to be best entitled to notice. The hemp in
this was conducted to rotatory hackles through conical flut¬
ed rollers, by which means the hemp was equally mixed.
1800. July 1st, Mr Huddart took another patent for
further improvements in the manufacture of cordage. “ A
considerable expense,” says the patentee, “ is attached to
having the tarred yarns wound upon bobbins ; and also
the tar, especially when the ropes are laid in cold weather,
is not sufficiently incorporated amongst the yarns to render
it compact for durability, whether registered or laid in the
common wray. In order to obviate these inconveniences,
I have invented a method of registering the strands of ropes
during the operation of tarring the yarns, which may be
effected in the following manner. The white yarns must
be wound separately on reels or bobbins, and placed upon
a frame or otherwise, so that the yarns may be delivered
from them with as small and equal a tension as possible,
and to pass under rollers, or through holes, or between se¬
parating rods of wood or metal, to be guided into the tar,
when sufficiently heated in the kettle, and thence to the
register, separate from each other, to prevent entanglement,
until they enter the tube, which must be placed at the end
of the tar-kettle opposite to that where the bobbins of white
yarns are placed. The registering tube now acts in a
double capacity, viz. in forming the strand fair, as in ordinary
cases, and in acting as a nipper to squeeze out the superfluous Rope-
tar. The strands are now twisted as before, and the twist- v makiq»
ing forces out some more tar, which must be cleared off'^^Y^
by making the strand pass through the common adjustable
nipper plate.”
1801. July 16th, Mr William Hoard obtained a patent
for “ a portable machine for manufacturing ropes and cord¬
age of any length in a short space, particularly adapted for
shipping.” This machine consists of separate reels, one
containing the full length and number of yarns for a strand,
from which reel they are drawn out to such distance as
the two reels can conveniently be placed asunder, and are
attached to the other, which is then empty, one of the reels
being in a sledge or moveable frame. The process then
begins by twisting the intermediate length of strand, until
the reels have approached to each other the usual propor¬
tional space, namely, one fifth. The length of strand thus
made is then wound up on the second described reel, and
so much is let off from the first reel as to admit of their being
at their greatest distance asunder, which process is neces¬
sarily continued until the whole strand be made, and wound
up on the second reel. Lastly, three strands thus made
have their ends united to a fourth reel placed opposite to
them at its greatest convenient distance. By these four reels,
the process of making the rope is carried on similarly to
that of making a strand, except in the use of a top to regu¬
late the progress of the twist of the rope in its approach to
the three strand reels.
In 1801, Mr Archibald Thompson of Plough Court, Lom¬
bard Street, took out a patent for “ certain new or improved
machinery, for the purpose of spinning rope yarn and sail¬
cloth yarn, and for laying and making ropes and cordage.”
Mr Thompson’s invention includes the whole process of
spinning, tarring, and laying the cordage. Preparatory to
spinning, he draw's out the hemp into a long sliver, by differ¬
ent sets of chain hackles, moving wuth progressively greater
speed ; and in the end the sliver is spun by a spindle with
its plyer and bobbin into a thread. The threads remain
wound up on their bobbins until wanted to be made into a
rope, tarred or untarred. The bobbins are then, according
to the number of yarns wanted in a strand, placed so as to
form two circles of the same diameter, round an open cylin¬
der consisting of three hoops or rings, distant from each
other the length of a bobbin, and placed near to one end
of a long horizontal axis ; and, if the rope, be to be tarred,
the yarns are led through a ring of a few inches diameter,
near that end of the described open cylinder which has the
spare length of axis projecting from it. The yarns are then
diverged in different degrees, so as to form, when passed
longitudinally through an open cylindrical frame of several
feet in length, so many different concentric circles round
the axis mentioned, as there are different shells or concen¬
tric coats of yarns in the strand ; and from the further ex¬
tremity of this last-mentioned cylindrical frame, the yarns are
concentrated to one focus at the extremity of the axis, which
is there concave, and has an opening through which the
yarns pass to the machine which is to twist them i>Ro a
strand, and draw them forward to be coiled up within itself.
At the focal point described, there are nippers to express
the tar from the yarns, which is put into them in the fol¬
lowing manner, viz. the last-mentioned open cylinder, be¬
tween the ring from which the yarns enter to it, and the
perforation of the axis where they concentre and quit it,
lies over a tar-kettle, and has a portion of its lower half im¬
mersed in the tar, just so far as to imbue either the whole
or any portion of the yarns with tar, as may be deemed ex¬
pedient. This cylinder must, of course, turn round with
such a convenient degree of speed as not to let the yarns be
drawn off the cylinder before it comes in their rotation to
pass through the tar. When the full length of strand is
made, the twist of which is principally given by the revo-
R O P E-M A K I N G.
>pe- lution of the frame, in which it is progressively wound up
kinS- during the process of making, the yarns are cut off; and
three of these strands, from so many stationary strand frames,
each of which has performed the operation last described,
revolving only round its own separate axis, are concen¬
tred together, and pass through the axis of one end of a
rotatory frame, which twists them into a rope, and coils it
up, progressively as made, upon a barrel within the frame.
1801. Mr Cutting of the United States invented a me¬
thod of making lines and ropes. His machinery was of much
the same kind as Sylvester’s, Fothergill’s, and others already
described.
1802. January, a patent was granted to Mr Chapman
for his invention of the application of certain substances to
the preservation of cordage. This has already been noticed
under the head Rope.
1802. March 9th, a patent was obtained by Messrs
Mitchell and Son for further improvements in rope-making,
in addition to their patent of 1799. The specification of
this patent will be found in the second series of the Reper¬
tory of Arts (vol. viii. p. 241).
1804. Mr Huddart took out a patent for a machine for
manufacturing hemp and flax into yarn. We have seen
that in hand-spinning the fibres of hemp are spun into
the yarn by their bight or double, but by this invention
they were to be spun into the yarn by their end. The
spinner, in this case, instead of walking backwards, remain¬
ed stationary, with the machine containing the apparatus for
twisting at a little distance from him. In front of the spin¬
ner a table or other support, containing a number of up¬
right pins like those of the hackle, was fixed. This table was
made broad enough to hold on it half the length of the ar¬
ticle to be spun, while the other end was held by the spin¬
ner. The spinner commenced his work by drawing some
fibres of the hemp, and making them fast to the hook of a
whirl; the machine was then set in motion, and the spin¬
ner with his spinning cloth took hold of and compressed
the yarn as it was formed. By this means, says Mr Huddart,
in his description, the longest hemp or flax may be spun
without having its fibres reduced in length ; for the pins
before mentioned occasion all the fibres to be drawn out to
their full respective length, or nearly so, and also prevent
irregular drawing of the fibres.
It may not be amiss to mention in this place, that in
France a method of spinning fibres by the end instead of
the bight had long existed. Instead of the spinner fas¬
tening his bundle of hemp round his waist, it was fastened
to a distaff" by being laid along it and tied at the upper end,
and the distaff" was fastened by its lower end to the waist,
and lay on the left shoulder of the spinner ; the lower end
of the bundle of hemp thus hung loose, and the fibres were
spun into the thread endlong.
M. Duhamel made certain experiments to ascertain what
advantage this method had over the usual way of spinning
by the bight, and the result did not warrant him in recom¬
mending its adoption where the men had been accustomed
to the other mode.
1805. October 30th, Mr Huddard took another patent
for improvements in the manufacture of large cables and
cordage in general. This invention consisted of a machine
for twisting into ropes the strands formed by the machinery
formerly invented by him, and resembled in some parts the
machine of Mr Cartwright, called the cordelier.
In Mr Huddard’s machine the three strands were wound
on their separate reels, which were hung in frames having
a motion round their own axes, so as to give hardening to
the strands; and also a motion round a common centre in
an opposite direction, in order to combine the strands into
a rope. On the end of the axis round which the reels
were carried for the last-mentioned purpose, the top was
fixed, having in it three holes for the strands, and behind
467
the top the rope was passed round three whirls, in such a Rope-
manner as to regulate its tension while twisting. making.
. November 16th, Mr Curr ^secured by patent an '
invention of a method of laying or putting together the
strands which form a rope.
I he invention consisted, first, in so proportioning the
teeth of the wheel at the upper end of the walk which twists
the strands, to the teeth of that of the lower end which
closes the rope, that the workmen, by keeping time with
each other in their heaving round the winches of their re¬
spective wheels, would give the proper amount of harden¬
ing twist to the strands and closing twist to the rope ; and,
second, in regulating the motion of the laying-top, by hav’
ing attached to it the end of a line or wire which is wound
on a reel fixed to one of the wheels of the sledge, and made
to move with a certain velocity according to the size and
intended hardness of the rope.
1806. August 9th, Mr Ralph Walker of Blackwall took
out a patent for a new mode of making ropes and cordage,
applicable to the making of ropes and cordage of any size.
The machinery for effecting these purposes is on the
same principles as many of those already described; but the
arrangement of the parts is different, and very ingenious.
In place of the reels with their yarns being hung on the face
of three revolving discs, as in Mr Chapman’s machine, they
are arranged on the surface of three cylindrical flyers, and
the yarns are carried over rollers in the inside of the cylin¬
ders, and conveyed to their axes at one extremity, where
they are compressed by passing through a hole. These cy¬
linders, like the discs, revolve round their axes, and twist
the yarns at that point of the axis where they pass through ;
and they also revolve round a common axis, which is the
main shaft of the machine. When the strands leave the cy¬
linders they are guided by pulleys to a point in the main
shaft, where they are formed into a rope. The patentee also
describes a manner of tarring the yarns previously to their
being wound upon the reels. In this case the tar in the
kettle is heated by steam, and the yarns are passed through
the kettle under a large roller which keeps them immersed.
Engravings of all the machinery may be found in the Reper¬
tory of Arts, 2d series, vol. xxvi.
1806. In this year Mr Curr took out a patent for pro¬
portioning the number of twists in the yarns to the length,
moved by the spinners, so that they might elongate equally
on being untwisted in forming the strand. To effect this
purpose he had a cord wound upon a barrel attached to the
spinning-wheel, and receiving a determinate motion from
it; the end of this cord, when the spinners were going to
set off", was attached to any one of them, whose speed could
thus be regulated by the unwinding of the cord, and the
other spinners had to keep pace with him.
' 1807. October 30th, Messrs Chapman obtained a patent
for a method or methods of making a belt or flat band of
rope for mining and other purposes. This invention con¬
sisted in the combination of two or any greater number of
the strands of shroud laid-ropes placed side by side so as to
form any determinate breadth of belt or band; and in a
locomotive machine for stitching or riveting them together
when stretched at full length.
1808. June 25th, Mr S. Gadd took a patent for a method of
forming ropes, which consisted in twisting the threads together
in pairs, and forming the strands of these doubled threads.
1808. June 28th, Mr John Hall took a patent for regu¬
lating the twist of the thread in spinning, by means of an
endless band traversing the walk, and moved with a given
speed by pulleys fixed on the head of the spinning-wheel.
To certain parts of this band marks are attached. When
one of these marks is at the w heel, a spinner sets on, and
in spinning keeps pace with the motion of the band, as in¬
dicated to him by the mark.
1828. September 4th, Mr Robertson took a patent for ini-
468
Rope-
making.
HOP E-M A KIN G.
provements in the manufacture of hempen rope or cord¬
age. The improvements consist in impregnating the yarns
with tannin, by steeping them in an infusion of oak-bark,
catechu, sumach, or valonia, previous to their being twisted
into cordage.
1832. February 1st, Mr James Lang, fiax-dresser, Green¬
ock, obtained a patent for such improvements in the con¬
struction of the gill spreading or drawing heads, and rov¬
ing or spinning frames, as adapted them for the spinning of
rope-yarns. Fig. 14 shows a side view, and fig. 15 a top
view, of the first drawing or spreading machine ; and fig. 16
Fi<
on. By them the hemp is drawn into a sliver of a certain
state of fineness, and this sliver, after passing through the
delivering rollers, falls into the can g. When a certain quan¬
tity of sliver is delivered into the can, a bell is rung by the
machinery ; the filled can is then removed by the attendant,
and an empty one substituted. The filled cans are then
conveyed to the second drawing machine, which differs from
the first chiefly in being smaller, in having no spreading-
board, and in having a double set of rollers and gills in the
width, as will be seen by the top view, fig. 17. The cans
Fig. 17.
Hop}
containing the slivers from the first drawing machine are
placed at the end of this, in such number as may be requir¬
ed, and many slivers are then passed together through each
set of feeding rollers. After having been acted on by the
gills and the drawing rollers, the slivers may be delivered se¬
parately, or they may be combined, as showm in the draw¬
ing, by passing through a tray previous to entering the last
pair of delivering rollers. The slivers, after having been
subjected to a third drawing, in a machine the parts of
which are still finer than those of the second machine, are
carried to the roving or spinning machine. This machine
has feeding rollers, gills, and drawing rollers similar to the
drawing machines ; but the parts are still finer than those
of the last machine. In fig. 18 the spinning apparatus is
is a diagram illustrative of its mode of action. The same
letters refer to the same parts in all the figures. Here a is a
portion of a board called the spreading-board. Over the sur¬
face of this board an endless band of leather travels, in the
direction indicated by the arrow; and on this band the hemp
to be operated upon is spread. By the motion of the band
the hemp is carried forward until it is taken hold of by the
feeding rollers bb, by the motion of which it is carried on¬
wards to be acted on by the gills or travelling hackles ccc ;
and the gills are fixed to slips of brass screwed to bars wdiich
extend across the machine, as seen in fig. 15. These bars
pass through grooves formed in the links of an endless
chain, by the motion of which they are carried round; and
their ends move in peculiarly formed slits in the framing
of the machine, by which they are confined to their proper
course. By the gills being made to move faster than the
surfaces of the feeding rollers, they pass through the hemp
many times in the course of its passage across the space in
which it is acted on by them, and they are thus enabled to
split and straighten the fibres. The hemp now passes be¬
tween the drawing rollers e£, the surfaces of which can be
made to move from forty to sixty times faster than those of
the feeding rollers, according to the material Jo bej acted
shown. The slivers, on leaving the drawing rollers, pass in¬
to the trumpet-mouthed tubes aa. The upper part of these
tubes is in twro halves, one of which is fixed to the cross
rail of the machine, while the other is pressed against it }
means of a spring, in such a manner as gently to compress
the sliver on entering the tube. The bottom of the tu e is
set into another tube serving as a socket, and into this las
tube discs of felt or cloth are put, through which a slit is
made for the reception of the thread, which is thus com
ROPE-MAKING.
pressed and smoothed in the same manner as by the cloth
in hand-spinning. From these tubes the threads are led to
the flyers bb and bobbins cc, as in the ordinary spinning appa¬
ratus. Any degree of twist and of tension during twisting
can be given to the yarn, by making the bobbins take up
more or less of it for each revolution of the flyer ; and this
is simply effected by means of a drag formed of two steel
springs fixed to the bobbin-rail. The ends of the springs
partly embrace a peculiarly-formed pulley attached to the
bottom of the bobbin, and by means of a pinching screw
they can be made to bear with a greater or less degree of
pressure on this pulley, and, according to the amount of
pressure, the motion of the bobbin is in a greater or less
degree retarded.
These machines differ from those in common use chiefly
in the following particulars: 1st, In the distance between the
feeding rollers and drawing rollers being capable of altera¬
tion, to Suit longer or shorter hemp, by means of the
grooves in the framing of the machines, seen in the side
view, fig. 14 ; 2dly, in making the yarn to pass through the
compressible tubes and the felt discs, which act in a man¬
ner analogous to the cloth in the grasp of the workman in
hand-spinning ; 3dly, in the power which the manufacturer
has in regulating the tension and twist of the yarns while
forming, by means of the drag applied to the bebbins.
The yarn produced by this machine is of excellent qua¬
lity, and is much stronger than hand-spun yarn, as appears
from certain experiments made for the purpose of testing
them; the result showing, “ that the patent-spun yarns are
stronger than those of equal grist when spun by hand, and
from the best staple or long hemp, by fifty-five per cent.”
Mr Lang’s machinery has in consequence been adopted
by some of the most extensive rope-manufacturers in Great
Britain.
1832. August 8th, Mr Crawhall obtained a patent for
an improvement in the manufacture of flat rope, such as is
used in mines. It will be remembered that in Mr Curr’s
patent, the method described of forming these bands was by
sewing several ropes together side by side ; and the improve¬
ment of Mr Crawhall consists in adding such wheels to the
ordinary rope-work machinery as to enable it to make four
ropes of the same size, of the same material, twisted in the
same manner, and at the same time. By this equality of
the ropes greater strength is insured ; and they are put to¬
gether by sewing or plaiting, as in the other patents.
%1832. September 22d, Mr J. H. Kyan obtained a patent
for the application to cordage of his now well-known pro¬
cess of steeping materials in a solution of deuto-chloride of
mercury for the purpose of preserving them.
1833. May. Mr Norvel of Newcastle at this time took
out a patent for machinery for rope-making. In this ma¬
chinery the bobbins are, like Mr Walker’s, arranged on the
surface of cylindrical flyers, and in some of its other parts
there is a resemblance to that of Mr Chapman; but there
is much that is new, and the general arrangement appears
to be excellent.
1838. August 8, a patent was obtained by Mr John
Stewart, rope-manufacturer in Glasgow, for machinery for
spinning yarn, and forming lines, cords, and ropes.
In figs.* 19 and 20 a side and end view of the machine for
spinning are exhibited. Here aaa is the framing ; bb', a fast
and loose pulley on the principal shaft; ccc, bevel-wheels
on the same shaft, gearing into pinions fixed on the frames
ddd, which run in two bearings, one at the foot, and the
other at eee, fixed to the rail of the frame ; fff are sliver-
cans, with projecting pins for hanging them in the hooks of
the frames dd, so that any can may be shifted without dis¬
turbing the machinery; ^ is a roller moved by a belt
on the principal shaft, round which roller a turn of the
thread is taken as it comes from the cans, and the motion
of the roller, which may be increased or diminished at plea¬
Fig. 19.
469
Fig. 20. Rope-
making.
Fiff. 21.
sure, draws the thread away from the can more or less ra¬
pidly. The action of the machine will now be easily un¬
derstood. The cans having been filled with sliver at the
common drawing-frame, are hung in the hooks of the
frames; on motion being communicated to the machine,
the frames are turned round, and twist the sliver into a
thread; and as it is twisted, it is drawn away by the
roller.
An essential part of the machine remains yet to be de¬
scribed. This is the nipper, or apparatus for holding tight¬
ly and regulating the twist of the sliver; one of these is
fixed to each frame above its upper bearing. Fig. 21 is a
section, and fig. 22 a plan, of one
of the nippers to a large scale. In
it aa is a part of one of the frames,
bb the upper bearing, cc the hole
through which the sliver passes, d
a pinching screw to fix the nipper
in the top of the frame ; the part e
works through a parallel mortise
cut through the part ff of the nip¬
per. By turning the nut gg the
part ee is thrust into the mortise,
so as to allow the sliver to pass
through cc with more or less free¬
dom, as may be required. Any ir¬
regularity in the thickness of the
yarns is provided for by the spring
hh, which allows e to yield a little when a part of the yarn
happens to be thicker, or forces it
inwards when any part happens to
be smaller, than the general size,
while the steady pressure is main¬
tained by means of the nut gg.
Through this part of the appara¬
tus, then, the end of the sliver is
put previous to being carried to
the roller, and it is between this
and the roller that the sliver re¬
ceives its twist to convert it Into a thread or yarn. When
the yarns leave the roller they are wound on bobbins, or
made use of in some other manner. The patentee de¬
scribes a method of putting a slight twist into the slivers
before the cans are hung in the frames of this machine.
He also describes a modification of the frame, in which, in
place of the cans, bobbins may be used; and he describes
an apparatus for filling the bobbins. His machinery for
forming lines, cords, strands, and ropes is represented in
470
R 0 P E-M A K IN G.
Rope- fig. 23, a vertical, and fig. 24, an horizontal, section. Here
making. aaa is the framing; bbb, sliver cans, mounted each in its frame
ccc, which is furnished with a nipper at its upper bearing.
Fig. 23.
X
D
rection from under the bracket i, and meet in one which is Rope.
carried to the top of the spindle, where is fixed a nipper taking
similar to those of the can-frames. The roller v is for the wv>
purpose of pulling away the strand, cord, or rope, as it is
formed; and in this case is made slightly conical, so that
by shifting it along its shaft, the speed with which it draws
may be varied. The action of the machine wall be easily
comprehended. By the revolution of the spindle ee the
can-frames are carried round a common centre; and as
they turn they receive a motion, each round its own axis,
by means of the wheel r and the pinions ss. If sliver be
put into the cans and carried through their nippers, they
will be twisted into yarns between the nippers and the holes
in the upright spindle, and by the revolution of the spindle
they will be combined so as to form a strand or cord. If
in place of slivers strands be used, the result will be a rope.
The patentee further describes machinery for the formation
of flat ropes, or bands for mines and the like purposes.
Having thus, as far as in our power, given an account of
the progressive improvement of the art by the application
of machinery, we shall conclude with a description of the
most improved forms of machines and apparatus used in
laying ropes in the present day.
When the yarns have been spun upon Mr Lang’s or
other spinning machines, or by hand, they are wound from
the bobbins in a haul, upon a large octagonal reel about
eight or nine feet diameter: the number of yarns in the
haul are, of course, regulated by the conveniences of the
manufactory. The haul is then passed from this reel through
the tar-kettle, and, after undergoing the action of the nip¬
pers, is again wound upon a similar reel, from this reel
the yarns are wound singly' upon the reels or bobbins to
be used in the laying. The bobbins, with their yarns, are
then hung in frames, and the further machinery used is
an improved form of Mr Chapman’s locomotive apparatus.
The whole arrangement of these parts will be better under¬
stood from the drawings. In the drawings the connection
of the different parts with the moving power is not shown.
This may be steam, water, or any other power, and may be
placed in any convenient situation, so as best to serve all
the purposes of the establishment.
, Figs. 25 and 26 show the general arrangement of the
Fig. 25.
These can- frames run in brackets dd, cPd', fixed upon an
upright spindle ee ; the bottom bracket dd is shown in the
ground plan as a round plate, and the parts for the pivots
of the can-frames to run in are raised upon it partly on
each side. The spindle ee is made to revolve by means of
a bevel-pinion f fixed upon it, which pinion gears into a
wheel gg fixed upon the shaft hh. A belt from the pulley
communicates motion to the main shaft hh, which carries
a spur-pinion k, gearing into a wheel l fixed on the shaft
mm. Upon this shaft the cone nn is fixed, which by a belt
drives the cone o, running loose upon the main shaft h.
Upon the large end of this cone the bevel-wheel p is either
cast or fixed; and this gears into the pinion q fixed to the
wheel r, the teeth of which are in its inner edge. This
wheel with its pinion turns on the spindle ee, and its teeth
gear into spur-pinions ss, fixed on the bottom of the can-
frames. From the nippers at the top of the can-frame,
each sliver is conducted to a separate hole near the top of
the spindle ee ; these holes run upwards in an angular di¬
winding apparatus ; fig. 25 Fig. 26.
an end view, and fig. 26 a
back view, of a portion of
the winding-table, aa, reel
about eight feet diameter,
on which the haul is wound;
bb, frame containing eight
bobbins or reels ccc, fas¬
tened on vertical spindles
dd, on the lower end of which the pulleys ee are fixed; on
the horizontal shaft a corresponding number of pulleys
are fixed, to drive those of the vertical shaft by belts. no
end of the horizontal shaft carries a fast and loose pu ey
R 0 P
-5- to which motion is given by a belt from the driving power.
The apparatus for spreading the yarns on the reels consists
of a rail h', with loops or eyes opposite to each reel: through
these eyes the yarns are passed. The rail is supported by
two upright rods h, h, which slide through holes in the
brackets i, i. To these rods the alternating motion is given by
a chain connecting them with the lever k, which is wrought
by the heart-wheel m. Figs. 27, 28, 29, show the ar-
Fisr. 27.
R O S
471
Rosas.
Fisr 29.
rangement of the apparatus for twisting
the strands, and laying them into a rope.
an, the reel-frame; bb the register-plate,
through the concentric circles of holes of
which the yarns are put. These holes are
seen in the detached front-view of the
plate at B. Immediately behind the plate
the yarns are passed through the press-
blocks, one of which is figured detached „ „ m
at C. They are then hung on the hooks of the sledge cc.
These hooks are on the prolonged axes of pinions driven by
a spur-wheel d, w'hich again is driven by the mitred wheel
e. This wheel can be connected with either of the w heels/
and g, by means of a clutch wrought by the lever h. On the
end of the axes of these mitre-wheels the pinion k is fixed,
and receives motion from the spur-wheel l, fixed on the
axis of the gub-wheel m. Round the gubs of this wheel a
turn of the endless band nn, which traverses the walk, is
passed, and gives motion to the machinery. On the other
end of the gub-wheel axis a pinion o is fixed, which drives
the spur-wheel p. On the middle of the axis of this wheel
another gub-wheel is fixed; round it a turn of the ground-
rope q is passed, and by this the sledge is moved progres¬
sively backwards: the wheels of the sledge are flanged, and
run upon a railroad r. When the endless band is set in
motion after the yarns have been hung on the hooks of the
sledge, the sledge travels backwards at a rate which may be
proportioned to the twist required to be given, by the gubs
of the ground-rope wheel being made to shift further from
or nearer to its centre, so as to move the sledge through a
greater or less space for each revolution of the hooks.
When the sledge has reached the foot of the walk, the
strands are hung together on the centre-hook of the wheel,
and by means of the lever h the motion is reversed; at the
same time the yarns are cut over by the tackle-board, and
ung on the hooks s, s, s, at the fore end. To these motion is
given by the spur-wheels t, t', the latter of which may be
riven either by the pinion u and spur-wheel w, or directly
y ie pinion x, as a quicker or slower motion is required.
fo the shaft on which the pinion x and spur-wheel w are Roque, St
fixed, motion is given by the mitre-wheels y, _?/, ?/, the two
latter being fixed to a vertical shaft, which receives its mo¬
tion from the driving power by the intervention of cones,
by which that motion may be reerulated.
The end of the ground-rope is wound upon the barrel z,
by unwinding from which it is slackened so as to allow it to
be removed from the gubs of the sledge. (B. s.)
ROQUE, St, a city of Spain, in the province of Seville,
and the partido of Gibraltar. It is about six miles from
the latter fortress, and the first place beyond the Spanish
lines. It stands on an elevated spot, commanding a view
of the rock of Gibraltar. It contains about 1800 inhabi¬
tants, exclusive of the troops. There is another town of
the same name, with the addition of De Rumiera, in the dis¬
trict of Montania, in the province of Burgos, on the river
Miera, containing 1250 inhabitants.
ROSA, the Rose. See the article Botany.
Rosa, Salvator, an admirable painter, was born at Naples
in 1614. He was first instructed by Francesco Francazano,
a kinsman ; but the death of his father reduced him to sell
drawings sketched upon paper for any thing he could get.
One of these happening to fall into the hands of Lanfranc,
he took him under his protection, and enabled him to enter
the school of Spagnoletto, and to be taught by Daniel
Falcone, a distinguished painter of battles at Naples. His
pieces are exceedingly scarce and valuable; one of the
best of them being that representing Saul and the witch of
Endor, which was preserved at Versailles. He died in 1673;
and as his paintings are in few hands, he is more generally
known by his prints, of which he etched a great number.
He painted landscapes more than history; but his prints
are chiefly historical. The principal landscape of this mas¬
ter is a noble picture at Chiswick. We are told that he
spent the early part of his life in a troop of banditti; and
tnat the rocky desolate scenes in which he was accustomed
to take refuge, furnished him with those romantic ideas in
landscape, of which he is so exceedingly fond, and in the
description of which he so greatly excels. His robbers, as
his detached figures are commonly called, are supposed also
to have been taken from the life.
Amongst the musical manuscripts purchased at Rome
by Dr Burney, wras a music-book of Salvator, in which are
many airs and cantatas of different masters, and eight entire
cantatas, written, set, and transcribed by this celebrated
painter himself.
ROSALGATE, the most eastern point of Arabia. The
coast turns to the north-west, till it joins the Persian Gulf
Long. 60. 10. E. Lat. 22. 20. N.
ROSAMOND, daughter of Walter Lord Clifford, was a
young lady of exquisite beauty. The popular story of her is
as follows. Henry II. saw her, loved her, declared his pas¬
sion, and triumphed over her honour. To avoid the jea¬
lousy of his queen Elinor, he kept her in a wonderful laby¬
rinth at Woodstock; and by his connection with her had
William Longsword earl of Salisbury, and Geoffrey bishop
of Lincoln. On Henry’s absence in France, hmvever, on
account of a rebellion in that country, the queen found
means to discover her; and, though struck with her beauty,
she recalled sufficient resentment to poison her. The queen,
it is said, discovered her apartment by a thread of silk; but
how she came by it is differently related. This popular
story is not however supported by history. She was buried
in the church of Godstow, opposite to the high altar, where
her body remained till it was ordered to be removed with
every mark of disgrace by Hugh bishop of Lincoln in 1191.
She was, however, considered as a saint after her death.
ROSAS, a fortified city of Spain, in the province of
Catalonia, and district of Gerona. It stands on an eleva¬
tion on Cape de Creus, on the Mediterranean Sea, and com¬
mands the celebrated bay of that name where so much
R O S
valour was displayed by our ships of war, whose boats’ crews
boarded and captured or destroyed many of the enemy’s
ships during the long hostilities. The bay has a lighthouse,
and is protected by two strong forts, and is one of the most
secure anchorages on that coast. The city contains 1900
inhabitants, who in time of peace depend chiefly on the
fisheries. Long. 3. 31. 2. W. Lat. 42. 16. 6. N.
ROSCIUS, Q. a celebrated comic actor, who is spoken of
in terms of the highest commendation by Cicero. Ihe ex¬
act period of his birth is unknown ; but he must have been
somewhat older than Cicero (born b. c. 106), as he had a -
ready earned a high reputation before the death of Sulla,
b. c. 78. His subsequent career was said to have been
predicted by a strange occurrence whilst he was still a
child. His early years were spent at Solonium, near La-
nuvium ; and whilst he was sleeping in his cradle, a serpent
entwined itself round his body without injuring him. This
circumstance in the life of the actor was afterwards repre¬
sented by the artist Praxiteles, and celebrated by the poet
Archias. The orator afterwards remarks, that it seems ri¬
diculous that the gods should predict the future fate of an
actor, whilst they neglected statesmen and heroes, whom
the world admired. Of his education we know nothing,
except that he and AEsopus the tragic actor used to attend
the forum when Hortensius the orator pleaded, that they
might imitate on the stage what they admired in him. He
had a particular squint ot the eye, but this was of course
concealed by the mask he wore. His private character was
highly respected, and Cicero remarked that he w as such
an artist that he seemed the only one fit to appear upon
the stage, and yet so excellent a man that it was beneath
his dignity, which he thought worthy of the senate. He
used to contend with Cicero which of them could repre¬
sent the same sentiment in the greatest variety of ways,
he by acting, and Cicero by his eloquence. So high an opi¬
nion did he entertain of his profession, that he wrote a work
comparing it with oratory. He gave lessons in elocution,
and used to say that he never had a pupil whom he could
altogether approve of. His gains as an actor are variously
stated, by Macrobius at 1000 denarii (L.32. 5s. lOd.) a day;
and by Cicero at 600,000 sesterces for ten years (LAS,434.
10s.), which would make it somewhat less than L.5000 a
year ; but for the last ten years he had refused to receive
this pension from the Roman people. He had a dispute
with one Fannins Chcerea respecting a slave, of whom they
were joint owners, and he was defended by Cicero ; but at
what time this took place we have no means of judging.
Only a part of the speech has been preserved. He died a
little before the time (about b. c. 61) that Cicero delivered
his oration in defence of Archias.
ROSCOE, William, a distinguished writer, was born
at Liverpool on the 8th of March 1753. He was the only
son of William Roscoe, who then kept a public-house call¬
ed the Bowling Green, and who is described as a man be¬
low the middle stature, but of remarkable bodily strength
and activity ; of much vivacity of temperament, and greatly
attached to field-sports and other amusements, for which
his son never acquired any relish. He had also an only
daughter, who became the wife of Daniel Daulby, Esq.
With the charge of his public-house he united that of a
market-garden ; but during his declining age, he retired to
Charnock, his native place, and was for many years support¬
ed by his son. Two years before his death, Mr Roscoe
removed him to his own house at Birchfield, where his
latter days were soothed by the assiduous kindness of his
two children. Having reached an advanced age, he died
in 1796. His wife, whose name was Elizabeth, is said to
have been a woman of a superior mind and ot warm affec¬
tions, and to have exercised over the character of her son
an influence, of which the effects were never obliterated to
the latest period of his life.
R O S
The first elements of learning he acquired under the tui- Roscce
tion of a schoolmistress; and at the age of six, he was re-
moved to a day-school kept by Mr Martin in Paradise
Street. After an interval of about two years, he became
the pupil of Mr Sykes, who, in the same house, kept a school
for writing, arithmetic, and English grammar. He had a nu¬
merous seminary, and was considered as a good instructor
in his own department. At the age of twelve Roscoe quit¬
ted this school, the master having reported that his scholar
had learned all that he professed to teach; which, besides
English grammar, included the common rules of arithmetic,
algebra, and mensuration. He acquired a very early relish
for reading, and particularly for poetical reading. “ I was
at this period of my life,” he has recorded, “ of a wild,
rambling, and unsocial disposition; passing many of my
hours in strolling along the shore of the river Mersey, or in
fishing, or in taking long walks alone— I now began to as¬
sist my father in his agricultural concerns, particularly in
his business of cultivating potatoes for sale, of which he
every year grew several acres, and which he sold, when pro¬
duced early in the season, at very advanced prices. His
mode of cultivation was entirely by the spade ; and when
raised early, they were considered in that part of Lanca¬
shire as a favourite esculent. When they had attained their
proper growth, we were accustomed to carry them to the
market on our heads, in large baskets, for sale, where I was
generally intrusted with the disposal of them, and soon be¬
came a very useful assistant to my father. In this and other
laborious occupations, particularly in the care of a garden,
in which I took great pleasure, I passed several years of my
life, devoting my hours of relaxation to reading my books.
This mode of life gave health and vigour to my body, and
amusement and instruction to my mind; and to this day I
well remember the delicious sleep which succeeded my
labours, from which I was again called at an early hour.
If I were now asked whom I consider to be happiest of the
human race, I should answer, those who cultivate the earth
by their own hands.”
Having reached his fifteenth year, he found it expedient
to make choice of a profession. His love of reading in¬
duced him to prefer the avocation of a bookseller ; but he
was disappointed in his expectation of finding it altogether
pleasant, and after a trial of a month, he returned to his rustic
labours. In the course of the ensuing year, 1769, he was
articled to a young attorney, who died before the comple¬
tion of his clerkship. The remainder of it wTas passed in
the office of Mr Peter Ellames, who was eminent in his
profession, and who was much satisfied with his pupil’s ta¬
lents and industry. During this period, he still continued
to reside with his father, but he had previously the misfor¬
tune to lose his mother. Although very punctual in his
attention to business, he always found some precious in¬
tervals of leisure for the cultivation of his literary talents;
and his early love of poetry had its usual effect in purifying
and refining the taste. His chief favourite was Shenstone,
with whose elegant simplicity he appears to have been
greatly captivated. He cultivated an intimate friendship
with other ingenuous youths, who cherished the same love
of literature. In conjunction with two of these, William
Clarke and Richard Lowndes, he applied himself to the
study of the ancient languages ; and with these individuals,
to the close of their lives, he continued in habits of the
strictest intimacy. They had another associate, who was
capable of directing as well as participating in their studies.
This was Francis Holden, a young man of uncommon ta¬
lents, who was an assistant in his uncle’s school, where it
was his business to teach, not only mathematics, but like¬
wise the Greek, Latin, Italian, and French languages.
They were accustomed to meet early in the morning, and
to pursue their classical studies till the hours of business
called them to less genial avocations. It w as the examp e
R O S C O E.
iscoe. of Holden that prompted him to begin the study of the
—' Italian language, in which he at length attained to so great
proficiency.
He thus continued to improve his taste, and to enlarge
his fund of knowledge. From a fervent admiration of
poetry there is generally an easy transition to the composi¬
tion of poems. He wrote many verses in his early youth ;
and at the age of twenty, he printed an Ode on the Foun¬
dation of a Society for the Encouragement of the Arts of
Painting and Design, in the town of Liverpool. About the
same period he wrote a descriptive poem, entitled Mount
Pleasant, which was not however published till the year
1777. His ode was then reprinted. These poems were
favourably received; and they obtained the approbation of
two very competent judges, Mr Mason and Sir Joshua Rey¬
nolds.
Having completed his clerkship, he was in 1774 admit¬
ted an attorney of the Court of King’s Bench. During the
same year, he entered into partnership with a Mr Bannister,
but their connexion was of a very short duration. He
afterwards formed a more permanent engagement with
Mr Samuel Aspinall, who had long been known as a re¬
spectable practitioner. He was assiduous in his attention
to the business of his profession; but he did not find him¬
self constrained to abandon his literary studies, and he
thus continued the gradual improvement of his excellent
talents. At an early period of his life, he became inti¬
mately acquainted with the family of a respectable trades¬
man named Griffies. Jane, the second of three daughters,
“ soon attracted his admiration, and won his affection, by
her gentle yet lively manners, by the sweetness of her dis¬
position, and by the many admirable qualities of her truly fe¬
minine mind. Although the state of his circumstances at
this time gave little promise of an immediate union with the
object of his attachment, it was not the wish, and perhaps it
was scarcely in the power, of one possessing the frank and
ardent character of Mr Roscoe, to conceal from her the
feelings she had inspired. From that moment, to the close
of his long and eventful life, he never found reason to re¬
gret, for one instant, the judgment of his youth.” A con¬
siderable interval elapsed before they could prudently ful¬
fil their engagement; but his professional emoluments gra¬
dually became more ample, and they were married on the
22d of February 1781. Their union was attended with
more than common felicity.
The African slave-trade was now in its fullest vigour;
and as it formed a very material part of the commerce of
Liverpool, the great body of the inhabitants were interest¬
ed, either directly or indirectly, in the continuance of this
detestable traffic. For any individual to raise a warning
voice against it in such a community, required no small
portion of moral courage. The generous feelings and
manly character of Mr Roscoe urged him to take a very
prominent share in those proceedings which finally led
to its suppression; a measure which reflected so much
honour on that administration which included Fox, Grey,
Holland, and Erskine. He composed, in blank verse, a
poem entitled “ The Wrongs of Africa of which the first
part was published in 1787, and the second in 1788. It
was translated into German by a clergyman named Kuhn.
In 1787 he likewise published “ A general View of the
African Slave Trade, demonstrating its Injustice and Im¬
policy : with Hints towards a Bill for its Abolition.” This
seasonable tract was followed in 1788 by “ A Scriptural
Refutation of a Pamphlet lately published by the Rev.
Raymond Harris, entitled ‘ Scriptural Researches on the
Licitness of the Slave Trade’: in four Letters from the Au¬
thor to a Friend.” Harris was a clergyman of the esta¬
blished church, but had been educated for the popish
priesthood. Such talents as he possessed were employed
ln an attempt to prove that slaverv, as a system, has ob-
vol. xix.
473
tamed the divine approval; that God has sanctioned the Roscoe.
principle of one portion of mankind treating another like ''—"'v'"—■
beasts of burden. For his satisfactory refutation of this re¬
verend apologist of such enormities, Mr Roscoe received
the thanks of the London Abolition Committee. They
likewise printed a new edition of his pamphlet, wdiich was
extensively circulated, and highly approved. In 1792 he
published “ An Inquiry into the Causes of the Insurrection
of the Negroes in the Island of St Domingo.” Of this
insurrection the advocates of slavery had endeavoured to
avail themselves, as a most powerful argument against the
abolition ; and he therefore performed another imoortant
service by exposing th efallacies of their reasonings and
inferences.
In other public transactions of that eventful period, he
likewise felt a deep interest. On all subjects his senti¬
ments were humane and liberal. With some of the most
enlightened men of the kingdom, he contemplated the
French revolution as a glorious event; and his feelings of
exultation were expressed in more than one poetical effu¬
sion. The atrocities which ensued were revolting to every
well-constituted mind: but he still continued true to the
great cause of civil and religious liberty, and in the midst
of the apostacy of one party, and the phrensy of another,
he continued to avow and to maintain those principles
which established, and which alone can uphold the British
constitution. The most conspicuous apostate of that pe¬
riod was Edmund Burke, who deserted his former princi¬
ples and his former friends, and made a general declaration
of war against all those who breathed an ardent wish for
the political or social melioration of mankind. The powers
of his eloquence were exerted, with a morbid and phren-
sied fervour, against those who differed from him after he
began to differ from himself; and when we consider that
he was instrumental, beyond any other individual, in pro¬
moting war abroad, and despotism at home, it may without
any breach of charity be affirmed, that his memory deserves
the execration of posterity. In the year 1796 Ro'scoe pub¬
lished “ Strictures on Mr Burke’s Two Letters, addressed
to a Member of the present Parliament.” Here he animad¬
verts on the exaggerated statements of his adversary, and
exposes the real object of his recent publications, the sup¬
pression of all liberal and independent speculation on the
subject of politics. This famous orator was evidently dis¬
posed to acquiesce in the opinion of Bishop Horsley, that
the people have nothing to do with the laws but to obey
them. At an earlier period, 1791, Roscoe had printed a
merry ballad concerning “ The Life, Death, and wonder¬
ful Achievements of Edmund Burkeand had adorned it
with a frontispiece etched by himself, and representing
Burke equipped like a knight-errant, and assaulting Fox in
the House of Commons.
About this period his mind was vigorously devoted to an
undertaking of a more important nature. The plan of pre¬
paring a biographical account of Lorenzo de’ Medici had
occurred to him at a very early stage of his literary career.
He long continued to collect books, and to amass mate¬
rials ; and at the close of the year 1789, he communicated
his design to his intimate friend Mr Clarke, who was then
residing in Italy for the benefit of a milder climate. This
gentleman had been engaged in commercial pursuits, but
is said to have been skilled in ancient as well as modern li¬
terature. With great alacrity he undertook the task of
exploring the archives and libraries of Florence, in quest
of materials for the projected work; and the author ac¬
knowledged himself deeply indebted to the assistance which
he had thus received. The sale of the Crevenna and Pi-
nelli libraries enabled him to procure many rare books, for
which he might otherwise have made a hopeless search.
“ The Life of Lorenzo de Medici, called the Magnificent,”
was at length published in the year 1796, in two volumes
3 o
474
R O S C O E.
Koscoe. quarto. It was elegantly printed by John Maccreery, who,
'v'—at his suggestion, had recently established a press in Liver¬
pool. The success of this publication exceeded the most
sanguine expectations which the author could have ventured
to cherish. From the periodical critics he obtained ample
praise. He received letters of warm commendation from
men of rank and men of letters, with several of whom he
had no previous acquaintance or correspondence. One of
these was the eccentric earl of Bristol and bishop of Derry,
who was then residing in Rome. He first applied to Mr
Cadell, the bookseller, in order to ascertain the author’s pro¬
fession, resources in life, and what present of books, pictures,
or statues, might be most acceptable to him. Dr Parr s
fervent zeal in the cause of literature likewise prompted
him to seek the correspondence of the elegant biographer.
The first letter which he addressed to him contains the
subsequent passage: “ You will pardon my zeal, Sir, and
you may confide in my sincerity, when I declare to you
that the contents of your book far surpassed my expecta¬
tion, and amply rewarded the attention with which I perused
it. You have thrown the clearest and fullest light upon a
period most interesting to every scholar. You have pro¬
duced much that was unknown, and to that which was known
vou have given perspicuity, order, and grace. You have
shown the greatest diligence in your researches, and the
purest taste in your selection ; and upon the characters
and events which passed in review before your inquisitive
and discriminating mind, you have united sagacity of ob¬
servation with correctness, elegance, and vigour of style.”
The correspondence thus begun led to an intimate friend¬
ship. The work obtained a very high compliment from
another individual, from whom it was less to be expected.
Mathias so completely overcame the violence of his politi¬
cal animosities, as to bestow this eulogium on the author;
But hark ! what solemn strains from Arno’s vales
Breathe raptures wafted on the Tuscan gales !
Lorenzo rears again his awful head,
And feels his ancient glories round him spread ;
The Muses starting from their trance revive,
And at their Roscoe’s bidding wake and live.
To these lines, in his Pursuits of Literature, he has sub¬
joined a long note, which contains the subsequent passage :
“ I have not terms sufficient to express my admiration of
his genius and erudition, or my gratitude for the amuse¬
ment and information I have received.” An intercourse of
civilities with the anonymous writer was a very natural re¬
sult ; and he was afterwards extolled by Mathias in Italian
verse as well as prose.
The first edition of this work was printed at the expense
of the author; but soon after its appearance, Cadell and
Davies offered him no less a sum than L.1200 for the copy¬
right. Of this liberal offer he did not hesitate to accept;
and little doubt can be entertained that the booksellers
found it a very advantageous transaction. The fourth edi¬
tion, in three volumes octavo, was printed in 1800. In
other countries, the success of this book was equally bril¬
liant. Three editions were speedily circulated in America.
The work, translated into German by Sprengel, was pub¬
lished at Berlin in 1797. In 1799 a French translation, by
Francois Thurot, was published at Paris. During the same
year, an Italian version, by the Cavaliero Gaetano Mechi-
rini, made its appearance at Pisa, in four volumes octavo. It
was undertaken at the suggestion of the elegant Fabroni, who
had himself published a Latin life of Lorenzo, which he in¬
tended to translate into his native language ; but he was so
much delighted w ith Roscoe’s work, that he abandoned his
design, and recommended the other task to Mechirini. In
the course of the ensuing year, he addressed a very grati¬
fying letter to the author. Similar letters were addressed
to him by Bandini, the learned keeper of the Laurentian
Library in Florence, and by the Abate Andres, a Spanish Rosco*
Jesuit, resident in Italy, and deeply skilled in Italian lite-~
rature.
For the avocation of an attorney Mr Roscoe never had
any hearty relish, and he finally relinquished it in the year
1796. With his last partner, Mr Lace, he made an arrange¬
ment which secured him some interest in the business;
and during the following year he entered himself at Gray’s
Inn, with the view of being called to the bar. He kept
Hilary term, but made no further progress in this new ca¬
reer, although, according to the opinion of his son, he pos¬
sessed qualities which must in all probability have render¬
ed his success certain. In conjunction with Mr Thomas
Wakefield, he had in 1793 obtained a lease of an extensive
tract of peat-moss in the vicinity of Manchester ; and from
the draining and improvement of this land he anticipated an
ample return. In 1799 he purchased one half of the Alter-
ton estate, a valuable property situate about six miles from
Liverpool. Allerton Hall, which belonged to his portion,
was originally built in the reign of James the First; but
that structure had been partly taken down about the middle
of last century, and a handsome stone-edifice had been
erected in its place. The house was surrounded by gar¬
dens disposed in the old English taste, and was environed
on every side with ample woods. FI ere it was his wish to
spend the remainder of his days in studious retirement;
but within the brief period of twelve months, he found him¬
self deeply involved in the labours and anxieties of com¬
mercial life. The family of his intimate friend Mr Clarke,
which had long been connected with an extensive banking-
house at Liverpool, was at the close of the year 1799 placed
in circumstances of considerable difficulty. “ The aid of
Mr Roscoe, as a confidential adviser, was requested by the
partners, and he did not hesitate to lend his best assistance.
Chiefly through his instrumentality, the difficulties which
existed between the Liverpool bank and their London cor¬
respondents were removed, and it was the anxious wish of
the latter, as well as the former, that Mr Roscoe should
render his labours complete, by becoming an active partner
in the banking-house at Liverpool.” It was rather his
friendship for the family of Clarke, than any motive more
personal to himself, that induced him to embrace this offer.
By great and unremitting exertions, he brought the af¬
fairs of the house into a better train of management; and
towards the close of the year 1800, he could again com¬
mand some portion of leisure for his favourite pursuits. He
had previously published u The Nurse, a poem translated
from the Italian of Luigi Tansillo.” This elegant version
was favourably received, and it reached a third edition in
1804. But he had for some time contemplated a more
magnificent undertaking, a life of Leo the Tenth ; and on
receiving, through the kindness of Lord Holland, some im¬
portant and unpublished materials from Florence, he re¬
verted to it with new ardour. “ The History of the Life
and Pontificate of Leo X.” was published in four volumes
quarto in the year 1805. It had been in the press upwards
of two years. For one half of the copyright Cadell and
Davies paid the sum of L.2000. This work, notwithstand¬
ing its great and varied merit, experienced a less favourable
reception than its precursor. The author’s brilliant success
appears to have excited no small degree of spleen in some
of the periodical critics, who accordingly treated him with
little candour or courtesy. This production however, re¬
lating to a most important era in the civil, ecclesiastical,
and literary history of Europe, was highly estimated bv
many very competent judges. The history of the reviva.
of learning was itself a very extensive, as well as a very ar¬
duous field for disquisition. The history of the fine arts
required knowledge and taste of a different denomination.
The history of the reformation of religion involved manv
questions of subtle disputation, as well as many topics oi
r
R O S C O E.
lioscoe. character and conduct; and for a writer of great candour
'—-y-—'' and discernment, it was scarcely possible to satisfy either
the Papists or the Protestants. The Life of Leo, with
the omission of the documents contained in the appen¬
dix, was speedily reprinted at Philadelphia; but the sale
was not there so rapid as that of his former work. A Ger¬
man translation, by Professor Glaser, was published at Leip¬
zig in three volumes octavo, which successively appeared in
1806, 1807, and 1808. A preface, notes, and disquisitions,
were contributed by Henke. In 1808 a French transla¬
tion, by P. F. Henry, was published at Paris, and a cor¬
rected edition appeared in 1813. An Italian version was
subsequently undertaken by Count Luigi Bossi, who began
by translating from the French. This work extended to
twelve volumes octavo, published at Milan in 1816 and
1817. He added a variety of notes and documents illus¬
trative of the text, together with numerous engravings of
portraits and medals. The sovereign pontiff, Leo XII., in¬
serted this translation in the catalogue of prohibited books,
but in spite of his denunciation. 2800 copies of it have
been dispersed in Italy, where the name of the elegant
author continues to be held in no common estimation.
Soon after the appearance of his great work, he was sud¬
denly induced to place himself in a new sphere of action.
“ Although from a very early period of life Mr Roscoe had
taken a deep interest in public affairs, and had manifested,
not only by his writings, but also by the part he had taken
in promoting public meetings in Liverpool, the strong de¬
sire he felt to render himself useful to the country, he had
yet never entertained the idea that he should be called upon
to fill the responsible situation of a representative of the
people. It was therefore with the greatest surprise that,
on the eve of the general election in 1806, he received a
requisition from a number of the most respectable bur¬
gesses of Liverpool, requesting him to come forward as a
candidate for the representation of his native town.” This
requisition he received on the 30th of October; he issued
his address to the electors on the following day, and the
election commenced on the first of November. His two
opponents were General Gascoigne and General Tarleton ;
of whom the former had represented the borough for ten,
and the latter for sixteen years. They were both Tories,
but with this difference, that Tarleton was a deserter from
the Whigs. They were both supported by the corporation;
but after a very strenuous contest of seven days, the elec¬
tion terminated in favour of Roscoe, who had nearly two
hundred votes over Tarleton, and thirteen over Gascoigne.
During the progress of the election, he had uniformly been
the popular candidate; his success was hailed with the most
enthusiastic rejoicings; and he was chaired through a greater
concourse of people than the town had probably ever be¬
held on any former occasion.
Of the House of Commons he wras not a silent member.
He took a respectable share in various debates ; and he had
the high satisfaction of raising his voice in favour of the
abolition of the slave-trade. He likewise made a judicious
speech in support of Romilly’s bill for subjecting real es¬
tates to debts of simple contract. The unhappy and inve¬
terate prejudices of the king led to the dissolution of the
ministry in the spring of 1807. On the 15th of April, Mr
Littleton moved a resolution, expressing the regret of the
house at the recent change in his majesty’s councils ; and
Mr Roscoe then spoke with manly indignation against the
conduct of Canning, who, in a previous debate, had thought
proper to threaten the house, that if its members did not
vote according to the will of the ministry, his majesty w ould
be advised to appeal to the people, or, in other words, to
dissolve his parliament. The parliament w'as dissolved, and
the senseless cry of “ No Popery,” and “ the Church in
danger,” resounded from one end of the island to the other.
It was the peculiar infelicity and infatuation of the old
475
kings administration, that he was uniformly averse from IJoscoe.
employing men who supported the principles which had —y—
placed his family on the British throne.
Mr Roscoe returned to Liverpool in the month of May,
and, on approaching the town, was received by a numerous
procession of fiiends, partly on horseback, and partly on
foot. Their progress was speedily obstructed by large bo-
dies of men, chiefly consisting of the crews of vessels re-
cently engaged in the slave-trade, armed with bludgeons
and other weapons, and disposed along the range of streets.
The procession moved with difficulty, and not without dan¬
ger. Many personal injuries were sustained on both sides ;
and if great forbearance had not been displayed towards the
ruffianly assailants, the most fatal consequences might have
ensued. When he reached the bank, and attempted to ad-
oress the ciowd, the clamour was so loud and unceasing
that he found it impossible to obtain a hearing. He had
honourably given a vote against the traffic in human flesh,
and by that craft most of the disorderly multitude had their
living. Disgusted at such a display of popular violence, he
speedily declared his resolution of declining to offer himself
as a candidate at the ensuing election; but he was nomi¬
nated without his own consent, and the contest was pro¬
tracted till the seventh day, when it terminated by the re¬
turn of the two generals.
Although he thus ceased to be a member of parliament,
he did not cease to take an interest in public affairs. In
1808 he published “ Considerations on the Causes, Objects,
and Consequences of the present War, and on the Expe¬
diency or the Danger of Peace with France.” This was an
able as well as a seasonable publication ; but we cannot add,
that it produced any extensive or speedy effects. The war,
which had been carried on at such an enormous expense of
blood and treasure, was profitable to an immense multitude
of individuals: it served to extend the patronage and in¬
fluence of the ministry; loans, contracts, and other contin¬
gencies, enriched one class of their adherents ; an immense
field of employment and promotion was opened in the army
and navy; while another class of men, who were specially
bound to act as messengers of peace, were too generally
disposed to keep in the onward path of preferment by
preaching in favour of “ this just and necessary war.” The
real object of the war was a matter so extremely doubtful,
that it was not unusual to hear a variety of objects speci¬
fied by different individuals all equally fervent in the same
cause. By one great personage, the hopeful project of
restoring the Bourbons was doubtless contemplated as the
great and paramount object. Roscoe’s tract was published
in January, and a fourth edition was sent to press before
the end of that month. It was speedily followed by “ Re¬
marks on the Proposals made to Great Britain for opening
Negociations for Peace, in the year 1807.” The several
tracts which he had published on such topics, were in 1810
collected into a volume bearing the title of “ Occasional
Tracts relative to the War.” This collection, which in¬
cludes several tracts that have not been enumerated, re¬
mains a monument of his wisdom, in the midst of the ge¬
neral phrensy which then prevailed. In 1812 he published
“ A Review of the Speeches of the Right Hon. George
Canning on the late Election for Liverpool, so far as they
relate to the Questions of Peace and Reform.” Roscoe was
an able and enlightened advocate of parliamentary reform,
as of all other attempts to improve the general welfare.
During this general election, some of the inhabitants en¬
tertained a plan of returning him free of expense. He
was likewise solicited to allow his friends to put him in no¬
mination at Westminster; but he had no inclination to re¬
sume his seat in the House of Commons. Some of the
electors of Leicester, where any opposition to the preva¬
lent corruption was nearly hopeless, nominated him as a
candidate without his previous knowledge; and, under
476
R O S C O E.
Koscoe. these peculiar circumstances, he obtained 412 votes, while
' the second of the successful candidates had only 967. This
homage to an individual personally unknown, was paid to
him as “ the friend of peace, of reform, and of religious li¬
berty.” In his printed address to the independent electors
of this borough, he expressed his “ conviction that the great
work, which must eventually produce the reformation and
happiness of the people, was already begun.” An eventful
period of twenty years served to evince how well he had
discerned the signs of the times.
The return of peace did not immediately produce all the
benefits that were anticipated. The war-establishment, with
its lavish profusion of expenditure, had long contributed to
maintain an artificial state of things. When the war was
at length brought to a termination, we were overwhelmed
with an enormous national debt; and under such burdens
as this debt imposed, it was difficult for manufactures and
trade to find a favourable channel. The banking-house
with which Roscoe was connected did not escape the com¬
mercial pressure of that period. Great exertions were
made by the partners to avert the crisis by which they
were threatened ; but suspicions having been excited, large
balances were suddenly withdrawn from the bank ; and after
struggling for a few days in the vain hope of supporting
their credit, they were, on the 25th of January 1816, re¬
duced to the necessity of suspending their payments. A
committee appointed by the creditors reported that, after
the liquidation of the debts, there would remain a surplus
of L.61,144. The bank was never shut; and the house
was allowed six years for discharging all the debts, with in¬
terest. Roscoe undertook the management of its affairs,
and exerted himself with surprising energy. One of the
greatest trials which he sustained, was the necessity of part¬
ing with his library, pictures, and other works of art, the
valuable and cherished accumulation of nearly half a cen¬
tury. The auction of his library, which was sold by Win-
stanley of London, extended to fourteen days, commencing
with the 19th of August 1816. It included rare and pre¬
cious works in several departments, but was particularly
rich in Italian literature. The sale of the books was im¬
mediately followed by that of the prints, which occupied
eleven days, and, being divided into 1352 lots, produced
the sum of L.1915. Is. The drawings, consisting of 610
lots, and the paintings, of 156, were sold for L.2825. 19s.
In the midst of these vicissitudes and trials, which he
endured with exemplary fortitude, he still retained his love
of literature. In the establishment of the Royal Institution
of Liverpool, he lent his effective aid. A plan for such an
institution had in 1813 been written by Dr Traill, now pro¬
fessor of medical jurisprudence in the university of Edin¬
burgh. The scheme was at length brought towards matu¬
rity ; and, after an interval of four years, Mr Roscoe, as
chairman of a committee, prepared an explanatory report.
He was induced, though not without considerable difficulty,
to compose and to deliver the inaugural address at the
opening of the institution. The attendance was very nu¬
merous, and he received the most gratifying applause. On
the ensuing day, he was requested by the committee to pub¬
lish his discourse, and it accordingly appeared under the
subsequent title : “ On the Origin and Vicissitudes of Li¬
terature, Science, and Art, and their Influence on the pre¬
sent State of Society : a Discourse delivered on the Open¬
ing of the Liverpool Royal Institution, 25th November
1817.” In 1819 he published his “ Observations on Penal
Jurisprudence, and the Reformation of Offenders.” In 1822
appeared his “ Additional Observations on the same sub¬
ject; and a third part followed in 1825. He afterwards
published two tracts on the penitentiary discipline of the
United States. In all his literary undertakings, he aimed
at improving the morals and increasing the happiness of
mankind.
In the mean time, the affairs of the bank had reached Rose:
their final crisis. The partners found themselves unable to wv
contend with the difficulties which beset and impeded their
progress, and a commission of bankruptcy was issued in the
year 1820. Having now withdrawn from business, he seems
to have placed his chief reliance on the remuneration of his
literary labours. Some of his friends privately raised the
sum of L.2500, and vested it in trustees for the benefit of
himself and his family. “ The office of communicating to
him this kind and liberal act, on the part of his friends, was
confided to Dr Traill, who by his judicious representations,
and affectionate remonstrances, succeeded in removing from
the mind of Mr Roscoe the objections which he felt to in¬
cur obligations of so serious a nature.” About this period,
he found a pleasing employment in arranging and improv¬
ing the library of Mr Coke, now earl of Leicester, and in
preparing a catalogue of the numerous manuscripts. His
visits to Holkham were rendered peculiarly pleasant; and
this gentleman, as we are informed, u conferred upon him
obligations of no ordinary nature.” His literary ardour was
still unabated; and in 1822 he published an octavo volume,
under the title of 44 Illustrations, Historical and Critical, of
the Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici, called the Magnificent;
with an Appendix of original and other Documents.” An
Italian version, exclusive of the appendix, was published at
Florence by Pecchioli in the course of the following year.
In 1822 he likewise published a44 Memoir of Richard Roberts
Jones of v\berdaron, in the county of Carnarvon, in North
Wales, exhibiting a remarkable instance of a partial power
and cultivation of intellect.” This extraordinary character,
who was originally a fisher-lad, 44 continues to display a
love of learning and an extent of erudition seldom exhibited
within the walls of schools or universities, united with a
want of common sense amounting almost to idiocy, and a
squalor and wretchedness of appearance of which a com¬
mon mendicant would be ashamed.” At Allerton he had
a conversation with Dr Parr on languages, oriental and oc¬
cidental ; and on being afterwards asked his opinion of the
learned stranger, he replied, 44 He is less ignorant than most
men.” .
During this year he quitted his residence in Liverpool,
and took a house in Lodge Lane, Toxteth Park, about a
mile from the town. Two years afterwards he had the se¬
vere misfortune to lose the excellent and cherished partner
of all his joys and sorrows. She died on the 24th of Sep¬
tember 1824. This event was very deeply felt; but the
affectionate attention of his two daughters afforded some
compensation of a loss which it was impossible to repair. In
the early part of the year he had been elected an honorary
associate of the Royal Society of Literature; and after an
interval of a few months he was appointed an associate of
the first class. He thus became entitled to a pension of
one hundred guineas; but, on the death of the king, the
annual grant from the privy purse was withheld by his suc¬
cessor. As its total amount was only a thousand pounds,
this cannot but be considered as a miserable piece of eco¬
nomy. In 1827 the great gold medal of the society was
awarded to him for his merits as an historian. From other
learned associations he obtained various honours; nor must
we omit to state that, during the same year, he was elected
a corresponding member of the Accademia della Crusca.
In the spring of 1821 he had been engaged by the Lon¬
don booksellers to undertake a new edition of the Works ot
Pope. It appeared in 1824, in ten volumes octavo. He
contributed a copious and elegant life of the author, and to
a selection of the notes of former editors added a few ot his
own. Of the character of Pope, both as a man and as a
poet, he formed a more favourable estimate than either Dr
Warton or Mr Bowles. Those who deny or reluctantly
concede to Pope the name of a poet, seem to judge ^cc0*'^'
ing to a very arbitrary standard. A few months after the
R O S
iloscoe. appearance of this edition, Mr Bowles published “ A final
^ Appeal to the Literary Public, relative to Pope, in Reply
to certain Observations of Mr Roscoe, in his Edition of that
Poet’s Works; to which are added, some Remarks on Lord
Byron’s Conversations, so far as they relate to the same
subject and the Author: in Letters to a Literary Friend.”
To this publication Mr Roscoe speedily replied in “ A Let¬
ter to the Rev. W. Lisle Bowles, A. M. Prebendary of Sa-
rum, &c. in Reply to his ‘ Final Appeal to the Literary Pub¬
lic relative to Pope.’” His edition, as well as his Letter,
obtained a favourable notice in the Quarterly Review for
October 1825 ; and Mr Bowles was induced to publish
“ Lessons in Criticism to William Roscoe, Esq. F.R. S. &c.
in Answer to his Letter to the Rev. W. L. Bowles, on the
Character and Poetry of Pope. With further Lessons in
Criticism to a Quarterly Reviewer.” These lessons in criti¬
cism were not very satisfactory to the public, and Mr Roscoe
wisely desisted from any further controversy.
In 1827 he published an edition of the Life of Lorenzo
in two, and of the History of Leo in four volumes octavo.
He had now reached an advanced period of life, and had
begun to feel the pressure of age. Towards the close of
this year, he was suddenly attacked with paralysis, which
affected one side of his face, and deprived him of the use of
one hand; but medical aid was promptly procured, and he
recovered the use of his hand, as well as of his speech. Bo¬
tany had been among the number of his favourite pursuits.
He had been a contributor to the Transactions of the Lin-
nsean Society, and was regarded as no mean proficient in
this science. After his recovery from the paralytic attack,
he published the fifteenth and concluding number of a
splendid volume on Monandrian Plants. Towards the end
of June 1831 he experienced a severe attack of influenza;
and after he seemed to be recovering, he was on the 27th
of that month seized with a violent fit of shivering, accom¬
panied with almost total prostration of strength. The near
approach of death he contemplated with calm resignation
to the will of God. On the 30th he closed his mortal career,
after having completed the seventy-eighth year of his age.
The proximate cause of his death was an effusion into the
chest. His remains were interred in the burying ground
of the Unitarian chapel in Renshaw Street, the service be¬
ing performed by his intimate friend Mr Shepherd. Six
sons and two daughters survived him. One daughter he
had lost in her infancy, and a son in his mature age. His
eldest daughter was married to Thomas Jevons, Esq. of
Liverpool. One of his sons, who still survives, is well
known as a man of letters. Another has too speedily fol¬
lowed the father to the grave. He was a barrister at law;
and, besides several works connected with his own profes¬
sion, he published an interesting though somewhat diffuse
account of his honoured father’s life.1
Dr Traill, the friend and physician of this eminent man,
speaks of him in the following terms. “ In person, Mr
Roscoe was tall and rather slender. In early life he pos¬
sessed much bodily activity. His hair was light auburn,
almost inclining to red; his full grey eye was clear and
mild; his face expressive and cheerful. As he advanced
in life, the benevolent expression of his countenance re¬
mained, but the vivacity of the features was tempered into
a noble dignity, which it was impossible to see without re¬
spect and admiration; while the mouth bespoke taste and
feeling, and the clustering hoary hair round his temples
gave a venerable air to his manly features....Of the cjuali-
ties of his heart, as a private individual, it is impossible to
speak too highly. In the relations of husband, father, and
friend, his conduct was most exemplary; and it would be
R O S 477
difficult to point out a man who possessed the fascination Roscom-
of manner which attracts and rivets attachment, in a higher Inon-
degree than William Roscoe.”2
ROSCOMMON, an inland county in the province of
Connaught, in Ireland, is bounded on the north by the
county of Sligo, on the east by those of Leitrim, Longford,
and W estmeath, on the south-east by the King’s County,
on the south-west by Galway, and on the west by the same
county and by Mayo. It extends over a surface of 609,405
acres, of which 453,555 are cultivated, 131,063 are uncul¬
tivated mountain or bog, and 24,787 are under water. Ac¬
cording to Ptolemy, it was inhabited by the Auteri; af¬
terwards the tribes or septs of the ©’Conors, O’Kellys,
M‘Dermots, O’Flanegans, O’Flyns, and O’Hanlys, were
the chief possessors of it. Shortly after the arrival of the
English in the reign of Henry II. it was seized upon by the
new settlers, and their maintenance of it secured by the
erection of several fortresses. For a long period afterwards
the whole province was considered as consisting but of two
counties, that of Roscommon being one, and all the remain¬
der, with the county of Clare included, the other, under the
name of the county of Connaught. This arrangement con¬
tinued until the beginning of the reign of Elizabeth, when
the whole province underwent a new classification, and the
county of Roscommon was divided into the baronies of
Athlone, Ballintubber, Boyle, Moycarnon, and Roscom¬
mon. At the close of the war of 1641, nearly all the for¬
mer proprietors were dispossessed for having espoused the
royal cause, and their possessions transferred to the repub¬
lican adventurers and soldiers; since which period, that
branch of the O’Conor family, once sovereigns of all Ire¬
land, now known by the name of the O’Conor Don, is the
only one of the former possessors who holds any part of
ancestral possessions in the country. The five baronies
are subdivided into fifty-three parishes, and four parts of
parishes, the remaining parts of which are in some of the
adjoining counties. According to the ecclesiastical ar¬
rangements of the country, Roscommon contains fifty-seven
parishes, of which fifty-one are in the diocese of Elphin,
three in Tuam, two in Clonfert, and one in Ardagh. The
seat of the bishopric of Elphin is in the town of the same
name in the county.
Roscommon is in shape long and narrow, extending sixty
miles in a northern and southern direction, whilst its breadth
from east to west, where greatest, is but thirty-two miles;
and it decreases gradually until it terminates in a point in
its southern extremity. The greatest part of it is level,
forming the western portion of the central floetz limestone
field of Ireland; varied, however, by frequent inconsider-
ble elevations, and by long low ridges or escars formed of
limestone gravel. In the north the country rises into rug¬
ged mountains with abrupt precipitous sides and flattened
summits, the highest of which, Bracklieve and Slieve
Corkagh, are upwards of a thousand feet above the level of
the sea. The equally wild though less elevated range of the
Curlew Mountains also forms part of the northern bound¬
ary. The Slieve Bawn Mountains range along the middle
part of the eastern boundary. Slieve Aluyn, in the west, is
also of considerable height. No large river passes through
the county, but both its eastern and western limits are wa¬
tered by navigable streams. To the east the Shannon rolls
its immense volume of waters along that whole side, and on
the west the Suck, which is navigable for barges to Ballina-
sloe, unites with the Shannon at the extreme south point.
The rivers in the interior, which are small and insignificant,
are all tributaries to one or other of these main channels,
and chiefly to the former, discharging themselves into their
1 The Life of William Itoscoe, by his son, Henry Roscoe. Loud. 1833, 2 vols. 8vo.
8 Edinburgh New Philosophical Journal, vol. xiii. p. 220.
478
ROSCOMMO N«
Itoscom- streams, either directly, or through the medium of some of
mon- the numerous lakes dispersed throughout various parts. Of
s——v—these smaller rivers, the Arigna, the Fiorish, and the Gara
or Boyle river, are tributaries to the Shannon ; the Bresgue
and the Lung, the latter of which flows through a subter¬
raneous channel during part of its course, discharge their
contents into Lough Gara. The most remarkable of the
lakes, both for size and beauty, is Lough Kea in the north¬
ern part, near the town of Boyle, from which place it also
takes a name, as likewise that of Rockingham Lake, from
the seat of Lord Lorton upon its shore. It is about three
miles in length by two in breadth, and studded with several
picturesque islands, amongst which Trinity Island is noted
for its monastic ruins, and Castle Island for an ancient
fortress of the M‘Dermots, now modernized into an elegant
villa. The lake derives its supply from the neighbouring
boundary lake of Lough Gara upon the borders of Sligo,
which, though larger, and still more irregular in its outline,
is less attractive in appearance than that on which it be¬
stows its redundant waters. To the north of Lough Kea
the two smaller lakes, Lough Skeen and Lough Meelagh,
are connected by a short channel with the Shannon. The
lakes of Bodarrig, Boffin, and Reagh, on its eastern side,
which are, strictly speaking, expansions of the Shannon,
may also be considered as partially belonging to the coun¬
ty. The principal of the smaller lakes are Loughs Errit,
Glynn, Puncheon, and Aluyn. There are several exten¬
sive furloughs or winter lakes, which, being generally dry
in summer, afford rich pasturage for sheep. Between
Frenchpark and Elphin, that of Mantua covers seven hun¬
dred acres ; another near Lough Glynn, in the extreme west
of the county, is half a mile long.
The limestone, which forms the base of all the level dis¬
tricts, is of various kinds, some gray, containing numerous fos¬
sil remains, chiefly madrepores; some of the formation called
calp, which is often found blended with layers of Lydian
stone; and some black, being susceptible of a high polish,
as is a light gray marble found in the southern parts. Sand¬
stone shows itself in the eminences that protrude through the
limestone. Slieve Bawn is mostly composed of it; and in
the neighbourhood of Frenchpark it is raised in laminae so
thin as to be used for the covering of roofs. The northern
district is of the coal formation, which extends also into
the adjoining county of Leitrim ; but the principal stores
of this most valuable mineral, and of ironstone, are to be
found on the Roscommon side. The entire area, which is
divided into two parts by the Arigna, extends over six
thousand five hundred acres, of which two thousand are
to the north and four thousand five hundred to the south
of that river. The strata of coal rise into the mountains
iff Bracklieve and Slieve Corkagh, where the outcrop may
be distinctly seen in several places in the precipitous sides
of the declivities. The coal is of the blazing or bitu¬
minous character, less inflammable than that of Scotland,
but more so than that of the north of England. The prin¬
cipal beds are the Rover, Gubberother, and Aughabehy
collieries, in the latter of which, the chief seam, and the
only one deemed sufficiently rich to defray the expense of
working, is from one foot to two and a half feet thick, and
promises to be abundant in quantity, although subject to
interruptions, or what the workmen call faults, occasioned
by the strata of one part of a hill having slipped down to a
depth of from twenty to fifty yards, and settled on a lower
level. The principal beds of iron ore are also on the south
side of the Arigna river, whence the workings derive their
name. They exhibit decisive indications of having been
in operation at an early period ; but, most probably in con¬
sequence of the exhaustion of timber for fuel, they were
latterly inoperative until 1788, when the pit-coal found in
the neighbourhood led to a new speculation in them, which,
however, was dropped at the end of twenty years. The
workings were resumed by three of the mining companies Rosed
which the extravagant spirit of joint-stock enterprise gave r"oi,
rise to about the year 1825; but only one of them, the ^x"
Arigna company, persevered in the experiment, until in¬
volved in a chancery suit as to the right of tenure, which
being decided against them in 1836, the works have been
resumed by their successful opponent, by whom they are
now carried on upon a very extended scale, and with a
prospect of adequate remuneration for the capital sunk in
the concern. Both the ironstone and the limestone used
as a flux have been pronounced to be of prime quality.
Potters’ clay is found in several places, and is manufactur¬
ed into the coarser kinds of wares. Fire-bricks are made
at Arigna, of fire-clay, which forms some of the mineral
strata there.
The soil varies nearly according to the nature of its sub¬
stratum, that on the limestone being much the most pro¬
ductive ; except in the hilly district between the Shannon
and the Suck, in which the stone rises so near the surface
that the superincumbent vegetable mould is scarcely of
depth sufficient to admit the use of the plough. The bor¬
ders of the rivers which flow through the level parts, and
are therefore liable to overflow their banks during winter,
become, on the return of dry weather, pastures and mea¬
dows of the richest quality. Bogs of every size, from an
extent of a thousand acres to patches merely adequate for
the domestic demands of the immediate neighbourhood in
which they lie, are to be found in many parts. The moun¬
tains are mostly covered with bog and marsh, interspersed
with dry patches on which heath grows most luxuriantly.
In the southern part, large tracts of a v ery light sandy soil,
lying on the low hills between the Suck and the Shannon,
afford excellent pasturage for sheep. The borders of Lough
Aluyn are in some parts formed of sand, apparently carried
from the lake by the wind. Large deposits of gravel and
different kinds of loam are often found between the surface-
soil and the rock which forms the substratum.
The population, according to calculations made at differ¬
ent periods, was as follows:
Year. Authority. Population.
1760 De Burgo....   41,172
1792 Beaufort  86,000
1812   Parliamentary Return... 158,111
1821 Ditto 208,729
1831 Ditto .....239,903
The latest of these returns gives a ratio of one inhabitant
to every 2‘54 acres, or of one to every 1*89 cultivated acre.
The returns of the Commissioners of Public Instruction in
1834 having been made up according to dioceses, though
they do not give results sufficiently accurate to be placed
along with those in the preceding table, afford data suffi¬
cient respecting the comparative numbers of the three
principal religious persuasions, to justify the statement, that
if the whole population of the county be estimated at 240,000
(a close approximation to that of 1831), the numbers of
Protestants are 7000, and of Roman Catholics 233,000, be¬
ing an average of one to thirty-three nearly. The total
number of protestant dissenters in the county, according to
the same return, was but forty-three.
This population was represented in the Irish parliament
by eight members; two for the county at large, and two
for each of the boroughs of Boyle, Roscommon, and Tulsk.
The number was reduced to two at the Union, all the
boroughs being deprived of the right of election. The
number of registered electors for the county is about two
thousand ; elections are held at Roscommon. 1 he local go¬
vernment is vested in a lieutenant, ten deputy-lieutenants,
all appointed by the crown during pleasure, and a hundred
magistrates, in which number the lieutenant and his depu¬
ties are included, appointed by the lord chancellor, and con¬
tinued during good behaviour. The constabulary force con-
R O S C O M M O N.
com- sists of a sub-inspector, six chief constables, seven head con-
3n- stables, forty-three constables, and a hundred and eighty-
seven sub-constables; total two hundred and forty-four.
The state of education, according to the parliamentary
returns made in 1821 and 1824-26, was as follows:
Ye,r' BoI,s- GirIs' asceSed. T0**1-
1821 6981 3306  —  10,287
1824-26 8937 4998 711 14,646
Of the numbers stated in the latter of these returns, 1041
were Episcopalian Protestants, and 13,262 Roman Catho¬
lics ; the religious persuasion of the remaining 343 was not
specified. The total number of schools in the county was
309; of which seventeen, containing 545 pupils, were main¬
tained by grants of public money ; thirty-eight, containing
1954 pupils, by the voluntary contributions of societies or in¬
dividuals ; and the remaining 254 schools, which afforded the
means of instruction to 12,147 pupils, were maintained wholly
by the pupils’ fees. The report of the Commissioners of
National Education in 1837 (the latest published) states the
number of schools, teachers, and pupils, connected with
their board, as follows: Schools, eleven ; teachers, twelve;
boys, 941; girls, 757 ; total of pupils, 1698. The diocesan
school of the see of Elphin is in the county.
The habits of the population are so thoroughly rural, that
there are but four towns of which the population of each ex¬
ceeds a thousand souls, two of them containing between three
and four thousand, and the other two between one and two
thousand. There are several fine mansions and demesnes
in the hands of resident noblemen and gentlemen, and
numerous villas and country-seats belonging to independent
landed proprietors; but as to the small farmers and cottiers,
the appearance of their dwellings and homesteads in many
cases are far from showing those indications of internal
comfort that might be expected in a district so highly fa¬
voured by nature. Agriculture is carried on with much
spirit amongst the higher classes, by whom the latest im¬
provements in tillage, and the best constructed vehicles and
implements, have been introduced; but the old customs
and antiquated implements are pertinaciously adhered to
by most of the smaller farmers. Wheat is largely sown ; a
judicious rotation system is carried on ; and green crops are
frequent, with the exception of turnips and mangel-wurzel,
which have not been found to answer. In the mountainous
districts the spade is frequently used instead of the plough.
In these also the neighbouring landholders generally club
their labour together, particularly in planting and raising
potatoes, all uniting to complete the work of one farm, and
then proceeding successively in a body to execute that
of the other partners in the amicable joint-stock concern.
The pastures are amongst the best in Ireland, and as their
proprietors are almost fastidiously particular in the selection
of live stock of every description, the best-fed beasts are to
he met with here. This is peculiarly the case with respect
to bullocks ; the sheep also are of first-rate quality, both as
to fleece and flavour of carcass. In prime grazing land an
acre feeds a bullock and a sheep. Notwithstanding the su¬
perior capabilities of the soil for pasturage, there are not
many large dairies. But few farms, however small, are
without one cow, if not more, so that butter of excellent
quality is made, not only sufficient for the internal demand,
but for forming a material article of export. The breed of
horses is much esteemed. The annual fair of Ballinasloe,
in October, is the principal mart at which the black cattle
and sheep are disposed of. Fences in general are made of
stone-walls, raised to a considerable height, as they are con¬
sidered to afford better shelter for cattle than those of tim¬
ber. That the county was once well wooded, appears not
only from the evidence of history, but from the fact that
wherever the impediments to its growth are removed, the
soil spontaneously throws up shoots of those species of forest-
479
trees with which the whole face of the country was once Roscom-
covered. The excessive clearing of the woods, without m0IU
precautionary measures to secure a new growth, has left
the surface very bare; but this defect, equally unsightly to
the eye of taste and injurious to the progress of improve¬
ment, is annually diminishing, through the exertions of the
landed gentry, many of whose mansions are surrounded with
noble plantations. Manufactures, with the exception of
those already noticed, and of coarse woollens and linens for
domestic consumption, are almost unknown. The articles
of export are confined to agricultural produce and live
stock, for which the recent improvements on the course of
the Shannon have afforded great facilities. The naviga¬
tion of this fine river, wfhich, as has already been said, skirts
the county along the whole of its eastern verge, was so
much obstructed by several rapids as to render it useless
as a channel of enlarged inland traffic. These impediments
have been obviated by means of short canals along the side
of the river in those parts where the rapids occur. The
first is from Lough Allen in Leitrim to Battlebridge, whence
the river-stream is available somewhat farther than Garrick,
where a second canal serves to avoid the rapids between
Jamestown and Drumsna. Other short canals occur at the
falls of Ruskey, of Lanesborough, and of Athlone. Thence
the channel is clear to the junction with the Suck, where
it quits the county. The connection by water with the
eastern counties to Dublin is maintained by the Royal and
Grand Canals, which communicate with the Shannon at
Tarmonbarry and Shannon Harbour. The principal ex¬
ports are corn and butter, all the coal as yet raised being
not more than sufficient for the supply of the districts sur¬
rounding the collieries. As all the great lines of land
conveyance to Connaught from Leinster and Ulster pass
through the county, the roads are numerous, and generally
well kept up.
The monastic antiquities are very numerous. The ruins
of the abbey of Boyle still exhibit a large part of its highly
ornamented church, with its tower rising from the middle
of the building, and resting on four columns of colossal di¬
mensions, enriched with a variety of sculptures; and the Do¬
minican friary at Roscommon contains a monument of an
ancient member of the O’Conor family, exhibiting an effigy
of an armed warrior in a lying posture, with tour other
armed figures on the base. Derhan Abbey, in the neigh¬
bourhood of Roscommon, is little more than a heap of
stones. The others of which some relics still exist, are
Trinity Abbey in Lough Kea, Tulsk, Clonshanvill, and
Clontuskert, in which there are several monuments and in¬
scriptions relating to the O’Kellys and other ancient fami¬
lies. In the parish of Oran on the Suck, in the west of
the county, are the remains of an ancient pillar-tower, about
ten feet high ; and in every part there are raths so numerous
that nearly five hundred are still visible. The county contain¬
ed a great number of small fortresses, evidently built when
it was one of the marches or border districts, to repress the
incursions of the Connaught Irish, besides which there were
a few of great extent and strength, as is testified by that of
Roscommon, forming a quadrangle of 220 by 180 feet, with
towers at the angles and at the gateway, and containing
the remains of a large building, supposed to be the residence
of the governor. The most remarkable of the other castles
are those of Athlone, Ballinasloe, Ballynafad, and Lough
Glynn.
Roscommon, the county town, is built on the sides of a
hill, near the middle of the county, in a plain between the
Shannon andthe Suck. It consists but of one main street, with
several minor avenues branching out into five main roads,
in various directions. It was incorporated at a very early
period, and was considered to be one of the chief places in
these parts. Writs for the better defence of the town and
castle are frequent among the earlier records. It returned
480
EOS
two members to the Irish parliament till the Union. Here
are all the buildings connected with the local administra¬
tion of justice. The county court-house is a spacious and
well-arranged edifice, with an elegant Grecian-Doric por¬
tico in front. The county prison, built on the radiating plan,
contains accommodations for upwards of a hundred pri¬
soners, and has a tread-mill. The county infirmary, which
also contains a fever hospital and infirmary, admits an aver¬
age of three hundred patients annually. The modern ec¬
clesiastical buildings are not remarkable for architectural
elegance. The parish church is a neat structure. The old
court-house has been converted into a Roman Catholic cha¬
pel. The town is a place of very limited trade, except in that
of grain, large quantities of which are sent to Lanesborough
to be exported thence by means of the Royal Canal or the
Shannon. The population in 1831 was 3306. That of other
towns the number of whose inhabitants exceeded 1000,
was Boyle, the largest and most commercial in the county,
3433 ; Strokestoun, 1548; and Elphin, in which there is
a poor cathedral to a very wealthy diocese, and a diocesan
school, 1507. That part of the town of Athlone on the Shan¬
non, in which the fortified magazines and works intended
for the defence of the pass of the Shannon have been built,
is on the Roscommon side of the river. The greater part
of the town of Ballinasloe, celebrated for its great annual
fair of sheep and horned cattle, is also in this county.
Roscommon, Wentworth Dillon, Earl of, a celebrated
poet of the seventeenth century, was the son of James Dil¬
lon, earl of Roscommon, and was born in Ireland, under
the administration of the first Earl of Strafford, who was
his uncle, and from whom he received the name of Went¬
worth at his baptism. He passed his infancy in Ireland;
after which the Earl of Strafford sent for him into England,
and placed him at his own seat in Yorkshire, under the
tuition of Dr Hall, afterwards bishop of Norwich, who in¬
structed him in Latin, without teaching him the common
rules of grammar, which he could never retain in his me¬
mory, though he learned to write in that language with
classical elegance and propriety. On the Earl of Strafford’s
being impeached, he went to complete his education at Caen
in Normandy; and after some years he travelled to Rome,
where he became acquainted with the most valuable re¬
mains of antiquity, and in particular was well skilled in me¬
dals, and learned to speak Italian with such grace and flu¬
ency that he was frequently taken for a native. He re¬
turned to England soon after the Restoration, and was made
captain of the band of pensioners; but a dispute with
the lord privy-seal about a part of his estate obliged him
to resign his post, and revisit his native country, where the
Duke of Ormond appointed him captain of the guards. He
was unhappily very fond of gaming ; and as he was return¬
ing to his lodgings from a gaming-table in Dublin, he was
attacked in the dark by three ruffians, who were employed
to assassinate him. The earl defended himself with such
resolution, that he had despatched one of the aggressors,
when a gentleman passing that way took his part, and dis¬
armed another, on which the third sought his safety in flight.
This generous assistant was a disbanded officer of good fa¬
mily and fair reputation, but reduced to poverty ; and his
lordship rewarded his bravery by resigning to him his post of
captain of the guards. He at length returned to London, when
he was made master of the horse to the Duchess of York,
and married the Lady Frances, the eldest daughter of
Richard earl of Burlington, and the widow of Colonel Court¬
ney. Here he distinguished himself by his writings; and,
in imitation of those learned and polite assemblies with
which he had been acquainted abroad, he began to form a
society for refining and fixing the standard of the English
language, in which his great friend Dryden was a princi¬
pal assistant. This scheme, however, was entirely debat¬
ed by the religious commotions which ensued on King
R O S
James’s accession to the throne. In 1683 he was seized
with the gout; and being too impatient of pain, he permit¬
ted a bold French empiric to apply a repelling medicine,
in order to give him immediate relief. This drove the dis-'
temper into his bowels, and in a short time put a period to
his life. He died in the month of January 1684, and was
buried with great pomp in Westminster Abbey.
His poems, which are not numerous, are in the body of
English poetry collected by Dr Johnson. His Essay on
Translated Verse, and his translation of Horace’s Art of
Poetry, have been much commended. Upon the latter,
Waller addressed a poem to his lordship when he was se¬
venty-five years of age. “ In the writings of this nobleman
we view,” says Fenton, “ the image of a mind naturally se¬
rious and solid; richly furnished and adorned with all the
ornaments of art and science; and these ornaments unaf¬
fectedly disposed in the most regular and elegant order. His
imagination might probably have been more fruitful and
sprightly, if his judgment had been less severe; but that
severity (delivered in a masculine, clear, succinct style) con¬
tributed to make him so eminent in the didactical manner,
that no man with justice can affirm he was equalled by any
of our nation, without confessing at the same time that he
is inferior to none. In some other kinds of wTiting his ge¬
nius seems to have wanted fire to attain the point of per¬
fection ; but who can attain it ?” He was a man of an ami¬
able disposition, as well as a good poet; as Pope, in his Es¬
say on Criticism, has testified in the following lines:
Rose
T, l!
Roses
Ottar c
Roscommon not more learned than good,
With manners generous as his noble blood ;
To him the wit of Greece and Rome was known.
And every author’s merit but his own.
We must allow of Roscommon, what Fenton has not men¬
tioned so distinctly as he ought, and what is yet very much
to his honour, that he is perhaps the only correct writer in
verse before Addison ; and that, if there are not so many
or so great beauties in his composition as in those of some
contemporaries, there are at least fewer faults. Nor is this
his highest praise. For Pope has celebrated him as the
only moral writer of King Charles’s reign.
Unhappy Dryden! in all Charles’s days,
Roscommon only boasts unspotted lays.
“ Of Roscommon’s works,” as Dr Johnson has remarked,
“ the judgment of the public seems to be right. He is ele¬
gant, but not great; he never labours after exquisite beau¬
ties, and he seldom falls into gross faults. His versification
is smooth, but rarely vigorous; and his rhymes are remark¬
ably exact. He improved taste, if he did not enlarge know¬
ledge, and may be numbered among the benefactors to Eng¬
lish literature.
ROSE. See Rosa.
Rose of Jericho, so called because it grows in the plain
of Jericho, though it did not originally flourish there. It has
perhaps been so named by travellers who did not know' that
it was brought from Arabia Petrsea. Rose-bushes are fre¬
quently found in the fields about Jericho ; but they are ot
a species much inferior to those so much extolled in Scrip¬
ture, the flowers of which some naturalists pretend to have
in their cabinets.
Roses, Ottar or Essential Oil of, is obtained from roses
by simple distillation. A quantity of fresh roses, for ex¬
ample forty pounds, is put in a still with sixty pounds or
water, the roses being left as they are with their calyxes,
but with the stems cut close. The mass is then well mix¬
ed together with the hands, and a gentle fire is made under
the still; when the water begins to grow hot, and fumes
to rise, the cap of the still is put on, and the pipe fixed,
the chinks are then well luted with paste, and cold water
put on the refrigeratory at top. The receiver is also adapt¬
ed at the end of the pipe ; and the fire is continued under
R O S
ehearty. the still, neither too violent nor too weak. When the im-
-v^pregnated water begins to come over, and the still is very
hot, the fire is lessened by gentle degrees, and the distilla¬
tion continued till thirty pounds of water are come over,
which is generally done in about four or five hours. This
rose-water is to be poured again on a fresh quantity (forty
pounds) of roses, and from fifteen to twenty pounds of wa¬
ter are to be drawn by distillation, following the same pro¬
cess as before. The rose-water thus made will be found,
if the roses be good and fresh, and the distillation care¬
fully performed, highly scented with the roses. It is then
poured into pans either of earthen ware or of tinned metal,
and left exposed for the night to the fresh air. The ottar
or essence will be found in the morning congealed, and
swimming on the top of the water; and this is to be care¬
fully separated and collected either with a thin shell or a
skimmer, and poured into a phial. When a certain quantity
has thus been obtained, the water and feces must be sepa¬
rated from the clear essence; which, with respect to the
first, will not be difficult to do, as the essence congeals with
a slight cold, and the water may then be made to run off.
If, after that, the essence is kept fluid by heat, the feces
will subside, and may be separated ; but if the operation
has been neatly performed, these will be little or none.
The feces are as highly perfumed as the essence, and must
be kept, after as much as possible of the essence has
been skimmed from the rose-water. The remaining water
should be used for fresh distillations, instead of common
water, at least as far as it wall go.
The above is the whole process, as given in the Asiatic
Researches (vol. i. p. 332), of making genuine ottar of roses.
Attempts, as the writer states, are often made to augment
the quantity, though at the expense of the quality. Thus the
raspings of sandal-wood, which contain a deal of essential
oil, are used ; but the imposition is easily discovered, both
by the smell, and because the essential oil of sandal-wood
will not congeal in common cold. In other places they adul¬
terate the ottar by distilling with the roses a sweet-scented
grass, which colours it of a high clear green. This does
not congeal in a slight cold. There are numerous other
modes, far more palpable, of adulteration. The quantity
of esential oil to be obtained from roses is very preca¬
rious, depending on the skill of the distiller, on the qua¬
lity of the roses, and on the favourableness of the season.
The colour of the ottar is no criterion of its goodness, qua¬
lity, or country. The calyxes by no means diminish the
quality of ottar, nor do they impart any green colour to it.
They indeed augment the quantity, but the trouble neces¬
sary to strip them is such as to prevent their being often
used.
The following is a simpler and less expensive process for
preparing this delicate and highly valued perfume, but whe¬
ther it be equally productive we know not. A large earthen
or stone jar, or a large clean wooden cask, is filled with the
leaves of the flowers of roses, well picked and freed from
the seeds and stalks; and as much spring-water as will
cover them being poured into the vessel, it is set in the
sun in the morning at sunrise, and allowed to stand till the
evening, when it is removed into the house for the night.
In the same way it is to be exposed for six or seven days
successively. At the end of the third or fourth day a num¬
ber of particles of a fine yellow oily matter is seen floating
on the surface; and these particles in the course of two or
three days more collect into a scum, which is the ottar of
roses. This is taken up by means of cotton tied to the
end of a piece of stick, aud squeezed with the finger and
thumb into a small phial, which is immediately well stop¬
ped ; and this is repeated for some successive evenings, or
whilst any of this fine essential oil rises to the surface of
the water,
ROSEHEARTY, a burgh of barony in the county of
VOL. XIX.
it o s
481
Aberdeen, situated on the shores of the Moray Frith, and ftosenau
eighteen miles from Banff. The inhabitants, who amount to
about 800, are mostly employed in fishing. It possesses a
harbour, which may eventually become of importance, si- <
tuated as it is on an exposed part of the coast, with a con¬
siderable depth of water. Its revenues amount to about
L.100 yearly.
ROSENAU, a city of the Austrian kingdom of Hungary,
in the province of the Hither Theiss, and circle of Gomdr.
It is situated on the river Sajo, and is the seat of a bishop, and
of an episcopal seminary. It contains several churches, 680
houses, and 5400 inhabitants, trading in linen, paper, wood-
ware, and ironmongery, and also producing good wine.
Long. 20. 27. 13. E. Lat. 48. 39. 2. N.
ROSENGYN, one of the Banda Isles, about seven
miles south-east of Lantore. Convicts wmre sent here when
the island was in possession of the Dutch. The produc¬
tions are nutmegs, mace, and yams; and here a few cattle
are also fed.
ROSE IO, a small city of Italy, of the province of Prin-
cipato Ulteriore, and of the kingdom of Naples. It was long
celebrated from possessing in its church an image of the
Virgin Mary, brought there, according to a legend, in a mi¬
raculous manner, which induced many pilgrims from all
parts of Europe to resort to it for purposes of devotion, and
to present very valuable offerings. It w'as taken and plun¬
dered by the French, and the venerated image having been
obtained by a private individual, has been restored to its
former place; but the number of votaries has much dimi¬
nished. The inhabitants amount to about 3000, who sub¬
sist principally in making holy trinkets, and from supplying
lodging and provisions to the pilgrims who still resort to it.
ROSETTA, a town of Africa, in Egypt, is pleasantly
situated on the west side of that branch of the Nile called
by the ancients Bolbitinurn, affirmed by Herodotus to have
been formed by art; the town and castle being on the right
hand as you enter the river. Any one who sees the hills
about Rosetta would judge that they had been the ancient
barriers of the sea, and conclude that the sea has not lost
more ground than the space between the hills and the
water.
Rosetta is esteemed one of the most pleasant places in
Egypt. It is about two miles in length, and consists only of
tw?o or three streets. The country about it is most delight¬
ful and fertile, as is the wdiole Delta on the other side of
the Nile, exhibiting the most pleasant prospect of gardens,
orchards, and corn-fields, excellently cultivated. This place
is also famous for having produced the celebrated monu¬
ment which, interpreted by Dr Young, led to the discovery
of hieroglyphical literature, and threw" new light on a sub¬
ject of great antiquity. It consists of a black basalt, frag¬
mented, which the French troops had found when digging
the foundation of Fort St Julian; and is inscribed, as far as
it is entire, with the hieroglyphic or sacred, the demotic or
enchorial, and the Hellenic or Greek character.
In the country to the north of Rosetta are delightful gar¬
dens, full of orange, lemon, and citron trees, and almost all
sorts of fruits, w ith a variety of groves of palm-trees; and
when the fields are green with rice, it adds greatly to the
beauty of the country. It is about twenty-five miles north¬
east of Alexandria, and a hundred north-west of Cairo.
Long. 30. 45. E. Lat. 31. 30. N.
ROSICRUCIANS, the name of a sect of philosophers,
called hermetical philosophers, who arose, as it has been
said, or at least became first conspicuous, in Germany, in the
beginning of the fourteenth century. They bound them¬
selves together by a solemn secret, which they all swore
inviolably to preserve; and obliged themselves, at their
admission into the order, to a strict observance of certain
established rules. They pretended to know all sciences,
and chiefly medicine, of which they professed themselves
3 p
482
R O S
R O S
mons they divide into two orders, sylphs and gnomes; which
supplied the beautiful machinery of Pope’s Rape of the
Lock. In fine, the Rosicrucians and all their fanatical de-,
scendants agree in proposing the most crude and incom¬
prehensible notions and ideas, in the most obscure, quaint,
and unusual expressions.
ROSLIN, or Rosslyn, a village in the county of Mid-
Lothian, Scotland, about seven miles south from Edinburgh,
celebrated for the picturesque ruins of its castle, the archi¬
tectural grace of its chapel, and the sequestered but varie-
they have made no appearance for several years, unless the gated scenery ot the vale in which they are placed. Roslin
sectof Illuminated which lately started up on the Continent was formerly a place of some note, being next to Edin-
derives its origin from them, they have been called the In- burgh and Haddington in importance, and was made a
visible Brothers. Their society is frequently signed by the burgh of barony by James II. of Scotland, and privileged
letters F. R. C. which by some amongst them are interpreted by holding fairs and markets. The sole dependence of the
Fratres Boris Cocti; it being pretended, that the matter of the inhabitants at the present time is on agriculture and the
philosopher’s stone is dew concocted or exalted. Some, who bleaching of linen. The castle is situated on a peninsular
are no friends to free-masonry, make the present flourish- rock, round which the South Esk river pursues its course;
Rosicru- the restorers. They pretended to be masters of important
dans, secrets, and, amongst others, that of the philosopher’s stone ;
a]] which they affirmed to have received by tradition from
the ancient Egyptians, Chaldaeans, the Magi, and Gymnoso-
phists. They have been distinguished by several names,
accommodated to the several branches of their doctrine.
Because they pretended to protract the period of human life,
by means of certain nostrums, and even to restore youth,
they were called Immortales; as they pretended to know
all things, they have been called Illuminati; and because
ing society of free-masons a branch of Rosicrucians, or ra¬
ther the Rosicrucians themselves under a new name or re¬
lation, namely, as retainers to building.
Notwithstanding the pretended antiquity of the Rosicru¬
cians, it is probable that the alchemists, Paracelsists, or
fire-philosophers, who spread themselves through almost all
Europe about the close of the sixteenth century, assumed massive and extensive building, but characterized by great
about this period the obscure and ambiguous title of Rosi- splendour in its internal decorations. All that now remain
crucian brethren, which commanded at first some degree are some high fragments of the walls and battlements, and
of respect, as it seemed to be borrowed from the arms of a triple tier of vaults. Amidst the ruins, and partly above
Luther, which were a cross placed upon a rose. But the these vaults, was built a more modern house, bearing the
denomination evidently appears to be derived from the date of 1622, which is still inhabited,
science of chemistry. It is not compounded, as many ima- The chapel was founded in the year 1446, by William
gine, of the two words rosa and crux, which signify rose St Clair, prince of Orkney and lord of Rosslyn, for a pro-
and cross, but of the latter of these words, and the Latin vost, six prebendaries, and two choristers, and consecrated
ros, which signifies dew. Of all natural bodies, dew was to St Matthew. Tradition states that the design of the
deemed the most powerful dissolvent of gold; and the cross, building, which was intended for a large collegiate church,
in the chemical language, is equivalent to light, because the was drawn at Rome ; and that the prince employed the best
figure of a cross exhibits, at the same time, the three letters workmen that could be procured, both from the Continent
of which the word lux, or light, is compounded. Now lux and at home, in the erection. The chapel, which is merely
is called, by this sect, the seed or menstruum of the red the chancel and part of the transept of the original design, is
dragon, or, in other words, that gross and corporeal light, unique in style, and cannot be said to belong to any order
which, when properly digested and modified, produces gold, of architecture. It however combines the solidity ot the
Hence it follows, if this etymology be admitted, that a Ro- Norman with the elegance and minute profusion of orna-
sicrucian philosopher is one who, by the intervention and ment characteristic of the latest species of the Tudor age.
assistance of the dew, seeks for light, or, in other words, the The interior is sixty-eight feet in length, thirty-four feet in
substance called the philosopher’s stone. The true mean- breadth, and forty feet in height. It is divided into a centre
ing and energy of this denomination did not escape the pe- and aisles, by two ranges of clustered pillars, eight feet in
netration and sagacity of Gassendi, as appears by his Ex- height, adorned with sculptured foliage and figures of hu-
amen P'hilosophice Fluddanas, sect. 15, tom. iii. p. 261
and it was more fully explained by Renaudot, in his Con¬
ferences Publiques, tom. iv. p. 87.
At the head of these fanatics were Robert Fludd, an Eng¬
lish physician, Jacob Bohm, and Michael Mayer. The
common principles which serve as a kind of centre of union
to the Rosicrucian society are the following. They all
maintain that the dissolution of bodies by the power of jealousy of his master. At the reformation in 1688 this
fire is the only way by which men can ari'ive at true wis- chapel was, like many other sacred edifices of taste, defa-
dom, and come to discern the first principles of things, ced by a mob from Edinburgh; but it was repaired in the
They all acknowledge a certain analogy and harmony be- following century by General St Clair. The present Earl
tween the powers of nature and the doctrines of religion ; of Rosslyn is judiciously, and with great taste, restoring this
and believe that the Deity governs the kingdom of grace venerable structure to its original state. Beneath this cha-
by the same laws with which he rules the kingdom of na- pel lie the barons of Roslin, all of whom were, till the time
ture, and hence they are led to use chemical denominations of James VII., buried in armour. Near this was fought,
to express the truths of religion. They all hold that there in February 1302, the three celebrated battles of Roslin,
is a sort of divine energy, or soul, diffused through the frame where the Scots, under the regent Sir John Comyn, and
of the universe, which some call the archeus, others the Sir Simon Frazer, attacked and defeated three divisions of
universal spirit, and which others mention under different the English army.
appellations. They all talk in the most superstitious man- ROSS, a market-town of the county of Hereford, in the
ner of what they call the signatures of things, of the power hundred of Greytree, 115 miles from London. It is finely
of the stars over all corporeal beings, and their particular situated on a hill rising from the river Wye. Its chief
influence upon the human race, of the efficacy of magic, trade is in the sale of cider. Pope has immortalized the place
and the various ranks and orders of demons. These de- by his laudatory description of one of its residents, John
Rosi
J
and is connected with the adjacent ground by an old nar¬
row bridge thrown over a deep cut chasm in the solid
rock. The original castle was most likely erected in the
eleventh century. It must have been increased from time
to time in after years, as we learn that when the Earls of
St Clair were in their glory, the castle was not only a
man beings and animals, of the most exquisite workman¬
ship. The pillars are so arranged that their ceilings are
thrown into one, so as to form a continued arch along
the centre of the building. One pillar, conspicuous for its
elaborate decorations, is called the “ prentice pillar,” from
its having been sculptured by an apprentice, who is said to
have lost his life from having thus excited the professional
R O S
Ross Kyrle, who died in 1724, having spent his income on works
II of utility and of beneficence. The market is held on Thurs-
oss-shire. day. population amounted in 1801 to 2347, in 1811
to 2201, in 1821 to 2962, and in 1831 to 3078.
Ptoss, or Ross Carbery, a town in the county of Cork,
Munster, Ireland, is situated on an eminence, at the head of
a narrow creek in Ross Bay. It is a place of great anti¬
quity. The town is laid out on a regular plan, and con¬
sists of a square, from the four corners of which diverge so
many streets. It has an ancient cathedral, embosomed in
trees, which, with the wooded banks of the bay, forms a re¬
markably beautiful feature in the appearance of the town.
The harbour is spacious, but of little use, in consequence
of being blocked up by the sand. The population amount¬
ed in 1831 to 1522.
Ross, New. See New Ross.
ROSSIANO, a city of Italy, in the province of Cala¬
bria Citeriore, and the kingdom of Naples. It stands on the
sea-shore, between the rivers Lucena and Celano. It is the
see of a bishop, and has a cathedral, and twenty-three other
churches, of which nine belong to the same number of mo¬
nasteries or nunneries. The inhabitants amount to 7700.
ROSS-SHIRE, a county of Scotland, having that of Cro¬
marty so curiously intermixed with it, that the description
of both under one head is a matter not only of convenience,
but of necessity. Ross-shire, comprising the districts of Ar-
dross, Easter Ross, Ardmeanach or the Black Isle, Kintail,
Strathcarron, and the island of Lewis, is the most extensive
county in Scotland, and second only to Yorkshire as regards
Great Britain. The county of Cromarty, on the other hand,
is comparatively small. It is divided into ten portions, which
are whimsically inserted into various parts of the larger coun¬
ty of Ross, like fragments of a more ancient rock in some
newer geological formation. One of these parts is the ori¬
ginal county of Cromarty, so called from Cromba, that is,
crooked bay, from the windings of its shores, consisting of
that portion which lies in the peninsula to the south of the
Cromarty Frith, and which surrounds the county town. This
part rises like a huge lump to a height of 470 feet above
the level of the sea, which washes the base of its cliffs. As
a county, it was very inconsiderable both in extent and in
value. But by the straggling additions which were made
to it towards the end of the seventeenth century, it was in¬
creased to fifteen times its former extent. Of these addi¬
tions, one is that district surrounding Tarbat House, on the
northern shore of Cromarty Bay; and a second runs from
the south side of Dornoch Frith to Moray Frith, cutting
off that portion of the county of Ross which terminates in
Tarbat Ness. Two more fragments are found lying on
the north of the river Carron, which has its embouchure
near Bonnar Bridge ; a fifth is that which runs northward
from the burgh of Dingwall, taking in Castle Leod and
part of Ben Weavish; the sixth lies to the north of Loch
Fannich, at some distance to the north-west of which a
triangular morsel is found to the north of Loch Nid ; the
eighth is that which stretches along the southern shore of
Little Loch Broom; and the ninth is the large district of
Coygach, lying between the northern shore of Loch Broom
and Sutherlandshire; to which may be added the Summer
Islands at the mouth of Loch Broom, which are about sixty
miles distant from the towm of Cromarty. As we have al¬
ready mentioned under the article Cromarty, this strange
arrangement of territory was produced by the influence of
that great and powerful proprietor, George viscount Tar-
hat, afterwards earl of Cromarty, who, wishing to have all
his various lands included in one shire, got them annexed
to his owm county in 1685 and 1698. But these were not
all, nor the most extraordinary, annexations which he ac¬
complished. For, as a part of the county of Cromarty, we
are compelled to notice Royston, or Caroline Park, locally
situated within the county of Edinburgh, and but a couple
R O S 483
of miles fiom the Scottish capital. But such arrangements Ross-shire,
were by no means singular. The district of Ferintosh, be- 'v—^
longing locally to Ross-shire, is in fact a part of Nairnshire;
and from similar causes many of the houses in the Canongate
of Edinburgh belong to different counties in Scotland, from
theii having been the town residences of Scottish noblemen
whose estates lay in those different shires. By the addition
of all those portions which we have enumerated, the extent
of Cromarty is calculated to be equal to an area of 345
square miles, or about 220,800 imperial acres. It contains
only one entire parish, that of Cromarty, the other parts of
it being parochially connected with parishes belonging to
Ross-shire. The two towns of Cromarty and Ullapoof be¬
long to it, and its whole population may be estimated at
about 5000 or 6000 souls. It is judicially under the juris¬
diction of the sheriff of Ross, the sheriff-court being held
at Cromarty every alternate Friday; and it is politically
united with Ross shire in returning a member to parlia¬
ment. It contains about 20,000 arable acres. It has a
considerable trade in pork for the English market; and at
Cromarty there is a thriving manufactory of hempen cloth,
which employs about two hundred individuals.
Having thus given a general notion of the county of Cro¬
marty as distinct from that of Ross, we may now proceed
to consider the united counties under one view. Ross has its
name from Ross, a promontory, and probably from that of
Tarbat Ness. The united shires lie between 57. 8. and 58.
10. north latitude, and between 4. 0. and 5. 46. west lon¬
gitude from Greenwich. From the extreme northern point
of Coygach, to the southern extremity of the Ross-shire
boundary, which lies to the north-east of Loch Hourn, in
Inverness-shire, the distance may be about seventy-two
miles ; whilst from Strath Oikel to the Cowrie Water the
measurement is not more than thirty or thirty-five miles.
The breadth from Tarbat Ness to the extreme western
coast to the north of Gairloch is about eighty-five miles.
The whole surface may be about 2424 square miles, or
about 1,545,600 acres; but to this must be added the
Lewis, which contains four of the thirty-three parishes of
which the united county of Ross and Cromarty consists.
The boundaries are Sutheflandshire and Dornoch Frith on
the north, and Moray Frith on the east, Inverness-shire
on the south, and the Western Ocean on the west. On
the eastern coast Cromarty Frith shoots inland from that
of Moray through the narrow strait produced by those
grand and picturesque headlands called the Sutors of Cro¬
marty, and expands into a still and land-locked basin, ca¬
pable of holding the whole navy of Great Britain. The
headlands themselves are so lofty and precipitous, that it is
not uncommon during gales of wind from the north-east¬
ward, to see waves breaking upon them to the height of an
hundred feet, whilst all within is smooth. Stowe, in his
Chronicle, calls it “ an exceeding quiet and saue hauen
Boyce calls it “ the hail of seamen and Buchanan is still
more particular in his praise of it. It is rather more than
five miles broad at the widest part, and its length is about
eighteen. The depth averages from nine to twelve fa¬
thoms, but in the entrance it in some places exceeds thirty,
a depth which nearly doubles that of Moray Frith, into which
it opens. The continuity of outline of the western coast is
interrupted by many bays and sea-lochs, which afford nume¬
rous havens of shelter. From south to north, these are Loch
Alsh, with its two branches Loch Duich and Loch Ling;
Loch Carron, with its branch Loch Keeshorn ; Loch Tor-
ridon, Gairloch, Loch Ewe, Loch Greinord, Little Loch
Broom, Loch Broom, and Loch Enard. All these exhibit
magnificent scenery. That of Loch Torridon, for example,
is of the grandest and wildest character; as is likewise that
of Loch Duich, rendered peculiarly interesting by the re¬
mains of the Castle of Eilean Donnan, the ancient strong¬
hold of the Mackenzies, the Lords of Kintail. The outer
484
ROSS-SHIRE.
J{093-shire, headlands of the western coast of Ross-shire, north of Loch
-~-y—" Carron, are composed of sandstone, exhibiting the usual
smooth and regular outline characteristic of that formation;
and hence the promontories are tame, and of an unvaried
reddish coloured aspect, and the shores of the bays are for
the most part covered over with brown heath. It is there¬
fore more in the inner recesses of these inlets, and perhaps
somewhat inland, that truly beautiful and romantic scenery
is to be found. The coast of the island of Lewis is so in¬
dented with bays, lochs, creeks, and long and tortuous arms
of the sea, as to bid defiance to any enumeration or descrip¬
tion within the confined limits assigned to this article.
The general surface of Ross and Cromarty is wild and
mountainous, the mountain chains and groups being inter¬
spersed with valleys, glens, lakes, and rivers, exhibiting na¬
ture in every variety of form and character. T he moun¬
tains, and particularly those towards the west, are covered
with excellent pasture for sheep. Some of the sheep-farms
are extensive, and possessed by sheep-farmers of capital,
who have introduced the Cheviot breed of sheep, ox a cross
of that breed. The valleys and glens are depastured by
large herds of cattle. Although agriculture is found in
patches in the valleys and on the shores of the west coast,
the great agricultural district of Ross and Cromarty is that
extending from Dingwall along the northern shore of Cro¬
marty Frith, and so onwards in a north-eastern diiection
along the Moray Frith and that of Dornoch. The soil and
climate of Easter Ross are as fine as any in Scotland, the
agriculture is of the very best description, and the nu¬
merous gentlemen’s seats and extensive plantations with
which it is ornamented render this one of the most plea¬
sant, smiling, and cheerful countries that the stranger can
visit. Alf the grains and other agricultural produce of
Britain are here raised in perfection; and if we were de¬
sired to fix on a spot in any part of Scotland where the best
fruits could be produced, or where the rarest or most deli¬
cate plants or trees could best be reared, we should be dis¬
posed to fix on Tarbat House, on the northern shore of the
Bay of Cromarty. We may further venture to assert, that
no traveller of taste can possibly drive along that northern
shore, from Dingwall eastwards, without very great enjoy¬
ment. The roads made in Ross-shire by the parliamentary
commissioners are extensive and excellent, and they are
kept in the highest state of repair. Many of the wildest
and most unapproachable districts have thus been opened ;
but there are still many left hermetically sealed against all
but the adventurous horseman or the unwearied pedestrian.
Amongst the numerous fresh-water lakes and rivers to
be found in Ross and Cromarty, we may particularize the
following. On the eastern side of the island we have Loch
Ailsh and Loch Craggan, that give birth to the river
Oikel, which divides Ross-shire from Sutherland, and which,
after a course of forty miles, finds its way into the upper
end of Dornoch Frith, near the fine iron-arched bridge
of Bonnar. Then, as we move southwards, we have the
river Carron and the Water of Fearn, discharging them¬
selves into the same frith. Cromarty Frith receives the
large and important stream of the river Conan, which
drains off the waters of Lochs Tolimuir, Garrogan, and
Garve ; Loch Fannich, Loch Roslik, Lochs Lett, Achin,
Hular, and Luichart; Loch Benachan, Loch Scolbuck, and
Lochs Negin and Nerick, and Loch Gowrie, by the im¬
portant tributary river Orrin. Lochs Calavie and Gedd
furnish their supplies to the river Beauly of Inverness-shire.
Loch Clunie, half of which is in Ross-shire, pays its tribute
to Loch Ness by the river Morrison. On the west coast
we have the rivers Sheil and Ling, the one tributary to
Loch Duich, and the other to Loch Ling; the river Car¬
ron discharging into Loch Carron the waters of Lochs Doule
and Scaven. In Applecross we have Lochs Lundie and
Damph, and the rivers of Applecross and Torridon, the
last mentioned discharging itself into Loch Torridon. Loch Roas-shii
Vallich, and a great chain of small lakes, empty their waters ' v-'*
into Gairloch, as do Lochs Naheig, Padnascally, and Slat-
tadale. The river Ewe, which is only one mile in length,
discharges into Loch Ewe the waters of the grand Loch
Maree, together with those of Loch Clare and its chain of
small lochs, and those of Loch Gurraig; Loch Poolewe
also sends its stream into Loch Ewe. Loch F uir and Loch
Shallag have their embouchures in Loch Greinord. The
waters of Lochs Arin and Druin find their way into Loch
Broom, as do those of Loch Damph and Loch Auchall, and
those of Loch Cruisk through the stream of the Strakemort;
Loch Kynoch, Loch Lurgan, and Loch Baddagyle send
their streams into Loch Enard; and Lochs Skinaskink,
Achyle, 'Vattie, and Fin also discharge themselves into the
same bay, at the north-western point of the Coygash part
of Cromarty. All these lochs and. streams abound with
fish, and salmon are particularly abundant in all the rivers,
especially in the Oikel and in the Ewe. Short as is the
course of this last-mentioned stream, it so swarms with sal¬
mon that twenty fish are no uncommon number for an ex¬
pert angler to take in one day. Loch Maree, from which
it derives its stream, is by far the largest and finest lake in
Ross-shire. It is eighteen miles long, and from one to three
miles broad ; and the greater part of it is full sixty fathoms
deep, so that it has never been known to freeze even in the
most intense frosts. It contains no less than twenty-four
islands, and its mountains are magnificent. The highest of
the group is Sliabhach or Slioch, which is estimated at about
three thousand feet. The Messrs Andersons of Inverness,^
in their admirable Guide to the Highlands and Islands of
Scotland, tell us that the scenery of this lake is the most
utterly savage and terrific, in its barrenness and loneliness,
of any part of this land of the mountain and the flood.
A few ash-trees, oaks, birches, and pines, the latter but
remnants of a gigantic ancient forest, are seen along the
water’s edge, and beautify some of the islands in a high de¬
gree. But above this narrow zone scarcely a blade of grass
exists, and eternally recurring sheets, precipices, and tables
of dark-brown sandstone and quartz rock meet the eye in
every direction. Ben Eye, at the south-eastern end, is the
only exception, for it consists of two high sharp peaks of
pure white quartz rock, and its form is altogether beautiful
and stately. The Corries, and the solitudes of Glen Lo¬
gan, opposite to it, on the other side of the lake, are the fa¬
vourite haunts of the red deer. Ben Lairg and Stengach,
also on the northern shore, are both stupendous moun¬
tains : the former recedes to a considerable distance from
the margin of the lake, while the latter is visible at once
from its base to the summit. Its lower acclivities are re¬
markably steep, and in one part it presents a front of ab¬
rupt loffy cliffs, disposed in great horizontal sections, along
the crevices of which a few aged and fantastically shaped
pine-trees are seen casting forth their arms against the
western breeze. Its rocks contain an unexampled number
of varieties of quartz, and the view from its top is unusual¬
ly grand and extensive. The easiest way to survey its
scenery is from a boat. The path on the northern shore
by Letterewe is hardly passable, and that on the opposite
side is surpassed by none in the Highlands for ruggedness
and sterility. It clambers up many rocky channels of tor¬
rents, and then, adapting its course to the shelf of a long
ledge of sandstone, it stops suddenly over a precipice, leav¬
ing the bewildered stranger in utter uncertainty where he
is next to step. Yet there are many beauties mingled with
all this ruggedness, and some of the numerous little bays
are full of the loveliest features of fairy landscape. In the
middle of this romantic lake, there is an island.called Island
Maree, on which there is a very ancient burying-gvounc..
Some think that it was dedicated to the Virgin Mary, and
that, from this circumstance, both the island and the lake c.e-
ROSS-SHIRE.
ss-shire. rived their name. It contains a number of tombstones co-
—V'"'' vered with inscriptions and hieroglyphical figures, which can
hardly now be satisfactorily deciphered. Some of these are
believed to be tombs of Danish kings, which induces certain
individuals to believe that the name is a corruption from
Eilean-nan-High, or the King’s Island; whilst others take it
from a good man called Saint Maree, who inhabited this
island many generations ago, and of whose benevolent and
charitable actions many traditions are still preserved in the
surrounding districts. In the centre of the island there is
a deep well, dedicated to Saint Mary or Maree. To this
a strange superstition attaches. Unhappy maniacs are car¬
ried to it and made to drink of its waters; after which they
are plunged into the lake, and towed round the island at
the stern of a boat, in the absurd hope that they will be
thus restored to their senses. Fortunately for humanity,
this absurd practice is fast wearing out.
The scenery on the river Conan and some of its tribu¬
taries is beautiful and interesting. The falls of Rogie are
by many considered as inferior only to those of Foyers and
Moness. We may indeed affirm that most of the valleys or
river-courses in the united counties are more or less worth
visiting, for the wild, the romantic, or the retired pastoral
scenes which they contain. The waterfall of Glomach, in
the parish of Kintail, is one of the highest and finest in the
kingdom. It is to be found in a remote uninhabited val¬
ley on the estate of Mr Mackenzie of Applecross, about
seven miles from the inn of Sheal-house; and it will w'ell
repay the lover of the grandeur of nature for any fatigue
or trouble which he may have in visiting it. Its height,
lately ascertained, without instruments, but as accurately
as the nature of the ground admitted, is about 350 feet.
At the height of about fifty feet the water meets with a
slight interruption from a shelving projection in the rock.
This, however, is a circumstance that adds greatly to the
effect, by increasing the volume of spray, and producing
variety in the form of the fall. But when the river Gir-
sac is swollen, the sheet of water is unbroken, terrific, and
sublime. The fall is best viewed from a solitary tree
standing on a narrow neck of rock projecting towards the
water, about 100 feet down the ravine, to the south-west
ot the fall. There the stream appears to issue from an
oblong fissure in the rock, from whence, with a fearful
rush, it urges its way, chiefly in one great column, to the
pool below, from which, at this station, no outlet can be
perceived. The environs of the fall are wild and barren,
consisting of great naked sheets of perpendicular rocks par¬
tially covered with tufts of grass, ferns, or mountain saxi¬
frage, adding, if possible, to the savage character of the
scene. . .
The mountain groups of Ross and Cromarty are very
lofty. They rise gradually from the east coast, and more
suddenly and boldly from the western sea, to which the
summit-level of the country is more generally approxi¬
mated. The mountains are all of the primitive forma¬
tion, the secondary strata being found reclining on it on
both sides of the island. The granitic series present ex¬
tremely abrupt sections towards Moray Frith, and there
we also find the older and other sandstones, with argilla¬
ceous formations abounding in animal remains, with plates
resembling those of the tortoise, pieces of rough skin like
that of the shark, the scales and bones of fish; and in a
ridge of bituminous shale, near the Cromarty rocks, we .
find ammonites, bellemnites, scallops plain and striated,
pieces of wood, and a thick fleshy-looking leaf resembling
485
necessary for fuel. There is a rich vein of iron ore in the Boss-shire,
parish of Alness, and in the same vicinity there is a vein of
lead, and indications of that metal have been found in the
parish of Kiltearn. A copper-mine at Keeshorn, in the
northern district of the parish of Applecross, was consider¬
ed by Williams as equally rich with any mine of the same
metal to be found in Great Britain. On the farm of Scor-
raig, on the. Dundonnell estate, there is a prodigious quan¬
tity of bog-iron ore, which gives a strong and harsh chaly¬
beate taste to all the springs in the neighbourhood. There
are various mineral springs in the united shires of Ross
and Cromarty, but those which have attained the greatest
celebrity are the two wells of Strathpeffer, which have noVv
for many years attracted numerous visitors to their neigh¬
bourhood in search of health and recreation. Both of these
springs have the smell of sulphuretted hydrogen gas, but
the upper spring is stronger than the lower. According to
Dr Ihomson, the temperature of the lower well, on the
24th of June 1824, was 39°, and that of the upper 39|°, the
day being rainy, and the temperature of the air rather un¬
der 60°. The specific gravity of the water of these wells
was as follows:
Upper well 1*00193.
Lower well 1*00091.
An imperial gallon of the upper spring was found to con¬
tain,
Sulphuretted hydrogen gas 26T67 cubic inches.
Sulphate of soda 67*770 grains.
Sulphate of lime 39*454 ...
Common salt 24*728 ...
Sulphate of magnesia  6-242
An imperial gallon of the water from the pump-room
yielded
Sulphuretted hydrogen gas 13*659 cubic inches.
The saline contents were similar to those of the upper
spring, but in the proportion to them of seven to nine, viz.
Sulphate of soda 52*710 grains.
Sulphate of lime 30*686
Common salt 19*233
Sulphate of magnesia  4*855 ...
Many of the mountains of Ross and Cromarty are of first-
rate British magnitude. Scuirvullin is about 2500 feet
high. It consists entirely of micaceous schist, inclining in
some places to gneiss, and traversed by a few granite and
quartz veins. The rocks lie in thin upright stratiform
shapes, which dip in opposite directions all round the moun¬
tain ; and they contain numerous round nodules of quartz,
feldspar, and red garnets. All the common alpine plants
are to be met with on Scuirvullin. Ben Weavish, or Ben
Uaish, that is, the mountain of storm, is one of the most
remarkable mountains, not only in Ross and Cromarty, but
in Scotland. Its height, by the late trigonometrical survey,
is 3720 feet; but it is most wonderful for its immense bulk,
by which it stands prominently distinguished from the other
hills around it, so as to be peculiarly striking from great dis¬
tances. Its corries or ravines are never without snow, so
that the proprietor can always fulfil his quit-rent by paying
a snowball to his sovereign when required to do so, on any
day of the year. The primitive rocks of which it is com¬
posed are chiefly a gray gneiss, abounding in large scales
of mica and garnets, which impart great beauty to the un¬
polished rock, though they are not sufficiently pure or free
from cracks to be used as ornamental stones. The plants
which it presents most interesting to the botanist are, Saxi-
that of the aloe. The mineralogical catalogue is large.. fraga oppositifolia. Arbutus alpina, Azalea procumbens, Ee-
Limestone, and primitive limestone of the character of tula nana, fy,c. Bean Dearig on Loch Broom is 3551 feet in
rnarble, are very commonly to be met with. Ironstone is height. It is composed of gneiss, with granite veins and beds
disseminated in great abundance. A vein of iron was worked of quartz. We might mention many other mountains, but
above 150 years ago on the shores of Loch Maree, the works we shall content ourselves with stating, that Tullochard, on
having been discontinued solely from the failure of wood the north side of Loch Duich, merits particular notice.
486
ROS S-S HIRE.
Boss-shire, from being the crest ot the Seaforth family, and from its
summit in ancient times being used to blaze with those
beacon-fires that raised up the whole country at the will of
its lord.
The natural woods in Ross and Cromarty, though much
diminished, are still numerous, and widely scattered through
the glens and over the mountain sides. The trees are chiefly
firs, oaks, ash, birch, and alder. The whole face of the wilder
country bears the strongest evidence of its having been once
covered with extensive forests, fragments of which only now
remain in certain places, whilst the mosses or bogs still pre¬
serve the trees which have probably fallen by extensive con¬
flagrations. In the central district, the forest of Fainish still
stands, twenty miles in extent. But as these ancient forests
are diminishing, artificial plantation, already very extensive,
is every day increasing with rapid strides; and in many parts
of the country even the soil that is apparently the most bar¬
ren appears to have a tendency to throw up young plants of
birch, and in some places of oak, proving that it is so filled
with the seeds or roots of those trees that preservation from
sheep and cattle is all that is wanting to restore the ancient
natural forests. The island of Lewis is almost entirely des¬
titute of trees.
From the great extent and immense variety of eleva¬
tion and of surface of Ross and Cromarty, it naturally
contains by much the greater part, if not nearly all, the
plants to be found in the Flora Scotica; and in the same
way, speaking generally, almost all the animals to be
found in the zoology of Scotland have been discovered to
belong to it. The larger wild quadrupeds are red and roe
deer, hares, alpine hares, foxes, badgers, wild cats, &c.
Grouse, ptarmigan, black game, and partridges abound;
and in some places pheasants have been introduced, and
have apiazingly increased. We are not aware that any at¬
tempt has been as yet made to restore to the older forests
that magnificent bird, once indigenous to them, we mean
the Tetrao urogallus, cappercailzie, or cock of the woods; but
such an attempt would be highly desirable, and, from the
facility with which the live birds may now be obtained from
Norway, it might be made with comparative ease. The
golden eagle and the ospray are both common, as well as
all the other birds of prey. Water-fowls of all kinds abound
on the coasts ; and the frith of Cromarty is especially re¬
markable for the number and variety of sea-fowl which
may be obtained by the skilful sportsman. In severe win¬
ters it frequently happens that many wild swans are shot
there. The list of fishes, both marine and fresh-water, is
very ample. Salmon, as already noticed, are especially abun¬
dant ; and the trouts of Loch Luichart, and many other
lakes, are far famed. The pearl mussel, My a margaritifera,
is found in the stream of the river Conan, and frequently
affords pearls of remarkable beauty. In Strath Conan bees
are much cultivated, and a great deal of honey is made in
that district.
The landed property of these united counties is chiefly
divided into estates, which are more extensive in surface
than valuable in rent, the average of them being upwards
of 16,000 imperial acres. The whole is valued in the cess-
books at L.75,043. 10s. 3d. Scots, and in 1811 the real
rent was valued at about L.91,089. 18s. 8d. sterling, af¬
fording a mean rental for each estate of not more than
L.1075, or about one shilling and fourpence an acre. But
we are disposed to think that this last calculation would
now be considerably increased, both by the more extensive
and better managed occupation of the hills with sheep-farms,
and the improvement which has taken place on the agricul¬
tural districts. As a sample of the best soil, we may state,
that the average rent of arable land in the parish of Ding¬
wall is about L.2 an acre, though some of it is as high as
L.4. 10s. The wages of farm-servants in the same district
are L.7 or L.8 in money, seven bolls of meal, a quarter of
an acre of potatoes, and a free house and garden, altogether Ross-s
worth about L.20. Occasional labourers get about seven
shillings and sixpence a week, and country artisans about
nine shillings. Mason-work is from L.l. 16s. to L.2 a rood,
journeymen being paid about twelve shillings a week. Car-
penters are paid from ten to twelve shillings, and slaters
about twelve shillings a week. The gentlemen’s seats are
numerous in Ross and Cromarty, but they are chiefly si¬
tuated in the eastern or more cultivated districts.
We have already said that the system of agriculture pur¬
sued in the more favourable and more strictly agricultural
districts of Ross and Cromarty does not fall below the stand¬
ard of more southern counties. The farms are extensive, and
generally let on leases of nineteen years’ duration. They
are for the most part well enclosed, and the dwelling-houses
and other buildings are large and commodious. In the poorer
districts, and especially on the west coast, and in Lewis, where
the farmers hold only a few acres of arable land, they raise
oats, bear or big, and potatoes; and in many places where
grazings are attached, they rear a great many cattle and
horses of the Highland breed, both of which are often very
much stinted in their growth for want of sufficient food in
severe winters. Illicit distillation, which once so much oc¬
cupied these smaller tenants, has now, we believe, been ef¬
fectually put an end to, chiefly by the introduction of legal
small stills. The climate, particularly towards the west
coast, may wmll be termed rather a weeping one; and the
carrying of the crops in the western districts is often an
exceedingly precarious operation. But where there is so
great a variety of surface, we must also look for a great va¬
riety of climate. The following meteorological tables, taken
from the Statistical Account of the Parish of Dingwall, may
furnish a general average view of the climate of the more
thickly inhabited districts.
January.
Years.
Ther.
Hygr.
February.
Ther.
Hygr.
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
29-803
29- 740
30- 120
29-350
29-795
35-80
40- 00
30-00
41- 40
37-35
Inches.
1-09
0-95
0-41
3-53
3-21
29-G1
29-84
29-245
29-763
29-350
39-10
41- 91
36-53
42- 60
39-30
Inches.
2-33
1- 07
2- 26
2-55
4-17
March.
Years.
Ther.
Hygr.
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
Years.
29 658
29-614
29-915
29-860
29-725
43-90
43-15
39-25
43-40
4105
Inches.
3-71
3- 56
0-43
4- 33
2-60
May.
1831
1832
1833 I
1834
1835
29-945 !
29-903 j
29-950 !
29-890 I
29-750 j
57-30
50- 29
57-50
56-00
51- 65
Hygr.
Inches.
2-13
1- 56
1-12
1-20
2- 24
April.
Bar.
Ther.
Hygr.
29-723
29-965
29- 615
30- 160
30-000
47-80
47-95
45-59
47-98
45-29
Inches.
1-75
1-52
1-06
0-53
3-12
June.
Bar.
29-845
29-806
29-630
29-775
29-957
Ther.
60-50
56- 96
57- 80
58- 60
57-60
Hygr.
Inches.
1- 37
3-38
2- 49
3- 26
1-22
Years.
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
July.
29-940
29-730
30010
29- 910
30- 120
29-840
93-80
62-20
59-40
62-00
64-15
59-85
Hygr.
Inches.
1 52
3-31
3-57
215
August.
Bar.
Ther.
29-470
29-834
29-750
29-865
29-755
29-892
56 00
63-60
60-25
58-60
60-21
58-58
Hygr.
Inches.
1-40
1-33
1-46
1-43
ROSS-SHIRE.
shire.
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
Years.
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
September.
20-480
29-794
29-895
29-785
29-960
29-470
Ther.
54- 47
56- 38
55- 23
57- 50
55-85
52-89
Hygr.
Inches.
1-80
2-45
0 74
2-71
3 94
November.
29-480
29-604
29-630
29-530
29-775
29-740
42 95
39-97
39-50
44-50
4310
41-33
Hygr.
Inches.
402
4- 10
1- 34
3-82
5- 37
2- 17
October-
30-030
29-499
29-766
29-630
29-770
29-590
Ther.
51- 12
53-31
49-95
52- 57
48-87
44-95
Hygr.
Inches.
1-20
302
3-24
1- 23
3-96
2- 48
December.
29-567
29-497
29-630
29- 240
30- 080
29-980
36-46
42- 62
38-25
40-45
43- 17
36-27
Hygr.
Inches.
1- 87
3-19
3-36
5-98
2- 87
2-57
Mean of Years.
Bar.
29-701
29-712
29-795
29-703
29-855
29-757
Ther.
50-80
49- 657
48-570
48-524
50- 494
47-150
Mean of Months.
Hygr.
1- 83
2- 47
292
1-57
1- 65
2- 35
July
Aug-
Sept.
Oct.
Nov.
Dec.
Hygr.
2-63
1- 40
2- 32
2 52
3- 47
304
The introduction of steam-navigation has already begun
to improve Ross and Cromarty, not only by making them
more easily accessible, but by the opening which it has
created for the export of cattle and sheep to London. The
change in this respect may be readily conceived, when we
consider the immense land-journey which the animals had
to undergo before they could be brought to the London
market. They were driven off in a lean state, and were
fed in southern pastures before they could there be pro¬
duced. Now, a Rcss-shire farmer has it in his power to
send them direct to the London market, so fed as to be in
a condition for immediate slaughter; and thus he is placed
on an equality, with regard to expense of transport, with
any English farmer who may not be fifty or sixty miles
from London. The effect of this in raising the value of
property in these and other northern counties may easily be
imagined.
The importance of the fisheries to Ross and Cromarty
may be estimated from the following table, furnished by Mr
Dunsmure, the secretary of the Board of Commissioners for
the Herring Fishery.
Account of the quantity of White Herrings and Cod, Ling,
or Hake, cured at the stations of Cromarty, Loch Broom,
Loch Canon, Loch Shildag, and Stornoway, in the ten
years ending bth April 1839.
CROMARTY.
Year ending
5th April.
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
1835
1836
1837
1838
1839
Herrings
Cured.
Barrels.
11,404
3,819
4,1491
6421
10,318
1,903
6,140
7,656
9,461
10,7374
Cod, Ling, or Hake,
Cured.
Cured
Dried.
Cwts.
9|
1874
20
1921
4184
262f
831
6074
Cured in
Pickle.
Barrels.
; Number of
Boats.
2704
354
47
1944
184
114
2384
241
426
320
304
302
277
299
297
285
294
282
284
300
Number of
Persons.
5052
5287
4821
5332
5309
5261
5310
5291
5344
5479
In the above table, it must be observed that the column
of persons employed comprehends not only the fishermen,
but the coopers, labourers, gutters, packers, and those en¬
gaged in cleaning and drying the fish. It is also to be no¬
ticed, that the Loch Carron fishery district includes the Isle
of Skye in Inverness-shire. The official brand applied by
the officers of the board to the casks of herrings cured and
packed, strictly according to the acts of parliament by which
the commissioners are guided, is so highly estimated as to
give a confidence and a ready sale, and a superiority of
price, in all foreign markets, which no herrings can obtain
without it. It is therefore becoming every day more and
more highly appreciated both by fish-curers and merchants.
Every kind of fish that frequents the northern seas may be
taken on the coasts of Ross and Cromarty, particularly on
those of the island of Lewis. The Broad Bay flounder of
Stornoway is the finest in the world. The saithe is much
more delicate than the whiting. The haddock is remark¬
ably good. In Lewis, in the parish of Lochs alone, above
100,000 lobsters are sent annually to the London market.
Whales, porpuses, and grampuses, are often driven on shore
in Lewis in numbers amounting to a hundred and fifty or
more, and varying from five to thirty feet in length.
The manufacture of kelp is still extensively practised,
487
lloss-shire.
488
110 S S-S II IIIE.
itoss shire. especially on the western coast and in Lewis; but the pnce
v 'is now so low and fluctuating, and the time and trouble be¬
stowed in making it so great, that it is believed the sea-weed
employed would be much more profitably used as manure.
The burghs of Cromarty, Dingwall, and Tain, along with
Dornoch, Wick, and Kirkwall, return a member to parlia¬
ment. Fortrose and Rosemarkie, two small adjacent towns
included in one burgh, return a member along with Inver¬
ness, Nairn, and Forres. Besides these burghs, the united
county has several villages or small towns in it, such as
Contin, Shildag, Dornie, Plocktown, and Ullapool, which
last has 500 or 600 inhabitants. Stornoway, m Lewis, is
a thriving burgh of barony, with some good streets of
houses, and a considerable quantity of shipping, and, with
its suburbs and environs, it contains nearly 3000 inhaoi-
tants. Sheriff and commissary courts, bailie, excise, and
justice of peace courts, are regularly held in it.
In Ross and Cromarty there are many ancient and cu¬
rious remains. In the parish of Nigg, the site of the castle
of Dunskeath, built by William the Lion in the year 1174,
is still to be distinguished. At Shandwick is the Liach-a-
Charridh, or the Stone of the Burial-place. On one side of it
a large cross is still to be traced, wrought with an intricate
maze of runic knotting. On the sides of the shaft are
two animals resembling an elephant and a lion, above each
of which there is a figure that appears to lean forward from
a cross. On the reverse side of the obelisk there are pro¬
cessions, hunting scenes, and combats. I he ground sur¬
rounding the spot where it stands was for centuries used as
a place of interment. There is a similar though smaller
stone in the church-yard of Nigg. It originally stood near
the gate, but it was thrown down by the fall of a belfrey
in 1725, and it is now fixed to the eastern gable. The top
is of a triangular shape, and it lias on one side of it two
priest-like figures attired in long garments, each furnished
with a book, and inclining forward as if intent on reading
and devotion. Between them is a small circular, table or
altar; and a dove seems to descend from above with a cir¬
cular cake in its bill. Under the table there are two large
dogs. Lower down on the stone there is a cross, and the
spaces above and below the arms of it are divided into
rectangular compartments of mathematical exactness. The
hieroglyphics of the opposite side are in lower relief; .and
in the centre appears the chief figure, that of a man attired
in long garments, caressing a fawn, with a lamb and harp
directly fronting him. In the space beneath there is a man
clashing a pair of cymbals, and a man on horseback sur¬
rounded by animals of the chase ; while on the upper part
of the stone there are dogs, deer, and armed huntsmen, with
an ^agle or raven surmounting the whole. I hese obelisks
^crosses are supposed to be of Scandinavian origin. Craig-
,-fchenichan, or the Rock of Lamentation, in the parish of
Kincardine, is memorable for being the place where the
Marquis of Montrose was defeated by Colonel Strachan,
after which he swam across the Kyle, and lay concealed in
Assint, until apprehended and sent prisoner to Inverness.
On the summit of Ormondy Hill, 200 feet above the level of
the sea, near Castletown Point, in the parish of Avoch, aie
the foundations of a large and very ancient castle, to which
tradition has given the name of Douglas. On a large plain
to the westward of the church of Eddertown there are in¬
dications of an encampment, where a battle is said to have
been fought with the Danes. In its vicinity there is an ex¬
tensive circle of earth, about two feet higher than the cir¬
cumjacent ground, flat on the top, with an obelisk in the
centre ten feet in height, on which a number of rude figures
may still be traced. This is regarded as the tomb of some
Danish prince. The abbey and castle of Lochlin, in the
parish of Fearn, are remarkable. The former measured
ninety-nine by twenty-five feet within the walls. It was
used for divine service till October 1742, when the roof fell
/
X
jS
in and killed thirty-six people. The castle of Lochlin is Ross
supposed to be more than five centuries old. It stands on v"’“
an eminence about six miles to the eastward of Tain. Its
plan is that of two squares united at the angles, in which
there is a staircase leading to the top of it, which is sixty
feet high. The castle of Cadboll, of which little remains,
is supposed to be yet more ancient than that of Lochlin.
There is a tradition that no one ever died in it; and that
about a century and a half ago, a certain Lady May, whose
lingering diseases made her long for death, was removed
from it at her own request that she might die, and her wish
is said to have been gratified immediately after her removal.
In the parish of Kirkmichael, and close on the edge of a
precipice rising from the shore of Cromarty Frith, is Tigh-
na-Craig, or the House of the Rock. It is a very curious
old building, fifty feet in height, of great antiquity, having
been erected by the Urquharts, barons of Cromarty. In
Loch Carron are the ruins of Strome Castle ; and at Lan-
ganduin there is one of those buildings called Duiv, which
are so frequent on the west coast. The castle of Eilean
Donnan, on an insulated point between Lochs Ling and
Duich, in Kintail, though greatly dilapidated, is still a fine
picturesque ruin. It is supposed to have been built in the
time of Alexander the Third. It was long the baronial
strength of the lords of Kintail; but after the battle of Glen-
sheil in 1719, it was demolished by a ship of war. Some of
the cannon-balls fired against it have been found nearly a
mile above the castle. Near Ob-Inag, in the parish of
Glensheil, is to be found a fine specimen of what has been
called the Pictish Tower. At Dingwall are the remains of
the ancient castle of the earls of Ross. 1 he hill of Knock-
farril, in the parish of Fodderty, is crowned with one of those
curious and puzzling morsels of antiquity, usually known by
the name of vitrified forts. The walls enclose nearly an
acre of level ground, from which Craig Phadric near In¬
verness, andDunskaith on the northern Sutor of Cromait),
are distinctly visible, and so it is connected with a chain of
these signal-posts. It is probable that the early inhabitants
of the country burned their beltane fires on these signal-
hills ; and these we know were so immense that they might
very well account for the vitrification of the circular walls
of dry stone which were erected to prevent the fuel from
being blown about and dispersed. There are many ancient
single stones, and circles of stones, and cairns, in different
parts of Ross and Cromarty. In Lewis are to be found the
following ruins of religious houses: St Collums in Lb, St
Cowstans in Garrabost, and St Aula in Gress. On the Flan¬
nel Isles, called by Buchanan Insula Sacra, the ruins of
religious houses are still extant. At Mealister and Pabay
are the remains of nunneries ; and there is a similar ruin on
the island of St Colme, in the entrance to Loch Erisort. At
Carloway there is a fine specimen of those towers already
mentioned, perfectly circular, and thirty feet high; ana
there are three or four more in Barras parish. In the year
1831, a considerable number of little figures, carved in
ivory, were found in the sands at the head of the Bay o
Uig. We saw them in Edinburgh, and they appeared to
us very much to resemble the kings and pieces at chess.
There are many curious caves both on the east and west
coasts of Ross and Cromarty; but the most remarkable is the
Seal Cave, in the parish of Stornoway, in Lewis, which is con¬
sidered to be only secondary in grandeur, and in the splen¬
dour of its stalactitic formations, to the famous cave in Sye-
The principal clans in Ross and Cromarty are the ac
kenzies, Rosses, Frasers, Mackays, Macraes, and Munroes.
Gaelic is universally spoken, though it is less used on e
eastern than on the western side of the county. In 6W1S
it is the chief language. The Highland dress is now seldom
worn, except on occasions of ceremony or festivity.
The following table contains an abstract of the popula¬
tion of Ross and Cromarty at three different periods.
!-sl l,
i
ROT
ROT
YEARS.
HOUSES.
1811 12,829
1821 ! 13,638
1831 ! 15,039
13,574
14,506
16,187
159
146
131
292
345
352
OCCUPATIONS.
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Agricul¬
ture.
7,490
7,947
8,498
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in_
Trade, Ma¬
nufactures,
and Handi¬
craft.
2,499
3,356
2,611
All other
Families
not com¬
prised in
the two
preceding
classes.
3,585
3,203
5,078
PERSONS.
Males.
27,640
32,324
34,927
Females.
Total of
Persons.
33,213
36,504
39,893
60,853
68,828
74,820
ROSTAK, a city of Arabia, in the district of Omraon.
It is the residence of the imaum ; but Muskat is the chief
town through which the intercourse with the Europeans is
carried on. It is situated near Jebel Akdar, the largest
and highest mountain in Ommon, and is celebrated for its
fine grapes. It is seventy miles west from Muskat.
ROSTOCK, a city of the grand duchy of Mecklen-
burg-Schwerin, which was formerly the capital of the two
duchies of Mecklenburg, but since 1695 it has become the
sole possession of the present branch. It is situated on the na¬
vigable river Wornow, about eight miles from the Baltic Sea.
It is strongly fortified, and contains a citadel, seven churches,
2180 houses of an antique style of building, and about
16,000 inhabitants. It is the place at which the assembly
of the states, and the courts of law, are held ; and it contains
a university founded in 1419, which has a due number of
professors, and about a hundred students, to which are attach¬
ed an observatory, an anatomical theatre, and a library of
thirty thousand volumes. It is the most considerable trad¬
ing place in the German part of the Baltic, and the export of
wheat is greater than from any other German port. It has a
variety of manufactures for brandy, vinegar, beer, cloths,
glass, leather, iron ware, soap, sugar, and linen, and 140 ships
belonging to the port. This place gave birth to Prince
Blucher, to whom a statue has been erected in the square.
Long. 12. 32. E. Eat. 54. 10. N.
ROSTOW, a city of Russia, in the province of Jaros-
low, the capital of a circle of its own name, situated on the .
lake of Nero or Rostow. It contains twenty-four churches,
six hospitals, 1016 houses, and 6500 inhabitants; and has
extensive trade in corn, hemp, linen, tallow, leather, honey,
and wax, and some in salt. It is 530 miles from St Peters¬
burg. Long. 39. 35. E. Lat. 58. 57. N.
ROSTRA, a part of the Roman forum, in which ora¬
tions, pleadings, and funeral harangues, were delivered. It
derived its name from the circumstance of its exhibiting
the beaks of ships taken from the Antiates.
ROSTRUM literally denotes the beak or bill of a bird ;
and hence it has been figuratively applied to the beak or
head of a ship.
ROT, a very fatal disease incident to sheep, arising from
wet seasons, and too moist pasture. It is very difficult of
cure, and is attended with the singular circumstance of a
kind of animals being found in the blood-vessels.
ROTA, a city of Spain, in the province of Seville, and
the district of St Lucar. It stands on the bay of Cadiz,
and being strongly fortified, forms one of the means of de¬
fence to that important estuary. It is situated on an ele¬
vation, and, like most Spanish towns, has a beautiful appear¬
ance when viewed at a distance. It contains some very fine
buildings, and about 6500 inhabitants, who partly follow the
occupation of fishing, wdiilst others deal in wine, as this
place supplies the kind of red wine known in England by
the name of Tent, which is produced on the banks of the
river Tinto.
Rota, the name of an ecclesiastical court of Rome, com¬
posed of twelve prelates, of whom one must be a German,
VOL. xix.
489
Itota
Aristote-
lica.
(b. p.)
another a Frenchman, and two Spaniards; the other eight
are Italians, three of w hom must be Romans, and the other
five a Bolognese, a Ferraran, a Milanese, a Venetian, and
a 1 uscan. Phis is one of the most august tribunals in Rome,
which takes cognizance, by appeal, of all suits in the ter¬
ritory of the church, and also of all matters, beneficiary and
patrimonial.
Rota Aristotelica, or Aristotle's Wheel, denotes a
celebrated problem in mechanics, concerning the motion
or rotation of a wheel about its axis, so called because
Aristotle was the first who took notice of it. The difficulty
of it may be represented in the following manner. While
the circle makes one revolution on its centre, advancing at
the same time in a right line along a plane, it describes on
that plane a right line which is equal to its circumference.
Now, if this circle carry with it another smaller circle, con¬
centric with it, like the nave of a coach-wheel, then this
smaller circle or nave will describe a line in the time of
the revolution which shall be equal to that of the large
wheel or circumference itself, because its centre advances
in a right line as fast as that of the wheel does, being in
reality the same with it. Aristotle attempted to solve this
problem ; but his solution can only be regarded as a good
account of the difficulty. It was next attempted by Gali¬
leo, who had recourse to an infinite number of infinitely
small vacuities in the right line described by the two
circles, and imagined that the little circle never applies its
circumference to those vacuities, but in reality only ap¬
plies it to a line equal to its own circumference, though it
appears to have applied it to a much larger. This, how¬
ever, is nothing to the purpose. According to Tacquet,
the little circle making its rotation more slowly than the
great one, does, on that account, describe a line longer than
its own circumference, yet without applying any point of
its circumference to more than one point of its base. This
is not more satisfactory than the former. After the fruit¬
less endeavours of many great men, M. Dortous de Mey-
ran, a French gentleman, had the good fortune to hit upon
a solution which, after being fully examined by a commit¬
tee of the Academy of Sciences, was declared to be satis¬
factory. The following is his solution. The wheel of a
coach is only acted on or drawn in a right line; its rota¬
tion or circular motion arises purely from the resistance of
the ground. Now this resistance is equal to the force which
draws the wheel in a right line, as it defeats that direction,
and therefore the causes of the two motions are equal. The
wheel therefore describes a right line on the ground equal
to its circumference. On the contrary, the nave is drawn
in a right line by the same force as the wheel, but it only
turns round because the wheel does so, and can only turn
in the same time with it. Hence its circular velocity is
less than that of the wheel, in the ratio of the two circum¬
ferences, and therefore its circular motion is less than the
rectilinear one. Since it must describe a right line equal
to that of the wheel, it can only do it by partly sliding and
partly revolving, the sliding part being more or less as the
nave itself is smaller or greater.
3 Q
480
ROTATION.
Rotation.
mechanical philosophy, denotes the mo- if w denote the velocity of the particle whose radius vector RotatJ
;nt parts of a solid body about an axis, in or distance from the axis = 1, then rxo is the velocity of
Rotation, in
contradistinction to the progressive motion of the body in the particle whose distance from the axis = r,
a straight line, or in an orbit about a distant centre, of city denoted by w is called the angular velocity of the body;
which the rotation is absolutely independent, although both and the rotations of different bodies are compared in re¬
motions may take place simultaneously. Thus the planets spect of velocity by comparing their angular ve ocities.
have a progressive motion, or a motion of translation, in the 3. The nature of the forces which connect the different
orbits which they describe about the sun, while at the same particles or atoms of a solid body, and render it impossible
time each revolves about an axis which passes through its ^ tn rhanfrp ,ts nos,hnn wlthout a cor-
centre of gravity.
In consequence of this double motion of the planetary
bodies, the two great problems in physical astronomy are,
first, to determine the orbit described in space by each body
under the influence of the sun’s attraction, but disturbed _ , . - . - . .
by the attraction of every other body in the system; and, of a body act reciprocally on each other are equal. An im-
secondly, to determine the circumstances of the rotation mediate consequence of this law is, that when a solid body
for any single particle to change its position without a cor¬
responding change in the positions of all the other particles,
is very obscurely known ; but whatever their nature may be,
there is one general fact or law, established by unexcept¬
ed experience, which affords a sufficient foundation for a dy¬
namical theory, namely, that the forces by which the particles
of each body under the influence of the same disturbing
forces. This last problem is not of less importance oi dif¬
ficulty than the first. In the case of the earth it includes
the determination of the precession of the equinoxes and
the nutation of the axis under the disturbing action of the
sun and moon ; and its analysis has led to the discovery of
two important facts connected with the physical constitu¬
tion of the universe, namely, the invariability of the length
of the day, and the permanence of the poles of rotation on
the earth’s surface.
But the problem of determining the rotation of a solid
body is not merely interesting in consequence of its form-
is in equilibrium between two external forces A and B,
these forces are equal and opposite ; for the force A being
in immediate equilibrium with the opposite forces exerted
by that particle of the solid body to which it is applied,
must therefore be equal and opposite to the force resulting
from the combination of all the forces which connect that
particle with the series of particles immediately adjoining.
In like manner, the compound force by which this first se¬
ries of particles acts on that to which the external force A
is applied, is equal and opposite to the compound force
which connects this first series with the next series, and so
on until we come to the particle to which the external force
ing a principal part of physical astronomy; it is also one of B is immediately applied. And this particle being in equi-
. ^ , . , . * . • 1 i * £ liVoMnm fVro OvtomQ I -fori
the highest importance in practical mechanics; for the prin
ciples to which we are led in considering the general the¬
ory of rotatory motion, enable us to determine the effect
or performance of machines, and the proper relations and
most advantageous disposition of their several parts, in order
librium, the external force applied to it must be equal and
opposite to the compound force exerted on it by the series
of contiguous particles on that side; therefore the two forces
A and B are equal and opposite.
Hence it follows, that when any numoer of external
to accomplish the object in view with the smallest waste of forces are applied to a solid body, and it is in equilibiium
force, and the least strain or injury to the machine itself.
In treating the subject, we shall first endeavour to de¬
monstrate the fundamental propositions of rotatory motion
in as elementary a manner as possible ; secondly, we shall
sh6w the methods of computing the inertia of bodies of dif¬
ferent forms, and the properties of principal axes ; thirdly,
we shall consider the motion of a body which revolves about
a fixed axis, and the properties of the centres of gyration,
percussion, and oscillation ; and, lastly, we shall give the
general equations which determine the rotation of a body
acted upon by any number of forces, and which is at liberty
to move in any direction.
General 1. When a solid body, or system of material particles,
principles, so connected that their mutual distances remain invariable,
turns round an axis, every particle describes a circle having
its centre in the axis, and its plane perpendicular to the
axis; and at every instant of the motion the particle is in the
direction of a tangent to the circle, or in a straight line per¬
pendicular to its radius vector. In order, therefore, to as¬
certain the direction of the motion of any particle of the
system, we have only to draw a straight line from the par¬
ticle perpendicular to the axis of rotation. This line wall
lie in the plane of the circle, and be its radius vector ; and
the perpendicular to the radius vector at its extremity gives
the direction of the motion of the particle.
2. Since the system is supposed to be invariable in form,
every particle describes the circumference of a circle in
between them, the forces are such as would be in equilibrium
if they were all applied at one point.
4. If a body is maintained in equilibrium by the action
of three forces, these forces lie in the same plane, and
are either parallel, or meet in the same point. This fol¬
lows immediately from the composition of forces; for the
forces being in equilibrium, anyone of the three must be equal
and opposite to the equivalent, or resultant, as it is termed,
of the other two; and this resultant is the diagonal of a pa¬
rallelogram of which the other two component forces are
the sides. But the diagonal and sides of a parallelogram
are in the same plane, therefore the third force is in the
plane of the other two; and, further, since it is equal and
opposite to the resultant of the other two, it must be in the
same straight line, and consequently pass through their
point of concourse. These simple propositions are the
foundation of the theory of statics.
5. In applying these propositions to explain the motion
of rotation, we must recollect a fundamental theorem in
dynamics, that the force which produces any motion is equal
and opposite to the force which would prevent it, if applied
at the same point, and in the same straight line, or which
would extinguish the motion in the same time in which we
suppose it to be produced. The force therefore which,
acting on any particle, causes the body to revolve about an
axis with a given angular velocity, is equal to the force
which, if applied at the same point in the opposite direc-
precisely the same instant of time; and as this is also true s tion, would reduce the body to a state of rest in the same
of any given portion of the circumference, it follows that
the absolute velocities of the different particles are propor¬
tional to their distances from the axis of rotation. Hence,
time as was necessary to produce the given velocity.
6. The only distinct notion we can form of the inten¬
sity of any moving force, is the quantity of motion which
ROTA
E tion. it can produce by acting uniformly during a given time.
This will be ascertained when we know the velocity im¬
pressed upon a body containing a given quantity of matter.
Thus we know that terrestrial gravity acting on a body for
a second, will cause it to fall sixteen feet with an uniformly
accelerated motion, and will leave it in a state such that it
would move on for ever at the rate of thirty-two feet per
second. The force of gravity is therefore such as to com¬
municate a velocity of thirty-two feet per second; and in
this case the mass of the body is not considered, for gravity
acts equally on every particle of which it is composed. In
the same manner, the best way of acquiring a distinct con¬
ception of the rotatory effect of a moving force, is to deter¬
mine the quantity of rotatory motion which it can generate
by acting uniformly during some known time.
7’ so’^ body, or rigid system of invariable form, ad-
hoc bout™1 a rotato.ry m°t’on about an axis, and if at any point
an .3, the body a force P be applied, which acts in a plane per¬
pendicular to the axis of rotation, and tends to turn the body
in one direction ; and to any other point in the same plane
a force Q. be applied, tending to turn the body in the op¬
posite direction ; then, if the two forces be to each other in¬
versely as the distances of the lines of their directions re¬
spectively from the axis, the body will remain at rest, or the
two forces will be in equilibrium.
For let O (fig. 1) be the axis of rotation, and suppose the
force P to be applied at the point P in the direction PA, and
tending to turn the solid body about
the axis O perpendicular to the plane Fig. 1.
of the paper, and let the force Q act B
in the direction Q.B, and consequent¬
ly tend to turn the body in the oppo¬
site direction, and draw OA perpen¬
dicular to PA, and OB perpendicu¬
lar to Q,B. Then, in order that there **
may be equilibrium, we must have,
by the principle of the lever, P : Q :: OB : OA, whence
P-OA = Q- OB.
8. It is obviously indifferent at what point of the plane
the force is applied, provided its distance from the axis re¬
mains the same. Let BO therefore be produced, and take
OC equal to OA, and draw CR perpendicular to BC, or
parallel to BQ. We may now suppose the force P to be
replaced by an equal force R, acting in the direction RC;
then, since R • OC = P • OA, we have R • OR =r Q • OB,
and, consequently, the axis being supposed fixed, the body
will remain in equilibrium between the two forces Q and R.
I hese forces are therefore equivalent to a single force ap¬
plied at O, equal to their sum, and acting in a parallel di¬
rection. Hence the resultant of two parallel forces applied
to a straight line is a force parallel to the component forces,
equal to their sum, and whose line of direction divides the
straight line into parts reciprocally proportional to the forces
themselves.
9. If two forces, which are inversely as the distances of
- their respective directions from the axis of rotation, be ap¬
plied to a body, the equilibrium will still be
maintained, although the two forces are not Fig. 2.
in the same plane. Let OO' be two points
in the axis of rotation, through wdiich let
there be drawn two planes Aa and B6 at
right angles to the axis. Suppose also these
planes to be intersected by another plane
(here supposed to be the plane of the figure)
passing through the axis, and let OA, O'B
be the intersections, and let the straight line
which joins A and B intersect the axis in C. Let P and Q,
be two forces applied respectively at A and B in the planes
AOa and BOY>, and at right angles to OA and O'B, or per¬
pendicular to the plane of the paper, then these two forces
are parallel; and because by hypothesis P : Q.:: O'B : O A,
o B
Ro ion
TION.
491
we have P : Q,:: CB : CA; therefore (8) the two forces Rotation.
and are equivalent to a single parallel force passingv
through C. But a force passing through the axis has no
tendency to turn the body round the axis; consequently
the body remains at rest. 1
10. Let m, m', m", &c. (fig. 3) be a system of bodies im¬
moveable in respect of each other, and suppose them to re¬
volve about an axis passing through O ;
also let m, m, m'\ &c. denote the quanti¬
ties ot matter in the bodies respectively,
and let r, r’, r", &c. denote their dis¬
tances from the axis of rotation. Let the
angular velocity of the system be w; then ™
(2) the absolute velocities of the bodies
are respectively ter, wr', wr", &c. Now
let us suppose the system to be put in
motion by an external force F applied at the point P, in
the dnection PA, which is contained in a plane'perpendi¬
cular to the axis of rotation ; then the relation between the
force F and the velocity w may be found as follows. Consi¬
dering, first, the body in ; since its velocity ~ wr, and its
quantity of matter — m, its quantity of motion — wrm. But
it is a principle in dynamics, that the quantity of motion of
a moving body is proportional to the impressed force, and
may be taken as a measure of that force ; whence wrm is
the measure of a force wfoich, if applied at rn, in a direction
perpendicular to O/w, would cause in to begin to move wfith
the actual velocity wr. Let/be the force which, if applied
at P in the direction PA, would make equilibrium with the
force wrm at in ; draw OA perpendicular to PA, and make
OA = h. We have then (7)
f: wrm :: Om: OA :: r : h,
whence/4 = wr-m. In like manner, the quantities of mo¬
tion in the bodies m\ m”, &c. are wr'm', wr',m", Ike.; and if
we denote by/',/', &c. the forces which, if applied at P in
the direction PA, w ould respectively make equilibrium with
the forces wr’m/, wr',m", &c. we shall have f/i = wr^m^fh
— wr"2m", &c.; therefore, if we assume
F=/+/'+/"+,&c.
we shall have the equation
¥ ‘ h — w (r‘lm + rnm’ -f- r^m" +, &c.).
If we suppose m — m' — m" =, &c. and take r to denote
the distance of any particle from the axis of rotation, the
equation becomes b • 4 = wl (r2m') ; the summation denot¬
ed by 2 extending to every particle in the system.
11. When the direction of the external force F is not in
a plane parallel to the circles of rotation, it must be resolved
into two forces, one of which lies in that plane, and the
other is parallel to the axis. It is only the first of these
forces which in the present case is regarded as the moving
force; the second merely tends to push the body in the
direction of the axis, and does not influence the rotation.
When we come to consider the rotation of a body perfect¬
ly free, it will be necessary to attend particularly to this
circumstance.
12. A solid body may be regarded as composed of mole¬
cules of a very small but finite magnitude, connected so as to
form an invariable system ; and although a solid, according
to his view of the constitution of body, is formed of discrete
elements, the sums relative to the molecules may be changed
into definite integrals wdthout sensible error ; that is to say,
for the sums 2r2m we may substitute the definite integrals
/r2dm, whera dan is the element of the mass, and the inte¬
grals extend to the whole mass. We have then F'4
— wfrdm.
13. The energy of a force applied to a lever, or its powder ]yjonient
of producing motion round the fulcrum, is expressed by the of a force,
product of the force into the perpendicular drawn from the ;uid of in¬
fulcrum upon the line of its direction. This product (de-ei^a‘
noted above by F • 4) is called the moment, or momentum,
or rotatory effort, of the force F. And because Jr2dm is
492
ROTATION.
notation, the sum of the moments of all the particles of the body in
‘ "actual motion, this integral expresses the energy or effort
of all the resistances made to the rotation by the inertia of
the particles, and is therefore called the moment of inertia
of the moving body with respect to the axis from which the
distances r are reckoned. We have therefore these defi¬
nitions : ,
The moment of a force in respect of a given axis, is the
product of the force into the perpendicular from the axis
upon the line of its direction.
The moment of inertia of a body in respect of any axis
is the sum of the products obtained by multiplying each
particle of the body into the square of its distance from the
axis.
14. From the equation F • A rr tvfr^dm (12), we have the
following expression for the angular velocity, namely,
F • h
w
Fig. 4.
fr2dm ’
that is to say, the angular velocity about any axis is equal to
the moment of the external or applied force divided by the
moment of inertia. This fraction expresses a number; for
the force F may be represented by the product of a mass
M into a certain velocity =; v, so that h — Mv; and there¬
fore, since v represents a line, the numerator and denomi¬
nator have both the same dimension. The fraction also ex¬
presses the part of the radius which is equal to the aic mea¬
suring the angle ; and since the radius is equal to the arc
of 570-2958, if we make the radius = 1, we have only to
multiply the fraction by 57*2958 in order to obtain the va¬
lue of w in degrees.
15. Since the relation between the angular velocity and
the external impelling force is expressed in terms of the
moment of inertia, it is evident that this moment is an im¬
portant element in the theory of rotation. We shall there¬
fore now proceed to consider the subject under a more gene¬
ral view, and point out the method by which it is computed
for bodies of any form revolving about given axes. >
Let the different points of a solid body be referred to
three rectangular co-ordinates x, y, z, and let dm be the
differential element of the mass; then the distance of any
particle from the axis x is \/fy~ -k z~)’ an(^> by tbe defini¬
tion, the moment of inertia relative to the axis x, is
i\y2 "k z2) the integral extending to the whole mass of
the body. In like manner, the moments of inertia relative
to the axes y and z are respectively / (x2 + z2) dm and
j (y2 + z9-) dm. It is thus evident that the determination
of the moments of inertia, with respect to any body what¬
ever, consists in forming the analytical expression of the
product of the differential element of the body into the
square of its distance from the axis, and integrating for the
whole extent of the body. The integration may always be
effected by the method of quadratures.
16. Since the same body may be referred to an infinite
number of different axes, in respect of all of which the mo¬
ments of inertia will have different values, it follows that
the moment cannot be absolutely defined unless it be re¬
ferred to a determinate axis. But when it is required to
investigate the moments of inertia of a body in respect of
several axes successively, it is not always necessary to com¬
pute the formula f r2dm for each case. For example, when
the moment of inertia has been determined in respect of
any one axis, we may find its value in respect of any other
parallel axis without further calculation, if we know the mass
of the body and the distances of both axes from the centre
of gravity.
17. The moment of inertia of any body in respect of an
axis AO (fig. 4) being given, to find the moment of inertia
in respect of another axis oa parallel to OA.
Let the origin of the rectangular co-ordinates be at O,
and let x be taken on the axis OA, and y in the plane of
OA and oa. Also let Z be the place of an element dm, Rotati
and Y the projection of Z on the
plane xy ; and from Y draw YX per¬
pendicular to OA, meeting OA in
X and oa in x ; then OX z= a;, XY
— y, YZ = z. The moment of in¬
ertia in respect of the axis OA is
fr^dm, — f (if + zr)dm. But by hy¬
pothesis this is given; suppose it
r= MA2 (M being the mass of the
body), and we have / (y2 + z2)dm = MA2. • In like man¬
ner, if we assume the distance of oa from OA to be k,
we have ox = x, xY = k+y, YZ = z, and the moment of
inertia in respect of oa is / {(£ + yf + z2} dm = k2fdm
-f. 2/e / ydm -k /(y2 + z*)dm. But ffddm = MA2, and/(y2
+ z2)e/w = MA2; therefore the moment in respect of the
new axis is M/i2 + MZr + 2kfydm. Suppose the centre
of gravity of the body to be at G; let GF be perpendi¬
cular to the plane xy, and draw FE perpendicular to the
axes, meeting OA in E and oa in e. From the nature of
the centre of gravity fydm — M * EF; therefore the moment
in respect of oa becomes M.h2 + MA2 + 2A*M*EF. But k
- eE, and 2M*/kEF = 2M*eE*EF = M(eF2 — A3 — EF2) ;
whence we have finally for the moment of inertia in respect
of the new axis oa,
Mid -k M * eF2— M * EF2.
Corollary 1. If the original axis OA passes through the
centre of gravity G, then EF vanishes, and the moment in
respect of the new axis oa becomes M/i2 -k M*eF2, or MA2
-f- MF. And if oa passes through the centre of gravity,
then eF vanishes, and the moment in respect of oa becomes
MF — M-EF2. Hence we infer that the moment of in¬
ertia in respect of the axis which passes through the centre
of gravity is less than the moment in respect of any' other
parallel axis.
Carol. 2. The moment of inertia is the same in respect
of every axis parallel to that which passes through the centre
of gravity, and is at the same distance from it; or the same
in respect of every straight line which lies in the surface of
a cylinder having the centre of gravity in its axis.
18. We shall now give a few examples of the applica- Example!
tion of the preceding formulae of the cot
£
I. Let it be proposed to find the moment of inertia of aipnu0^™Ji
very slender rod (the breadth and thickness of which may be™0
neglected), in respect of an axis passing through its extre¬
mity and perpendicular to its length.
Let a — the length of the rod, and x zz the distance of
any point from the axis, then the element of the body is
dx, and the moment of inertia = fxldx, the limits of the
integral being a: ir 0 and x — a. For those limits we have
fx 2d’x — J-a3, which therefore is the moment of inertia.
II. To find the moment of inertia of a very thin rect¬
angle, the thickness of which may be neglected, in respect
of an axis coinciding with one of its sides.
Let the side which coincides with the axis = a, and the
other side = b, and let x be taken in the axis. The co-ordi¬
nates of any point in the rectangle being x, y, the element of
the body is dxdy, and the distance from the axis = y, there¬
fore the moment of inertia is ff y9dxdy. I he integral of
this in respect of a? is/xy~dy, which from x = 0 to x = a
gives a f y2dy. A second integration gives fiy3, which from
y zz 0 to y z= b, becomes ; therefore, since M = ab,
f fyldxdy — %ab3 — * bl.
III. To find the moment of inertia of a circle in respect
of one of its diameters.
Let a be the radius of the given circle, r zz the radius
of a concentric circle passing through a point P whose co¬
ordinates are x and y, x being taken on the axis of rotation,
and r + dr the radius of a second concentric circle, very
near the other. If we now assume dz — ^/(dx2 + dy2), then
dz • dr is the area of the elementary surface included between
of inertu
ROTATION.
493
JRJjjiiion. the circumferences of the two circles whose radii are re-
spectively r and r + dr, and two straight lines drawn from
the centre to the extremities of a very small arc at P; that is
to say, we have dm — dzdr. But the distance of this ele¬
ment from the axis is y ; therefore the moment of inertia is
ff y^dzdr. Now, by the nature of the circle, dz-.dxwr \ y,
whence ydz = rdx, and the double integral becomes f ydx
Xfrdr, Now, on the supposition that r is constant, the in¬
tegral /ydx — err2 = area of the circle whose radius is r ;
therefore the integration in respect of dx gives ?r/r3dr ;
and on integrating this from r = 0 to r ~ a, we get ulti-
timately \ era4 for the moment of the circle whose radius
is a.
Since in this case the mass M — era2 = the area, we have
^era4 — |Ma2, which is another expression for the moment
of inertia of a circle in respect of one of its diameters.
IV. To find the moment of inertia of a circle in respect
of an axis perpendicular to its plane, and passing through
its centre.
Supposing, as in the last proposition, the surface to be
composed of elementary rings, we have dm — dzdr, whence
£rldm — fr2dr x fdz — Jr'dr (since fdz — 2<i:r), the in¬
tegral of which, from r = 0 to r — a, gives f r^dm — 4<ra4
= iMa2.
V. To find the moment of inertia of a solid body generat¬
ed by the revolution of a curve line in respect of the axis
of rotation.
Let AB (fig. 5) be a section perpendicular to the axis
of rotation OX, and meeting it in C, and
make OC — x. Suppose the solid to be
divided into thin slices by planes paral¬
lel to AB, and let ab be the section next
to AB, so that Ce — dx. Let P be a
point in the plane AB, and make CP — r,
r -f dr. The length of the circumfer¬
ence described byP in one revolution is 2crr,
therefore the mass of the ring comprised
between AB and ab, and traced by the re¬
volution of the points P and/?, is 2wrdrdx;
and its distance from the axis is r, therefore the moment of
inertia of the ring is 2irr3drdx. Integrating this in respect
of r from r = 0 to r = CA 3= y, we get \>iry^dx for the
moment of the slice comprised between the two sections of
the solid, whose distances from O are x and x-\~dx. Hence
the moment of inertia of all the slices, or of the solid body.
Fig. 5.
is Ivfy'dx.
Applying this formula to a sphere whose radius — a, we
get from the equation y2 — 2ax — x\ ?/ = 4a2x2 — iax3
-f a?4, on substituting which, and integrating, we have
^irjydx = ffl-a2#3 — ^ tcix* -j- -fafx3, which from x = 0
to x — a gives fy^dx ~ jjz'a3 for the hemisphere, and
consequently the moment of inertia of the whole sphere
== yWa5 f M • a2, since M ~ ^■ro3.
The moment of inertia of a spheroid revolving about its
shorter axis is M (a2 4- b2). See the calculation of fx~dm
and fy2dm in this case in the article Precession, vol.
xviii. p. 508.
In all the preceding examples, the density of the body
has been supposed uniform, and = 1. For bodies of dif¬
ferent densities the formulae must be multiplied in each
case by the density. Thus, in the last example, the mo¬
ment of inertia of a sphere whose radius — a, and density
= g, the moment of inertia in respect of one of the dia¬
meters is -Sj Tga5.
19. The examples which have now been given will suffice
to illustrate the method of computing the moments of inertia
ot bodies of any form in respect of particular axes; and
they render it obvious that the computation will in general
be greatly facilitated when the mass is symmetrically disposed
about the axis for which the inertia is to be computed. It
is likewise evident that the amount of rotatory inertia de-
Fig. 6.
pends on the position of the axis of rotation. Hence, for Rotation,
every point of a mass there must exist at least one axis in
respect of which the inertia is less, or greater, than in re¬
spect of any other axis passing through that point. The
axes for which the moments of inertia are the greatest or
least possible are called principal axes ; and they possess
some very remarkable properties of great importance in the
theory of rotation. We now proceed to investigate the po¬
sition and properties of the principal axes.
20. The moments of inertia of a mass M being given in
respect of three rectangular axes OX, OY, OZ (fig. 6)
passing through O, to find the moment in respect of ano¬
ther axis OG given in position, and also passing through
the origin O.
Let P be the position of a particle dm; through P
draw PQ parallel to the axis OZ,
meeting the plane XOY in Q, and
draw QR parallel to OY, meeting
OX in R; then OR = x, RQ y,
QP = z. Also suppose the plane
which passes through OG, and is
perpendicular to XOY, to meet the
plane XOY in OF, and let the
angle XOF <p, and the angle FOG = 4- The axis OG
is entirely determined by these two angles, and consequent¬
ly, when OG is given in position, <p and -4/ are also given.
In order to compute the moment of inertia in respect of the
axis OG, it is convenient to refer the different points of the
mass, as P, to a new system of rectangular axes, of which one
is OG. To effect this, in the first place let OY be drawn
perpendicular to OF in the plane XOY, and let P be re¬
ferred to the axes OF, OY', OZ, and draw QR' perpendicu¬
lar to OF. We have then OR' 3 x', R'Q — y, QP = z,
and the new co-ordinates expressed in terms of the former,
and the angles <p and 4/ are
x’ = x cos. <p y sin. <p, y' = y cos. <p — x sin. <p, z! — z.
In the second place, we may pass in like manner from
these to a third system of co-ordinates a?'', y'f, z!', of w hich
x" is in the line OG, y" remains parallel to OY', and z" is
perpendicular to OG in the plane FOG. We have, then,
similarly,
x!' — x’ cos. 4 -f- ^ sin. 4, y" 3 y', z" 3 z' cos. -v}/ — x sin. 4/.
Substituting in these last equations the values of x', y',
and z', given by the three former, we have
xf' 3 X COS. p COS. 4' + .y S4n- P cos> 41 + 2 s*n> 'j/>
y" 3 y cos. <p — x sin. <p,
z" 3 z cos. 4/ -— x cos. <p sin. 4' — y sin. cp sin. 4/*
If we now assume the distance of P from the axis OG
to be r, we shall have r2 3 y"2 -j- z"2; whence, on forming
from the two last equations the expression for fr2dm
=/(ya + 2"2) dm, and, for the sake of abridging, putting
jxldm 3 A, fif dm 3 B, fz2dm 3 C,
fxydm 3 T>, fxzdm 3 H,fyzdm — F,
the expression for the moment of inertia in respect of the
axis OG becomes
fr'dm 3 A (sin.2 <p -f- cos.2 p sin.2 4)
+ B (cos.2 <p -f- sin.2 <p sin.2 4') + C cos.2 4
— 2D cos. <p sin. 0 cos.24 —2 E cos. <p cos. 4/ s‘n< f
— 2 F sin. <p cos. 4' sin*
This expression for the moment of inertia in respect of
the axis OG is given by Euler ( Fheoria Motas Corpuru.ru
Solidorum, p. 169).
21. The values of the angles (p and 4/> which give the
position of the axis for which the momentis a maxi¬
mum or minimum, may be deduced from the above equation
in the usual manner, that is to say, by differentiating succes¬
sively for each of the variables, and making the differential
co-efficient 3 0. The differentiation in respect of <p (sup¬
posing 4 constant) gives the equation
— (A — B) sin. <p cos, ft + D (cos.2 <p — sin.2 <p),
tan. 4' — E sin. <p — F cos. <p
494
ROTATION.
Rotation, and the differentiation in respect of -si/ (supposing ® con-
stant) gives
2 tan.
^•2 4=T^rSny4,
2 E cos. p + 2 F sin. <p  
A cos." p + B sin.2 <p — C + 2D cos. p sin. ®
On eliminating oj/ from these two equations, there results
an equation of the following form, in which u = tan. <p, and
e,f, g, h, are co-efficients depending upon the quantities
A, B, C, D, E, F, viz.
0 — e -f/« + gu2 + hu3-
This being a cubic equation, must have at least one real
root. But it is easy to see, from the nature of the thing,
that all the roots are real; for if there be one axis for which
the moment of inertia is a maximum, there must evidently
be a second, in respect of which it is a minimum, and vice
versa. Hence the equation must have two real roots, and
therefore, by the theory of cubic equations, all the roots are
real. We are therefore led to this very important conclu¬
sion, that through any point of every solid body, however
irregular in its form, there may be drawn a system of three
axes, such that the differential co-efficient ot the moment
of inertia in respect of each of them is nothing. In respect
of one of these, the moment is a maximum, in respect of
another, it is a minimum, and though, in respect of the
third it is neither a maximum nor a minimum, it is still such
that its value is not altered by a small change in the po¬
sition of the axis. According to the definition in (19),
these are the principal axes of the body.
Properties 22. It would be difficult, in general, to determine the
of principal p0Siti0n of the principal axes from the cubic equation found
axts- above; but they possess certain properties, by means of
which they may be readily found in almost every case of
practical application. On comparing the two equations
for tan. ^ and tan. 2^ (21), with the expressions for x", y",
z" (20), it will be seen that the first is identical with
2 cos. fx!'y"dm, and the second with — 2fx"z"dm ;
whence fx"y"dm — 0, and fx"z!'dm — 0; and it follows, that
if x be taken in one of the principal axes, we have, in re¬
spect of that <v£\i, fxydm — 0, fxzdrn — 0, or the quantities
denoted by D and E respectively vanish.
23. From this it follows, that if all the matter in a
body of uniform density be symmetrically disposed about
any line, that line is one of the principal axes of rotation
(for if x be taken in the axis of symmetry, then to every
element w hose co-ordinates are x, y, there corresponds an¬
other element whose co-ordinates are x, — y, whence fxydm
— 0) ; therefore, in the case of symmetrical figures, the po¬
sition of one of the principal axes is known, and the posi¬
tions of the other two are thence readily determined by
means of the two equations (21). On making D = 0, E = 0,
the first of these equations gives
(A — B) sin. <p cos. <p — F cos. <p tan. = 0,
whence cos. (p — 0, and sin. p — 1 ; ov <p — 90°. Substi¬
tuting this value of <p in the second of the equations (21),
and making at the same time D = 0, E = 0, we get tan.
2-\j/ = 2F (B — C); or 2-^ is the angle which has 2F
-z- (B — C) for its tangent. Hence the angle has a
double value, one corresponding to FOG, and the other to
FOG -f- 90°.
24. Hetice also it appears, that when one principal axis
OX is determined, two others may be found having the
same property of maximum or minimum, and, by reason
of p — 90°, these axes are both in a plane perpendicular to
OX. As this conclusion holds good with respect to each
of the three axes, it follows that the three principal axes
are at right angles to each other, and also, since fxydm =
0, and fxzdm — 0, that fyzdm = 0. We have therefore, in
respect of the principal axes, the three equations
D — fxydm = 0, E = fxzdm = 0, F = fyzdm = 0.
If the origin of the co-ordinates is placed at the centre Rotation
of gravity, we have likewise “v-*
fxdm — 0,fydm — 0,fzdm — 0,
by the well- known property of the centre of gravity.
25. By means of these equations, the proposition in (20)
is considerably simplified when the three axes for which
the momenta are respectively given are principal axes. Let
OX, OY, OZ (fig. 6) be the three principal axes passing
through O, then D = 0, E = 0, F =: 0, and the equation
(20) for the moment, in respect of the axis OG, becomes
fr~dm — A (sin.2 p -f- cos.2 p sin.2-^)
+ B (cos.2 p + sin.2 p sin.2 -v^/) + C cos.2
Suppose the given moments in respect of the principal
axes to be respectively M’a2, M’i2, M'c2; then, from the
values of A, B, C (20) we have M-a2 =: B -}- C, M’62 A
+ C, M'c2 r= A + B, whence
A = pi (62 + c2 — a2), B = 1 M (a2 + 62 — c2),
C = Pa2 + c2 —^),
on substituting which in the above equation, we get
fr2dm — M (a2 cos.2 pcos.2•v]; + 62 sin.2 p cos.2 -vj/ -f c2 sin.2 40.
If we now refer the new axis OG to the co-ordinates OX,
OY, OZ, and make the angle XOG = a, YOG = /3, ZOG
r= y, and observe that because the two planes XOF and
FOG are at right angles, cos. a = cos. p cos. 4> cos' —
sin. p cos. 4> cos. y = sin. 4» the equation becomes
fr2dm zz. M (a2 cos.2 a -J- 62 cos.2 /3 -p c2 cos.2 y).
It is to be remarked, that as the co-ordinates are rect¬
angular, cos.2 a cos.2 j8 -j- cos.2 y — 1, so that the posi¬
tion of OG is determined by any two of these angles. If
we therefore suppose the moments in respect of two of the
principal axes to be equal, for example, if a2 = b~, the for¬
mula for the moment in respect of OG becomes
fr^dm — M*a2 (1 — cos.2 y) + M'c2 cos.2 y.
Now when y = 90°, that is, when OG lies in the plane
XOY, then fr^dm zz M-a2. Hence, if the moments in re¬
spect of the axes OX and OY be equal, the moment will
be the same for every axis passing through O, contained in
the plane XOY.
When the moments in respect of the three principal axes
are equal, that is, when a2 zztP — c2, then
fr‘2dm zz M'«2 (cos.2 a + cos.2 /3 + cos.2 y) zz M'a2,
so that the moment is the same in respect of any axis what¬
ever which passes through O. Thus it appears, that for
every point of a solid body there are either three princi¬
pal axes of rotation only, or else an infinite number.
26. These conclusions are obviously true in the case of
some simple figures. Thus, in the spheroid of revolution, the
moments are equal in respect of every diameter which lie^
in the plane of the equator ; and in the sphere they are thev
same in respect of any diameter whatever, the bodies being
always supposed homogeneous. The existence of three
principal axes in every body was first noticed by Segner in
1755, but demonstrated for the first time by Albert Euler,
in a memoir which received the prize of the Academy ot
Sciences of Paris in 1760.
27. Having established these general propositions re-Rotation
specting the moments of inertia and principal axes of bo- about
dies endowed with a rotatory motion, we now proceed to xt:
consider more particularly the rotation of a solid body about
a fixed axis.
When a force is impressed on a body which can only
move round a fixed axis, the difference between the motion
which actually takes place, and that which would take place
if the body were free, is evidently owing to the connexion
which its parts have with the axis, and to the action of the
points of support upon the axis. This action must be view¬
ed in the light of another external force, such that, n
combined with the force impressed on the body, it would
produce in the body unconnected with any fixed points the
motion which actually takes place.
ROTATION.
Fig. 7.
>• §8- In order to determine the strain on the axis, let OY
(fig. 7) be the axis of rotation, retained
in a fixed position by the two pivots
S, T, and suppose a force = F applied
to the body at P, in the direction PQ,
which is supposed to lie in a plane
perpendicular to OZ. In the plane
perpendicular to the axis, and con¬
taining PQ, let the rectangular axes
OX, OY be drawn, and let x, y, z be
the co-ordinates of a particle dm, the
projection of which on the plane XY is
at A, and let r denote its distance from the axis of rotation, so
that r = OA — + y) ; also let <p = the angle which
OA makes with OX. If we now suppose w to be the an¬
gular velocity communicated to the body, then no is the
velocity with which the point A revolves, and the direction
of this velocity is in the perpendicular to OA, and from
OX towards OY, whence the velocity of A in the direc¬
tion OX is — wr sin. <p, and wr cos. (p in the direction OY.
But r sin. p — y, and r cos. p — x ; therefore the velocity
of A in the direction OX is — wy, and in the direction OY
it is + wx. The quantities of motion in these directions
are therefore respectively — wydm and -f- wxdm ; and the
integrals of those expressions extended to the whole mass
of the moving body give the whole quantities of motion in
those directions, namely, — ivfydm, and + wfxdm. On de¬
noting the mass by M, and the co-ordinates of its centre of
gravity by x, and yx, we have (from the well-known ex¬
pressions for these co-ordinates) fydm — and fxdm
- Mx1? therefore — wfydm = — w^lyx, and + wfxdm
— + ttdVIxj.
29. Now, since the body is supposed to be put in motion
by a force F acting in a plane parallel to XOY, let a and
(3 be the angles which its direction makes with parallels to
OX and OY respectively; then the components of F in
those directions are F cos. a and F cos. /3. But these two
forces are evidently equal respectively to the two former,
together with the pressures on the pivots estimated in the
same directions; therefore, calling p and q the pressures
sustained by the point S in the directions OX and OY, and
p, q’ the pressures sustained by T in the same directions,
we shall have
V + P - F cos. a -F vMyx, q q’ — cos. /3 — vMxx.
In order to determine p, p, q, q[, it is still necessary to
find two other equations. These will be obtained by con-
sidering, tnat in respect of the plane XOY, the moments
of the forces acting on the two pivots, resolved in the di¬
rections x and y, must be equal to the moments of the re¬
sultants ot all the forces or quantities of motion due to the
rotation estimated in the same directions. Let k — OS,
and k — O’!, the moments of the resolved forces which
act on the pivots in the directions parallel to OX and OY
are P’1 + p'ti' and qk + q’k’; and the resultants of the quan¬
tities ot motion in the same two directions being — wfydm
and -f wfxdm, their moments in respect of the plane OXY
are respectively — wfyzdm and + ufxzdm ; therefore
ph + pk' — — wfyzdm, qk + q'h! ~ + vfxzdm.
Combining these with the preceding two equations, p, p',
P are obtained in terms of known quantities.
30. If the axis of rotation OZ be one of the principal
axes of the system which intersect at O, then, by (24),
fyzdm == 0 and fxzdm — 0, whence pk + p'k — 0, and
qk + q'k — 0, and consequently k and k' both vanish, and
the percussions sustained by the axis pass through the ori¬
gin O. Let R represent the single force or shock which
the axis supports in this case, and p the angle which its di¬
rection makes with the axis OX ; then, by (29),
R cos. p — F cos. a -f- ivMyx, R sin. p = F cos.,8 — wMxx,
trom which two equations R and p are both determined.
• It would be a desirable thing in machines which
495
derive their efficacy from a rotatory motion, to apply the Rotation.
pressures arising from the power and from the resistance ' >  
opposed by the work in such a manner as to annihilate 0r Appllca'
dimmish this pressure on the supports of the axis of motion.^ ^
Attention to this theorem will point out what may be done ;
and it is at all times proper, nay necessary, to know what
aie the pressures in the points of support. If we are igno¬
rant of this, we shall run the risk of our machine failing in
those parts; and our anxiety to prevent this will make us
load it with needless and ill-disposed strength. In the or¬
dinary theories of machines, deduced entirely from the
principles of equilibrium, the pressure on the points of sup¬
port (exclusive of what proceeds from the weight of the
machine itself) is stated to be the same as if the moving and
resisting forces were applied immediately to these points in
their own directions. But this is in all cases erroneous;
and, in cases of swift motions, it is greatly so. We may be
convinced of this by a very simple instance. Suppose a
line laid over a pulley, and a pound weight at one end of
it, and ten pounds at the other ; the pressure of the axis on
its support is eleven pounds, according to the usual rule;
whereas we shall find it only 3^-. For the direction of the
pressure R being in this case parallel to the axis y, and the
force F also acting in the same direction, we have cos. ?>
= 0 cos- a = °>,sin- (5=1, cos. /3 = 1, ^ - o, and the
two equations ot (30) give the single equation
R = F — wMxx.
If we now call the radius of the pulley 1, the moment of
the moving force is 10 x 1 —- 1 X 1 r= 9''; and the moment
of inertia (13) is 10 x lz -f 1 X l2 11 ; therefore (14)
the angular velocity w = fx. But the distance of the cen¬
tre of gravity from the axis of motion is also fT, because the
two weights may be supposed in contact with the circum¬
ference of the pulley; therefore, since M = 11, ?eMx1 = f,
X y1 x ty — f r Novv F — 10 + 1 — 11, therefore
F — 11— li = -fi = 3/y pounds, which is the pressure
sustained by the axis.
32. If we suppose R = 0, the two equations (30) will ex¬
press the conditions that must be fulfilled in order that the
axis may receive no shock Irom the action of the impressed
force F. This supposition gives the equations
F cos. cc — — wMyx, F cos. = wMxx,
from which, since cos, /3 — sin. a, we deduce
— yx sin. cf, — xx cos. a, or — yx tan. ec — xr
Now, if a plane be conceived to pass through the axis QZ
and the centre of gravity of the body, and if we denote bv
•4 the angle which it makes with the plane XOZ, we shall
havex1 — y^ tan. and therefore, since Xj rr —yx tan. a,
tan. v — — tan. a. From this equation it follows that the
direction PQ of the impressed force is perpendicular to the
plane w'hich passes through the axis and the centre of gra¬
vity. It now remains only to find the distance of the point
of impulse P from the axis. Let h — this distance, and rx
= distance of centre of gravity from the axis; the above
equations give F2cos.2a = lo^Wyf, F2 sin.2 a = ic2Msxx2,
whence F2 = nPW (xf + yf)-wlWrf, and F = wMr1.
But (14) w = F7i -f- fr^dm ; therefore, by substitution,
F zr FAMtj -f-frldm, and consequently h —
Mrj
33. Hence it appears that the conditions which must be
fulfilled in order that the axis may receive no shock when
the body is struck, are, Is/, that the direction of the force
be in the plane of the two axes which make with the axis
of rotation a system of principal axes; 2d, that its direc¬
tion be perpendicular to the plane which passes through
the axis and the centre of gravity ; and, 37, that the dis¬
tance of the point of its application from the axis be fr2dm
-f- Mrj.
34. The point determined by these conditions is called Centre of
the centre of percussion of the system. The centre of per-percussion.
496
ROTATION.
Rotation, cussion is therefore the point at which, if an obstacle
-y'—' were opposed sufficient to resist the rotation of the system,
no motion would be communicated to the axis; or, which is
the same thing, if the axis were not fixed, the system would
acquire from the shock no tendency to turn, the effect be¬
ing the same as if the whole rotatory effort had been accu¬
mulated at that point.
Let HKL (fig. 8) be a section of the body perpendicular
to the axis, and containing the centre of
gravity G. Let O be the axis, and in the
line OG take OP = h = fr9dm -q- M-OG,
then P is the centre of percussion, and a
force applied at P, in the plane HKL, and
in the direction perpendicular to OP, will
produce the same initial velocity of the
centre of gravity G as if the body were
free; for as the force exerts no pressure
on the axis or points of support, the initial
velocity will be the same as if they were not there.
35. The distance of the centre of percussion from the
axis is always greater than the distance of the centre of
gravity from the axis ; for the moment of inertia in respect
of the axis passing through O being fr^dm, by (17) the mo¬
ment of inertia in respect of the parallel axis passing through
G hfr9dm — M'OG2; therefore, since the moment of iner¬
tia is necessarily positive, fr^dm ^ M>OG2. But by the
definition fr9dm = M-OG-OP, therefore M-OG'GP ^
M OG2, or OP ^ OG.
36. The property of the centre of percussion, that a force
applied there produces no strain on the axis, may be ren¬
dered sensible by a simple experiment. If a straight line,
or rod of uniform thickness, be suspended from one extre¬
mity, the centre of percussion is at the distance of two thirds
of its length from the axis ; for the centre of gravity being
at the middle of the line, OG = so that if we call its mass
M= 1, the formula OP — frdm JVTOG becomes OP
= 2yi'Vlr, which, on taking the integral from a: — 0 to x z= J,
o-ives GP = Now if the rod be held in the hand, and we
give it a motion round the joint of the wrist only, and strike
smartly against an obstacle with a point considerably nearer
or more remote than two thirds of its length, we feel a pain¬
ful shock or wrench in the hand; but if we strike with that
point which is exactly at two thirds of its length, we feel no
such disagreeable strain.
37. It is sometimes said that the point P, considered as
the centre of percussion, is that with which the most violent
blow is struck. But this is by no means true. P is that
point of a body turning round O which gives a blow pre¬
cisely equal to the progressive motion of the body, and in
the same direction. As we have already said, it is the point
where we may suppose the whole rotatory momentum of
the body accumulated. Every particle of the body is mov¬
ing in a particular direction, with a velocity proportional to
its distance from the axis of rotation ; and if the body were
stopped in any point, each particle tending to continue its
motion endeavours to drag the rest along with it. What¬
ever point we call the centre of percussion should have this
property, that when it is stopped by a sufficient force, the
whole motion and tendency to motion of every kind should
be stopped; so that if at that instant the supports of the
axis were annihilated, the body would remain in absolute
rest.
38. The expressions in (29) for the stress on the axis
have reference only to the initial movement of the body,
and the forces which they represent are soon destroyed by
the resistance of the axis. But when a body is in perma¬
nent rotation about a fixed axis, there is a strain exerted on
the axis which depends only upon the centrifugal force of
rotation, and which therefore continues as long as the ro¬
tation continues. This constant pressure is determined as
follows: Since w is the angular velocity, and r the distance
of a particle dm from the axis, the velocity of the particle Rota'
— rw ; and, by mechanics, the centrifugal force of a body
moving in a circle is proportional to the square of the ve¬
locity divided by the radius ; therefore the centrifugal force
of the particle dm, in the direction of the radius r, is idlrdm.
The resolved parts of this force in the directions OX and
OY (fig. 7) are vPxdm and uPydm ; therefore, denoting the
pressures in those directions on the pivot S by /> and q,
and those on the pivot T by p and q’, we shall have, as in
(29), the following equations (in which xx and yx are the
co-ordinates of the centre of gravity, and k, h! the distances
of the pivots S and T respectively from O) to determine
Pi Pi 9i <ii viz-
y + // = w-fxdm — w/Mxj, q + q'=. vfifydm — w2Mylf
pk + pk’ — vf-fxzdm, qk + q'h! — vPfyzdm.
If we suppose OZ to be one of the three principal axes
passing through O, then (2%)fxzdm — 0 and fyzdm — 0;
whence pk + pk = 0, qk + q'k' z= 0. If, therefore, we
further suppose A: — 0, or that the origin of the co-ordinates
is placed at S, we shall also have p = 0, 9' = 0, whence
the pivot T sustains no pressure, the whole being exerted
on S.
If OZ, besides being a principal axis, also passes through
the centre of gravity, then = 0, yx zz 0, whence
p + p = b, q + q’ zz 0 •, and since p and q' vanish when
OZ is a principal axis, therefore jo =: 0, 5 0, so that no
pressure is exerted on either of the pivots; and if they were
removed, the body would still continue to revolve about the
same axis.
The forces thus determined are in some sort the inverse
of those arising from the percussions found in (29), the
values of p + />' being in this case expressed in terms of x,
and in the former in terms of y ; and the value of ^ + q',
which in the case of the percussions was expressed in terms
of x, is here given in terms of y.
39. In computing the effect of machines, it is often con- Centre
venient to determine the situation of a point in which the S)rra ia
whole mass of the machine might be concentrated without
altering the rotatory effort. In the straight line OG (fig. 8)
suppose a point Q.to be taken, such that OQ,2 —fkdm — mo¬
ment of inertia in respect of the axis O ; then, if the whole
matter in the body were collected at Q, a force applied at
any point P in the line OG, would produce exactly the same
angular velocity as if applied to the same point of the body
having its natural form. For if the whole mass M were
concentrated at Q, the moment of inertia would become
M-OQ2 (13), and the moment of the force F applied at P
is F’OP; therefore the angular velocity (14) would be
^ ^ But the angular velocity produced by the force
F-OP
M-OO2
F applied at P, the body having its natural form, ™
therefore, since M-OQ2 - fr^dm, the two expressions are
equal, and the angular velocity is not altered by supposing
the whole mass concentrated at Q.
40. The point Q is called the centre of gyration of the
revolving mass; and since OQ. = VfPdm -r- M, its distance
from the axis O is found by extracting the square root of
the quotient which is obtained by dividing the moment ol
inertia by the mass of the body. It is also connected with
the centres of gravity and percussion by a simple relation.
Suppose P to be the centre of percussion, then (34) OP
— frldm -z- M• OG, therefore OG’ OP = frzdm -r M —
OQ2; whence the distance of the centre of gyration from
the axis of rotation is a mean proportional between the dis¬
tances of the centre of gravity and percussion from the axis.
In a straight line or slender rod, as a working beam, or
the spoke of a wheel in a machine, OQ is of its lengt i,
for in this case frldm — fr dr — j r2; and r being the
whole length, M — r; therefore Vfrhlm -f- M zz r
ROTATION.
In a circle or cylinder turning about its axis, OQ.=z
'the radius; for by (18) we have in this case fr2dm
— Mr2 ; therefore Vfi^dm
M
r V 1. But if the
dw
dt
gNlk sin. 4
Jr1 dm.
497
Rotation.
Fo riulae
for ocek'
rat
fori'.
circle turns round one of its diameters, then OQ ^ the ra¬
dius ; for in this case/rWm = ^ M r2; therefore v'fr2^ —M
— <2 r*
In the periphery of a circle, or rim of a wheel, turning
about a diameter perpendicular to its plane, OQ = radius;
for frldm — r2 X S-rr = S-rr3, and M = 2err ; therefore
Vfr2dm >— M = r.
A solid sphere turning round a diameter has OQ = rVf
for (18) the moment of inertia of the sphere is err5; and
the mass M z= err5; therefore OQ — r1 — r Vf •
41. In what precedes, we have supposed that the force
applied to a rigid system produces its effect by instanta¬
neous impact, and then ceases to act, so that the motion
communicated to the system is uniform. But if the action
of the external force continues after the first impact, like
the force of gravity on a falling body, the motion of the
system will be accelerated. In the case of uniform veloci¬
ty, it has been shown (14) that the angular velocity is equal
to the moment of the applied force divided by the moment
of inertia ; that is, assuming F to denote the force, and P
the perpendicular from the axis on the line of its direction,
w — p-F -^fr^dm. Suppose now the body to be subjected
to the action of an accelerating force, and let dw be the
increment of the angular velocity in the very small time
dt. The increment of the actual velocity of the particle
dm, the distance of which from the axis is r, is then rdw,
and its accelerating force (the ratio of the increment of the
velocity to the increment of the time) is Its moving
dt °
force is consequently ^ • rdm ; and since the direction of
this force is perpendicular to r, its moment = f—'r2dm.
dt
dw q sin
come —   
dt OS
But the sum of all these moments, in respect of every parti¬
cle dm, must be equal to the moment of the impressed
force, continuing to act during the same instant of time,
therefore 'l-~fr^dm
T, , dw
■ P' r, whence — =
P'
dtJ 1 ’ dt fi*dm
42. In the case of a heavy body oscillating about an axis
whence the acceleration of the angular velocity is propor¬
tional to the sine of the angle which the line OG makes with
the vertical.
43. Suppose the whole mass of the body to be concen¬
trated at a point S in the straight line OG ; we shall then
lave r — OS, fj' dm — M'OS', and the formula will be-
0
_ ' • Now, if the point S be chosen such that
OS = fr~dm~- M-£, then the two formula; will be identi¬
cal, and the solid body will oscillate exactly in the same
time as if all its matter were united at the point S, and
connected with the axis by an inflexible rod without weight,
that is, in the same time as a simple pendulum, of which
the length is OS.
Since r2 = a;2 + y\ and M • k z= fxdm, this expression
tor OS may be put under the following form, in which it is
usually exhibited, namely,
qc 4~ y8 ) dm
fxdm
44. The point S is called the centre of oscillation. On Centre of
comparing the expression for OS with that for OP in (34) osci1Iatior>.
it will be seen that it is at the same distance from the axis
as the centre of percussion. But the centre of oscillation
is not, strictly speaking, limited to a single point; for it
through S a line be drawn perpendicular to the plane
HKL, or parallel to the axis of rotation, every point in this
line will move with the same angular velocity as if it were
entirely unconnected with the other points of the oscillatino-
body, and the line itself is denominated the axis of oscillation.
It is usual, however, to understand by the term centre of oscil¬
lation, the point S which is situated in the straight line,
perpendicular to the axis, which contains the centre of gra¬
vity.
45, If we denote the moment of inertia of the body in
respect of the axis which passes through G the centre of
gravity, perpendicular to the plane HKL, by M • A2, then h
is a given line; and if we also make OG = k, then (17)
the moment of inertia in respect of the axis passing through
O is M (li~ -j- kf. Hence we find OS — ^ )
Fig. 9.
by the force of gravity, let HKL
be a section of the body passing
through the centre of gravity G,
and let the axis of suspension be
at 0,and perpendicular to the plane
HKL. Also, let OX be horizontal,
and OY vertical. Then the acce¬
lerating force being denoted by g
(g = 32 feet in a second of time),
the moving force in respect of a
particle dm at A is gdm ; and the
direction of this force being parallel
^ ^.e d^tonce of its direction from the axis is x ;
therefore its moment = gxdm. The sum of all these
Moments is the moment of the whole gravitating force of
toe body?that is, gfxdm — p'p, and we have consequently,
sincefxdm — M-c j,
~frtdm—gM.xx, whence ~ —
glAxx
dt fPdm
When the centre of gravity is in the straight line O Y,
or m the vertical passing through the axis, then xx = 0,
and the angular velocity is uniform, and the body, if it rest
in that position, would have no tendency to turn. But sup¬
pose the centre of gravity to be drawn aside from the ver¬
tical, and let OG = A, and the angle GOY =r 0, then x,
— k sin. 0, and we have
VOL. XIX.
M • k
Id Id '
— ^ > and consequently GS — —. This formula
gives the distance of the centre of oscillation below the
centre of gravity.
46. The point S possesses several very remarkable proper¬
ties, one of which is, that as S is the centre of oscillation of
the body turning about O, so O is the centre of oscillation of
the body turning about the parallel axis passing through S ;
in other words, the centres of oscillation and suspension are
h2
convertible. For it has been shown (45) that GS
h? Id
= qq5 therefore OG that is to say, if the body
oscillates about the axis passing through S, then O is the
centre of oscillation. This curious property, which was
first demonstrated by Huygens in his Horologium Oscilla-
torium, was ingeniously applied by Captain Kater as a
practical means of determining the length of the seconds
pendulum. Two axes being assumed in a bar or rod of
metal, the bar is adjusted by filing away one of its ends
until the oscillations about each axis are performed exactly
in the same time; and when this equality has been esta¬
blished, the distance between the axes is the length of the
synchronous simple pendulum. See Pendulum.
47. We shall now determine the centre of oscillation in
a few particular cases.
3 it
498
ROTATION.
■Rotation. If the body is a heavy straight line suspended by one
' V ' extremity, the OS == f of its length ; for making a — the
Computa- length 0f the rod, we Have (18) fr^dnv = ^ a3, and in this
f °" °ric™' case the mass M = a, and the centre of gravity is at the
dilation, middle of the line, or & — ^«, whence = ^a2, and OS
— fr&dm -f- = |a3 -f- ^a2 = f«.
This is nearly the case of a slender rod of a cylindrical
or prismatic shape, and it would be accurately so if all the
points of a transverse section were equally distant from the
axis of suspension.
If the oscillating body is an isosceles triangle suspended
by its apex, and vibrating perpendicularly to its plane, O
— ^ of its height. For let a — the height, no. — the base,
l — a section parallel to the base, then y — nx, r — x,
and dm = ydx ; whence fr-dm = nfx3dx z= (when x
— a), But in this case M = area zz ^ a X na ^ no?;
and the distance of the centre of gravity from the vertex
being two thirds of the height, we have k — whence
~ ■} na3, and consequently OS = frdm M/e
= fa. . . r-
48. The problem to find the centre of oscillation of a
sphere suspended by a thread or an inflexible rod, is im¬
portant on account of its application to the measuiement
of the seconds pendulum. Let us first suppose that the
weight of the thread is insensible in comparison of that of
the ball. Let r = radius of ball, l = length of threadfrom
the point of suspension to the ball, and « — / + r — dis¬
tance from the point of suspension to the centre of the ball.
The moment of inertia of the sphere in respect of an axis
passing through its centre (18) is fMr2 ; therefore (17) the
moment in respect of a parallel axis at the distance a is
M (a2 + fr2); and on dividing this by ( = Ma), we
get the distance from the point of suspension to the centre
2r2
of oscillation = a + r-> or the centre of oscillation is be-
oa
Fig. 11.
low the centre of gravity by the distance fr2-z-a.
49. Let us now suppose the weight of the thread or rod
to be taken into account. Let C (fig. 10) be the centre ot
the ball, G the centre of gravity of the ball and
rod OA, S the centre of oscillation; also let Fig. 10.
b — weight of ball, and b' = weight of rod. The 0
moment of the sphere, oscillating about O, sup¬
posing the weight of the rod insensible, is found
above =: M (a2 + fr2) ; and (18) the moment
of the rod alone is f O A3 =: = fMV2 (putting
M' = mass of the rod); therefore, substituting
the weights for the masses, that is, making M = b,
and M'= b', the moment of the compound body
is b (a- + f r2) + f b'P. Now, to find the
position of G the centre of gravity, we have this theorem
in statics, that the product of the whole mass multiplied
into the distance of its centre of gravity from the axis, is
equal to the sum of the products of the masses of the se¬
veral parts into the respective distances of their centres of
gravity; that is, putting OG = k, we have (M + M')£
=z + ^b'l, and consequently (45),
UB~ fc + JW
Eolation 50. Hitherto we have supposed the axes of rotation to
on inclined be absolutely fixed; but the rotation may be performed
planes. about axes which are themselves in motion, as in the case
of a ball or cylinder rolling down an inclined plane. When
a ball rolls down an inclined plane, the point of the ball
which rests on the plane is hindered from sliding down by
friction ; and therefore the ball tumbles, as it were, over
this point of contact, and is instantly caught by another
point of contact, over which it tumbles in the same man¬
ner. A cylinder rolls down in the very same way ; and its
motion is nearly the same as if a fine thread had been lap¬
ped round it, and one end of it made fast at the head of the
inclined plane. The cylinder rolls down by unwinding this Rotatic
thread.
The mechanism of all such motions (and some of them
are important) may be understood by considering them as
follows : Let a body of any shape be connected with a cy¬
linder HO K (fig. 11), whose axis passes through G, the
centre of gravity of the body. Suppose the body sus¬
pended from a fixed point A by a thread wound round the
cylinder. The body will descend by the action of gravity,
and it will also turn round, unwinding the thread. Draw
the horizontal line SGO ; this will pass through ’the point
of contact O of the thread and cylinder, and O is the point
round which the cylinder begins to turn in descending. Let
S be its centre of oscillation correspond¬
ing to the momentary centre of rotation O.
The body will begin to descend in the same
manner as if all its matter were collected in
S; for it may be considered, in this instant,
as a pendulum suspended at O. But in this
case S will descend in the same manner
as if the body were falling freely. There¬
fore the velocity of G (that is, the velocity
of descent) will be to the velocity with
which a heavy body would fall as OG to
OS. Now since the points O, G, S, are always in a hori¬
zontal line, and the radius OG is given, as also OS (43),
the velocity of a body falling freely, and of the body un¬
winding from this thread, will always be in the same pro¬
portion of OS to OG, and so will the spaces described in
any given time. And thus we can compare their motions
in every case when we know the place of the centre of oscil¬
lation.
It follows from this that the weight of the descending
body will be to the tension of the thread as OS to GS; for
the tension of the thread is the difference between the mo¬
ment of the rolling body and that of the body falling freely.
It is to be remarked, that this proportion between the weight
of the body and the tension of the thread will be always the
same; for it has been demonstrated (46), that if O be in
the circumference of a circle whose centre is G, S will be
in the circumference of another circle round the same cen¬
tre, and therefore the ratio of OG to OS is constant.
If a circular body HOK roll down an inclined plane by
unfolding a thread, or by friction which prevents all slid¬
ing, the space described will be to that which the body
would describe freely as OG to OS; for the tendency
down the inclined plane is a determined proportion of the
weight of the body. The motion of rotation in these cases,
both progressive and whirling, is uniformly accelerated.
51. In order to give an example of the application of the Inertr'
preceding formulae for the rotation of bodies about fixed ma(“L
axes to the theory of machines actually performing work,
we shall suppose the machine to be the wdieel and axie,
and that a weight W, attached to a chain passing over the
cylinder, is to be raised by means of a power acting on
another chain which passes over the wheel. Let the ra¬
dius of the wheel = «, the radius of the cylinder — and
suppose the moving power to be another weight P, or a mass
of matter descending by the accelerating force ot gravity.
Since the machine is in this case impelled by an accele¬
rating force, the angular velocity w is obtained from thw
equation (41), namely,
dw _ moment of impelling force
dt moment of inertia
Now, because the weight P acts in a straight line whose
distance from the axis = o, the moment of its force is 1®»
and in like manner the moment of the force exerted by
is W6. But this last moment retards the motion, and must
be taken as negative ; therefore the moment of the impel¬
ling force is Pa — WZ>. Again, the moment of inertia^
ling luiut; x u   —  - r thp
made up of three parts: first, the moment of inertia ot tne
ROTATION.
^ P itiori. machine, which depends on the quantity of dead matter
" / contained in the wheel and cylinder, and which we may
denote by K ; second, the moment of inertia of the weight P,
which may be considered as attached to the extremity of
the radius of the wheel; third, the moment of inertia of the
weight W, which may be considered as attached to the ex¬
tremity of the radius of the cylinder. Let M and M' be
the masses of the bodies whose weights are P and W, then
the moments of inertia are respectively Ma2 and M'6e. Let
also g = the acceleration of gravity, then the weight of a
body being the product of its mass into the force of gravity,
we have P W = gM', whence the whole moment of
inertia is
Wl>a
499
Pa2
K + — +
£ 9 '
and we have consequently
dw _ g (Pq — WIQ
dt + Pa2 -}- b "
For the sake of abridging, let us assume
u _ Pa— W6
W62’ anc^ ^le anSu^ar velocity will be
Also let v — the ve
S' K + Pa2 +
given by the equation w = gf\Jdt.   
locity ot the impelled point of the machine, or the velocity
vith w hich P descends, and u ~ the velocity of the working
point, or velocity with which W is raised; then v =. aw, and
u — bio, at the end of the time t; and if we denote the re¬
spective accelerating forces by <p and we shall have
^ _ dv _ du , TT
^ adL> ^ = dt=
Blot
solic
entii ,
free.'
52. To find the proportion of the velocities of the im¬
pelled and working points which give the greatest perform¬
ance when the weight and power are both given, we may
treat the formula which expresses the work, that is, the
accelerating force, or W, as a fluxionary quantity, and find
its maximum. Thus, to find the radius of the wheel by
which the weight will be raised with the greatest velocity,
we have to differentiate the quantity denoted by U, on the
supposition that a is variable, and make the result equal to
zero. This will give an equation from which a wall be ob¬
tained in terms of P, W, and b; and it will be observed,
that as K varies wuth a, the value of K in terms of a must
be substituted in the value of U before the differentiation.
53. The friction may be taken account of by considering
it as a quantity to be added to the weight W. * Let/= the
co-efficient of friction, and c — radius of the pivots sup¬
porting the machine, then the friction will be expressed
by/c (P + W), and we have only to substitute Wb +
Jc (P 4- \\ ) for Wb in the above expression for U.
54. In the case of the fixed pulley, the velocities of P and
W are equal, and we have also a — b. If wre denote the
weight of the pulley by Q, then its mass will be Q 4- and
(18) its moment of inertia = ^ On2 g ; therefore the for¬
mula for the accelerating force with which P descends or W
rises will be
  P —W
*~9' £ Q -j- P + W
of a 55. We now proceed to consider the motion of a solid
body which is entirely free.
.When a solid body or rigid system is impressed at a single
point by a force of wLich the direction does not pass through
the centre of gravity, the body, if free to move in every di¬
rection, acquires two motions, one progressive, and equal to
that which would have resulted if the direction of the force
had passed through the centre of gravity, and the other ro¬
tatory, and equal to that which would have resulted if the
body had been only at liberty to move round a fixed axis
passing through the centre of gravity, and perpendicular to
the plane which contains that centre, and the line of the di¬
rection of the impelling force.
i In °rd®r t0 demonstrate this proposition, let HKL (fig. Rotation.
12) be a section of the body passing through G the centre of '
gravity, and containing the line in
  - Fig. 12.
which the force is directed; let P
be tlm point at which the given
force F is applied, and PA its direc¬
tion ; through G draw G A perpen¬
dicular to PA, and let PA repre¬
sent the intensity of the force F.
Bisect AP in B, produce AG un¬
til GC = AG, and through C draw _ ^ 
CD, CE perpendicular to AC, and make each equal to AB.
If we now conceive a force represented by DC to be applied
at D in the direction DC, and another force represented by
EC to be applied at E in the direction EC, these two forces
being equal, and acting in opposite directions, will destroy
each other, or produce no movement in the body, and the
motion which actually takes place in consequence of the ap¬
plication of the force PA at P, will be the same as would
result from the application of the four forces PB, BA, DC,
EC. Now it is evident, that if the two forces BA and DC
acted alone, they would produce no rotatory motion about
the axis passing through G, for their moments BA • AG
and DC • CG are equal, and they tend to turn the body in
opposite directions. But the same two forces both tend to
give the body a progressive motion ; and as the resultant of
two equal and parallel forces is a force equal to their sum,
and acting at the point which bisects the distance between
their directions, the initial progressive motion of the body
in consequence of the forces BA and DC will be the same
as if the force PA = F were applied at the point G in the
direction parallel to PA. We have now to consider the
two remaining forces PB and EC. As these two forces act
on the line AC in opposite directions, their resultant is no¬
thing, or their separate tendencies to produce a progressive
motion in the centre of gravity of the body, are counter¬
acted by their joint effort. But they conspire in tending
to produce a rotatory motion in the same direction about
the axis passing through G; and the moment of the first in
respect of that axis being PB • AG, and that of the second
EC • CG, the sum of their moments is (PB + EC) AG or
PA • AG. The whole effect of these two forces is therefore
to produce the same initial angular velocity about the axis
through G, perpendicular to HKL, as would be produced
by the single force PA applied at the point A; and it has
been shown, that the whole effect of the forces BA and
DC is to produce the same progressive movement of the
centre of gravity as if the single force PA were applied
at that point, consequently the proposition is demonstrated,
and it appears that the two motions produced by the appli¬
cation of a force which is not directed towards the cen¬
tre of gravity may be considered independently of each
other.
57. Let V =: the progressive velocity of the centre of
gravity in the direction parallel to PA; then the mass of the
body being M, we have the force F — MV, and consequent¬
ly V = F -7- M. Again, if we make AG = /, the angular
velocity produced by the force F applied at A is w = F • /
-T- fr2dm (14), therefore V : iv :: frldm : M7. Now, since
fr2dm and M are both known from the nature of the body,
it follows, that when the distance l is given, the ratio of the
progressive motion of the centre of gravity to the velocity
of angular rotation can be found ; and, conversely, when the
ratio of the two velocities is given, the distance l can be
found. For example, let s be the space described by the
centre of gravity while the body makes one revolution about
its axis, then 2«r is the space described, in consequence of
the rotatory motion, by a point of the body whose dis¬
tance from the axis = 1, and the above proportion gives
. 2ir fr2dm
IT'
a
500
Rotation.
ROTATION.
58. As it is not necessary that the progressive motion of
the centre of gravity be in a straight line, this formula en¬
ables us to determine the distances from the centre at which
the planets may have received the single impulses which
gave them at the same time their motions of revolution in
their orbits, and of rotation round their axes. Thus, taking
the case of the earth, and making R = the radius of its or¬
bit, the circumference of the orbit is S-trli, and the part ol
this which is described by the centre of gravity, while the
earth revolves once about its axis, is ni7C. —s; and by (18)
365
365 X 2r°-
If we assume
Centre of
spontane¬
ous rota¬
tion.
Progres¬
sive mo¬
tion of cen
tre of gra¬
vity.
fr^dm M = f r2 j therefore l —  ^
r = 4000 miles, and R = 95,000,000 miles, this formula
gives l = 24^ miles nearly.
59. The direction of the force being PA (fig. 12), if a point
be taken in the line AG between A and G, the motion of the
point arising from the rotation of the body about the axis is
in the first instant of time parallel to the direction of the pro¬
gressive motion, and if r be its distance from G, the velocity
due to both motions will be V + rio. But if the point be
taken on the other side of G, the direction of the rotatory
motion will be opposite to that of the progressive motion,
and the velocity of the point will be V — rw. If therefore
the point T be taken such that making GT — r, we have
the equation \ — rw; then, for a single instant, every point
in the straight line passing through T perpendicular to
HKL is at rest, or is carried as far back by the rotatory
motion in the first instant of time, as it is carried forward
by the progressive motion; and, for a single instant, the
double motion of the body may be regarded as a simple ro¬
tatory motion about that straight line. This point T is
called the centre of spontaneous rotation, and the straight
line passing through T, perpendicular to the plane HKL,
is called the axis of spontaneous rotation'
60. The preceding formulae enable us to determine com¬
pletely the two motions of translation and rotation when a
force is applied to a single point of the free body ; we have
now to determine what the effect will be when any num¬
ber of forces given in magnitude and direction are applied
to different points of the body ; and as it appears from what
precedes, that during the first instant the two motions take
place independently of each other, we shall first give the
equations which fix the position of the centre of gravity of
the moving body, and then those which define the rotatory
motion, or determine the position of any point of the body
with reference to its centre of gravity.
Let G be the centre of gravity of the body, M its mass,
and let the motion be referred to three rectangular axes
OX, OY, OZ. Let us now suppose forces given in magni¬
tude and direction to be applied at the points A, A', A", &c.
of the body, and that each of them is resolved into three
others respectively parallel to the directions of the axis, and
let p, q, r, be the resolved forces applied at A; p', (f, r',
the resolved forces applied at A', and so on; also let P =/>
+ p' + p" +> &c., a = ? + ^ + ?" +> &c., R = r + /
_j_ _|_) &c,; then, since the moving force is equal to the
product of the mass into the velocity, and since by (56) the
progressive motion resulting from the force applied at A is
the same as if it had been applied to the centre of gravity,
the velocity of the centre of gravity from the joint action
of all the forces, in the directions OX, OY, OZ, will be re¬
spectively • But the resulting velocity is the
diagonal of the parallelepiped of which these component
velocities are the sides ; therefore, denoting it by V, we have
the angles which its direction makes with the axis x,y, z; Rot
then, since the forces P, Q, R meet in a point (the centre
of gravity), we have
P „ _ Q _ R
cos. a = cos. P - COS. y _ My
These equations give the direction of the velocity; hence,
since Y has already been found, the initial velocity of the
centre of gravity and its direction are both completely de¬
termined.
61. When the forces applied to the body are simply per¬
cussions, which cease to act after the first impact, and there
is no resistance, no change will take place in the velocity
or its direction during the second and succeeding instants,
and the centre of gravity will describe a straight line with
a uniform motion; but if the forces continue to act after
the motion has commenced, we must have recourse to the
formula; given by the principles of dynamics, which express
the varied motion of a body subjected to the action ol ac¬
celerating forces. At the end ol the time t, reckoned from
the commencement of the motion, let x, y, z be the co-or¬
dinates of the element of the body dm, referred to the
rectangular axes OX, OY, OZ; then the velocity at that
instant being expressed by the differential of the space de¬
scribed divided by the element of the time, the components
dx dy dz XT
of the velocity at the same instant will be —, JNow
the forces acting on the body, whatever be their nature,
may always be decomposed into others parallel to the three
axes; suppose therefore P, Q, R to be the components of
the accelerating forces in those directions acting on the
point dm, then the increment of velocity being equal to
the force into the element of the time, it the particle dm
, , . dx dy dz
were entirely free, the velocities would acquire
the increments Fdt, Q.dt, Rdt in the instant dt. But the
increments of velocity actually acquired in the instant dt
dx
are the differentials of the velocities, or d’
dy , dz
dP'-dt'
v=iy(P> + aj + R’)-
and therefore the velocities lost in consequence of the mu¬
tual connection of the particles are respectively
Fdt~~d’% adt~~d‘~dt' Rdt~d'di'
Multiplying each of these expressions by dm, we get the
quantities of motion due to the respective velocities. Now,
according to a well-known principle of dynamics, the dis¬
covery of which is due to D’Alembert, the infinitely small
quantities of motion lost in every instant by all the particles
in consequence of their mutual connection must make equi¬
librium ; the integrals of the preceding expressions multi¬
plied by dm must therefore be severally equal to zero, and
we have accordingly (on effecting the operations indicated,
and dividing by dt) the three equations
fRdm-J^dmjadm-J^lmJRdm =f^m.
62. In order to find the place of the centre of gravity at
the end of the time t, let its co-ordinates at that instant be
aq, yx, ; then from the property of the centre of gravity
we have
Ma1 =fxdm, Myx —fydm, Mzx =fzdm.
Regarding the variables as functions of the time t, differ¬
entiating twice, and dividing each time by dt, we obtain
To determine the direction of this velocity, let a, 8, y, be
M
cfz^
dt*
=/
dP
>drz
dP
dm,
dm.
r
ROTATION.
;ation.
Qiposi-
ti of ro-
ti; ry mo-
ti.
Comparing these with the above equations, we have
M ^ = fVdm, M ^ = fQLdm, M ^ =,f\\dm.
Now, the first members of these equations denote respec¬
tively the quantities of motion in the direction of the axes
x, y, z, of a material point whose mass — M, and the in¬
tegrals fPd?n, fQdm, fJldm denote the quantities of mo¬
tion of the body or rigid system under consideration, sub¬
jected to the accelerating forces P, Q, R; it follows, there¬
fore, that during the whole continuance of the motion the
centre of gravity moves as if the whole of the matter of the
body were concentrated there, and the forces which act on
the body were all applied at that point.
63. Having thus given the equations which enable us to
determine the motion of the centre of gravity of a free sys¬
tem under the action of given forces, we now proceed to
consider the rotatory movement of the system, and to in¬
vestigate the position of any point of it with respect to the
centre of gravity at the end of any given interval of time.
The investigation of this problem is greatly facilitated by
means of the following elegant theorem respecting the com¬
position of rotatory motion, discovered by Frisi.
Proposition. If a solid body revolve round an axis O A
(fig. 13) passing through its centre of gravity with an angu¬
lar velocity z= w, and if a force be impressed upon it which
alone would cause it to revolve about an axis OB also pass¬
ing through its centre of gravity with an angular velocity
— id, then the body will not revolve about either OA or
OB, but about a third axis OC lying in the plane of the
other two, and inclined to each of the former axes in angles
whose sines are inversely as the angular velocities round
those axes, or so that sin. AOC : sin. BOC :: w': w ; and
the angular velocity n round the new axis is to that round
one of the primitive axes as the sine of inclination of the
two primitive axes is to the sine of the inclination of the
new axis to the other primitive axis, that \s,u : w :: sin.
AOB : sin. COB, ov u \ id :: sin. AOB : sin. AOC.
64. In order to prove this proposition, it is necessary to
show, 1st, that any point in the line OC is at rest while
the two motions are taking place; 2d, that every particle of
the body not situated in AC revolves about the axis AC ;
and 3d, to assign the velocity of rotation.
(1.) Let the angular motion about the axis OA be sup¬
posed to be in the direction by
which every point in the. angle
AOB would be raised above the
plane of the paper, and that about
OB to be in the direction by which
every point within the same angle
would be depressed below theplane
of the paper, and take any point
E in OC, and draw EH and EK
respectively perpendicular to OA
and OB. The absolute velocity with which the point E
moves in consequence of the rotation about OA is HE'w,
and the absolute velocity with which it moves about OB is
KE*tt/. But HF=OEsin.AOC,andKEOEsin.BOC;
and by hypothesis id \ w :: sin. AOC : sin. BOC, whence
uf sin. BOC r= w sin. AOC, therefore the two velocities
HE • w and KE • id are equal; and they are in opposite
directions, consequently the point E remains at rest. In
the same manner, it is shown that every other point in OC
remains at rest.
(2.) Let P be the place of any particle of the body, and
conceive the surface of a sphere to pass through P, inter¬
secting the axes in A and B, and join PA and PB by arcs
of great circles. Draw PM perpendicular to AP, and make
PM ~ w * sin. AP = absolute velocity of the particle P
about the axis OA in 1" of time ; also draw PN perpendi¬
cular to BP, and make PN = w' • sin, BP = absolute velo-
501
Fig. 13.
city of P about OB in 1" (the radius being unity), and com- Rotation,
plete the parallelogram PMRN. * ”
Since the particle dm, in virtue of the rotation about OA,
has a motion which would cause it to describe the line PM
in a second, and in virtue of the rotation about OB has also
a motion which would cause it to describe PN in a second,
the particle will describe PR the diagonal of the parallelo¬
gram PMRN. Ihrough P let an arc of a great circle be
described perpendicular to PR, and produced to meet the
plane AOB in the point C, which at present we suppose
indeterminate, and join OC; then OC is the straight line
in which a plane passing through P, perpendicular to PR,
intersects the plane AOB.
Because APM and CPU are equal, being right angles,
take from each the common angle APR, and there remains
RPM = APC; and because BPN and CPU are right
angles, add to each NPC, and we have RPN = BPC. Now
PM = iv sin. AP, and PN = RM — id • sin. BP, therefore
PM : RM :: w sin. AP : w' sin. BP ;
but PM : RM :: sin. MRP (= sin. RPN) : sin. RPM,
or PM : RM :: sin. BPC : sin. APC;
therefore sin. BPC : sin. APC :: w sin. AP : id sin. BP,
whence w' sin. BP • sin. BPC = w sin. AP • sin. APC.
Now in the spherical triangles BPC and APC we have
sin BP • sin. BPC = sin, CB • sin. PCB, and sin. AP • sin.
APC sin. AC ’ sin. ACP ; therefore
id sin. CB • PCB — w sin. AC • sin. ACP.
But sin. PCB = sin. ACP (the one angle being the sup¬
plement of the other) ; also sin. CB r= sin. BOC, sin. AC
= sin. AOC, therefore w' sin. BOC = w sin. AOC, and
ponsequently
w : id :: sin. BOC : sin. AOC.
From this it follows that OC divides the angle AOB into
parts having a given ratio, and is therefore given in posi¬
tion ; and as it may be shown in like manner that the plane
passing through every other particle of the body perpendi¬
cular to the direction of the motion of that point intersects
the plane AOB in OC, OC is therefore the axis of rota¬
tion.
(3.) To find u, the angular velocity about OC. In the
triangle RPM we have RP : PM :: sin. RMP : sin. MRP;
but sin. RMP = sin. MPN — sin. APB, and sin. MRP
n sin. RPN rr sin. CPB, therefore RP : PM :: sin. APB :
sin. CPD. Now RP = u sin. CP = absolute velocity about
OC in 1", and PM =r w sin. AP zr absolute velocity about
OA in 1". Substituting these expressions therefore in the
last proportion, and multiplying extremes and means, we get
u sin. CP • sin. CPB — w sin. AP * sin. APB.
But the spherical triangles CPB and APB give sin. CP
sin. CPB zr sin. CB sin. CBP, and sin. AP sin. APB ~
sin. AB sin. ABP. Therefore, substituting, and leaving out
the common term, we have u sin. CB — w sin. AB, or u
sin. COB zr w sin. AOB, that is,
u : w :: sin. AOB : sin. COB.
In like manner, it may be shown that
u \ id :: sin. AOB : sin. AOC,
whence the proposition is demonstrated.
65. When the two primitive axes OA and OB are at
right angles, sin. AOB = 1, sin. COB = cos. AOC,
and the above two proportions give u :w :: 1 : cos. AOC,
sin. AOC, whence u cos. AOC = w, and
u sin. AOC rr «/, and consequently u" = w2 + w/2, or
u — d {id -j~ w,r).
66. Suppose a third axis OD at right angles to OA and
OB, and that a force is impressed on the body, which alone
would cause it to revolve about OD with an angular velo¬
city = w"; then, as the body is revolving about OC with
the velocity u, the effect of this new force will be to cause
it to revolve about an axis in the plane DOC; and if we
make = the angle which this new axis makes with the
line OC, and W = the velocity about the new axis, we
502
ROTATION.
Eolation, shall have from the preceding formulae W cos. = u, and
v'—’“v'”'-'' W sin. ^ = to", whence Wz= ^/(m2 -f icf'2), or, substituting for
it its value found above, W = V(w2 -}- t^/2 + w"2). The posi¬
tion of the new axis is, however, more conveniently defined
by the angles which it makes with the three primitive axes.
Let a, /3, y be the angles which it makes respectively with
the primitive axes OA, OB, OD, then the three spherical
triangles which it forms with the three axes give cos. a
= cos. AOC cos. 4^, cos. f3 = cos. BOC cos. 4,, cos. 7 1=
sin. 4^ Now, from the preceding equations (65), we have
cos.
AOC = - cos. BOC
u
sin. AOC ~ —, cos. 4':=:
u
W’
sin. 4/ =
W
Therefore, substituting and writing for W its
Fig. 14.
being perpendicular to UX, we have the angle YXe = UXZ, Rotation
and sin. YXe = cos. YXU ; also, since YXZ is a right
angle, sin. TXY = cos. TXZ. Hence the formulae of sphe¬
rical trigonometry give the following equations,
cos. (3 cos. 7
sin. 1 Xe =   , cos. 1 Xe = -r—-,
sin. a sin. a
rpw cos. m . —cos. w
cos. TXY = -r—r, sin. TXY =
value V(w2 -1- w'2 + w"2), we obtain
to D vf
cos. a _ ^*^7w'^+'w"2)' C0S‘ " ~^{w +
w"
COS. 7 — _j_ w'2 _j_
Hence it follows that the change of position of any point in
consequence of the rotation Wrf£, in the element of time dt,
is equivalent to the change that would be effected by three
simultaneous and independent rotations Weft cos. a, Wdt
cos. (3, Wdt cos. 7, about three rectangular axes, with which
the axis corresponding to the velocity W makes respective¬
ly the angles a, /3, 7.
67. In determining the rotation of a body about a fixed
centre, it is most convenient to refer every point of the
body to a system of three principal axes passing through
the centre of gravity; there are therefore two distinct
steps in the investigation, the first being to find the situa¬
tion of the principal axes in respect of absolute space at
the end of any given time, and the second to find the po¬
sition of any point of the body referred to these axes, whose
positions have been determined. To accomplish the first of
these, the following proposition is required.
68. If at the end of any time t the position of the axis
about which the body is revolving be known in respect of
the three principal axes supposed to be fixed in the system,
together with the angular velocity of rotation; to deter¬
mine the change of situation of the principal axes in re¬
spect of absolute space, in the element of time dt.
Imagine a sphere, whose radius = I, to be described
about O the centre of gravity of
the body; let KTL (fig. 14) be
a great circle, and in KTL as¬
sume a point T as that to which
the position of the principal axes
is to be referred. At the end of
the time t, let X, Y, Z be the
points in which the three princi¬
pal axes passing through O meet J
the surface of the sphere; then,
on joining these points by arcs of
great circles, the three arcs XY,
YZ, ZX will be quadrantal arcs, since the principal axes
are at right angles to each other. Join also X, Y, Z with
T by arcs of great circles, and assume
TX = /, TY = m, TZ = n,
KTX = X, KTY = /*, KTZ =
Let U be the point in which the axis about which the body
is revolving at the end of the time t meets the surface of the
sphere, and let U be joined by arcs of great circles with X,
Y, Z. Put W z= angular velocity of rotation about OU
(which we suppose to be in the direction XYZ), and let
a, |3, 7 be the angles which OU makes with the principal
axes, namely, oc = UX, /3 — UY, y — UZ.
To investigate the motion of the point X, let Xe be the
small arc described by X in the instant dt; then this arc
sin. I
from which, since TXe — YXe
sin. I
TXY, we deduce
. „„ cos. (3 cos. m 4- cos. y cos. n
sin. I Xe = ————. -- .—-j-'- ,
sin. a sin. I
cos. 7 cos. m — cos. /3 cos. n
COS. IXe =  1 T——: i .
sin. a sm. I
Draw ef perpendicular to TX; then, because Xe zz Weft
sin. a, wre have X/ rz Weft sin. a cos. TXe, ef zz Wdt
sin. a sin. TXe. But X/zz — dl,ef = — sin. Id X; therefore,
by reason of the above values of sin. TXe and cos. TXe,
and because W cos. (3 zz w', W cos. 7 zz tv", wre have
sin. Idl zz dt {tv' cos. n — tv" cos. m),
sin.5 Id "k = — dt (td cos. m tv" cos. n).
It is evident that the consideration of the motion of each
of the other two points Y and Z will lead to expressions
entirely similar, and which may be concluded from analogy:
we have therefore the following six equations to determine
l, m, n, X, [i, namely,
sin. Idl zz dt (td cos. n — tv" cos. m),
sin. mdm zz dt (tv" cos. I— w cos. n),
sin. ndn — dt (tv cos. m — id cos. 1),
sin.2 Idk — — dt (td cos. m -]- tv" cos. n),
sin.2 md/jj zz — dt (td' cos. n -\-w cos. /),
sin.2 ndv — — dt(w cos. I •}- tv' cos. m).
Because cos.2 I + cos.2 m + cos.2 n— 1, it is only neces¬
sary to solve two of the first three equations, in order to
find the arcs l, m, n ; and when the values of l, m, n have
been obtained, it is only necessary to compute one of the
three angles X, [i, v, in order to have the other tw'o; for
when one is known, the others are obtained from the
equations cos. (fi — X) z: — cot. I cot. m, cos. (v — /d) zz
— cot. m cot. n, given by the triangles TYX and TYZ, of
which the sides XY and YZ are arcs of 90°.
69. By means of the preceding propositions, wre are en- Rotation
abled to determine the motion of a body which is at liberty about a fix.
only to turn about a fixed point. The statical principlee(i P0'"1,
on which the determination must be made is, that a body
so circumstanced will be in a state of equilibrium, when
the sums of the moments of the forces with reference to
three rectangular axes drawn through the fixed point are
nothing relatively to each of the three axes. It is there¬
fore necessary in the first place to find expressions for these
moments.
70. Suppose a material point whose co-ordinates are x
and y to be urged by two forces, namely, a force zz X, in
the direction OX (fig. 15), and an¬
other force = Y in the direction OY,
perpendicular to OX; then the effi¬
cacy of the two forces to turn the par¬
ticle about the axis OZ perpendicular
to the plane XOY, in the direction
from X towards Y, is equal to Yx—Xy.
For let M be the situation of the par¬
ticle, and take MN to represent the
intensity and direction of the single
force into which X and Y may be compounded; through
M and N draw MA, NB perpendicular to OX and MC,
ND perpendicular to OY; let E be the point in which
MC and NB intersect; join OM, ON, OE, and complete
the parallelogram OF. Now the force represented by MN
is compounded of the two forces represented by ME and
EN ; we have therefore, by construction,
Fig. 15.
ROTATION.
503
tation. ME = — X = force in direction — OX,
EN = + Y = force in direction OY.
But the moment of the force MN in respect of the axis
OZ is equal to MN multiplied into the line drawn from O
perpendicular to MN, that is, equal to twice the triangle
OMN, or to twice the sum of the triangles MOE, EON,
MEN, or to the parallelograms MB, NC, EF, or to MB and
CF. Now MB = AM • ME = —- Xy, and CF = CD • CM
= Yx; therefore, the moment of the force MN, or of the
two forces X and Y, is expressed by Ya;— Xy.
71. If we put Z = a force acting in the direction OZ
perpendicular to the plane XOY, we shall evidently obtain
similar expressions for the moments in respect of the other
axes OX and OY; so that if we suppose the motion about
OX to be in the direction from Z towards Y, and that about
OY to be from X towards Z, and that about OZ to be
from Y towards X, we shall have the three expressions,
moment about OX — Yz — Z?/,
about OY z= Zx — Xz,
about OZ = Xy — Yx.
72. If we now suppose P, Q, R to be the accelerating
forces acting on a particle dm, in the directions of the three
axes respectively, then (61) the quantities of motion lost
by the particle at each instant, in consequence of the con¬
nexion of the parts of the system, or the differences between
the impressed and effective forces, are
dm
Substituting these differences for X, Y, Z respectively in
the above expressions (71) for the moments of rotation, and
forming the integrals in respect of dm, we shall get the sums
of the moments in respect of all the particles about each of
the three axes. But by the principle of D’Alembert (61),
these sums must be severally = 0; therefore, if for brevity
we put
F — /(Q.z — R_y) dm, G —f (Ra; — Pz) dm,
H —f(Vy — Qx) dm,
there will result the three equations
Ydt — fydm —fzdm (^~
Gdt = fzdm ~ —fxdm
„ , ddx
-fydm
Gdt-fxdmd-^L.
dt
73. We have now to express these formulae in terms of
the angular velocities about the axes. Referring to fig. 14,
let x — cos. I, y ~ cos. m, z — cos. n, then x, y, z will be
the co-ordinates of the point T referred to the rectangular
axes OX, O Y, OZ ; and we shall have dx— — sin. Idl, dy
— — sin. mdm, dz — — sin. ndn. Substituting these va¬
lues of x, y, z, and their differentials, in the three first of
the system of equations in (68), and supposing the direction
of the motion to be changed (namely, the rotation about
OX to be in the direction from Z towards Y, and so with
the other as in (71)), those three equations will become
dx — dt (w'z — w"y),
dy zz dt (w’'x— wz), (A)
dz = dt (wy — idx).
If we now observe that OX, OY, OZ are principal axes, and
consequently that fxydm — 0, fxzdm — 0, fyzdm — 0, we
shall find, on forming the expressions for ddz, ddy, and sub¬
stituting always for dx, dy, dx their values as given by these
equations,
fydm ~ — fy^dm • dw -j- wfid' fyldm • dt,
fzdm d~ — —fz9dm • dw + w’w" fzMm • dt,
and consequently
Ydt = f (f + z2) dm • dw + wW f (jf — z2) dm • dt.
Similar expressions are obtained in the same manner for Rotation.
Gdt and Gdt. Now it is to be observed that f{y<i"¥z2) dm
is the moment of inertia with respect to the axis OX ; if
therefore we assume A, B, C to denote the moments of
inertia in respect of the three axes respectively, that is, if
we put
A=f(y2-\-zfdm, fzz f (x2 + z2) dm, C— f (x2-\-?f)dm,
the three equations of the last number will be transformed
into the following:
Ydt — Adw + (C — B) w'ud’dt,
Gdt — Yidirf + (A— C) ww'’dt, (B)
Wdt— C,dw" + (B — A) widdt.
74. These three equations enable us to determine the
angular velocities of rotation about each of the principal
axes when the forces F, G, H are known, and consequent¬
ly suffice, when joined to the equations of (68) and the equa¬
tions (A), for the determination of any point of the revolv¬
ing body at any given instant of time reckoned from the
commencement of the motion ; for the values of w, id, uf
being supposed to be found in terms of t, and substituted
in the two sets of equations of (68), the integrals of these
equations will give the situation of the three principal axes
at that instant, and the situation of the instantaneous axis of
rotation, in respect of the principal axes, will be found by
integrating the equations (A) after substituting in them the
same values of w, id, id’.
75. When the body is subject to no accelerating forces,
or the origin of the co-ordinates is placed at the centre of
gravity, the integrations indicated in the last paragraph are
obtained without difficulty; for in this case the quantities
denoted by F, G, H, respectively vanish, and the equations
(B) become
0 — Adw + (C — B) w'w'’dt,
0 = V>did + (A — C) wid'dt, (a)
0 = Cdw" + (B — A) widdt.
Now if we multiply the first of these by w, the second
by wf, and the third by vf, and add the products, we shall
have
0 =z Aiodw + Viw'did -f- Cw''dw'f,
the integral of which is
K = Aw2 + Bw-2 + O"2, (b)
K being an arbitrary constant, and always positive. Again,
let the same equations (a) be multiplied respectively by Aw,
¥>id, Cw”, and the products added and integrated; we shall
then have, in like manner,
L2 = A2w2 + B2m/2 + C2m>"2, (c)
L2 being another arbitrary constant, and always positive.
From these two last equations we deduce
,2 _ CK — L2 + A (A — C) w~
' B'(C —B)
L2 — BK — A (A — B) w2
W ~ C (C — B) • 5
and on substituting the values of w' and id' thus found in
the first of the equations (a), and resolving the equations
in respect of dt, we get
  db,y/(BC)-A</w 
A/ { CK—L2+A( A—CK }. { L2—BK—A(A—BKp
an equation of which the integral will be obtained in a finite
form when any two of the three quantities A, B, C are equal
(as in the case of a solid of revolution), or when L2 is equal
to any one of the three quantities AK, BK, CK. In any
case, the relation between t and w is expressed by a single
differential equation of the first order, the integral of which
gives the value of w in terms of t, whence the values of w'
and id' are also given by the preceding formulae.
76. From the two equations (b) and (c) of last para-Mechanical
graph, a conclusion is deduced of considerable interest in properties
the physical theory of the universe respecting the stabi-
lity of the rotation about the axes of greatest and least 0frotatioiu
dt—
504
ROTATION.
Rotation, moment. Let the first of those equations be multiplied bj
C, and subtracted from the second; we shall have, on mak¬
ing L2 — CK = D,
D = A (A — C) w2 + B (B — C) w’2.
Now, if we suppose the axis of instantaneous rotation to
be situated at the commencement of the motion, very near
the axis OZ, the angular velocity about which = w", then
the angle y which it makes with that axis being very small,
and since (66) sin. y - ^ (^2(++ il fol!owS that
the angular velocities w and w' will be very small in compa-
rison of w", and consequently D must be a very small quan¬
tity. Now D is constant; and therefore if the two differ¬
ences A — C and B — C have the same sign, which will
be the case when the value of B is intermediate between
A and C, the two velocities w and w' must always be very
small; and hence (64) the instantaneous axis will never de¬
viate much from OZ when this is the axis of greatest or o
least moment. But if A — C and B C have opposite
sip-ns, as will be the case when the value of C lies between
tiie values of A and B, then D may be a very small quan¬
tity, and the equation still be satisfied, although the va¬
lues of w and w' be large; and hence, although the axis
of’instantaneous rotation may have been very near the axis
C at the commencement of the motion, it may deviate to
any extent from that axis during the motion. Hence we
infer that the rotation about the axes, both of greatest and
least moment, is permanent, but that the rotation about the
intermediate axis is not permanent.
77, The same conclusions may also be obtained by the
direct integration of the equations («) of (^o), it we ne¬
glect, as insensible, the squares and products of the small
velocities w and tv'. Restricting the calculus to this ap¬
proximation, the third equation (a) becomes did' _ 0,
whence td'— h,k being an assured arbitrary constant. Sub¬
stituting this value of id' in the first two equations (a) we get
0 — kdw + (C — B) kiddt, , ~
0 = BaV + (A — C) kwdt. K 1
In order to integrate these, assume
w — ft sin. (gt -p i), w' — y cos. {qt -j- *), (f)
the quantities ft, y, q, i being indeterminate constants
have then
dw — qft cos. (qt + *), did = — qy sin. (qt -f- *)•
On substituting these values of w, w', dw, dw', and reject¬
ing the common factors, the equations (d.) become
0 — Aqft — (B — C) hy,
0 = B^y — (A — C) kft,  
from which we deduce q — h'd (A — C) (B — C) -r VAB ;
and also, on assuming another indeterminate constant a,
Put X
and the
We
ft = a VB (B — C), y = a VA (A —
— \/(A — C) (B — C) -f- VAB, then q =
substitution of these values of q, 3, y in the equations (e)
C).
u,
w ~ a VB (B — C) sin. (Xkt + *),
td — a. V A. (A — C) cos. (Xkt -j- i),
which are the* complete integrals of the equations (d).
If in these expressions the quantity denoted by X is real,
which will be the case when C is the least or the greatest
of the three moments, the values of w and id must always
continue small, because they are proportional to the sines
and cosines of a real angle; but if C be intermediate be¬
tween A and B, the X will be an impossible quantity, and
the sine and cosine of the arc Xkt i will be changed in¬
to exponentials which increase continually with the time t,
whence the velocities to and w’ will also increase indefi¬
nitely ; and consequently, by Frisi’s theorem, the deviation
of the instantaneous axis of rotation from the original axis
will increase indefinitely.
If we suppose that at the commencement of the motion
the axis of instantaneous rotation coincided accurately with
the principal axis OZ, we should have w ■=. Q, id ■=. 0, when
t — Q and as in this case we have also a — 0, and id
will always be zero, or the body will continue for ever to
revolve uniformly about OZ. We have therefore, from
what precedes, these mechanical properties relative to the
rotation of solid bodies: 1. If a body begins to revolve
about any one of the three principal axes, and is affected
by no external force, it will continue always to revolve
about that axis; 2. If it begins to revolve about an axis
which is very near the axis of the greatest or least moment,
then, although the motion is disturbed a little by the action
of an extraneous force, the instantaneous axis of rotation
will continue very near the original axis; 3. If the rotation
commences about the axis of the mean moment of inertia,
then, if the smallest disturbance takes place, the effect will
increase indefinitely with the time, and the poles of rota¬
tion will entirely change their position on the surface of
the body. These properties establish an essential difference
between the three principal axes.
78. Our limits will not permit us to enter further into Conclusion
the discussion of this subject, nor is it within the scope of
the present article to apply the formulae to the rotation of
the planets, an example of which application has already
been given in the article Precession of the Equinoxes.
It has now been shown that every circumstance relative to
the motion of a solid body, acted upon by any number of
forces, is expressed by means of two systems of equations
(each containing three differential equations of the first or¬
der), the first system (62) defining the motion in space of
the centre of gravity, and the second (73) the rotation
about that centre. At the commencement of the motion
these two systems are independent of each other ; but it is
important to remark, that this independence does not ne¬
cessarily continue during the motion. If we suppose the
moving forces to act upon different points of the body, and
to be functions of the co-ordinates of those points, that is,
to vary with their distance from the origin, then the co¬
ordinates enter at the same time into both systems of equa¬
tions, which therefore cannot be integrated separately, the
two motions affecting each other. The integrals can then
only be obtained by approximation. There are, however,
two important cases in which the two motions continue to
be permanently independent of each other. The first is
that of a projectile which, during its motion, is acted upon
by no other force than gravity; for in this case the equa¬
tions (62) will be those of an isolated material point, and
the weight of the body, acting as a single force applied to
the centre of gravity, will have no influence on the rota¬
tion, which will be the same as if the centre of gravity were
fixed. The second is the case of a sphere, either homo¬
geneous or composed of concentric strata of different densi¬
ties, the density of each stratum being constant; for in this
case the resultant of all the attractive forces, as was shown
by Newton, passes through the centre of gravity, which
will therefore move as an isolated point, and the motion of
rotation will be the same as if the centre of gravity were
fixed.
The theory of the rotation of solid bodies forming an
important branch of mechanics, is treated more or less in
every systematic work on that science. As the more im¬
portant works in which it is especially considered, we may
refer the reader to Euler’s Theoria Motus Corpomm Soli-
dorum, 1765; D’Alembert, tom. v.and vii.; Vince
On the Principles of Progressive and Rotatory Motion, Phil.
Trans. 1780; Frisii Opera, tom. ii. 1783; Atwood’s Trea¬
tise on the Rectilinear Motion and Rotation of Bodies, 1784;
Landen’s Mathematical Memoirs, vol. ii. 1789; Laplace,
canique Celeste, tom. i.; Lagrange, Mecanique Analytique;
Poisson, Traite de Mecanique; Venturoli’s Mechanics, trans¬
lated by Cresswell; &c. (Si)
♦
ROT
ROTHBURY, a small market-town in the county of
Northumberland, pleasantly situated on the northern side of
the river Coquet, over which there is a handsome stone
bridge. The town consists of three wide and airy streets ;
and as the situation, from being screened by lofty hills from
the north and east winds, is favourable to invalids, and the
Coquet is well adapted for trout-fishing, many persons resort
thither during the summer months, for health and amuse¬
ment. The rectory is one of the richest livings in the
county. The church is an ancient structure. The popu¬
lation in 1831 amounted to 1014.
ROTHENBURG, a city of the kingdom of Bavaria, and
the capital of the bailiwick of the same name, in the circle
of the Rezat. It is situated on the river Tauber, and is
surrounded by ancient walls and thirty-three towers. It is
built in the antique German style, comprehends a fine
council-house, with eight churches, and contains 1160
houses, with 6400 inhabitants. Its chief trade is in the pro¬
ductions of its vicinity. Long. 11. 43. E. Lat. 49. 30. N.
Rothenburg, a city of the kingdom of Wirtemburg,
in the circle of the Black Forest, and the capital of a baili¬
wick of its own name. It is situated on the river Neckar,
which divides it into two parts, of which that on the left
bank was formerly a distinct city called Ehingen. It is the
seat of the Catholic hierarchy of the whole kingdom, with six
churches of that sect, and contains 620 houses, with 5450
inhabitants. It has some trade in paper, leather, and brew¬
eries.
ROTHENFELS, a town of the kingdom of Bavaria, in
the circle of the Lower Maine, and in a patrimonial baili¬
wick of the mediatized prince Lowenstein. It extends
over eighty-four square miles, inhabited by 8500 persons.
The town is situated on the river Maine, and contains 240
houses, with 1520 inhabitants, who are chiefly occupied in
the cultivation of vines, and in making wane.
ROTHERHAM, a market-town of the west riding of
the county of York, in the wapentake of Stratforth and
Tickhill, 158 miles from London, and six from Sheffield.
It is situated at the conflux of the rivers Rother and Don,
which are navigable to Hull. There is a good market, which
is held on Thursday. It is a considerable place for iron ma¬
nufactures of the heavier kind. The population of the town
amounted in 1801 to 3070, in 1811 to 2950, in 1821 to
3548, and in 1831 to 4083 ; but the parish contains eight
other townships or hamlets, and the whole inhabitants
amounted in 1831 to 10,417.
ROTHSAY, a town in the island and county of Bute,
in Scotland. See Bute.
ROTHWELL, or sometimes called Rowell, a town of
the county of Northampton, in the hundred of the same
name, seventy-nine miles from London. It has lost its mar¬
ket. The population amounted in 1801 to 1409, in 1811
to 1451, in 1821 to 1742, and in 1831 to 1875.
ROTONDO, or Rotundo, in Architecture, an appella¬
tion given to any building that is round both within and
without, whether it be a church, a saloon, or the like. The
most celebrated rotundo of the ancients is the Pantheon at
Rome.
ROTTERDAM, a city of the kingdom of Holland, and
the capital of the circle of its own name. It is situated on
the right bank of the river Maese, which here receives the
waters of the river Rotte. It is a wTell-built city, in an an¬
tique style, with abundance of fine and large houses, many
of them five or six stories in height. The Boomjee, a row of
houses facing the river, with a broad quay between, planted
with trees, is perhaps one of the finest promenades in Eu¬
rope. The city is intersected with canals, and by means
of them the goods from ships are brought to the ware¬
houses of the merchants, which are at the backs of their
houses; and by the same means the productions intended
for exportation are brought to the several places of deposit.
VOL. iix.
R O U
I he markets also are supplied from the country by means
of these canals; and on the market-days, instead of the
roads being filled with carts and wraggons, the canals are
crowded with country barges. These barges are drawn
more by men than horses, and indeed horses are rarely
seen in the streets. Many of the public buildings are of a
magnificent appearance. Amongst these, that of the de¬
funct East India Company, now added to the customhouse,
may be viewed with admiration. The house of the assem¬
bly of the ancient states of Zealand was built at an early
period of the establishment of the independence of the
United States. It is spacious, being in the most sumptuous
style of the architecture of that age ; and when Bonaparte
assumed the sovereignty of the country, it was decorated
and furnished for his residence at the expense of the city.
The ancient stadthouse has been appropriated to other than
its original purpose ; and a new modern building has been
erected, wdiose portico, although massive, is elegant, as far
as regards the pillars that support it. The ecclesiastical
buildings belonging to the Calvinists are the most ancient
and the largest, particularly the church of St Lawrence.
It has an organ, lately erected, of the greatest power of
any in existence, and said to contain eight hundred pipes
more than the celebrated organ of Harlem. The Luthe¬
ran church is a large and fine building. There are three
churches where the service is in English ; one for the Epis¬
copalian, one for the Kirk of Scotland, and one for Inde¬
pendents, in the latter of which the celebrated Flugh Pe¬
ters once officiated.
The trade of Rotterdam is very extensive. That to the
West Indies has declined of late years, but that to the East
Indies, chiefly to Batavia, has been recently very benefi¬
cial ; and its commerce for the last fifteen years has increas¬
ed more rapidly than that of any town in the kingdom.
The fishery is an extensive source of employment and
wealth. I he trade with the Baltic employs much shipping,
and affords moderate-priced corn for the distillers of gin.
The business of ship-building employs many persons, both
in the government arsenal and in the private docks; and
the vessels now built are admirably constructed and equip¬
ped. The supply of colonial produce to the interior of
Germany by the Rhine is very beneficial. The population
of the city amounted in 1832 to 72,294. Long. 4. 29. 14.
E. Lat. 51. 55. 9. N.
ROTTINGDEAN, a village of the county of Sussex,
in the hundred of Youngsmere, and rape of Lewes, fifty-six
miles from London, and four from Brighton. It is situated
on the sea-shore, between two cliffs, and is much resorted
to in the summer season by bathing visitors who wish for
retirement. The population amounted in 1801 to 543, in
1811 to 559, in 1821 to 772, and in 1831 to 880.
ROUBAIX, a large market-town of France, in the de¬
partment of the North, and the arrondissement of Lisle. It
is a place of extensive manufactories, formerly of w oollens,
but of late years almost exclusively of cottons. There are
several mills for spinning; and a great quantity of quiltings,
dimities, nankeens, and other cotton articles, are made, and
of good quality. The town, in 1836, contained 18,187 in¬
habitants.
ROUEN, an arrondissement of the department of the
Lower Seine, in France. It extends over 456 square miles,
and comprehends fifteen cantons, divided into 155 com¬
munes, wffiich, in 1836, contained 238,805 inhabitants. The
capital is the city of the same name, situated in a valley on
the banks of the Seine, over which there is a bridge of boats
leading to the suburb St Sever. The river Robec passes
through a part of the city, and falls into the Seine, and in
its progress gives power to several mills and other machi¬
nery. It is not a well-built town, having many large but an¬
tique houses, and others of wood, with narrow and crooked
streets. It is the see of an archbishop, whose cathedral, as
3 s
505
Rotting-
dean
Rouen.
506
R O U
Rounda well as the church of St Ouen, are noble specimens of Go-
II thic architecture. There is an academy of arts and sciences,
Rousseau. witj1 a pbrary of seventy thousand volumes, and institutions
Y~*- ' por various branches of education. It is the chief seat of the
cotton manufacture, and hence has vastly increased since
the peace in population and in wealth. There are many
other goods made here, such as various kinds of thin stuns,
and other woollens, linen of all qualities, combs, vitriol, aqua¬
fortis, tin wares, and porcelain, besides refined sugar. The
neighbourhood is celebrated for its apples and pears. It
contains above 11,500 houses, and in 1836 the inhabitants
amounted to 92,083. Long. 1. 0. 39. E. Lat. 49. 26. 27. IS.
ROUNDA, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta ter¬
ritories, and the province of Kandeish. It is situated on the
east side of the Ghirah river, forty-six miles south-west from
Burhampoor. Long. 75. 4-7. E. Lat. 20. 54. N.
ROUNDELAY, or Rondo, a sort of ancient poem, de¬
riving its name, according to Menage, from its form, and
because it still turns back again to the first verse, and thus
o-oes round. The common roundelay consists of tnirteen
verses, eight of which are in one rhyme and five in another.
It is divided into couplets, at the end of the second and
third of which the beginning of the roundelay is repeated,
and that, if possible, in an equivocal or a punning sense.
The roundelay is a popular poem in France, but is little
known amongst us. Marrot and Voiture have succeeded
the best in it. Rapin remarks, that if the roundelay be not
very exquisite, it is intolerably bad. In all the ancient
ones, observes Menage, the verse preceding has a less com¬
plete sense, and yet joins agreeably with that of the c.ose,
without depending necessarily thereon, fhis rule, well
observed, makes the roundelay more ingenious, and is one
of the artifices of the poem. Some of the ancient writers
speak of the roundelay or roundel as a kind of air appro¬
priated to dancing; and in this sense the term seems to
indicate little more than dancing in a circle with the hands
joined.
ROUND-HOUSE, a kind of prison for the nightly watch
in London, to secure disorderly persons till they can be car¬
ried before a magistrate.
ROUNDS, in military matters, a detachment from the
main-guard, of an officer or a non-commissioned officer and
six men, who go round the rampart of a garrison, to listen
if any thing be stirring without the place, and to see that
the sentinels be diligent upon their duty, and all-in ordei.
In strict garrisons the rounds go every half-hour. The sen¬
tinels have orders to challenge at a distance, and to rest
their arms as the round passes. All guards turn out, chal¬
lenge, exchange the parole, and rest their arms.
ROUSSEAU, James, an eminent French painter, was
born at Paris in the year 1630. He studied first under Swa-
nevelt. who had married one of his relations ; after which
he improved himself by travelling into Italy, practising sole¬
ly perspective, architecture, and landscape. On his return
home, he was employed at Marly. He distinguished him¬
self very much in painting buildings, and by his knowledge
of, and his attention to, the principles of perspective. Louis
XIV. employed him to decorate his hall of devices at St
Germaine-en-Laie, where he represented the operas of
Lulli; but being a Protestant, he quitted France on the
persecution of his brethren, and retired to Switzerland.
Louis invited him back. He refused, but sent his designs,
and recommended a proper person to execute them. After
a short stay in Switzerland, he went to Holland, whence
he was invited to England by Ralph duke of Montague, to
adorn his new house in Bloomsbury. Here he painted a
great deal. Some of his pictures, both in landscape and ar¬
chitecture, are over doors at Hampton Court; and he etch¬
ed several of his own designs. His perspectives, having
been most commonly applied to decorate courts or gardens,
have suffered much from the weather. Such of them as re¬
ft O U
main are monuments of an excellent genius. The colours Rousseaui
are bright and durable, and the choice of them most judi-
cions. He died in Soho Square about the year 1694, at the
age of sixty-four.
Rousseau, John Baptist, a celebrated French poet, was
born at Paris in April 1669. His father, who was a shoe¬
maker in good circumstances, made him study in the best
colleges of Paris, where he distinguished himself by his
abilities. He at length applied entirely to poetry, and soon
made himself known by several short pieces, that were
filled with lively and agreeable images, which made him
sought for by persons of the first rank, and men of the
brightest genius. He w’as admitted, in quality of pupil, into
the Academy of Inscriptions and Belles Lettres in 1701,
and almost all the rest of his life he attached himself to
some great men. He attended Marshal Tallard into Eng¬
land in quality of secretary, and there contracted a friend¬
ship with St Evremond. At his return to Paris, he was ad¬
mitted into the politest company, lived amongst the cour¬
tiers, and seemed perfectly satisfied with his situation ; when,
in 1708, he was prosecuted for being the author of some
couplets, in which the characters of several persons of wit
and merit were blackened by the most atrocious calumnies.
This prosecution made much noise; and Rousseau was in
1712, by a decree of the parliament of Paris, banished out
of the kingdom, to which he was never more to return.
However, he always steadily denied, even on his death-bed,
his being the author of these couplets. From the date of
this sentence he lived in foreign countries, where he found
illustrious protectors. The Count de Luc, ambassador of
France, in Switzerland, took him into his family, and
studied to render his life agreeable. He carried him to
the treaty of Baden in 1714, where he was one of the
plenipotentiaries, and presented him to Prince Eugene,
who, entertaining a particular esteem for him, took him to
Vienna, and introduced him to the emperor’s court. Rous¬
seau lived about three years with Prince Eugene; but
having lost his favour by satirizing one of his mistresses, he
retired to Brussels, where he afterwards usually resided.
It was there that he commenced his disputes with Voltaire,
with whom he had become acquainted at the college of
Louis the Great, and who then much admired his turn for
poetry. Rousseau, from the period of their dispute, always
represented Voltaire as a buffoon, and as a writer possessing
neither taste nor judgment, who owed all his success to a
particular mode which he pursued. As a poet he consi¬
dered him as inferior to Lucan, and little superior to Pra-
don. Voltaire treated him still worse. Rousseau, accord¬
ing to him, was nothing better than a plagiarist, who had
nothing but the talent of arranging words. He came over,
in 1721, to London, where he printed a Collection of his
Works, in two volumes 12mo. This edition, published in
1723, brought him near ten thousand crowns, the whole of
which he placed in the hands of the Ostend Company.
The affairs of this company, however, soon getting into
confusion, those who had any money in their hands lost the
whole of it; by which unfortunate event Rousseau, when
arrived at that age when he stood most in need of the com¬
forts of fortune, had nothing to depend upon but the gene¬
rosity of some friends. He died at Brussels in February
1740. A very beautiful edition of his works was published
in 1743, at Paris, in three volumes 4to, and in four volumes
12mo, containing nothing but what was acknowledged by
the author as his own. It contains, 1. Four Books of Odes,
of which the first are sacred odes, taken from the Psalms;
2. Two Books of Epistles, in verse; 3. Cantatas, in which
species of poetry he stands unrivalled; 4. Allegories, the
most of which are happy, but some of them appear forced ;
5. Epigrams, after the manner of Martial and Maxot; b.
A book of Poems on Various Subjects; 7. Four Comedies,
in verse; 8. Three Comedies, in prose; and, 9. A Collection
R O U
. of Letters, in prose. A good edition of his Select Pieces
appeared at Paris in 1741, in a small 12mo volume.
Rousseau, John-James, one of the most renowned wri¬
ters of modem times, was born at Geneva on the 28th of
June 1712. His father was by profession a clock and watch
maker. At his birth, which, he says, was the first of his
misfortunes, he endangered the life of his mother; and he
himself was for a long time afterwards in a very weak and
languishing state of health. But as his bodily strength in¬
creased, his mental powers gradually opened, and afforded
the happiest presages of future greatness. His father, a
citizen of Geneva, was a wTell-informed tradesman ; and in
the place where he wrought he kept a Plutarch and a Ta¬
citus, authors which of course soon became familiar to his
son. A rash juvenile step, however, occasioned his leav¬
ing his father’s house. “ Finding himself a fugitive in a
strange country, and without money or friends, he changed
his religion, in order to procure a subsistence.” Bornex,
bishop of Anneci, from whom he sought an asylum, com¬
mitted the care of his education to Madame de Warrens,
a lady, who in 1726 had left part of her wealth, and the
Protestant religion, in order to throw herself into the bosom
of the Catholic church. This generous lady served in the
triple capacity of a mother, a friend, and a lover, to the new
proselyte, whom, in fact, she regarded as her son. The ne¬
cessity of procuring for himself some settlement, however,
or perhaps his unsettled disposition, obliged Rousseau often
to take leave of this tender mother.
He possessed more than ordinary talents for music ; and
the Abbe Blanchard flattered his hopes of a place in the
royal chapel, which he, however, failed in obtaining for
him. He was therefore under the necessity of teaching
music at Chamberi. Pie remained in this place till 1741,
in which year he went to Paris, where he was long in very
destitute circumstances. Writing to a friend in 1743, he
thus expresses himself: “ Every thing is dear here, espe¬
cially bread.” But he at length began to emerge from
that obscurity in which he had hitherto been buried ; and
his friends placed him with M. de Montaigne, ambassador
from France to Venice. According to his own confession,
a proud misanthropy, and a peculiar contempt of the riches
and pleasures of this world, constituted the chief traits in
his character ; and a misunderstanding soon took place be¬
tween him and the ambassador. The place of depute, un¬
der M. Dupin, farmer-general, a man of considerable parts,
gave him some temporary relief, and enabled him to be of
some benefit to Madame de Warrens, his former benefac¬
tress. But the year 1750 proved the commencement of his
literary career. The academy of Dijon had proposed the
following question : “ Whether the revival of the arts and
sciences has contributed to the refinement of manners ?”
Rousseau at first inclined to support the affirmative. “ Take
the negative side of the question,” said a philosopher, who
was at that time his friend, “ and I’ll promise you the great¬
est success.”
His discourse against the sciences having been found to
be the best written, and replete with brilliant reasoning, was
publicly crowned with the approbation of that learned body.
Never was a paradox supported with greater eloquence.
It was not however a new one; but he enriched it with all
the advantages which either knowledge or genius could
confer upon it. Immediately after its appearance, he met
with several opponents of his tenets, which he defended;
and, from one dispute to another, he found himself involved
in a formidable train of correspondence, without having
ever almost dreamed of such opposition. From that period
he decreased in happiness as he increased in celebrity. Flis
Discourse on the Causes of Inequality amongst Mankind,
and on the Origin of Social Compacts, was written with a
view to prove that mankind are equal; that they were born
to live apart from each other; and that they have pervert-
R O U 507
ed the order of nature in forming societies. He bestows Rousseau,
the highest praise on the State of Nature, and deprecates
the idea of every social compact. By presenting this per¬
formance to the magistrates of Geneva, he was received
again into his native country, and reinstated in all the pri¬
vileges and rights of a citizen, after having with much dif¬
ficulty prevailed on himself to abjure the Catholic religion.
He soon returned to trance, however, and lived for some
time in Paris. He afterwards gave himself up to retirement,
partly to escape the shafts of criticism, and partly to follow
the regimen which the strangury, with which he was afflicted,
necessarily required. This is an important epoch in the his¬
tory of his life, as it was owing to this circumstance, perhaps,
that we have the most elegant works that have proceeded
from his pen. His Letter to M. d’Alembert on the design
of erecting a theatre at Geneva, written in his retirement,
and published in the year 1757, contains, along with some
paradoxes, some very important and well-handled truths.
This letter first drew down upon him the envy of Voltaire,
and was the cause of those indignities with which that au¬
thor never ceased to load him. Although so great an enemy
to theatrical representations, he caused a comedy to be print¬
ed ; and in 1752 he gave to the theatre a pastoral, called
the Village Conjuror, of which he composed the poetry and
the music, both of them abounding with sentiment and ele¬
gance, and full of innocent rural simplicity. His Diction¬
ary of Music affords several excellent articles; some of
them, however, are extremely inaccurate. “ This work,” says
M. la Borde, in his Essay on Music, “ has need to be writ¬
ten over again, to save much trouble to those who wish to
study it, and prevent them from falling into errors, which
it is difficult to avoid, from the engaging manner in which
Rousseau drags along his readers.” Soon after the rapid
success of his Village Conjuror, he published a Letter on
French Music, or rather against French Music, written with
equal freedom and liveliness. The exasperated partisans
of French comedy treated him with as much fury as if he
had conspired against the state ; and a crowd of enthusiasts
spent their strength and outcries against him. He was in¬
sulted, menaced, and lampooned.
That interesting and tender style which is so conspicuous
throughout the Village Conjuror, animates several letters in
the Nouvelle Heloise, which was published in 1761 in 12mo.
This epistolary romance, of which the plot is ill managed,
and the arrangement bad, like most other works of genius,
has its beauties as well as its faults. Some of the letters are
indeed admirable, from the force and warmth of expression,
from an effervescence of sentiment, and from the irregularity
of ideas which always characterize a passion carried to its
height. In the Heloise, Rousseau’s unlucky talent of ren¬
dering every thing problematical appears very conspicuous.
This is the case in his arguments in favour of and against
duelling, which afford an apology for suicide, and a just
condemnation of it; his facility in palliating the crime of
adultery, and his strong reasons to make it abhorred; his
declamations against social happiness, and transports in fa¬
vour of humanity; his violent rhapsodies against philoso¬
phers, and his rage for adopting their opinions ; the exist¬
ence of God attacked by sophistry, and atheists confuted
by the most irrefragable arguments; the Christian religion
combated by the most specious objections, and celebrated
by the most sublime eulogies.
His Emilius afterwards made more noise than the New
Heloise. This moral romance, which was published in the
year 1762, in four volumes 12mo, treats chiefly of educa¬
tion. Rousseau wished to follow nature in every thing; and
though his system in several places differs from received
ideas, it deserves in many respects to be put in practice,
and with some necessary modifications it has been so. His
precepts are expressed with the force and dignity of a mind
full of the leading truths of morality. If he has not always
508
R O U
Rousseau, been virtuous, nobody at least has felt it more, or made it
^ appear to greater advantage. What is most to be lamented
is, that in wishing to educate a young man as a Christian,
he has filled a volume with objections against Christianity.
It must be confessed that he has given a very sublime eulo-
gium on the gospel, and an affecting portrait of its divine
Author ; but the miracles and the prophecies, which serve to
establish his mission, he attacks without reserve. Admitting
only natural religion, he weighs every thing in the balance
of reason ; and this reason being false, leads him into di¬
lemmas which are very unfavourable to his own repose and
happiness. The French parliament condemned this book in
1762, and entered into a criminal prosecution against the
author, which forced him to make a precipitate retreat. He
directed his steps towards his native country, but it shut its
gates upon him. Proscribed in the place where he had first
drawn breath, he sought an asylum in Switzerland, and
found one in the principality of Neufchatel. But the pro¬
tection of the king of Prussia, to whom the principality be¬
longed, was not sufficient to rescue him from that obloquy
which the minister of Moutiers-Travers, the village to which
he had retired, had excited against him. He preached
against Rousseau, and his sermons produced an uproar
amongst the people. On the night between the 6th and the
7th of September 1765, some fanatics, inspired by wine and
the declamations of their minister, threw stones at the win¬
dows of the Genevan philosopher, who, fearing new insults,
in vain sought an asylum in the canton of Berne. As this
canton was connected with the republic of Geneva, they
did not think proper to allow him to remain in their city,
who was proscribed by that republic. Neither his broken
state of health, nor the approach of winter, could soften the
hearts of these obdurate Switzers. To prevent them from
the fear they had of the spreading of his opinions, he in
vain beseeched them to shut him up in prison till the spring.
But even this favour was denied him. Obliged to set out on
a journey in the beginning of a most inclement season, he
reached Strasbourg in a very destitute situation. He re¬
ceived from Marshal de Contades, who then commanded
in that place, every accommodation which could be expect¬
ed from generosity, humanity, and compassion. He waited
there till the weather became milder, when he went to Paris,
where Mr Hume then was. The English philosopher deter¬
mined upon taking him with him to England. After having
made some stay in Paris, Rousseau, in 1766, actually set out
for London. Hume, much affected with his situation and his
misfortunes, procured for him a very agreeable retreat in the
country. The Genevan philosopher, however, did not long
remain satisfied. He made less impression on the minds of
the English than he had done on the French. His free dis¬
position, and his obdurate melancholy temper, were deemed
no singularity in England. He was there looked upon as
an ordinary man, and the periodical prints were filled with
satires against him. In particular, they published a forged
letter from the king of Prussia, holding up to ridicule the
principles and conduct of this new Diogenes. Rousseau,
imagining there was a plot between Hume and some phi¬
losophers in France to destroy his glory and repose, sent a
letter to him, filled with the most abusive expressions, and
reproaching him for his conduct towards him. From this
time he looked upon Hume as a wicked and perfidious per¬
son, who had brought him to England with no other view
than to expose him to public ridicule; a foolish and chime¬
rical idea, which was nourished by self-love and a restless
disposition. He imagined that the English philosopher,
amidst all his kindnesses, had something disagreeable in the
manner of expressing them. The bad health of Rousseau,
a strong and melancholy imagination, a too nice sensibility,
a jealous disposition, joined with philosophical vanity, che¬
rished by the false informations of his governess, who pos¬
sessed an uncommon power over him; all these taken to¬
ll o u
gether might have tended to prepossess him with unfavour- Rouisea
able sentiments of some innocent freedoms his benefactor
might have taken w ith him, and might have rendered him
ungrateful, which he thought himself incapable of becoming.
Meanwhile these false conjectures and probabilities ought
never to have had the weight with an honest mind to with¬
draw itself from its friend and benefactor. Proofs are al¬
ways necessary in cases of this kind; and that w'hich Rous¬
seau had was by no means a certain demonstration. The
Genevan philosopher, however, returned to France, spited
with the world, and particularly offended with the English
philosopher. On the 1st of July 1770, he appeared for the
first time at the regency coffee-house, dressed in his ordinary
clothing, having for some time previous to this worn an
Armenian habit. He was loaded wdth praises by the sur¬
rounding multitude. “ It is somewLat singular,” says M. ’
Sennebier, “ to see a man so haughty as he returning to
the very place from whence he had been banished so often.
Nor is it one of the smallest inconsistencies of this extra¬
ordinary character, that he preferred a retreat in that place
of which he had spoken so much ill.” It is as singular that
a person under sentence of imprisonment should wish to live
in so public a manner in the very place where his sentence
was in force against him. His friends, however, procured
for him the liberty of staying, on condition that he should
write neither on religion nor on politics; and he kept his word,
for he wrote none at all. He was contented with living in
a calm and philosophical manner, cultivating the society of a
few tried friends, shunning the company of the great, appear¬
ing to give up all his whimsies, and affecting neither the cha¬
racter of a philosopher nor a wit. He died of an apoplexy, at
Ermenonville, about ten leagues from Paris, on the 2d of July
1778, aged sixty-six years. Rousseau, during his stay in
the environs of Lyons, married Mademoiselle le Yasseur,
a woman who, without either beauty or talents, had gained
over him a great ascendency, and waited on him both in
health and in sickness. But, as if she had been jealous of pos¬
sessing him alone, she drove from his mind, by the most
perfidious insinuations, all those who came to entertain him ;
and when he did not dismiss them, she prevented their re¬
turn by invariably refusing them admittance. By these
means she the more easily led her husband into inconsist¬
encies of conduct, which the originality of his character,
as well as of his opinions, so much contributed to assist.
He did not incline to associate with any person; and as
this method of thinking and living was uncommon, it made
him an object of curiosity, and procured him a name. Like
Diogenes of old, he united simplicity of manners with pride
of genius ; and a very large stock of indolence, w ith an ex¬
treme sensibility, served to render his character still more
uncommon. “ An indolent mind,” says he, “ terrified at
every application, a warm, bilious, and irritable tempera¬
ment, sensible also in a high degree to every thing that
can affect it, appear not possible to be united in the same
person ; and yet these two contrarieties compose the chief
of mine. An active life has no charms for me. I would
an hundred times rather consent to be idle than to do any
thing against my will; and I have an hundred times thought
that I would live not amiss in the Bastille, provided I had
nothing to do but just continue there. In my younger days
I made several attempts to get in there; but as they were
only with the view of procuring a refuge and rest in my old
age, and, like the exertions of an indolent person, only by
fits and starts, they were never attended with the smallest
success. When misfortunes came, they afforded me a pre¬
text for giving myself up to my ruling passion.”
His ideas about politics were almost as eccentric as his
paradoxes about religion. Some reckon his Social Com¬
pact, which Voltaire calls the Unsocial Compact, the great¬
est effort of his genius; whilst others find it full of contra¬
dictions, errors, and cynical passages, obscure, ill arranged,
R O V
R O W
509
p, selaerand by no means worthy of his pen. There were found in
If I his portfolio his Confessions, in twelve books; the first
ip0- six of which were published. “ His Confisssions,” says Sen-
l^'v-,,^ nebier, in his Literary History of Geneva, “ appear to
me to be a very dangerous book, and paint Rousseau in
such colours as we would never have ventured to apply
to him. The excellent analyses which we meet with of
some sentiments, and the delicate anatomy which he makes
of some actions, are not sufficient to counterbalance the
detestable matter which is found in them, and the unceas¬
ing obloquies everywhere to be met with.” Amongst his
other posthumous pieces are the following. ]. The Reve¬
ries of a Solitary Wanderer, being a journal of the latter
part of his life.1 2. Considerations upon the Government
of Poland. 3. The Adventures of Lord Edward, a novel,
being a kind of supplement to the new Heloisa. 4. Va¬
rious Memoirs and Fugitive Pieces, with a great number
of letters, containing some eloquent passages and deep
thoughts. 5. Emilia and Sophia. 6. The Levite of Ephraim,
a poem in prose, in four cantos, written in a style of an¬
cient simplicity. 7. Letters to Sara. 8. An Opera and a
Comedy. 9. Translations of the first book of Tacitus’s
History, of the Episode of Olinda and Sophronia, from
Tasso, &c. Like all the other writings of Rousseau, we
find in these posthumous pieces many admirable and some
useful things; but they also abound with contradictions,
paradoxes, and ideas very unfavourable to religion. In his
letters, especially, we see a man chagrined at misfortunes
which he never attributes to himself; suspicious of every
body about him, calling and believing himself a lamb in the
midst of wolves. Viewing him solely as a writer, his cha¬
racter is perhaps described with truth and accuracy in the
following words of Mr Hume. Though I see some tinc¬
ture of extravagance in all his writings, I also think I see
so much eloquence and force of imagination, such an ener¬
gy of expression, and such a boldness of conception, as en¬
title him to a place amongst the first writers of his age.”
His works, in the best edition, published in 1788 and the
following years, extend to thirty-seven volumes octavo.
ROUSSELAER, or Roulers, a city of Belgium, in the
province of West Flanders, and the circle of Courtray. It
is situated on the river Mandelbeke, and has a royal col¬
lege, with eight professors. It contains 1100 houses, with
j 8840 inhabitants, who are occupied in making linen goods
of various kinds, in refining salt, and in cultivating fine flax.
| ROVEREDO, a city of the Austrian province of Tyrol,
the capital of a circle of the same name, which extends over
748 square miles, and contains, in three cities and towns,
and 355 villages, 95,600 inhabitants. It is an open place,
situated on the river Etsch, is well built, and defended by
a strong fortress, and contains moi-e than 1000 houses, w ith
about 12,000 inhabitants. It is a great place for the several
branches of the silk trade, which aflbrds occupation to
two thirds of the population. The silk produced near it
is very highly esteemed. Long. 10. 55. 5. E. Eat. 45. 55.
36. N.
ROVIGNO, a city of the Austrian government of
Trieste, and the capital of a district of the same name,
which extends over 399 square miles, and contains 26,900
inhabitants. It is situated on a promontory running into the
sea, and is well built, containing ten churches, 1150 house§,
and 10,650 inhabitants. It has two harbours, with good
wharfs, several yards for ship-building, and extensive fish¬
eries, especially for anchovies. Near to it the vine and the
olive are extensively cultivated, and very productive. Long.
13.43. 15. E. Lat. 45. 1. 30. N.
BO VIGO, a city of Austrian Italy, in the province of Mi¬
lan, and the capital of the delegation of Polesina. It is situ¬
ated on the river Adigetto, over which are four bridges, by Rowe,
which it is connected with its suburbs. It is fortified, and is v—
the seat of the bishop of Adria, who has a palace and an eccle ¬
siastical seminary, and twenty-six churches, under his care.
It contains 1200 houses, with 6950 inhabitants, who are
chiefly employed in making leather and in refining salt¬
petre. Long. 11. 42. 43. E. Lat. 45. 3. 57. N.
ROW E, Nicholas, was descended of an ancient family
in Devonshire, and born in 1673. He acquired a complete
taste for the classical authors under Dr Busby in Westmin¬
ster school ; but poetry was his early and darling study.
His father, who was a lawyer, entered him a student in the
Middle Temple, and he made remarkable advances in the
study of the law; but the love of the belles lettres, and of
poetry, stopped him in his career. His first tragedy, the
Ambitious Stepmother, meeting with universal applause, he
laid aside all thoughts of rising by the law, and afterwards
composed several tragedies ; but that which he valued him¬
self most upon was his Tamerlane. The others were, the
Fair Penitent, Ulysses, the Royal Convert, Jane Shore, and
Lady Jane Grey. He also wrote a poem called the Biter,
and several poems upon different subjects, which have been
published under the title of Miscellaneous Works, in one
volume, as his dramatic works have been in two. Rowe is
chiefly to be considered in the light of a tragic writer and
a translator. In his attempt at comedy, he failed so igno-
miniously that his Biter is not inserted in his works ; and
his occasional poems and short compositions are rarely wor¬
thy either of praise or censure, for they seem to be the
casual sports of a mind seeking rather to amuse its leisure
than to exercise its powers. In the construction of his
dramas there is not much art; and he is not a nice observer
of the unities. I know not, says Dr Johnson, that there
can be found in his plays any deep search into nature, any
accurate discrimination of kindred qualities, or nice display
of passion in its progress. All is general and undefined.
Nor does he much interest or affect the auditor, except in
Jane Shore, who is always seen and heard with pity. Alicia
is a character of empty noise, with no resemblance to real
sorrow or to natural madness. Whence then has Rowe ac¬
quired his reputation ? From the reasonableness and pro¬
priety of some of his scenes, from the elegance of his dic¬
tion, and from the suavity of his verse. He seldom moves
either pity or terror, but he often elevates the sentiment;
he seldom pierces the breast, but he always delights the
ear, and often improves the understanding. Being a great
admirer of Shakspeare, he gave the public an edition of his
plays, to which he prefixed an account of his life. But the
most considerable of Mr Rowe’s performances was a trans¬
lation of Lucan’s Pharsalia, which he just lived to finish,
but not to publish ; for it did not appear in print till 1728,
ten years after his death.
In the meanwhile, the love of poetry and books did not
make him unfit for business ; for nobody applied closer to it
when occasion required. The Duke of Queensberry, when
secretary of state, made him secretary for public affairs. But
after the duke’s death, all avenues to his preferment were
stopped; and during the remainder of Gueen Anne’s reign
he passed his time with the Muses and his books. On the
accession of George I., however, he was made’poet-laureat,
and one of the land-surveyors of the customs in the port
of London. The Prince of Wales conferred on him the
clerkship of his council; and the Lord Chancellor Parker
made him his secretary for the presentations. But he did
not enjoy these promotions long ; for he died on the 6th of
December 1718, being then in his forty-fifth year.
Mr Rowe, who was twice married, had a son by his first
wife, and a daughter by his second. He was a very hand-
1 In this he confesses that he liked better to send his children into hospitals destined for orphans, than to take upon himself the
charge of their maintenance and education, and endeavours to palliate this offence, which nothing can exculpate.
510
R O W
R O W
Kowe some man ; and his mind was as amiable as his person. He matic writers, lived in the reign of King Charles I, and re- Bowie
Jl lived beloved ; and at his death he had the honour to be la- ceived his education at the University of Cambridge ; but Bep
Itowley. mented by p0pe5 in an epitaph which is printed in Pope’s whether he took any degree there, is not evident, there be-pj
_,l_ v ^ works, although it was not affixed on Mr Rowe’s monument ing but few particulars preserved in regard to him, except
in Westminster Abbey, where he was interred, in the poets’ his close intimacy and connection with all the principal witS's.Z^J
corner, opposite to Chaucer. and poetical geniuses of that age, by whom he was well be-
Rowe, Elizabeth, an English lady, eminent for her writ- loved, and with some of whom he joined m their writings,
ings both in prose and verse, was born at Ilchester, in Somer- Wood styles him “ the ornament, for wit and ingenuity, of
setshire, in 1674, being the daughter of worthy parents, Mr Pembroke Hall in Cambridge.” In a word, he was a very
Walter Singer and Mrs Elizabeth Portnel. There being a great benefactor to the English stage, having, exclusively of
great affinity between painting and poetry, this lady, who his aid lent to Middleton, Day, Heyvvood, W ebster, and
had a vein for the one, naturally had a taste for the other, others, left us five plays of his own composition, and one in
She was also very fond of music, chiefly of the grave and which even the immortal Shakspeare aflorded him some as-
solemn kind, as best suited the grandeur of her senti- sistance. . , „ ^ ji • ttt
merits and the sublimity of her devotion. But poetry was Rowley Regis, a town of the parish of Dudley, in Wor-
her favourite employment, her distinguishing excellence ; cestershire, although within the hundred of Seisdon, m Staf-
and so prevalent was her genius this way, that her prose is fordshire, and chiefly inhabited by nail-makers and other
all poetical. In 1696, a collection of her poems was pub- workers in iron. The population amounted in 1801 to 5027,
lished at the desire of two friends. Her paraphrase on the in 1811 to 4974, in 1821 to 6062, and in 1831 to 7438.
thirty-eighth chapter of Job was written at the request of ROWNING, John, an English mathematician and phi-
Bishop Ken. She had no other tutor for the French and losopher of considerable ingenuity, was fellow of Magdalen
Italian languages than Mr Thynne, who willingly took the College, Cambridge, and afterwards rector of Anderby in Lin-
trouble upon himself. Her shining merit, with the charms colnshire, in the gift of that society. He constantly atteml-
of her person and conversation, had procured her many ad- ed the meetings of the Spalding Society, and was a man of an
mirers. Amon°-st others, it is said, the famous Mr Prior made extraordinary philosophical habit of mind, whilst at the same
his addresses to her; but Mr Thomas Rowe was destined time his dispositions were social and cheerful. His genius was
to be the happy man. This gentleman was honourably de- peculiarly fitted for mechanical contrivances or inventions,
scended ; and his superior genius, and insatiable thirst after He published a compendious system of Natural Philosophy
knowledge, ivere conspicuous in his earliest years. He had at Cambridge, in the year 1 <38, in two volumes 8vo; a vyork
formed a design to compile the lives of all the illustrious of much ingenuity, which has gone through several editions,
persons in antiquity omitted by Plutarch ; which, indeed, He likewise inserted two pieces in the Philosophical Trans-
he partly executed, and eight lives were published after his actions, namely, a description of a barometer, wherein the
decease. They were translated into French by the Abbe scale of variation may be increased at pleasure (vol. xxxviii.
Bellenger in 1734. tie spoke with ease and fluency, and p. 39); and directions for making a machine for finding the
had a frank and benevolent temper, an inexhaustible fund roots of equations universally, together with the manner m
of wit, and a communicative disposition. Such wras the which it should be used (vol. lx. p. 240). He died at his
man who, charmed with the person, character, and writings lodgings in Carey Street, near Lincoln s-Inn Fields, in the
of our authoress, married her in 1710, and made it his study end of November 1771, in the seventy-second year of his
to repay the felicity with which she crowned his life. But age. Though a man both ingenious and pleasant, his ex-
too intense an application to study, beyond what the deli- ternal appearance was rather forbidding, being tall, and lo\v
cacy of his frame would bear, broke his health, and threw in the shoulders, with his countenance down-looking and
him into a consumption, which put a period to his life in sallow. . o i j
May 1715, when he had but just passed the twenty-eighth ROXBURGHSHIRE, a county in Scotland, on its
year of his age. Mrs Rowe wrote a beautiful elegy on his south-eastern extremity, where it joins England, situated
death ; and continued to the last moments of her life to ex- between 55. 6. and 55. 43. north latitude, and between 2.
press the highest veneration and affection for his memory. 12. and 3. 7. west longitude from Greenwich. It is some-
As soon after his decease as her affairs would permit, she times called Teviotdale, from its principal river the le-
indulged her inclination for solitude by retiring to Frome, viot, but improperly, as it also includes a tract called Lid-
in Somersetshire, in the neighbourhood of which place lay desdale on the south-west, which is unconnected with the
the greatest part of her estate. In this recess it was that Teviot. Its boundaries are Berwickshire, from which it is
she composed the most celebrated of her works, Friendship separated in part by the river Tweed on the north, Sel¬
in Death, and the Letters Moral and Entertaining. In 1736, kirkshire and Dumfriesshire on the west and south-wesq
she published the History of Joseph, a poem which she had and the English counties ofCumberland and Northumberland
written in her younger years. But she did not long survive on the south-east and east. Between Berwickshire and Sel-
this publication ; for she died of an apoplexy, as was sup- kirkshire a small tract touches the county of Mid-Lothian,
posed, on the 20th of February 1736-1737. In her cabinet on the south, between Dumfriesshire and Cumberland, the
were found letters to several of her friends, which she had county terminates almost in a point; on the west it in
ordered to be delivered immediately after her decease, some places surrounds small portions of Selkirkshire, and
Dr Isaac Watts, agreeably to her request, revised and pub- in others projects into that county; and it has the Cheviot
lished, in 1737, her devotions, under the title of Devout Hills on the east, the outline being exceedingly irregular
Exercises of the Heart in Meditation and Soliloquy, Praise on all sides. Its greatest length is nearly forty-one miles,
and Prayer; and, in 1739, her Miscellaneous Works, in and its greatest breadth about thirty miles. According to
prose and verse, were published in two volumes 8vo, with an the latest authorities, its area is 715 square miles, or 457,6
account of her life and writings prefixed. English acres, containing twenty-nine entire parishes, and
ROWEL, amongst farriers, a kind of issue, answering to part of other four, which properly belong to the counties a -
what in surgery is called a seton. joining. In an agricultural view, it may be considere a=
ROWLEY, a monk who is said to have flourished at divided into arable land and hilly pasture ; the pasture lam,
Bristol in the fifteenth century. Of the poems attributed estimated at about three fifths of the whole, occupying t^c
to him various opinions have been entertained, which we eastern, southern, and western quarters, and surrounding,
have noticed under the article on Chatterton. in a circular form, the arable, which lies on the north an
Rowley, William, who stands in the third class of dra- north-east sides of the county. 4 he arable, pasture, ana
ROXBURGHSHIRE.
511
Be
jrgh-meadow lands, are estimated at 300,000 acres. The wood
re. planted may be calculated at 15,000 acres.
Except upon the banks of the streams, which are com¬
monly of no great width, there is very little level or flat
land in this district; and, compared with the high grounds
in other parts of Scotland, hardly any part of it can be said
to be mountainous. The cultivated districts are beautifully
diversified with narrow valleys, each traversed by its own
rivulet, often fringed with wood, and bounded by gentle
acclivities; and the hills in pasture are, with few exceptions,
clothed in verdure to their very summits. On the confines
of Northumberland, the most elevated quarter, the hills
seldom reach the height of 2000 feet, but there are many
from that height down to 1000 or 800 feet. The most
considerable are the Minto and the Eildon Hills, both in the
arable division; and Bunion, Ruberslaw, Wisp, Hownam
Law, Millenwood-Fell, Carter-Fell, and Chillhill, in the
pastoral districts. Most of them having a conical form, in¬
sulated at their base by streamlets, and not rising in a con¬
tinuous range, present very conspicuous objects, and at a
distance seem higher than they are found to be when ap¬
proached. The beauties of the natural scenery have been
heightened and improved by the wealth and industry of its
inhabitants; all this division abounding in gentlemen’s seats,
comfortable and even elegant farm-houses, the fields enclos¬
ed with hedges of thorn, and belts of wood, and many spots
covered with young trees. On the skirts of the hills, too,
cultivation has of late made considerable progress, as much,
perhaps, as could be expected in the natural circumstances
of the country ; but the interior of the pastoral district is in
general naked, without trees or fences, and very thinly in¬
habited.
The prevailing soil of the arable land, and over most of
the hills, is what is called a sandy loam, though of different
qualities, excellently adapted to the turnip culture. Tracts
of a clayey or more heavy soil, however, occupy a consi¬
derable space, especially on the north-west. Clay is also
found on the north, near the Tweed, where it is rich and
fertile. Moss, marsh, and heath occur in the south-west,
and occasionally in other quarters; but altogether they cover
but a small proportion of the surface.
No district in Britain is better supplied with streams,
though it has only two that deserve the name of rivers, the
Tweed and the Teviot. The Tweed, which crosses the
northern part of the county, and for part of its course forms
the boundary with Berwickshire, enters it from Selkirk¬
shire on the north-west, and leaves it below Redden on the
north-east, carrying with it nearly all the waters that pass
through or have their source in this district. Its banks,
especially near Kelso, where it is crossed by an elegant
bridge, built by Rennie between the years 1799 and 1803,
are perhaps equal in richness and beauty to those of any
river of the same extent in Britain. The Teviot more
properly belongs to this county, rising and terminating
within its bounds. It has its source in the south-west ex¬
tremity, near the confines of Dumfriesshire, and flowing
north-east almost through the middle of the district, joins
the Tweed, in which its name is lost, a little above the
town of Kelso. From Hawick downwards it is a consider¬
able stream, and, like the Tweed, flows through a very fer¬
tile and well-cultivated country. The principal rivulets that
fall into the Teviot from the south are Allen, Slittrick, Rule,
Jed, Oxnam, and Kale ; and from the north and west Borth-
wick and Ale. The Liddel and Hermitage, which run on
the south-west, and whose united streams retain the name
of Liddel, from which this tract is called Liddesdale, soon
leave Roxburghshire, and after forming the boundary be¬
tween Dumfriesshire and Cumberland, fall into the Esk
above Longtown. The other streams are the Etterick,
which joins the Tweed from the south-west as it enters
this county; the Allen and the Leader, which fall into the
same river from the north ; and the Eden, which, after an Roxburgh-
easterly course, partly on the boundary with Berwickshire, shire,
enters the Tweed on the north-east, a little before it leaves Y ^ *
the county. The Beaumont also rises here amongst the
Cheviot Hills on the east, but after a short course passes
by Kirk-1 etholm, and enters Northumberland. Of the
smaller streams, the Ale, Jed, Rule, and Hermitage are
distinguished for their natural scenery, to which we may
add the Liddel, celebrated by the late Dr Armstrong, a
native of Liddesdale. I weed is the only river frequented
oy salmon, except at the time of spawning, when they are
found in most of the other streams. Trout abounds in the
Ale, Rule, Jed, and Kale; and there are a few small lakes
which contain perch and pike.
Roxburghshire is by no means rich in minerals. The
clay-slate or graywacke formation extends all along the
western part, round by the top of Liddesdale, and then up
through part of the parishes of Oxnam, Jedburgh, and Crail-
ing. I he coal series of rocks occupies nearly the whole dis¬
trict of Liddesdale. Frap-rock and porphyry constitute the
formation of the eastern part, but they are also protruded
in large masses through the clay-slate, coal, and sandstone
formations, in all parts of the country. The old red sand¬
stone extends along the confines of Berwickshire, down be¬
tween the clay-slate and the trap-rock, to nearly the lower
end of the parish of Hobkirk ; a belt of it also intervenes
between the coal series and the clay-slate. Two dikes of
mountain limestone appear in Liddesdale ; one a few miles
above Castleton, and the other at Fanna Hill, at the top of
the dale. At Carter-Fell a larger portion is found. Differ¬
ent kinds of agate, and sundry varieties of jasper, are also
to be met with. Coal has been found at the Carter-Fell, in
the southern extremity of Liddesdale, in the parishes of
Bedrule and Linton, and in one or two other places; but
the workings have been so expensive in comparison with the
value of the coal, that they have been given up. Limestone,
which abounds in various parts, is not wrought to any ex¬
tent, owing to the want of coal. There are excellent sand¬
stone quarries at Sprouston on the Tweed, and marl in seve¬
ral parishes, particularly at Eckfbrd on the Teviot, Linton
Loch, and Ednam near the Tweed. But the use of marl as
a manure is confined to a narrow circle around the places
where it is found ; lime, of which a much smaller quantity
answers the purpose, being most in request. The lime, like
the coal, is procured from Northumberland and Mid-Lo-
thian, being a distance of from twenty to thirty miles from
many parts of the arable district. Coals could be procured
nearer, at Tyne Head, and at a much cheaper rate for the
wrest of the shire, if the Duke of Northumberland would
allow a road to be made across the border, through his
estate.
The valued rent of Roxburghshire is L.314,663. 6s. 4d.
Scotch, being, next to Fife and Perth, the highest in Scot¬
land; and the real rent of the lands, in 1811, was L.230,663.
9s. 9d. sterling, and of the houses L.l 1,508. 6s. 3d. The
annual value of real property in 1815 amounted to L.254,180.
It is one of the few counties where the rent in sterling falls
below the valuation in Scotch money; a circumstance which
is certainly not owing to the want of improvements to sus¬
tain rent, nor to the present rents being too low, but to
the mistaken vanity of its land-owners, whose rent-rolls at
the time of the valuation are understood to have been stat¬
ed too high. Of this valuation, which in 1811 was divided
amongst three hundred and forty-nine estates, but one third
belongs to lands under entail, and more than two thirds
to families of the name of Kerr, Scott, Elliot, and Douglas.
The principal proprietors are the Dukes of Roxburghe
and Buccleuch, the Marquis of Lothian, the Earl of Minto,
and Douglas of Cavers ; but there are thirty-three estates
in all that have a valued rent of L.2000 each, and fifty-five
more are from L.500 to L.2000. Yet moderate and small
512
ROXBURGHSHIRE.
shire.
Roxburgh-properties are very numerous, the remaining two hundred as follows: First year, fallow or turnip; second year, wheat, Roxbm;
’ " and sixty-one estates being under L.500 Scotch. Several of after plain fallow ; third and fourth years, grass ; fifth year, *>rf'
’ these, exceeding a valuation of L.400 Scotch, and held of oats. There may be a variation after turnip in the se-
the crown, have been acquired by professional farmers, cond year, when barley or oats can be sown instead of the
Among: the seats in the county, which are too numerous to wheat, if the season is bad. Under a six years course,
be mentioned here, the most splendid is Fleurs, the man- the most profitable on rather weak soils, and in a district
sion of the Duke of Roxburghe, beautifully situated at the where there are no large towns to furnish manure, the ro-
confluence of the Tweed and Teviot, near Kelso. Abbots
ford, the seat of the late Sir Walter Scott, is also situated in
this county. It is placed on a bank overhanging the south
side of the Tweed, and is about half-way between Mel¬
rose and Selkirk. The property attached to it is judicious¬
ly laid out with thriving plantations; and in improving his
land, Sir Walter gave a stimulus that has had the happiest
effects on the agriculture and appearance of this beautiful
district,
tation from pasture is oats, turnips, barley or wheat, clo¬
ver and rye-grass, partly cut for hay the first year, but
chiefly pastured with sheep, and then continued in pasture
two years longer. Under this system the crops are al¬
most always good, and the land, instead of being exhaust¬
ed, is kept in a state of progressive improvement. Though
little of the soil be naturally adapted to wheat, yet this
grain is now raised to a great extent on all the better
descriptions of sandy loam; generally after turnips, which
Roxburghshire is divided, for the most part, into larger are eaten on the ground by sheep, which, by their tread-
farms, if we except a few sheep-farms in the Highlands, ing, give consistency to the soil, as well as leave it gieat-
than any other countv in Scotland ; many of them, consist- ly enriched by their manure. Only a small part is lin¬
ing of land partly arable and partly pasture, being from der beans, and somewhat more under pease ; barley has in
o    * J .     K\r whoQt an that- whAot
1000 to 3000 acres, and several of these, in some instances
being in the occupation of one tenant. Farms altogether ara¬
ble, containing from 500 to 1000 acres, are not uncommon.
The capital and knowledge required for conducting concerns
so extensive entitle such men to suitable accommodations
in their houses and farm-offices, many of which are accord¬
ingly laid out and constructed in a superior style. The ave¬
rage rent of arable land varies from 15s. to L.2.10s. an acre,
according to the quality of the soil and the distance from
market. The rents of sheep-farms are calculated, not
by the number of acres, but by the number of sheep
that can be supported thereon. The grazing of an ox or
cow, in various parts of the county, is from L.l. 10s. to L.7
a year; that of a sheep from 5s. to L.l, one of the Cheviot
breed being charged about one half less than one of the Lei¬
cester breed. Farms are generally let on leases at fifteen
many instances been superseded by wheat, so that wheat
and oats are the principal crops of grain ; whilst, whatever
be the number of acres in corn, nearly half the quantity is
allotted to turnips, and the other half to clover and rye¬
grass. Potatoes occupy but a very small part of every
farm ; and flax, where raised at all, is only in small patches
for the use of the farm-servants. The turnip crop, how¬
ever, has for a series of years been attacked with a disease
which is popularly known by the name of fingers and toes.
It converts the bulb of the turnip, when one has been
allowed to form, into a shapeless and morbid mass, which
no animal will eat; and becomes putrid, and disappears
altogether on the first approach of frost. It often pre¬
vails over extensive fields, whilst others adjoining escape;
and it seems to make no difference whether the land be
fresh from pasture or has been long in tillage. Various
and nineteen years. On some of the Buccleueh estates it conjectures have been formed as to the cause or causes ol
, i ... i J A 4-1, i o tliof it ic nwino1 tn tnp
is nine years, but the leases are usually renewed at the end
of that period. On other estates the leases vary from five
to eleven years.
Most of the farm-servants are married, and live in houses
apart, set down together in some convenient quarter of the
farm, each having a small garden attached. It is the prac¬
tice here, as in other parts of the lowlands of Scotland, to pay
most of their wages in the produce of the farm, and not in
money, every married ploughman, or hind, getting a cer
this evil; and the general opinion is, that it is owing to the
constant repetition, within a given time, of a turnip crop.
To abate the evil, lime, and a proper attention to the change
of rotation, are necessary.
The pastoral district of this county is occupied with an
excellent breed of sheep called the Cheviot, from the gene¬
ral name of the hills on which they feed ; for an account of
which breed we must refer to the article Agriculture.
On the arable farms, the short-horned cattle and Leicester
tain quantity of corn, a cow kept, and some land allowed sheep, neither of them, however, always in a pure state;
for potatoes, and often also for flax; he is also commonly form the principal stock; and as so large a proportion ol
allowed to keep a pig and a few hens. The value of his
income may be calculated to be between L.25 and L.28 a
year. Whatever may be the fluctuation of the markets,
these labourers are thus always provided with the necessa
even the arable land is always in grass, the number of both
is very great. On farms partly arable and partly hill-pas¬
ture, the cross between the Cheviot and the Leicester is
found to answer very well. Many of the farmers of jate
ries of life ; and the sale of the butter made from their cow, have purchased Highland stots or kyloes at the Falkirk
with its calf, and the eggs of their poultry, and, if the fa- trysts, which have been wintered for a year and then sola
mily be not large, a part of their corn, supplies them with to advantage. The greatest improvement recently made
the other articles they need; whilst they fatten their pigs, is sheep or surface drains, which have not only had the el¬
and work up the flax for the use of their families. No class feet of drying the meadow and marshy land, and thereby
of men of their rank are to be compared with these hinds adding to the fineness and thickness of the grass, but also
for propriety of conduct and frugality ; and few of the la- of curing to a great extent the rot and several other disoi-
bouring classes any where are so comfortable and content- ders which afflicted the sheep. By means of turnips, most
ed with their condition. of the disposable stock, whether of cattle or sheep, are car-
The wages of a shepherd are much higher than those of ried forward till they are ready for the butcher, when the
a hind. These, however, fluctuate with the value of stock, far greater part is sent to the weekly market of Morpeth in
Shepherds are allowed in many instances thirty sheep, the Northumberland, for the consumption of Newcastle an
right of keeping a cow, with one or two pigs, and have other towns in the north of England. ...
besides a certain quantity of potato-ground. With these The progress which agriculture has made in this district
advantages, shepherds realize considerable property, so that has not been much favoured by its situation in regard to
not a few are able in the course of years to take farms. markets, coal, and lime. Weekly markets are held at
The system of farming is generally what is called the Jedburgh, Hawick, and Kelso, where the corn is sold }
four and five year shift rotation of cropping. The five-year sample upon very short credit, what is bought being pai
shift is that which is now most generally adopted, and is for next market-day. Kelso market is the best attende ,
hi
Ifilk
ROY
R O Y
and the grain bought there is sent to Berwick for exporta¬
tion to London. A considerable proportion is also sent to
Dalkeith, and paid for by ready money. The carts that at¬
tend the Dalkeith market, on their return bring back coals
or lime, which abound in that quarter. Bone manure, which
is now getting into general use, is principally procured from
Berwick. If either of the railways projected for connecting
Newcastle and Edinburgh be carried into effect, it will be
of great advantage to the county.
The towns are Kelso, Jedburgh, Hawick, and Melrose;
and of the villages the most considerable are Yetholm and
Kirk-Yetholm, near its eastern boundary. For notices of the
towns, the reader is referred to them under their alpha¬
betical heads. The two Yetholms are worthy of notice for
their fairs, at which a great part of the cattle, sheep, and
wool of the county are sold ; and Kirk-Yetholm is remark¬
able for being the principal colony of gipsies in Scotland.
At Jedburgh, Kelso, Melrose, and the village of Gatton-
side, there are some valuable orchards, particularly at Jed¬
burgh and Melrose, where some very old trees which be¬
longed to their abbeys are still remarkably prolific.
This county, placed on the borders of the two kingdoms,
which were constantly at war with each other, presents the
ruins of a great many castles and towers, and other re¬
mains, of an early age. Amongst these may be mentioned
the Castles of Hermitage in Liddesdale ; Cessford in Eckford
parish; Ferniehirst near Jedburgh; Brankholm on the banks
of the Teviot, several miles above Hawick; and Harden,
situated in Borthwick Vale, a mile from Hawick, formerly
the seat of the Scotts of Harden. The site where the im¬
portant Castle of Jedburgh stood is now occupied by a prison.
The celebrated Catrail, erected by the Britons under the Ro¬
man yoke, and also the Roman road, both cross this county.
Their remains can be distinctly traced. The county wras also
distinguished for its religious buildings, for which we refer
to the articles Jedburgh, Kelso, and Melrose. The an¬
cient burgh and town of Roxburghe, which at one time was
the fourth town in Scotland in importance and population,
was situated on the beautiful peninsula formed by the junc¬
tion of the Tweed and the Teviot rivers. It was regularly
fortified by walls and ditches; and although it cannot be
traced to a remoter period than the reign of Alexander I.,
it is believed to have been a royal burgh before that time,
and, as such, governed by an alderman and inferior func-
tmnaries. It formed one of the court of four boroughs,
which by the wisdom of David I. was instituted as a higher
court, for hearing and deciding upon the appeals brought
before them by the other royal burghs of the kingdom.
Money was also coined here, and coins are yet to be seen
in the depositories of antiquaries, of the date of William
the Lion and James II. Situated as it was at the foot of
one of the strongest castles on the border, it underwent
many changes. It was several times burned by the English
army, more particularly in the year 1369 and 1460. This
fate was the more easily accomplished from the buildings
being entirely of wood; and its restoration in a short time
is the more easily explained, from the materials yielded by
the forests which then covered the country. This mode of
erection also accounts for not a vestige of the town now
remaining. Its site has been used for centuries, and is
still used, for holding the ancient fair of St James. The
castle of the same name was built on an eminence at the
west end of the town. This eminence rises to the height
of nearly forty feet above the level of the Teviot, which
here runs at the south base of the castle. The waters of
the river were made subservient to fill the deep fosse which
surrounded the fortress on the west, north, and east sides,
by means of a dam thrown obliquely across the stream.
Only a few remains of what appear to be the outward de¬
fences are now standing, but by their thickness they attest
its prodigious strength. The interior of the building is now
so overgrown with tall trees, that it is impossible to give any
idea of the formation of its defences within. What remains
is most probably the foundations of the fort erected by the
Earl of Somerset after his expedition into Scotland in the
year 1.547. But it is needless to enter into historical facts
connected with this fortress, as these will be given under the
history of Scotland.
There are various fairs held in the county. The most im¬
portant are, St Boswell’s, held on the 18th of July, for cattle,
sheep, horses, linen and woollen cloth ; and St James’s, held
on the 5th of August, for nearly the same articles as at St
Boswell’s. There are also fairs held at Melrose, Yetholm,
Hawick, Jedburgh, &c.
The following is a tabular view of the population of the
county in the years 1811, 1821, and 1831.
1811
1821
1831
2173
6587
6732
2849
8639
8930
88
269
286
OCCUPATIONS.
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Agricul¬
ture.
1268
3613
3134
Families
chiefly em¬
ployed in
Trade, Ma¬
nufactures,
and Handi¬
craft.
797
2822
2942
All other
Families
not com¬
prised in
the two
preceding
classes.
784
2204
2854
PERSONS.
Males.
5,592
19,408
20,761
Females.
6,786
21,484
22,902
Total of
Persons.
12,378
40,892
43,663
Roxburghshire sends one member to Parliament; and
Jedburgh, its only royal burgh, joins with Lauder, Had¬
dington, Dunbar, and North Berwick, in electing another.
This is one of the few Scottish counties in which there are
regular assessments for the poor. Amongst the eminent men
to whom this district has given birth are, Thomson, Arm¬
strong, Lord Karnes, Elliot the brave defender of Gibraltar,
Leyden, Park the African traveller, and William Dawson
the father of the improved agriculture of Scotland.
ROY BAREILLY, a town of Hindustan, in the nabob
of Oude’s territories, situated on the Sye river, forty-five
miles south-east by south from Lucknow. Long. 81. 12. E.
Lat. 26. 16. N.
VOL. XIX.
ROYAL, something belonging to a king. Thus we say
royal family, royal assent, royal exchange, and so forth.
Royal Family. The first and most considerable branch
of the king’s royal family, regarded by the laws of England,
is the queen.
I. The Queen of England is either queen regent, queen
consort, or queen dowager. The queen regent, regnant, or
sovereign, is she who holds the crown in her own right;
as Queen Elizabeth, Queen Anne, and our present sove¬
reign Queen Victoria. The queen consort is the wife of
the reigning king; and she by virtue of her marriage is
participant of divers prerogatives above other women. The
husband of a queen regnant, as Prince George of Denmark
514 R O Y
Royal, was to Queen Anne, is her subject, and may be guilty of
 ' high treason against her; but in the instance of conjugal
fidelity he is not subjected to the same penal restrictions.
Hence, if a queen consort is unfaithful to the royal bed,
this may debase or bastardize the heirs to the crown ; but
no such danger can be consequent on the infidelity of the
husband to a queen regnant. A queen dowager is the
widow of the king, and as such enjoys most of the privile¬
ges belonging to her as queen consort. But it is not high
treason to conspire her death, or to violate her chastity;
because the succession to the crown is not thereby en¬
dangered. Yet still, 'pro dignitate regali, no man can marry
a queen dowager without special license from the king, on
pain of forfeiting his lands and goods.
2. The Prince of Wales, or heir apparent to the crown,
and also his royal consort, and the princess royal or eldest
daughter of the king, are likewise peculiarly regarded by
the laws. For, by statute 25 Edw. III. to compass or con¬
spire the death of the former, or to violate the chastity of
either of the latter, is as much high treason as to con¬
spire the death of the king or violate the chastity of the
and this upon the same reason as was before given,
because the prince of Wales is next in succession to the
crown, and to violate his wife might taint the blood-royal
with bastardy. And the eldest daughter of the king is also
alone inheritable to the crown on failure of issue male, and
therefore more respected by the laws than any of her
younger sisters; insomuch that upon this, united with other
principles, whilst our military tenures were in force, the
king might levy an aid for marrying his eldest daughter,
and her only. The heir apparent to the crown is usually
made Prince of Wales and Earl of Chester, by special crea¬
tion and investiture; but being the king’s eldest son, he is
by inheritance Duke of Cornwall, without any new creation.
3. The rest of the royal family may be considered in two
different lights, according to the different senses in which
the term royal family is used. The larger sense includes
all those who are by any possibility inheritable to the crown.
Such, before the Revolution, were all the descendants of
William the Conqueror, who had branched into an amaz¬
ing extent by intermarriages with the ancient nobility.
Since the Revolution and Act of Settlement, it means the
Protestant issue of the Princess Sophia, now comparatively
few in number, but which in process of time may possibly
be as largely diffused. The more confined sense includes
only those who are in a certain degree of propinquity to the
reigning prince, and to whom therefore the law pays an
extraordinary regard and respect; but after that degree is
past, they fall into the rank of ordinary subjects, and are
seldom considered any further unless called to the succes¬
sion upon failure of the nearer lines. For though collate¬
ral consanguinity is regarded indefinitely with respect to
inheritance or succession, yet it is and can only be regarded
within some certain limits in any other respect, by the na¬
tural constitution of things and the dictates of positive law.
By statute 12 Geo. III. c. 11, no descendant of the body
of Geo. II. other than the issue of princesses married
into foreign families, is capable of contracting matrimony,
without the previous consent of the king signified under the
great seal; and any marriage contracted without such a con¬
sent is void. It is provided, however, that such of the said de¬
scendants as are not above twenty-five, may, after a twelve¬
month’s notice given to the king’s privy council, contract
and solemnize marriage without the consent of the crown,
unless both houses of parliament shall, before the expira¬
tion of the said year, expressly declare their disapproba¬
tion of such intended marriage ; and all persons solemniz¬
ing, assisting, or being present at any such prohibited mar¬
riage, shall incur the penalties of the statute of prcemunire.
Royal Oak, a fair spreading tree at Boscobel, in the
parish of Donnington, in Staffordshire, the boughs of which
RUB
were once covered with ivy, in the thick of which King Roymungu,
Charles II. sat in the day-time with Colonel Careless, and 1!
in the night lodged in Boscobel House. They are mistaken ^
who speak of it as an old hollow oak, it being then a gay
flourishing tree, surrounded with many more. Its poor
remains were fenced in with a handsome wall, with this in¬
scription in gold letters: Felicissimam arborem quam in
asylum potentissimi regis Caroli II. Deus op. max. per
quem reges regnant, hie crescere voluit.
ROYMUNGUL, a river of Bengal, wdnch falls into the
Sunderbunds, and is strongly affected by the tides. The
East India Company have an extensive salt manufactory on
its banks.
ROYSTON, a market-town on the northern border of
the county of Hertford, and partly within the county of Cam¬
bridge, thirty-eight miles from London. There was here an
ancient priory, said to have been founded in the reign of
Henry II. by a lady of the name of Roysia, from whom the
town takes its name. The chapel of the priory now serves
as the parish church. There is a large market held on
Thursday, at which much corn is sold. There are some
considerable brewers. The population amounted in 1811
to 1331, in 1821 to 1474, and in 1831 to 1757.
RSHOW Waldimirow, a city of Russia, in the pro¬
vince of Twer, and the capital of a circle of the same name.
It is situated on the river Volga, where it receives the wa¬
ters of the Ryolenka. It contains twelve churches, 1252
houses, and 7500 inhabitants. It has considerable trade
by the river in the productions of the land, and some manu¬
factures. Long. 34. 29. E. Lat. 56. 10. N.
RUABON, a large village or town of the county of
Denbigh, in North Wales, 192 miles from London, and four
from Wrexham. It is pleasantly situated on an elevation,
and has a neat church, with some elegant monuments to
the family of Sir Watkins William Wynn, whose magni¬
ficent seat of Wynnstay is near to it. The agricultural
society established at this place has much contributed to
the improvement of the soil and of cultivation. The popu¬
lation amounted in 1801 to 5598, in 1811 to 6122, in 1821
to 8556, and in 1831 to 8353 ; but it includes the whole
parish, which comprehended five townships.
RUANELLI, a valley in the island of Ceylon, famed
for its precious stones. The river on which Columbo, the
capital, is situated, is navigable to this place by boats. The
precious stones and other metallic substances are found in
the environs of Ruanelli, amongst the sand and gravel of the
river. They consist chiefly of sapphires, topazes, garnets,
amethysts, moonstone, tourmalines, and cats-eyes. The
land is let on short leases to the highest bidder; and al¬
though they are exempted from duties, it produces, after all,
but a trifling revenue.
RUBBER, India. See Caoutchouc.
RUBENS, Sir Peter Paul, the most eminent of the
Flemish painters, was born in the year 1577, but whether at
Antwerp or Cologne is uncertain. His father, who was a
counsellor in the senate of Antwerp, had been forced by
the civil wars to seek refuge in Cologne; and during his
residence there Rubens is commonly said to have been
born.
The genius of Rubens, which began to unfold itself in
his earliest years, was cultivated with peculiar care, and
embellished with every branch of classical and polite lite¬
rature. Fie soon discovered a strong inclination for de¬
signing, and used to amuse himself with that employment
in his leisure hours, whilst the rest of his time was devote
to other studies. His mother, perceiving the bias of her
son, permitted him to attend the instructions of Tobias
Verhaecht, a painter of architecture and of landscape. He
next became the pupil of Adam Van Oort; but he soon
found that the abilities of this master were insufficient to
answer his elevated ideas. His surly temper, too, was is-
ibeiis
HUB
gustful to Rubens, whose natural disposition was modest
— and amiable.
Anxious to find an artist w’hose genius and dispositions
were congenial with his own, he became the disciple of Oc¬
tavio Van Veen, generally known by the name of Otho
Venius, a painter of singular merit, and who was not only
skilled in the principles of his art, but also distinguished
for learning and other accomplishments. Between the
master and the scholar a remarkable similarity appeared in
temper and inclination; indeed the whole turn of their
minds was the same. It was this congeniality of sentiments
which animated Rubens with that ardent passion for the
art of painting which at length determined him to pursue
it as a profession. From this time he gave up his whole
mind to it; and so successful were his exertions, that he
soon equalled his master.
In order to arrive at that perfection which he already
beheld in idea, it became requisite to study the productions
of the most eminent artists ; and for this purpose he travelled
throughout Italy, visiting the most valuable collections of
paintings and antique statues with which that country
abounds.
Sandrat, who was intimately acquainted with Rubens,
informs us that he was recommended to the Duke of Man¬
tua by the Archduke Albert, who had witnessed his talents
in the finishing of some fine paintings designed for his own
palace. At Mantua he was received by the duke with the
most flattering marks of distinction, and had opportunities
of improving himself, which he did not neglect. He there
carefully studied the works of Julio Romano; and he next
visited Rome, where he had an opportunity of examining
the productions of Raffaelle. The paintings of Titian and
Paul \ eronese called him to Venice, where he improved
himself in the art of colouring.
He continued in Italy seven years. At length receiving
intelligence that his mother w^as taken ill, he hastened to
Antwerp. But his filial affection was not gratified with a
sight of her. She died before his arrival. He married soon
afterwards; but his wife dying at the end of four years, he
retired for some time from Antwerp, and endeavoured to
soothe his melancholy by a journey to Holland. At Utrecht
he visited Hurtort, whom he greatly esteemed.
The fame of Rubens was now spread all over Europe. He
was invited by Mary de’ Medici, queen of Henry IV. of
France, to Paris, wdiere he painted the galleries in the pa¬
lace of Luxembourg. rIhese form a series of paintings
which delineate the history of Mary; and afford a convin-
cing proof how well qualified he was to excel in allegorical
and emblematical compositions. Whilst at Paris he be¬
came acquainted with the Duke of Buckingham, who wras
so taken with his great talents and accomplishments, that
he judged him well qualified to explain to Isabella, the wife
of Albert the archduke, the cause of the misunderstanding
which had taken place between the courts of England and
Spain. In this employment Rubens acquitted himself with
such propriety, that Isabella appointed him envoy to the
king of Spain, with a commission to propose terms of peace,
and to bring back the instructions of that monarch. Philip
was not less captivated with Rubens, conferring on him
the honour of knighthood, and making him secretary to his
privy council. Rubens returned to Brussels, and thence
passed over into England in 1630 with a commission from
the Catholic king to negotiate a peace between the two
crowms. He was successful in his negotiation, and a treaty
was concluded. Charles I. who then filled the British
throne, could not receive Rubens in a public character on
account of his profession ; nevertheless, he treated him
with every mark of respect. Having engaged him to paint
some of the apartments of Whitehall, he not only gave him
a handsome sum of money, but. as an acknowledgment of
his merit, created him a knight; and the Duke of Bucking-
R U B
515
ham, his friend and patron, purchased of him a collection Rubens,
ot pictures, statues, medals, and antiques, for the sum of ten
thousand pounds.
He returned to Spain, where he was magnificently ho¬
noured and rewarded for his services, being created a gen¬
tleman of the king’s bed-chamber, and named secretary to
the council of state in the Netherlands. Rubens, however,
d.d not lay aside his profession. He returned to Antwerp,
where he married a second wife, called Helena Forment
who, being an eminent beauty, helped him much in the
figures of his women. But he died on the 30th of May
1640, in the sixty-third year of his age, leaving vast riches
to Ins children. Albert his eldest son succeeded him in the
office of secretary of state in Flanders.
As Rubens was possessed of all the ornaments and ad¬
vantages that render a man worthy to be esteemed or
courted, he was always treated as a person of consequence.
His figure was noble, his manners engaging, and his con¬
versation lively. His learning was universal. Though his
favourite study must have occupied him much, yet he found
time to read the works of the most celebrated authors, es¬
pecially the poets. He spoke several languages perfectly,
and was an able statesman, as well as an excellent painter.
His house at Antwerp was enriched with every thing that
was rare and valuable in the arts. It contained one spaci
ous apaitment, in imitation of the rotunda at Rome, adorned
with a choice collection of pictures which he had purchased
in Italy, part of which he sold to the Duke of Buckingham.
His genius qualified him to excel equally in every thing
that can enter into the composition of a picture. His in¬
vention was so fertile, that, if he had occasion to paint the
same subject several times, his imagination always supplied
him with something striking and new. The attitudes of
his figures are natural and varied, the carriage of the head
is peculiarly graceful, and his expression is noble and ani¬
mated.
He is by all allowed to have carried the art of colouring
to its highest pitch. He understood so thoroughly the true
principles of the chiaro-scuro, that he gave to his figures
the utmost harmony, and a prominence resembling real life.
His pencil is mellowed, his strokes are bold and easy, his
carnation glows with life, and his di'apery is simple but grand,
broad, and hung with much skill. The great excellence of
Rubens appears in his grand compositions. For as they
are to be viewed at a distance, he laid on a proper body of
colours with uncommon boldness, and fixed all his tints in
their proper places; so that he never impaired their lustre
by breaking or torturing them, but touched them in such
a manner as to give them a lasting force, beauty, and har¬
mony.
It is generally allowed that Rubens wanted correctness
in drawing and designing; some of his figures being heavy
and too short, and the limbs in certain parts not being justly
sketched in the outline. Though he had spent seven years
in Italy in studying those antiques by which other cele¬
brated artists had modelled their taste, and though he had
examined them with such minute attention as not only to
perceive their beauties, but to be qualified to describe them
in a dissertation which he wrote on that subject; yet he
seems never to have divested himself of that heavy style of
painting which, being peculiar to his native country, he
had insensibly acquired. The astonishing rapidity too with
which he painted, made him fall into inaccuracies, from
which those works that he finished with care are entirely
exempted. Amongst his finished pieces may be mentioned
the Crucifixion of Jesus Christ between the Two Thieves ;
but of all his works the paintings in the palace of Luxem¬
bourg best display his genius and his style.
It is the observation of Algarotti, that he was more mo¬
derate in his movements than Tintoretto, and softer in his
chiaro-scuro than Carravaggio; but not so rich in his com-
516
Rubin
R U D
R U D
positions, nor so light in his touches, as Paul Veronese, in
„ his carnations less true than Titian, and less delicate than
Rudolstadt. vandyck. Yet he contrived to give his colours the ut-
'   most transparency and harmony, notwithstanding their ex¬
traordinary deepness; and he possessed a strength and gran¬
deur of style which were entirely his own. See the article
RUBIN, or ROBOAN, a small island in the Red Sea,
at the Straits of Babelmandel, separated from the continent
by a channel not above a stone-cast in breadth, which may
be forded at low water. Here pilots are taken in tor the
voyage up the Red Sea, and to its different ports.
RUBRIC, in the canon law, signifies a title or article in
certain ancient law-books, and which was so called because
written, as the titles of the chapters in our ancient bibles
are, in red letters. . , •
RUBY, a species of precious stone, belonging to the si¬
liceous genus. The ruby is of various colours, as, of a deep
red colour inclining a little to purple, or the carbuncle ot
Pliny ; the spinell, of the colour of a bright corn poppy
flower; and the balass or pale red inclining to violet, la-
vernier and Dutens inform us that in the Last Indies all
coloured gems are named rubies, without regard to what
their colours may be ; and that the particular colour is add¬
ed to the name of each in order to distinguish them from
one another. The spinell rubies are above half the value
of diamonds of the same weight; and the balass is valued
at thirty shillings per carat. Tavernier mentions one hun¬
dred and eight rubies in the throne of the Great Mogul,
from one to two hundred carats, and a round one almost
two and a half ounces. There is also mention made by
other travellers, of rubies exceeding two hundred carats in
weight. According to Dutens, a perfect ruby, it it weigh
more than three and a half carats, is of greater value than
a diamond of the same weight. If it weigh one carat, it is
worth ten guineas ; if two carats, forty guineas; three carats,
a hundred and fifty guineas; if six carats, upwards ot a
thousand guineas. ,
RUCTATION, a ventosity arising from indigestion, and
discharging itself at the mouth with a very disagreeable
noise.
RUDBECK, Olaus, a learned Swedish physician, was
born of an ancient and noble family in 1630. He became
professor of medicine at Upsal, where he acquired gi-eat ap¬
plause by his extensive knowledge, and died in 1702. His
principal works are twofold, 1. Exercitatio Anatomica, ex-
kibens ductus novos hepaticos aquosos, et vasa glandularum
serosa, in 4to; 2. Atlantica, sive Manheim, vera Japheti pos-
terorum sedes ac patria, four vols. folio. He theie endea¬
vours to prove that Sweden was the country whence all the
ancient Pagan divinities and our first parents were derived ;
and that the Germans, English, French, Danes, Greeks, and
Romans, with all other nations, originally came from thence.
This work, in a complete state, is of the greatest rarity.
RUDDER, in Navigation, a piece of timber turning on
hinges in the stern of the ship, and which, opposing some¬
times one side in the water and sometimes another, turns
or directs the vessel this way or that. See the article Ship¬
building. . , ro. l
RUDGELEY, a market-town in the county ot Stattord,
of the hundred of Cuttlestone, 131 miles from London, and
seven from Lichfield. It is a well-built place, and contains
many manufacturers of hats and of other articles ; and be-
in^ by means of canals, favoured with water communication
with the whole of the interior of the kingdom, has consider¬
able trade. There is a good market, which is held on Tues¬
day. The population amounted in 1801 to 2030, in 1811
to 2213, in 1821 to 2677, and in 1831 to 3165.
RUDOLSTADT, a city, the capital of the principality
of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, in Germany. It is situated on
the river Saale, over which there is a stone biidge. It is
surrounded with walls, is well built and paved, and contains Ruddimau
the palace of the prince, two churches, a theological semi- v-"
nary, and two hospitals, with 550 houses, and 4160 inhabi¬
tants, who subsist by the expenditure of the government
and the college, by making w oollen goods, and by breweries
and distilleries. Long. 11. 15. 15. E. Lat. 50. 43. 51. N.
RUDDIMAN, Thomas, one of the most eminent gram¬
marians which Scotland has produced, was born in October
1674, at Raggel, in the parish of Boyndie and county of
Banff. His father, James Ruddiman, was a farmer, and
strongly attached to the house of Stuart.
Mr Ruddiman was instructed in the principles of Latin
grammar at the parish school of Boyndie, where his appli¬
cation was so vigorous, and his progress so rapid, that he
quickly surpassed all his class-fellows. His master, George
Morrison, who was a skilful and attentive teacher, being un¬
willing to check his ardour for learning, permitted him to
follow the impulse of his genius, and to advance without
waiting the slow progress of the other boys.
The pleasure which the youthful mind receives from vivid
description, though wild and romantic, approaches to ecstasy,
and often makes an impression which remains indelible.
Whilst at school, the first book which charmed the opening
mind of Ruddiman was Ovid’s Metamorphoses; nor did he
cease to relish the beauties of this author when his judgment
was mature, for during the rest of his life Ovid was his fa¬
vourite poet.
At the age of sixteen he became anxious to pursue his
studies at the university ; but his father thinking him too
young, opposed his inclination. Hearing of the competi¬
tion trial which was annually held at King’s College, Aber¬
deen, for a certain number of bursaries on the foundation
of that university, Ruddiman’s ambition was kindled. \\ ith-
out the knowledge of his father, and with only a single
guinea in his pocket, which his sister had privately given
him, he set out for that place. On the road he was met by
a company of gipsies, who robbed him of his coat, his shoes,
his stockings, and his guinea. But this misfortune did not
damp his enterprising spirit. He continued his journey to
Aberdeen, presented himself before the professors as a can¬
didate ; and, though he had neither clothes to give him a
decent appearance, nor friends to recommend him, he gain¬
ed the first prize.
After attending the university for four years, he obtain¬
ed the degree of master of arts, an honour of which he was
always proud. The thesis says, the disputation on this oc¬
casion lasted ab aurora usque ad vesperum, that is, “ from
morning till night.” Though Ruddiman was only twenty
years of age when he left the university, it appears from a
book entitled Rhetoricorurn Libri tres, composed before this
period, but never published, that he had then read the Ro¬
man classics with uncommon attention and advantage.
He was soon after engaged as a tutor to the son ol Mr
Robert Young of Auldbar, the great grandson of Sir Peter
Young, who under the direction of Buchanan had been pie-
ceptor of James VI. His income here must have been
very small, or his situation unpleasant; for within a year
he accepted the office of schoolmaster in the parish of Lau¬
rencekirk. The profession of schoolmaster in a countiy
parish at that period could not open any field for ambition,
nor any prospect of great emolument; for by an act of par¬
liament passed in 1633, the salary appropriated to this office
could not be increased above 200 merks Scotch, or L.1L s>
2§d. sterling. In discharging the duties of this humo e
but important station, it is probable that he used Simsons
Rudimenta Grammatica, which was then generally taugnt
in the northern schools, and by which he himself ha een
instructed in the principles of Latin grammar.
When Ruddiman had spent three years and a halt in tms
employment, the celebrated Dr Pitcairne happening Pas^
through Laurencekirk, was detained in that village y
R U D D I M A N.
diman. violent storm. Pitcairne wanting amusement, inquired at
! v"-'' the hostess if she could procure any agreeable companion
to bear him company at dinner. She replied, that the
schoolmaster, though young, was said to be learned, and,
though modest, she was sure he could talk. Pitcairne was
delighted with the conversation and learning of his new
companion, invited him to Edinburgh, and promised him
his patronage.
When Ruddiman arrived in Edinburgh, the Advocates
Library, which had been founded eighteen years before by
Sir George Mackenzie, attracted his curiosity and atten¬
tion, and he was soon afterwards appointed assistant-keeper
under Mr Spottiswoode the principal librarian. His salary
for executing this laborious office was L.8. 6s. 8d. He had,
besides, a small honorary present from those who were ad¬
mitted advocates, for correcting their theses; and he was
also paid for copying manuscripts for the use of the library.
The faculty, however, before he had held the office two
years, were so highly pleased with his conduct, that they
made him a present of fifty pounds Scotch, or L.4. 3s. 4d.
sterling.
During the sitting of the Court of Session he attended
the library from ten till three. But this confinement did
not prevent him from engaging in other laborious duties.
A part of his time was occupied in teaching young gentle¬
men the Latin language. Some he attended at their lodg¬
ings, some waited upon him, and some resided in his own
house. An exact list of the names of those who attended
him, expressing the date of their entry, and the sums which
he was to receive from each, has been found in his pocket-
book, a curious relic, which is still preserved.
When Ruddiman’s merit as a scholar became better
known, his assistance was anxiously solicited by those who
were engaged in literary publications. Freebairne, a re¬
spectable bookseller of that period, prevailed upon him to
correct and prepare for the press Sir Robert Sibbald’s In-
troductio ad historiam rerum a Romanis gesiarum in ea
Borealis Britanniee parte quce ultra murum Picticum est.
For his labour he received L.3 sterling. At the request of
Mr Spottiswoode, librarian, he contributed for L.5 sterling
his aid to the publication of Sir Robert Spottiswoode’s Prac-
tiques of the Laws of Scotland.
In 1707 he commenced auctioneer, an employment not
very suitable to the dignified character of a man of letters.
But to this occupation he was probably impelled by neces¬
sity ; for upon balancing his accounts at the end of the pre¬
ceding year, the whole surplus was L.28. 2s. with prospects
of L.236. 7s. 6d. Scotch. Ruddiman had a family, and seems
to have been a stranger to that foolish pride which has se¬
duced some literary men into the opinion, that it is more
honourable to starve than have recourse to an occupation
which men of rank and opulence are accustomed to despise.
The same year he published an edition of Voluseni de Ani-
mi Tranquillitate Dialogus, to which he prefixed the life
of Volusenus. Volusenus or Wilson was a learned Scotch¬
man, and had the honour to be patronized by Cardinal Wol-
sey. In 1709 he published Johnstoni Cantici Solomonis
Paraphrasis Poetica, and Johnstoni Cantica with notes,
which he dedicated in verse to his friend and patron Dr
Pitcairne. The edition consisted of two hundred copies.
The expense of printing amounted to L.5. 10s. sterling,
and he sold them at a shilling each copy.
The philological talents of Ruddiman were next directed
to a more important object, in which they became more
conspicuous and useful. Freebairne the bookseller propos¬
ed to publish a new edition of the Scottish translation of
Virgil’s Alneid by Gawin Douglas, bishop of Dunkeld. Of
the contributions which some eminent characters of the age
presented, the most valuable were supplied by Ruddiman.
Freebairne acknowledged in general terms this obligation,
but has not done him the justice to inform the reader what
these valuable contributions were, and Ruddiman’s modesty
restrained him from publicly asserting his claim. From the
pocket-book which has been already mentioned, it appears
that Ruddiman corrected the work and wrote the glossary ;
and there is strong reason to believe that he was the author
of the forty-two general rules for assisting the reader to un-
deistand the language of Douglas. To those who wish to
be acquainted with the ancient language of this island, the
glossary w ill be a treasure, as it forms a compendious dic¬
tionary of the Anglo-Saxon. For this elaborate work Rud¬
diman was allowed L.8. 6s. 8d. sterling.
T he reputation of Ruddiman had now extended to a dis¬
tance. He was invited by the magistrates of Dundee to
be rector of the grammar-school of that town ; but the fa¬
culty of advocates, anxious to retain him, augmented his
salary to L.30. 6s. 8d. sterling, and he declined the offer.
In 1711 he assisted Bishop Sage in publishing Drum¬
mond of Hawthornden’s works; and performed the same
favour to Dr Abercrombie, who was then preparing for the
press his Martial Achievements. In 1713 he was deprived
of his friend Dr Pitcairne. On this occasion he testified all
the respect which friendship could inspire to the memory
of his deceased patron and surviving family. He composed
Pitcairne’s epitaph, and conducted the sale of his library,
which was disposed of to Peter the Great of Russia.
In 1714 the Rudiments of the Latin Tongue were pub¬
lished. Eighteen or nineteen Latin grammars, composed
by Scotchmen, had appeared before this period ; yet such
is the intrinsic value of this little treatise, that it soon su¬
perseded all other books on the subject, and is now taught
in all the grammar-schools in Scotland. It has also been
translated into other languages.
He was next called upon to publish the works of Bu¬
chanan. The value of these he enhanced by an elaborate
preface, his Tabula Regum Scotice Chronologica and Pro-
priorum Nominum Interpretatio. The interpretation of
proper names was highly requisite; for Buchanan has so
disguised them in the Roman dress, that the original name
is scarcely discernible ; and the preface puts the reader on
his guard against the chronological errors and factious spi¬
rit of the history. Ruddiman also added a learned disser¬
tation, entitled De Metris Buchananceis Libellus, and sub¬
joined annotations critical and political on the History of
Scotland. As he espoused the cause of Queen Mary, he
raised against himself a host of enemies, and gave occasion
to that celebrated controversy which has been carried on
with much keenness and animosity, and with little inter¬
mission, even to the present times. For this work Rud¬
diman was promised LAO sterling.
He had now been so long accustomed to superintend the
press, that he was led to form the plan of erecting a print¬
ing-office himself. Accordingly, in the year 1715, he com¬
menced printer in partnership with his brother Walter, who
had been regularly bred to the business; and some years
afterwards he was appointed printer to the university, along
with James Davidson, bookseller.
The first literary society formed in Scotland was insti¬
tuted in the year 1718. It probably derived its origin from
the factious and turbulent spirit of the times. The learn¬
ed, anxious perhaps to find some respite from the political
dissensions of the day, endeavoured to procure it in elegant
amusement; for one of the fundamental articles of the new
association was, that the “ affairs of church and state should
not be introduced.” Ruddiman and the masters of the
high school had the honour to found this society. They
were afterwards joined by Lord Kames.
In 1725 was published the first part of his Grammatical
Latina Institutiones, which treated of etymology. The
second part, w hich explained the nature and principles of
syntax, appeared in 1731. He also wrote a third part on
prosody, which is said to be more copious and correct than
517
Riiddiman.
518
R U D D IM A N.
Huddiman. any other publication on the subject. When urged to give
' ’ ^ it to the public, he said dryly, “ T he age has so little ta^te,
that the sale would not pay the expense.” Of this work he
published an abridgment, to which he subjoined an extract
of his prosody.
Ruddiman next engaged in the management of a news¬
paper, an employment for which his genius and industry
seemed to render him well qualified. But those who should
expect either much information or amusement from this
publication, would perhaps be greatly disappointed. I he
newspaper which he conducted was the Caledonian Mei-
cury, and was established in 1720, by William Holland, a
lawyer. Ruddiman acted only for five years in the capa¬
city of printer ; but upon the death of Mr Holland in 1 ^^5
the property was transferred to him, or to his brother W al¬
ter and him conjunctly. This paper continued in the family
of Ruddiman till the year 1772, when it Avas sold by the
trustees of his grandchildren. The Caledonian Mercury
was at first printed three times a week, on Monday, Tues¬
day, and Thursday, in a small quarto of lour pages, with two
columns in each page, and fifty lines in each column ; so
that the whole paper contained only four hundred lines.
Mr Ruddiman, after the death of Mr Spottiswoode, libra¬
rian, remained for some time in his former station ; but he
was at length appointed keeper of the library, though with¬
out any increase of salary ; and some years afterwards Mr
Goodal, the defender of Queen Mary, succeeded him in the
office of sub-librarian.
The assiduous application of Ruddiman, supported by
such learning, was entitled to v/ealth, which now indeed
flowed upon him in what was at that period deemed great
abundance. On the 1st of October 1735, it appeared, bom
an exact statement of his affairs, that he was worth L.1882.
5s. 2d. sterling ; and on the 20th of May the ensuing year
his wealth had increased to L.1985. 6s. 3d. sterling. In
1710 he had valued his effects at L.24. 14s. 9d. sterling.
In 1737 the schoolmasters and teachers in Edinburgh
formed themselves into a society, in order to establish a
fund for the support of their widows and children. Ot this
scheme Ruddiman was an active promoter, and wras chosen
treasurer. Perhaps it was this association which in 1742
gave to the Scotch clergy the idea of forming their widows’
fund.
In 1739 he published Selectus Diplomatum et Numisma-
tum Scotice Thesaurus. rl his work was projected and be¬
gun by Anderson, and hence called Anderson’s Diplomata,
but was finished by Ruddiman. The preface, which is an
excellent commentary on Anderson’s performance, was
written by Ruddiman, and displays a greater extent ol
knowledge than any of his other productions.
As Ruddiman had imbibed from his father those politi¬
cal principles which attached him to the family of Stuart,
he probably did not remain an unconcerned spectator of
the civil commotions which, in 1745, agitated Scotland. He
did not, however, take any active part in the rebellion. His
principles, he has been heard to say, induced him to be a
quiet subject and a good citizen. He retired to the coun¬
try during the summer of 1745; and whilst his fellow-citi¬
zens were spilling each other’s blood, he was more happily
engaged in writing Critical Observations on Burmann’s
CommentariesHan Lucan’s Pharsalia. The Caledonian Mer¬
cury was in the mean time marked with a jealous eye. His
son, who had for some time been the principal manager of
that newspaper, having copied from an English paper a pa¬
ragraph which was reckoned seditious, was imprisoned. T he
solicitation of his father procured his release ; but it was too
late, for the unhappy young man had contracted a distem¬
per in the tolbooth of Edinburgh which brought him to a
premature grave.
During the last seventeen years of his life, Ruddiman
was almost incessantly engaged in controversy. To this
\u
he was in some measure compelled by the violent attacks Ruddind; ^
which some critics of the times had successively made up-
on his works. He was first called upon by Benson, auditor
in the exchequer, to determine the comparative merit ol
Buchanan and Johnson as poets. He gave a decided pre¬
ference to Buchanan in perspicuity, purity, and variety of
style; but, like a candid critic, allowed Johnson to be su¬
perior in the harmony of his numbers. His next antago¬
nist was Logan, one of the ministers of Edinburgh, a weak
and illiterate man, but an obstinate polemic. The subject of
contest was, whether the crown of Scotland was strictly
hereditary, and whether the birth of Robert III. was legi¬
timate. Ruddiman maintained the affirmative in both
points, and certainly far surpassed his antagonist in the
powers of reasoning. He proved the legitimacy of Robert
by the public records of the kingdom, with a force of argu¬
ment which admits of no reply ; but in discussing the first
question, by which he was led to consider the contest be¬
tween Bruce and Baliol, he was not so successful; for there
are many instances in the history of Scotland in which the
brother succeeded to the crown in preference to the son.
He showed, however, that the Scottish crown was at no
period properly elective ; and that, according to the old
licentious constitution of the kingdom, the right of Bruce,
who was the nearest in blood to the royal stock, was pre¬
ferable to the claim of Baliol, though descended from the
eldest daughter.
But the labours of Ruddiman did not end when the pen
dropt from the feeble hand of Logan. He was soon called
upon to repel the attacks of Love, schoolmaster of Dalkeith,
who maintained, in opposition to him, that Buchanan had
neither repented of his treatment of Queen Mary, nor had
been guilty of ingratitude to that princess. That Buchanan
ever repented there is reason to doubt, W hether he was
guilty of ingratitude, let the unbiassed determine, when
they are assured by authentic records that Mary conferred
on him a pension for life of five hundred pounds Scotch.
When Ruddiman had arrived at his eightieth year, and
was almost blind, he was assailed by James Man, master of
an hospital at Aberdeen, with a degree of rancour and viru¬
lence, united with some learning and ability, which must
have touched him in a sensible manner, and alarmed his
fears for his reputation after his decease. He was called a
finished pedant, a furious calumniator, and a corrupter of
Buchanan’s works. The venerable old man again put on
his armour, entered the lists, and gained a complete vic¬
tory. Man, with all his acuteness, could only point out
twenty errors in two folio volumes. Some of these were
typographical, some trifling, and some doubtful. Ruddi¬
man, with much pleasantry, drew up against Man an ac¬
count of four hundred and sixty-nine errors, consisting of
fourteen articles, of which two or three may be produced as
a specimen: 1. Falsehoods and prevarications, twenty; -•
absurdities, sixty-nine; and, 3. passages from classical au¬
thors which were misunderstood by Man, ten. The triumph
which he gained over this virulent adversary he did not long
enjoy, for he died at Edinburgh on the 19th of January
1757, in the eighty-third year of his age, and was buried
in the Greyfriars churchyard, without any monument to
distinguish his grave. He was three times married, but left
behind him only one daughter, Alison, who was married in
1747 to Mr James Stewart. He is supposed to have died
worth L.3000 sterling.
He was of the middle size, of a thin and straight make,
and had eyes remarkably piercing. Of his talents and learn¬
ing his works afford the most satisfactory proofs. His me¬
mory was tenacious and exact; and he was so great a mas¬
ter in the Latin language that he has perhaps been equalled
by none since the days of Buchanan.
Ruddiman has left a character unstained by vice ana
distinguished by many virtues. His piety was exemplary.
R U F
jjimentsHe spent Sunday in religious employment, and, we are in-
J '1 ad forrned’ had Prayers read to him every morning by his ama-
5;J!L^nuensis when the infirmities of age rendered such an assist¬
ance necessary. He was frugal of his time, neither indo¬
lent nor fond of amusement, and so remarkably temperate,
that it is said he was never intoxicated. Though often
forced into controversy, and treated with insolence, he ne¬
ver descended to scurrility, nor cherished resentment against
his enemies. His candour was much admired in one in¬
stance, in the favourable character, which he published in
the Caledonian Mercury, of his antagonist Love after his
decease. Upon the whole, it must be allowed that Ruddi-
man has been of great service to classical literature, and an
honour to his native country.
RUDIMENTS, the first principles or grounds of any art
or science.
RUDRAPRAYAGA, a celebrated place of Hindu pil¬
grimage, in the province of Serinagur. It is situated at the
confluence of the rivers Alcananda and Calyganga, a large
stream which rises in the mountains of Kedar. The con¬
fluence of these rivers is esteemed one of the sacred places
of ablution, and is annually visited by an immense con¬
course of pilgrims of both sexes. Long. 79. 2. E. Lat
30. 19. N.
RUE, CARLES de la, a French orator and poet, was born
at Paris in the year 1643. He was educated at the college
of the Jesuits, where he afterwards became professor of hu¬
manity and rhetoric. At an early age his talent for poetry
disclosed itself. In 1667, when he was only twenty-four
years old, he composed a Latin poem on the conquests of
Louis XIV.; which was so much esteemed by Corneille
that he translated it into French, presented it to the king,
and at the same time passed so high encomiums on the su¬
perior merit of the original, that the author was received
into the favour of that monarch, and ever after treated by
him with singular respect.
De la Rue, anxious to preach the gospel to the Cana¬
dians, requested leave of absence from his superiors; but
having destined him for the pulpit, they refused to comply
with his request. Accordingly, he commenced preacher,
and became one of the most eminent orators of his age.
In his discourses he would probably have been too lavish of
his wit, if he had not been cautioned against it by a judi-
I cious courtier. “ Continue,” said he, “ to preach as you
do. We will hear you with pleasure as long as you reason
with us; but avoid wit. We value the wit contained in two
verses of a song more than all that is contained in most of
the sermons in Lent.”
De la Rue died at Paris on the 27th of May 1725, at the
advanced age of eighty-two. He was one of those who
published editions of the classics for the use of the Dauphin.
Virgil, which fell to his share, was published with notes
and a life of the poet in 1675, 4to, and is a valuable and
useful edition.
RUFFHEAD, Dr Owen, was the son of his majesty’s
baker in Piccadilly. His father having bought a lottery
ticket for him in his infancy, which happened to be drawn
a prize of L.500, this sum was applied to educate him for
the law. He accordingly entered in the Middle Temple,
and seconded so well the views of his father, that he be¬
came a good scholar and an acute barrister. Whilst he
was waiting for opportunities to distinguish himself in his
profession, he wrote a variety of pamplilets on the politics
of the day, and was afterwards distinguished by his accu¬
rate edition of the Statutes at Large, in 4to. He now ob¬
tained good business, though more as a chamber counsellor
m framing bills for parliament than as a pleader; but his
close application to study, with the variety of works he en¬
gaged in as an author, so impaired his constitution, that
after the last exertion of his abilities to defend, by a pamph¬
let, the conduct of administration towards Mr Wilkes, he was
R U F
519
p ented from receiving the reward of a place in the trea- Rufinus.
sury y his death in 1769, at about forty-six years of age.
borne time before his death, Bishop Warburton had engaged
him to write his long-promised Life of Alexander Pope,
which however, when executed, was very far from giving
general satisfaction. The author attributed his ill success
o the deficiency of his materials; whilst the public seemed
rather to be of opinion that, as a lawyer, he ventured be¬
yond his proper line when he assumed the task of a critic
in poetry.
RUFINUS was born about the middle of the fourth cen¬
tury, at Concordia, an inconsiderable town in Italy. At first
he applied himself to the belles lettres, and particularly to
the study of eloquence. To accomplish himself in this
elegant art, he removed to Aquileia, a town at that time so
celebrated that it was called a second Rome. Having
made himself acquainted with the polite literature of the
age, he withdrew into a monastery, where he devoted him-
sell to the study of theology. Whilst thus occupied, St
Jerome happened to pass through Aquileia. Rufinus form¬
ed an intimate friendship with him; but, to his inexpres¬
sible grief, he was soon deprived of the company of his new
friend, who continued his travels through France and Ger¬
many, and then set out for the East. Rufinus, unable to
bear his absence, resolved to follow him. Accordingly, he
embarked for Egypt; and having visited the hermits who
inhabit the deserts of that country, he repaired td Alexan-
dria to hear the renowned Didymus. Here he was grati¬
fied with a sight of St Melania, of whose virtue and cha¬
rity he had heard much. The sanctity of his manners
soon obtained the confidence of St Melania, which con¬
tinued without interruption during their residence in the
East, a period of thirty years. The Arians, wdio swayed
the ecclesiastical sceptre in the reign of Valens, persecuted
Rufinus with great cruelty. They threw him into a dun¬
geon, loaded him with fetters, and, after almost starving
him to death, banished him to the deserts of Palestine.
But from, this exile he was relieved by the pecuniary aid
of St Melania, who employed her wealth in ransoming
those confessors who had been condemned to prison or ba¬
nishment.
St Jerome, supposing that Rufinus would immediately
proceed to Jerusalem, wrote to one of his friends there con¬
gratulating him on the prospect of so illustrious a visiter.
To Jerusalem he accordingly proceeded, and having built
a monastery on the mount of Olives, he there assembled a
great number of hermits, whom he animated to virtue by
his exhortations. He converted many to the Christian
faith, and persuaded more than four hundred hermits who
had taken part in the schism of Antioch to return to the
church. He also prevailed on many Macedonians and Arians
to renounce their errors.
His attachment to the opinions of Origen set him at va¬
riance with St Jerome, who, being of a temper peculiarly
irritable, not only retracted all the praises which he had
lavished upon him, but loaded him with severe reproaches.
Their disputes, which were carried to a very indecent height,
tended to injure Christianity in the eyes of the weak. The-
ophilus, their mutual friend, settled their differences; but
the reconciliation was of short continuance. Rufinus hav¬
ing published a translation of the principles of Origen at
Rome, was summoned to appear before Pope Anastasius.
He made a specious apology for not appearing, and sent
a vindication of his work, in which he attempted to prove
that certain errors, of which Origen had been accused, were
perfectly consistent with the opinions of the orthodox. St
Jerome attacked Rufinus’s translation. Rufinus composed
an eloquent reply, in which he declared that he was only
the translator of Origen, and did not consider himself bound
to sanction all his errors. Most ecclesiastical historians say
that Rufinus was excommunicated b” Pope Anastasius;
520
Rugby
.11
Ruhnke-
R U H
but for this no good evidence has been adduced. In 407
he returned to Rome ; and the year after, that city being
threatened by Alaric, he retired to Sicily, where he died in
410- „ __T • , •
RUGBY, a market-town of the county of Warwick, \n
the hundred of Knightlow, eighty-four miles from London.
It is situated on the Grand Junction Canal, and has a good
market on Saturday. The free-school here is celebrated,
and has educated many youths of the first families of the
kingdom. The population amounted in 1801 to 1487, in
]811 to 1805, in 1821 to 2300, and in 1831 to 2501.
RUGENWALD, a city of Prussia, in the government
of Stralsund, and the capital of the circle of Schlawe-Poll-
now. It is situated on the river Wipper, about a mile distant
from the Baltic Sea. It is a fortified place, containing 460
houses, with 4100 inhabitants, who have some foreign trade,
some ship-building, and manufactures of sailcloth and cord-
age, with many distilleries and breweries. It is frequented
as a sea-bathing place in the summer. Long. 12. 18. E.
Lat. 54. 22. N.
RUHNKENIUS, David, a classical critic of great emi¬
nence, was born at Stolpen, in Prussian Pomerania, in the
year 1723. Of the early part of his studies little is known,
but it appears that he was some time at Schlaff, from which
he removed to Konigsberg, where he met with the cele¬
brated Kant, whose system has so much engaged the at¬
tention of Europe. He afterwards repaired to Gottingen
to attend the lectures of Gesner, and to enlarge his know¬
ledge of the Greek language. Some time after this period
he formed an acquaintance with Ritter and Berger, whilst
he resided at Wittemberg, where he continued about two
years. His earliest production was a disputation De Galla
Placidia Augusta, daughter of Theodosius, and the sister of
Arcadius and Honorius. Under Berger he studied Roman
antiquities and eloquence ; under Ritter, jurisprudence and
history. He relinquished the study of divinity, for which
he was at first designed, and prevailed with his parents to
allow him to transfer his residence to Leyden, where he
arrived with recommendations to many of the learned. He
pursued his studies with avidity and zeal, and accompanied
Alberti in his visit to the Spa in the year 1750. Hemster-
huis wished to attach him to Holland, urging him to perse¬
vere in the study of the law, as affording an additional chance
of employment. This advice he thought proper to follow,
and published a translation of some works of Theodorus,
Stephanus, and other Greek civilians.
In the year 1755 he went to Paris, where Capperonnier,
who was at that time keeper of the king’s library, received
him kindly. He now formed an acquaintance with Dr
Musgrave and Mr Tyrwhitt, who were there for the pur¬
pose of examining the manuscripts of Euripides. He had
also formed the resolution of going to Spain ; but Hemster-
huis recalled him, as he needed his assistance as lecturer in
the Greek tongue. In 1755, Ruhnkenius took possession
of his office, and read an excellent discourse De Gracia
Artium et Doctrinarum Inventrice.
About this time he was useful to Ernesti, in his edition
of Callimachus; and, in 1761, he succeeded Oudendorp as
professor of history and of eloquence, delivering an inaugu¬
ral oration De Doctore Umbratico. About a year after this
event, Ruhnkenius was offered the chair of Gesner in the
university of Gottingen. This offer he however declined;
but, on his recommendation, the office was very worthily
bestowed upon Heyne.
In 1764 he married an Italian lady, who, about six years
afterwards lost both her speech and sight by a stroke of
apoplexy. She had two daughters, one of whom was after¬
wards blind. The desire of Ruhnkenius to do Ernesti a
favour, made him turn his attention to the Memorabilia of
Xenophon ; and he was led to examine with particular at¬
tention the treatise of Longinus on the Sublime. Having
RUN
risen superior to his domestic misfortunes about the year Ruib I
1772, he pursued his new edition of Velleius Patercu- II
lus, and he prepared a second edition of his Epistola Cri- K ll'irL
tica, and a collection of Scholia on Plato. In the year
1766, he published a valuable tract De Vita et Scriptis
Longini, in the form of an academical dissertation, to which
he prefixed the name of one of his pupils. His Velleius
Paterculus appeared in 1779, and in 1780 Homer’s reputed
hymn to Ceres. In 1786, he published the first part of
Apuleius, which had been prepared by Oudendorp, and a
new edition of his own Timseus in 1789; and at the same
time he collected and published the works of Muretus, in
five volumes 8vo.
Both the body and mind of Ruhnkenius were much weak¬
ened in consequence of the loss of friends, an attack of the
gout, and the misfortunes of the Batavian republic ; but he
was in some measure relieved by the satisfaction he felt at
the dedication of Homer by Wolf, although he was not of
that writer’s opinion that the works of Homer -were written
by different authors. He sunk into a kind of stupor on
the 14th of May 1798, which in two days put a period to
his existence.
His knowledge and learning were unquestionably im¬
mense ; and he was allowed to be lively, cheerful, and gay,
even to an extreme. Many posthumous honours were con¬
ferred upon him, and a pension settled on his unfortunate
widow. When Whyttenbach took possession of Ruhnke-
nius’s chair, he delivered a discourse on the early age of
Ruhnkenius, which he proposed as an example to the Ba¬
tavian youth who made the belles lettres their study.
RUIB ISLE, a small island in the Eastern Seas, about
six leagues from May goo, and surrounded by a multitude of
smaller islands, with very deep waters between them. Long.
129. 55. E. Lat. 0. N.
RULE, in matters of literature, a maxim, canon, or pre¬
cept, to be observed in any art or science.
Rule, in a monastic sense, a system of laws or regu¬
lations, according to which religious houses are governed,
and which the religious make a vow, at their entrance, to
observe.
Rules of Court, in Law, are certain orders made from
time to time in the courts of law, which attorneys are bound
to observe, in order to avoid confusion ; and both the plain¬
tiff and defendant are at their peril also bound to pay obe¬
dience to rules made in court relating to the cause depend¬
ing between them. .
RUM, a species of brandy or vinous spirits, which is dis¬
tilled from sugar-canes.
Rum, according to Dr Shaw, differs from simple sugar-
spirit, in that it contains more of the natural flavour or es¬
sential oil of the sugar-cane ; a great deal of raw juice and
parts of the cane itself being usually fermented in the li¬
quor or solution of which the rum is prepared.
RUMBO, a Malay kingdom, in the peninsula, about
sixty miles from the city of Malacca. The sultan and all the
principal officers of this state hold their authority immediate¬
ly from Menangcabow in Sumatra, and have commissions for
their respective offices. They have a peculiar dialect, ca e
by the inhabitants of Malacca the language of Menangcabow.
RUMFORD, Count. See Thompson, Sir Benjamin.
RUMINANT, in Natural History, is applied to an ani¬
mal which chews over again what it has eaten before, an
which is popularly called chewing the cud.
RUN, a very extensive salt morass in Hindustan, wlncn
bounds the western frontier of the province of Gujerat, anc
communicates with the Gulf of Cutch. It is several hun re
miles in length, and exhibits a variety of appearances, Be¬
ing in some places a widely expanded sheet of shallow wa ’
onlv a few inches deep, and in others an impassable swamp.
In some-places it is a dry unproductive bank of sand, i -
pregnated with saline particles, adverse to vegetation.
RUN
mala eluding its windings, it extends over many hundred miles,
J I] and sweeps round the north of Cutch. It appears at one
}j ciman. tjme to jiave ^een covere(j with the waters of the ocean.
RUNALA, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta terri¬
tories, and the province of Kandesh, eighty-four miles east
from Surat. Long. 74. 30. E. Lat. 21. 17. N.
RUNCIMAN, Alexander, an eminent Scottish painter,
was born in Edinburgh in the year 1736. He was the son
of an architect, a profession which has a strong affinity to
that of painting. The opportunity he thus enjoyed of ex¬
amining his father’s drawings gave him an early propen¬
sity to the art in general, which he very soon evinced by
making sketches of any remarkable object, either of nature
or art, that happened to come in his way. We are unac¬
quainted with the gradual progress of his fertile genius; but
it is not to be supposed that he remained long satisfied with
the delineations of straight lines, whilst the fascinating beau¬
ties of landscape lay open to his inspection. Water that
falls over a rugged precipice in the form of cascades, or
the foaming surges of the deep when carried like hoar frost
with impetuosity into the air, both astonish and delight by
their awful grandeur. These objects, and such as these,
would naturally fire, at an early period, the genius of Run-
ciman.
He was bound an apprentice to John and Robert Norry
in the year 1750, the former of whom was a landscape-
painter of very considerable eminence, and by his instruc¬
tions our young artist made rapid progress. About the year
1755, when only nineteen years of age, he began profes¬
sionally to paint landscapes; from which it appeared that
they were by no means first attempts, as they evinced his
ardent application to study before he ventured to appear at
the tribunal of the public. Yet although these were ex¬
cellent, they were nothing more than the dawn of that dis¬
tinguished eminence to which he afterwards attained. His
reputation as a painter of landscape continued to increase
during five years ; but such wras the strength of his genius,
and the amazing fertility of his invention, that he could not
rest satisfied with eminence in a single department. About
the year 1760 he successfully attempted historical paint¬
ing, in which his mind had more ample scope than in pour-
traying the solemn silence of a field, a humble cottage, or
a shepherd void of ambition. Six years of his life were de¬
voted to the study and practice of this important branch
of the art, notwithstanding his situation was attended with
numerous disadvantages. Great, however, as his attain¬
ments were in this department, he could never be satisfied
with himself till he had studied in Italy those masterly
performances which it was his highest ambition to imitate.
He accordingly set out for Italy in the year 1766, when
just thirty years of age; and during a residence of five
years in that enchanting country, where specimens of his
favourite art are met with in all their grandeur and per¬
fection, he continued to copy the best pictures of the an¬
cient masters, in consequence of which his taste was very
much corrected and improved. His conceptions were also
greatly enlarged by the steady contemplation of so many
works of the greatest and most celebrated artists. The
art of composition, which it is of the first consequence for
an historical painter to understand, was only to be acquired
irom the study of its principles, as they are exemplified in
such highly-finished models ; and to these he applied him¬
self with indefatigable industry. He caught the rich yet
chaste colouring of the Venetian school with such truth that
he was allowed to surpass all his competitors in this valuable
quality.
In the year 1771, Runciman returned to his native
country in the full possession of such improvements as were
to be expected from the opportunities he had enjoyed, and
also with a judgment very much matured. It will readily be
granted that he had now some claim upon the patronage of
VOL. XIX.
RUN 521
his country, and we are happy to add that tins was not Runciman.
withheld; for the Board of Trustees, and Sir James Clerk
of Pennycuick, were amongst his patrons; and to Mr Robert
Alexander in particular, a respectable merchant in Edin¬
burgh, his country was more indebted for fostering his ris¬
ing genius than to the whole of its nobility.
An academy for the study of drawing and painting was
established in Edinburgh by the honourable trustees for
the encouragement of the arts in Scotland, of which De la
Cour and Pavilon, two French artists of some ability, were
successively chosen masters. When Pavilon died in 1771,
an application was made to Runciman to take charge of
the academy, the laborious and interesting duties of which
he discharged much to his own honour and the benefit of
his country.
His masterly work in the hall of Ossian at Pennycuick,
the seat of his patron Sir James Clerk, was projected and
begun by him soon after his return to Edinburgh. The next
performance of Runciman was the picture of the Ascension,
painted on the ceiling above the altar of the episcopal chapel,
Cowgate, Edinburgh.
The fire and the feeling displayed in his King Lear were
conceived and executed in a manner not inferior to those of
Shakspeare; and the Andromeda, from which Legat took
his highly-finished engraving, will bear a comparison, in
colouring, with the works of Titian or Correggio. He ap¬
pears to have regarded his own historical work of Agrip-
pina landing the ashes of Germanicus her husband, as a
capital performance, in the execution of which he had be¬
stowed more than ordinary pains.
\\ hilst his health permitted, which the painting of the hall
of Ossian had much impaired, he continued to superintend
the business of the academy, and devoted his leisure hours
to the drawing of historical pieces. He enjoyed a compe¬
tency from his office as teacher, which, with the emolu¬
ments arising from his other works, made him independent.
Runciman as a man was possessed of great candour and
simplicity of manners, having a happy talent for conversa¬
tion, which made some of the most distinguished literary
characters, such as Hume, Robertson, Kames, and Mon-
boddo, extremely fond of his company; but his genuine
worth, and his real goodness of heart, were only fully known
to his most intimate friends. He could communicate infor¬
mation with great facility, and gave his best advice to
young artists, with a view to facilitate the progress of their
improvement.
As a painter, his character has been elegantly drawn by
a brother artist, Mr John Brown, who was better qualified
than most men to make a proper estimate of his merits.
“ Mr Runciman was an artist by nature, eminently quali¬
fied to excel in all those nobler parts of the art, the attain¬
ment of which depends upon the possession of the highest
powers of the mind. Though for a long period of years
labouring under every possible disadvantage, he completed
works which, upon the whole, are equal to the best of those
of his contemporaries, and in some respects it may be bold¬
ly asserted that they are superior. His fancy was fertile,
his discernment of character keen, his taste truly elegant,
and his conceptions always great. Though his genius seems
to be best suited to the grand and serious, yet many of
his works amply prove that he could move with equal suc¬
cess in the less elevated line of the gay and pleasing. His
chief excellence was composition, the noblest part of the
art, in which it is doubted whether he had any living supe¬
rior. With regard to the truth, the harmony, the richness,
and the gravity of colouring; in that style, in short, which
is the peculiar characteristic of the ancient Venetian, and
the direct contrast to the modern English school, he was
unrivalled. His works, it must be granted, like all those
of the present times, were far from being perfect; but it
was Mr Runciman’s peculiar misfortune, that his defects
3 u
522
HUP
R U P
liupert.
Uungpoor were of such a nature as to be obvious to the most unskil¬
ful.” The fine arts and his friends were deprived of this
distinguished painter on the 21st of October 1785.
11UNGPOOR, a town and district of Hindustan, in the
north-eastern extremity of Bengal, situated about the twen¬
tieth degree of north latitude. The district is bounded on the
north by the Bootan Hills, on the south by Mymunsing, on
the east by the Brahmapootra, and on the west by Dinage-
pore. The river Durlah separates it from Couch Bahar.
It is an open country, level, and well watered and produc¬
tive. It yields in abundance silk, rice, indigo, hemp, and
tobacco. Some parts of it are equal in fertility to any part
of Bengal; but, on the whole, it is not so well cultivated or
so populous as the other parts of this province. Besides the
Brahmapootra, the principal rivers are the Teestah and the
Durlah; and the chief towns Rungpoor, Mungulhaut, and
Guzgotta. The tobacco grown here is mostly consumed in
the southern and eastern districts of Bengal. The glandu¬
lar swellings of the throat are very prevalent amongst the
inhabitants, although parts of the district are a hundred
miles distant from the Alpine region. This district was
taken possession of by the Mahommedans early in the thir¬
teenth century, and was always governed by a military col¬
lector. It was at first partially wrested from the rajah of
Couch Bahar, when it was formed into a circar, and was
finally conquered by the generals of Aurungzebe. R is
now under a British establishment of a judge, collector, &c.
The result of some queries by the Marquis of Wellesley in
1801 gave a population of 400,000. Rungpoor, the capi¬
tal, is situated on the eastern bank of the Goggot river. It
is a regularly-built town, and carries on a considerable trade
with Bootan, Assam, and Calcutta. Long. 89. 5. E. Lat.
25. 47. N.
RUNGPORE, an extensive fortress of Hindustan, which
is sometimes, but erroneously, called the capital of Assam.
Gergong is the real capital, of which Rungpore is only the
fort. It is situated on an island, and can only be approached
by a bridge, which was built centuries ago, and remains a
monument of the abilities of the Bengal artificers who were
employed to construct it. Long. 94. 40. E. Lat. 26. 35. N.
RUNIC, a term applied to the language and letters of
the ancient Goths, Danes, and other northern nations. See
Scotland.
RUNNER, in nautical language, a rope belonging to the
garnet and the two bolt-tackles. It is received in a single
block joined to the end of a pendant; it has at one end a
hook to hitch into any thing, and at the other a double
block, into which is reeved the fall of the tackle, or the gar¬
net, by which means it purchases more than the tackle
would without it.
RUNNET, or Rennet, is the concreted milk found in
the stomachs of sucking quadrupeds, which have as yet re¬
ceived no other nourishment than their mother’s milk. In
ruminating animals, which have several stomachs, it is ge¬
nerally found in the last, though sometimes in the next to
it. If the runnet is dried in tbe sun, and then kept close,
it may be preserved in perfection for years. Not only the
runnet itself, but also the stomach in which it is found,
curdles milk without any previous preparation. But the
common method is, to take the inner membrane of a calf’s
stomach, to clean it well, to salt and hang it up in brown
paper. When this is used the salt is washed off, then it is
macerated in a little water during the night, and in the
morning the infusion is poured into the milk to curdle it.
RU PEE, a silver coin current in the East Indies, equal
to about two shillings and sixpence sterling.
RUPERT, Prince palatine of the Rhine, son of Fre¬
derick prince elector palatine of the Rhine, and Elizabeth
daughter of James I. of England, was born in 1619. He
gave proofs of his bravery at the age of thirteen ; and in
1642 came over into England, and offered his service to
Charles I. his uncle, who gave him a command in his army.
At Edgehill he charged with incredible bravery, and made
a very great slaughter of the parliamentarians. In 1643 he
seized the town of Cirencester, obliged the governor of Lich¬
field to surrender, and having joined his brother Prince Mau¬
rice, reduced Bristol in three days, and passed to the relief
of Newark. In 1644 he marched to relieve York, where
he gave the parliamentarians battle, and entirely defeated
their right wing; but Cromwell charged the Marquis of
Newcastle with such an irresistible force, that Prince Ru¬
pert was entirely defeated. After this the prince put him¬
self into Bristol, which surrendered to Fairfax after a gallant
resistance. The king was so enraged at the loss of this city,
so contrary to his expectation, that he recalled all Prince
Rupert’s commissions, and sent him a pass to go out of the
kingdom. In 1648 he went to France, where he was highly
complimented by that court, and kindly received by Charles
II. who for the time sojourned there. Afterwards he was
constituted admiral of the king’s navy ; attacked the Dutch
ships, many of which he took ; and having engaged with De
Ruyter, obliged him to fly. He died in 1682, and was in¬
terred with great magnificence in Henry VII.’s chapel,
Westminster. Mr Grainger observes, that he possessed in
a high degree that kind of courage which is better in an
attack than a defence, and is less adapted to the land-ser¬
vice than that of the sea, where precipitate valour is in its
element. He seldom engaged but he gained the advantage,
which, however, he generally lost by pursuing it too far. He
was better qualified to storm a citadel, or even to mount
a breach, than patiently to sustain a siege, and would have
furnished an excellent hand to a general of a cooler head.
This prince is celebrated for the invention of prints in
mezzotinto, of which he is said to have taken the hint from
a soldier’s scraping his rusty fusil. The first print of this
kind ever published was done by his highness, and may be
seen in the first edition of Evelyn’s Sculptra. The secret
is said to have been soon afterwards discovered by Sherwin,
an engraver, who made use of a loaded file for laying the
ground. The prince, upon seeing one of his prints, sus¬
pected that his servant had lent him his tool, which was a
channelled roller ; but upon receiving full satisfaction to the
contrary, he made him a present of it. The roller was
afterwards laid aside; and an instrument with a crenelled
edge, shaped like a shoemaker’s cutting knife, was used in¬
stead of it. He also invented a metal called by his name,
in which guns were cast; and contrived an excellent me¬
thod of boring them, for which purpose a water-mill was
erected at Hackney-marsh, to the great detriment of the
undertaker, the secret dying with the inventor.
Rupert s Drops, a sort of glass drops with long and slen¬
der tails, which burst to pieces on the breaking off those
tails in any part. They are said to have been invented
by Prince Rupert, and are therefore called by his name.
RUPNAGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Ajmeer, belonging to Dowlet Row Scindia. It is thirteen
miles north-east from the city of Ajmeer. Long 74. 58. E.
Lat. 26. 43. N.
RUPPIN, a city of Prussia, the capital of a circle of the
same name, in the government of Potsdam, which extends
over 725 square miles, and comprehends five cities, 97 vil¬
lages, 84 hamlets, and 54,600 inhabitants. The city is si¬
tuated on the lake Rhin, whence, by sluices, a stream is
carried through it. Although ancient, it is well built, and
was formerly fortified. It contains two churches, a gymna¬
sium with six professors, 800 houses, and about 6400 in¬
habitants. By the lake and a canal which joins the river
Havel, the trade is extended to the Elbe. The occupa¬
tions of the citizens chiefly consist in making w'oollen goods
of various kinds, tanning leather, brewing beer, and distil¬
ling corn-spirits. Near to it there is much tobacco culti¬
vated. Lonsj. 22. 48. 47. E. Lat. 52. 55. 59. N.
Rape
Dro
Rup|,j ^
f
R U S
R U S
insciiid
«
r!_-
RUSCIUD, a small river of Persia, which falls into the
Persian Gulf, forty-eight miles west of Ormus.
RUSCSUK, or Rusdschuk, a city of Turkey in Europe,
and of the district of Silistria. It is situated on the river
Danube, at the point where the Kara Lom falls into that
great stream. It is fortified, and has extensive suburbs,
a fortress, nine mosques, several Greek and Armenian
churches, some Jewish synagogues, and a great number of
baths. It has 6000 houses, and is supposed to contain
30,000 inhabitants, who make linen, woollen, cotton, and
silk goods, and carry on extensive trade by the river. Lat.
43. 51. 3. N.
RUSH, Benjamin, a celebrated American physician,
born on the 5th of January 1745, near Bristol, in Pennsyl¬
vania, was descended from a family who were originally Qua¬
kers, and who had accompanied “Penn, in 1683, to his in¬
fant colony.
He lost his father at an early age, and having been first
placed by his mother at a school kept by the Rev. S. Finley,
he proceeded to finish his classical education at the college
of Princeton, and there took a degree of bachelor of arts be¬
fore he was sixteen. He then determined to make the pro¬
fession of physic the pursuit of his life, and went to study it,
first under the care of Dr Redman of Philadelphia, and then
at Edinburgh, where he was created a doctor of physic in
1768. At the time of his return from Europe, a new school
of medicine was about to be founded in Philadelphia, and
he became professor of chemistry immediately upon his
arrival. In 1776, he began to take an active part, with the
rest of his countrymen, in the political struggle of the day,
and he was chosen a member of congress for the state of
Pennsylvania ; in 1777 he was appointed surgeon-general to
the army, and not long afterwards became physician-gene¬
ral. He also contributed his best efforts to the improvement
of the internal government of the state which he represent¬
ed. But he soon withdrew his attention from political af¬
fairs, in order to devote it exclusively to medical and lite¬
rary subjects ; and he continued to be actively engaged in
the practice of physic for the remainder of his life.
In 1776 he married Miss Julia Stockton of New Jersey.
He had by her thirteen children, nine of whom survived
him in respectability and prosperity. In 1791, when the
two medical colleges of Philadelphia were incorporated into
a single university, he was appointed professor of the in¬
stitutes of medicine, and of clinical practice. In 1793, he
greatly distinguished himself by the new and apparently
successful modes of practice that he introduced in the epi¬
demic yellow fever, which was then causing great mortality
throughout the United States; and which, shortly before
his death, he was induced to believe not contagious, but
derived from some general causes independently of the pre¬
vious existence of the disease. He died on the 13th of
April 1813, after an illness of five days, of a typhus fever,
with some pulmonary symptoms. He had for a consider¬
able part of his life been threatened with consumption, but
had combated its attacks with unusual success. The num¬
ber of his writings is considerable in proportion to their
bulk ; the times and the state of society in which he lived
being such as to produce rather hasty and spirited than
highly finished compositions.
!• His inaugural dissertation was entitled De Concoc-
tione ciborum in ventriculo, and contained an explanation
of the opinions relating to digestion, which he had learned
from Dr Cullen. Edinburgh, 1768.
2. Account of the Effects of the Stramonium. Ameri¬
can Phil. Trans, i. 1770.
3. On the utility of Wort in ill-conditioned Ulcers. Med.
Obs. Inq. iv. 1770; addressed to Dr Huck.
4. Inquiry into the Natural History of Medicine amongst
the Indians of North America; an anniversary oration de¬
livered in 1774.
5. Remarks on Bilious Fevers, addressed to Dr Huck.
Med. Obs. Inq. v.
6. Account of the Influence of the Revolution on the
Human Body; with Observations on the Diseases of Mili¬
tary Hospitals.
7. Inquiry into the Cause of the Increase of Bilious and
Intermitting Fevers in Pennsylvania. American Trans, ii.
8. Observations on Tetanus.
9. Inquiry into the Influence of Physical Causes upon
the Moral Faculty. 1
10. Eemaiks on the Effects of Ardent Spirits upon the
Body and Mind.
11. Inquiry into the Causes and Cure of Pulmonary
Consumption, in his Medical Inquiries and Observations, i.
Phil. 1 /88. His grand object, in the cure of consump¬
tion, is to recommend exercise, and every thing which
will enable, the patient to take exercise ; anticipating a
practice which has become somewhat fashionable in Eng-
land of late years, from its frequent success as a temporary
palliative. 'I he subject is continued in the second volume
of the Inquiries, published in 1793 j and bleeding is very
strongly recommended in the earlier and only curable stages.
Consumption, he observes, is common in America, though
scrofula scarcely ever occurs; and it has sometimes been
known to be clearly communicated by infection to the ne¬
groes belonging to a family, who had, of course, no con¬
sanguinity that could account for a similarity of constitu¬
tion. Five volumes, in the whole, of this collection, ap¬
peared from 1788 to 1798; a second edition was publish¬
ed in 1804, in four volumes 8vo; a third in 1805, revised
and enlarged, with a continuation of the Histories of the
Yellow Fever from 1793 to 1809; a Defence of Blood¬
letting as a Remedy for Certain Diseases; A View of the
State of Medicine in Philadelphia ; An Inquiry into the
Sources of the Usual Forms of Summer and Autumnal
Diseases in the United States ; and the recantation of his
opinion of the contagious nature of the yellow fever, already
mentioned.
12. Information to Europeans disposed to Emigrate to
the United States, in a Letter to a Friend.
13. Observations on the Population of Pennsylvania.
14. Observations on Tobacco.
15. A New Mode of Inoculating Small-Pox, a Lecture.
Reprinted, Phil. 1792, 8vo.
16. Essay on the Study of the Latin and Greek Lan¬
guages, American Museum; condemning it as a waste of
time, oppressive to the poor dunces who are tortured into
their parts of speech, to the great scandal of a humane and
republican country, and subversive of a proper respect for
the rights of boys, and, consequently, for the rights of man.
17. Essays, Literary, Moral, and Philosophical, 1798, 8vo,
containing a republication of the last article, together with
the author’s Eulogiums on Dr Cullen and on Professor Rit-
tenhouse, delivered in 1790 and 1796, and with some other
miscellaneous papers of less moment. 1806.
18. Lectures on the Cause of Animal Life, 1791.
19. Account of the Sugar Maple Tree. American Trans,
iii. 1791.
20. Observations on the Black Colour of the Negro,
American Trans, iv. 1792; attributing the blackness to le¬
prosy.
21. History of the Yellow Fever, 1794. This celebrat¬
ed work has been translated into French and Spanish. At
the time of its publication, an almost superstitious dread
was entertained by medical men of the use of the lancet
in idiopathic fever; and few books have ever had so pow¬
erful and extensive an effect in altering the general treat¬
ment of a disease as this history had produced in every
part of the world. Probably, indeed, it may have carried a
number of the younger and bolder practitioners into an
opposite extreme ; but, with respect to the author’s claims
523
Rush.
524
E U S
E U S
Itush-
worth.
to merit on the occasion, it must be allowed that the inno¬
vation showed an uncommon combination of courage with
talent and good sense ; and the accurate description of the
disease that he has given us fully establishes his claim to
the character of an accurate nosologist.
22. On the Symptoms and Cure of Dropsy, and espe¬
cially of Water in the Head. 1793.
23. An Account of the Influenza of Philadelphia in
1789, 1790, 1791.
24. Observations on the State of the Body and Mind in
Old Age. 1794.
25. Observations on the Nature and Cure of Gout and
Hydrophobia. 1797.
26. Inquiry into the Cause and Cure of the Cholera In¬
fantum. 1797.
27. Observations on Cynanche Trachealis. 1797.
28. Introductory Lectures. 1801. Ed. 2, 1811 ; with
ten new introductory lectures, and two lectures on the
Pleasures of the Senses and of the Mind.
29. In 1809 he published the works of Sydenham and
of Cleghorn, with Notes, and in 1810 those of Pringle and
Hilary.
30. On Diseases of the Mind, 8vo, 1812; an elaborate
work, which had long been impatiently expected.
31. A letter on Hydrophobia, 1813; addressed to Dr
Hosack, and containing additional reasons for believing the
seat of the disease to be chiefly in the blood-vessels; an
opinion which, in all probability, has at least tended to
shorten the sufferings of several individuals on whom the
experiment of profuse depletion has been tried.
Dr Rush’s numerous publications obtained him many
marks of respect from his contemporaries, and procured him
admission, as an honorary member, into the most distinguish¬
ed literary and philosophical societies of Europe. His name
was familiar to the medical world as the bydenham of
America. His accurate observations and correct discrimi¬
nation of epidemic diseases well entitled him to this dis¬
tinction ; while, in the original energy of his reasoning, he
far excelled his prototype. His literary and professional
character, indeed, appears to have been greatly influenced
by the moral and political sentiments which were prevalent
in his day. A love of innovation led him to that proud
defiance of established authority which is just as likely to
be pernicious as to be salutary. The study of the learned
languages he depreciated, in one of his early essays, as
unfit for a republican education ; and this was the first
step to the true Jacobin doctrine, that it was unrepublican
and aristocratical to have received any education what¬
ever. In physic, his rejection of the prejudices of antiquity
was somewhat more consistent with moderation, and the
reform that he attempted was occasionally more success¬
ful than his literary speculations ; nor can it be denied that
there are a multitude of original suggestions in his works,
which may very probably be found capable of affording
valuable hints to the lovers of medical experiments.
Hosack and Francis in the American Med. Philos. Regis¬
ter ; Chalmers’s Biographical Dictionary, xxv. London,
1816, 8vo. (l- l-)
RUSHWORTH, John, the compiler of some very use¬
ful historical collections, was born in Northumberland about
the year 1607, being descended of honourable ancestors.
After attending the university of Oxford for some time,
he removed to Lincoln’s Inn ; but the study of the law not
suiting his genius, he soon deserted it, in order to seek a
situation where he might more easily gratify his love for
political information. He frequently attended the meetings
of parliament, and wrote down the speeches both of the
king and members. During the space of eleven years from
1630 to 1640, when no parliament was held, he was an at¬
tentive observer of the great transactions of state in the
star-chamber, the court of honour, and exchequer cham¬
ber, when all the judges of England assembled there on
cases of great emergency. Nor did he neglect to observe ^
with a watchful eye those events which happened at a dis¬
tance from the capital. Fie visited the camp at Berwick,
and was present at the battle of Newborn, at the treaty of
Ripon, and at the great council of York.
In 1640 he was appointed assistant to Henry Elsynge,
clerk to the House of Commons, and thus had the best
opportunities of being acquainted with their debates and
proceedings. The Commons considered him as a person
worthy of confidence; and, in particular, they trusted him
with carrying their messages to the king whilst he remain¬
ed at York. And when the parliament created Sir ihomas
Fairfax their general, Rushworth was appointed his secie-
tary, and discharged the office much to the advantage of his
master. When Fairfax resigned his commission, his secre¬
tary returned to Lincoln’s Inn, and was soon afterwards (in
1651-52) chosen one of the committee that was appointed
to deliberate concerning the propriety and means of alter¬
ing or new-modelling the common law. He was elected
one of the representatives for Berwick-upon-Tweed to the
parliament which Richard Cromwell assembled in 1658,
and was re-elected by the same town to the parliament
which restored Charles II. to the crown.
After the Restoration, he delivered to the king several
books of the privy-council, which he had preserved in his
own possession during the commotions which then agitated
the country. Sir Orlando Bridgeman, keeper of the great
seal, chose him his secretary in the year 1677, an office which
he enjoyed as long as Sir Orlando kept the seals. In 1618
he was a third time chosen member for Berwick, and a fourth
time in the ensuing parliament in 1679. Fie was also a
member of the parliament which was convened at Oxford.
The different offices he had held afforded him favourable
opportunities of acquiring a fortune, or at least an indepen¬
dence ; yet, whether from negligence or prodigality, he
was never possessed of wealth. Having run himself into
debt, he was arrested and committed to the King’s Bench
prison, Southwark, where he lingered for the last six years
of his life in the most deplorable condition. His memory
and judgment were much impaired, partly by age and partly
by the too frequent use of spirituous liquors. He died on
the 12th of May 1690.
His Historical Collections of private Passages in State,
weighty Matters in Law, and remarkable Proceedings in
Parliament, wrere published in folio at different times. I he
first part, comprehending the years between 1618 and 1629,
appeared in 1659. The copy had been intrusted by Oli¬
ver Cronwell to Whitelock, with instructions to peruse and
examine it. Upon perusing it, he thought it necessary to
make some alterations and additions. The second part was
published in 1680 ; the third in 1692 ; the fourth and last,
which comes down to the year 1648, was published in 1701;
and altogether they made seven volumes. These under¬
went a second edition in 1721; and the trial of the Earl of
Strafford was added, which made the eighth. This work
has been much applauded by those who condemn the con¬
duct of Charles I., and accused of partiality by those who
favour the cause of that unhappy monarch. One person
in particular, Dr John Nelson of Cambridge, in a Collec¬
tion of the Affairs of State, published by the command of
Charles II., undertook to prove that Rushworth has con¬
cealed truth, endeavoured to vindicate the prevailing de¬
tractions of the times, as well as their barbarous actions,
and with a kind of rebound to libel the government at se¬
cond hand. But this accusation seems to be carried too
far. His principles indeed led him to show the king and
his adherents in an unfavourable light, and to vindicate
the proceedings of parliament; yet it cannot justly be af¬
firmed that he has misrepresented or falsified any of the
speeches or facts which he has admitted into his collection.
R U S
uss RUSS, a small island in the Eastern Seas, near the west
i' coast of Nassau. Long. 99. 48. E. Lat. 2. 53. S.
^e|_', RUSSELL, William, a very popular historian, the el-
v dest son of Alexander Russell and Christian Ballantyne, was
born in the year 1741 at Windydoors, a farm-house in the
parish of Stowe and county of Selkirk. Most of the parish
is within the limits of the county of Edinburgh. At an
early age he was sent to school in the neighbouring village
of Inverleithen, well known as a delightful place of sum¬
mer resort. Here he acquired an elementary knowledge
of the Greek and Latin languages ; and private study after¬
wards enabled him to supply many of the deficiencies of
his early education. In 1756 he was removed to Edinburgh,
in order to be instructed in writing and arithmetic ; and
after having attended to these branches for about ten months,
he was bound an apprentice to the bookselling and printing
business for the term of five years. While engaged in this
occupation, he discovered the utmost ardour in literary pur¬
suits ; nor was his situation unfavourable to the acquisition
of useful and elegant knowledge.
After the completion of his apprenticeship, he published
a select collection of modern poems, which was favourably
received. The first edition we have not seen ; the second
bears the subsequent title: “ The select Poems of our most
celebrated contemporary British Poets: viz. Dr Akenside,
Mr Gray, Mr Mason, W. Shenstone, Esq. Mr W. Collins, Lord
Lyttelton, Mess. Wartons, Mr Blacklock, Mr Beattie, Mr
Ogilvie, elc. Vol. I. Second edition, with additions.” Edinb.
1764, l2mo. He afterwards congratulated himself on hav¬
ing contributed to extend the popularity of Gray and Shen¬
stone in the northern part of the kingdom. It may be
mentioned as a proof of his classical taste, that at this early
period ol life he entertained the highest admiration for the
sublime odes of Gray, which he was accustomed to recite in
a wild and enthusiastic manner. In the year 1763, while
employed as a journeyman printer, he became a member of
a literary association, denominated the Miscellaneous So¬
ciety, which was composed of students and other young men
anxious to exercise their talents and to improve their taste.
This juvenile society included other individuals who after¬
wards rose to distinction. Among these we find Sir Robert
Liston, who was employed in several important embassies,
and Mr Dalzel, who became professor of Greek in this uni¬
versity.
About the same period he made an attempt to adapt Cre-
billon’s Rhadatnisthe et Zenobie to the English stage. The
manuscript was submitted to the inspection of his two
friends Liston and Dalzel; w ho, after a very careful peru¬
sal, stated not a few objections to particular passages, though
they do not appear to have condemned the entire perform¬
ance. This tragedy wras at length offered to Garrick: but
Murphy’s Zenobia was at that time in rehearsal; and if the
merit of Russell’s play had been more conspicuous, it pro¬
bably would not have been accepted. In 1764, he issued
proposals for publishing a second volume of his collection
of poems, wdiich however did not make its appearance. With
the view of arranging his materials, he now retired to the
country, and about this period of his life he maintained an
epistolary correspondence with Lord Elibank, Dr Ogilvie,
and Mr Dalzel, by all of whom he seems to have been re¬
garded as a young man of promising talents. In the course
of the ensuing year, Lord Elibank, who was himself a man
of literature, invited him to his seat in the county of Had¬
dington, where he spent the greater part of the autumn, and
had an opportunity of conversing with many distinguished
individuals. To this nobleman he seems to have looked for
favour and protection. The hope of obtaining preferment
through his influence, had induced him to relinquish his
original employment; and in the mean time he continued
to prosecute his studies, particularly in the departments of
history and polite literature.
R U S §25
_ Slaving resided with his father till the month of May Russell.
, he proceeded to London in quest of honour and emo- '
lument. But his high hopes were speedily blasted; and
after having in vain waited for advancement through the
influence of Mr Hume, Lord Elibank, General Murray,
and Governor Johnstone, he was under the necessitv of
contracting his views, and engaging himself as a corrector
of the press in the great office of William Strahan, after¬
wards printer to his majesty. To find himself thus placed
m a situation so inadequate to his expectations, must have
cast a temporary gloom over his mind ; but the freshness
of youth, added to the natural vivacity of his mind, would
have enabled him to support even greater disappointments.
In some brief notices found among his papers after his
death, he mentions his expectations of preferment through
the interest of these individuals; but he does not aver that
his hopes were founded on their promises. The disap¬
pointments of human life may very frequently be traced to
the unreasonableness of our expectations.
In the year 1769 he quitted the employment of Mr
Strahan, and was engaged as overseer of the printing
office of Brown and Adlard. During the same year he
published an “ Ode to Fortitude,” which was immediately
reprinted at Edinburgh by his former masters, Martin anil
Wotherspoon. His “ Sentimental Tales” appeared in 1770 ;
and from this time he contributed to the periodical publi¬
cations many essays in prose as well as verse. In 1772 he
published a collection of “Fables, Moral and Sentimental,”
and “An Essay on the Character, Manners, and Genius of
Women, from the French of M. Thomas.” In 1774 he
produced an octavo volume under the title of “ Julia, a
Poetical Romance.” Of this work, which is founded on
the Nouvelle Heloise of Rousseau, neither the plan nor the
execution can be commended. In the estimate of his lite¬
rary character Russell dissented from the public opinion :
his historical works, which have met with a very favourable
reception, he considered as greatly inferior to his poetical
works, which have been totally neglected. But his friends
certainly had no reason to regret that the collective edition
of his poems, which he long meditated, never made its ap¬
pearance. On the death of Hume he produced an elegy
which occasioned a sarcastic effusion from another poet.
Mickle, who abhorred the scepticism of Hume, and who
believed himself to have been materially injured by Smith,
concludes his verses with this stanza :
For him shall Russell rant and rave
In hobbling rumbling lays ;
And Smith in barbarous sleepy prose
Shall grunt and croak his praise.
Russell is the author of the verses on the death of Dr
Armstrong, subscribed W. R. and dated from Gray’s Inn,
Sept. 10, 1779, which are commonly printed with the poems
of that classical writer. Before this period he had appa¬
rently relinquished his connexion with the printing-office,
and had entirely devoted himself to the pursuits of litera¬
ture. His “ History of America,” published in numbers, was
completed in the course of the same year. This work was
received with some degree of favour ; but the splendid merit
of Dr Robertson’s history precluded all competition. Dur¬
ing the same year, 1779, he likewise published, in octavo,
the first two volumes of “ The History of Modern Europe ;
with an account of the Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire, and a View of the Progress of Society from the
fifth to the eighteenth century. In a Series of Letters from
a Nobleman to his Son.” Their reception was so favour¬
able as to exceed his most sanguine expectations. His
studies experienced a temporary interruption in 1780, when
he embarked for Jamaica in order to recover some money,
due to him as the heir of his brother James, who, after a
residence of several years, had died in that island. He after-
526 R U S
Russell, wards resumed his historical labours, which were occasion-
—v 'ally interrupted by his love of poetry. In the year 1783
he published “ The Tragic Muse,” a poem addressed to Mrs
Siddons. To address verses to a player has been consider¬
ed as beneath the dignity of the literary character. It
would be a crime, said a periodical writer, to sacrifice ge¬
nius on such an uninteresting occasion : we have more dig¬
nified subjects for the poetic Muse than an individual whose
excellence is only a dazzling meteor, and must be forgotten
in a few years at most. Players have sometimes been extra¬
vagantly* extolled, particularly by grateful or aspiring poets
who have written for the stage, and it will doubtless be
granted that a poet may easily find a more dignified theme :
but supreme excellence in any ingenious art seems to be
no improper subject of panegyric; and so rare and difficult
are the fleeting attainments of a great actor, that it may be
considered as a generous exertion of poetic talent to rescue
them from oblivion.
The three volumes which completed the History of Mo¬
dern Europe made their appearance in 1784. From the
manuscript notices to which we have already referred, it
appears that in the composition of each of these five volumes
he spent about twelve months. This wTork, which is the
chief foundation of his reputation, possesses great merit as
a popular view of a very extensive period of history. The
author displays no inconsiderable judgment in the selection
of his leading incidents, and in the general arrangement of
his materials ; and he seems to have studied the philosophy
of history with assiduity and success. His narrative is al¬
ways free from languor; and his reflections are conveyed
in a lively and elegant style. It is however to be regretted
that he should have adopted the useless expedient of ex¬
hibiting his work as a series of letters from a nobleman to
his son: every reader is sufficiently aware that Dr Russell
did not belong to the order of nobility; and the frequent
recurrence of “ my dear Philip,” is too apt to remind us of
Lord Chesterfield. This work has very often been reprint¬
ed, and it still continues to maintain its original popularity.
Russell closes his history with the peace of Paris in 1763.
A continuation, extending to two volumes, was added by
the late Dr Coote; and another writer has continued the
narrative to the death of William the Fourth.
In the year 1787 he married Isabella Scott, a lady of Esk-
dale, to whom he had long been attached, and in whom he
found a pleasant and intelligent companion. He now en¬
tered upon the occupation of a comfortable farm at Knotty-
holm, in the parish of Canonby and county of Dumfries. He
fixed his residence in an elegant cottage, delightfully placed
on the brink of the Esk, and at the distance of about five
miles from the town of Langholm. This may well be de¬
scribed as “ a land of brooks of water, of fountains and
depths that spring out of valleys and hills.” A more beau¬
tiful tract of pastoral country than that which extends for
about twelve miles along the banks of the river, it would
not perhaps be very easy to mention. Here he spent the
remainder of his days. In this neighbourhood there were
several intelligent individuals, with whom he lived in habits
R U S
of intimacy. Of these the most conspicuous was the late Russel
Mr Maxwell, who was eminently distinguished for his scien-
tific skill in music.1
He had now acquired the reputation of a very popular
historian; and in 1792 the university of St Andrews con¬
ferred upon him the degree of LL. D. Academical ho¬
nours have sometimes been more unworthily bestowed.
The very favourable reception of his last publication had
induced him to retrace his steps ; and during the follow¬
ing year he published at London, in two volumes octavo,
“ The History of Ancient Europe ; with a View of the Re¬
volutions in Asia and Africa. In a Series of Letters to a
young Nobleman.” In the composition of this work, he
professes to have been peculiarly studious to found his
facts on original authorities, and to clear the narrative of
unimportant events. He seems however to have allotted
too many of his pages to the poetical details of the Trojan
war. This production partakes of the peculiar merits of
his modern history ; but as the author did not live to com¬
plete his design, it never attained to the same popularity.
Of these two volumes, the greater proportion relates to the
history of Greece ; and the same ground has recently been
trodden by Dr Gillies and Mr Mitford. Dr Coote, having
afterwards been induced to supply what he had left defi¬
cient, published “ The History of Ancient Europe; in a
Series of Letters from a Gentleman to his Son: intended
as an accompaniment to Dr Russell’s History of Modern
Europe” Lond. 1815, 3 vols. 8vo.
Dr Russell did not long survive the publication of his
last work. A stroke of palsy suddenly terminated his life,
on the 25th of December 1793, after he had completed the
fifty-second year of his age. His remains were interred in
Westerkirk churchyard, where a plain mural stone distin¬
guishes his grave. He left a widow, wrho died a few years
ago, and an only child, a daughter, who still survives, and
continues to reside at Knottyholm.
He had engaged in various projects which he did not
live to execute. Besides two complete tragedies, entitled
Zenobia and Pyrrhus, he left in manuscript “ An Analysis
of Bryant’s Ancient Mythology,” and the following unfinish¬
ed productions. 1. The Earl of Strafford, a tragedy. 2.
Modern Life, a comedy. 3. The Love-Marriage, an opera.
4. Human Happiness, a poem, intended to have been com¬
pleted in four books. 5. An Historical and Philosophical
View of the Progress of Mankind in the Knowledge of the
Terraqueous Globe. 6. The History of Modern Europe,
part iii. from the peace of Paris in 1763, to the general
pacification in 1783, including an Account of the Ameri¬
can War, and of the European Transactions in the East
Indies. In a Series of Letters from a Nobleman to his
Son. 7. The History of England from the beginning of
the reign of George III. to the conclusion of the American
War. In the composition of the last of these works Dr
Russell was engaged at the close of his lire. It was to be
comprised in three volumes octavo; for the copyright or
which Mr Cadell had stipulated to pay him seven hundred
and fifty pounds. (x-)
1 John Maxwell, Esq. of Broomholm was horn in the year 1726. In July 1754 he succeeded to an estate which has now belonged
to the family for more than two centuries. His father was William Maxwell, his mother was a daughter of Scott of "Wool in Selkirk¬
shire. Bv his wife, Wilhelmina Malcolm, he had nine sons, of whom only one now survives. Her father was minister of Ewes, and
the grandfather of the late Sir John Malcolm. Mr Maxwell was for many years a justice of the peace and a deputy lieutenant of the
county of Dumfries. He was a remarkably handsome man, about six feet high, and possessing a pleasing address. Broomholm, two
miles from Langholm, and three from Dr Russell’s place of residence, stands in a delightful valley near the junction of the Esk and
Tarras, and is surrounded by extensive and lofty woods. He published, but without his name, “ An Essay upon Tune; being an At¬
tempt to free the Scale of Music, and the Tune of Instruments, from Imperfection.” Edinb. 1781, 8vo. Pp. 290. The ingenious
author died in the month of March 1806, at the age of seventy-nine years and ten months. He had a brother named Walter, and a
sister named Mary. She was the wife of Mr John Little of Langholm, and the mother of the late Colonel Little, so highly distinguished
in the wars of India.
527
RUSSIA.
istory.
(.-in of
t Rus-
6 empire,
E- jlisli-
of th<
m rchy
0) 'sition
ofl Slav!
About the fifth century, a horde of those nations that
roved at large on the banks of the Dnieper and the Volk-
hof, established themselves in that part of the region bor¬
dering on the Dnieper, where is now situated the govern-
' ment of Kief or Kiow. These people were called Slavi, or
Slavonians, and had advanced eastward from the shores of
the Danube. They appear to have laid the first founda¬
tion of the Russian monarchy, and to have built Kief, where
they fixed their capital. It is probable that about the same
time another tribe of Slavi had settled still farther to the
east, in the province of Novgorod, where they built the
city still known by that name, as their metropolis. Of the
government and transactions of these people we have no
regular accounts till the conclusion of the ninth century.
It appears, however, from a work of the Emperor Constan¬
tine Porphyrogenneta on the administration of the empire,
that in his time the city of Novgorod was a place of great
importance, and carried on an extensive commerce, both
with Constantinople and the countries bordering on the
Baltic. The government of the Novgorodians appears to
have been republican, but the people were probably rather
merchants than warriors. We find them involved in fre¬
quent disputes with the neighbouring nations, from whose
ravages they suffered considerable losses.
If we may credit the Russian historians, the Slavi that
had settled about Kief and Novgorod must have extended
the boundaries of their territory northwards as far as the
shores of the Baltic. We find that they were much ha¬
rassed by a piratical nation who dwelt on the coasts of that
sea, and were denominated Varages or Varagians, and who
made frequent descents on the Russian coasts, and ravaged
the country. It is not improbable that these Varagians
formed a part of the Scandinavian nations who, under the
names of Danes and Saxons, successively made themselves
masters of England. They were occasionally employed by
the weaker neighbouring states as mercenary auxiliaries,
and in this capacity they were once called to the assistance
of the Novgorodians. The auxiliaries, after having over¬
come the enemies whom they were invited to combat, be¬
gan to think of availing themselves of the advantages which
their bravery had given them over their employers. From
allies and servants they soon became the masters of the
Slavi; and finding the country about Novgorod superior to
that winch they had left, they resolved to take up their re¬
sidence in their new quarters.
Their leader Ruric built, near the Volkhof, a town whose
site is now called Old Ladoga. Here he established the
seat of his government. The event appears to have taken
place about the year 860; and from this period we may
date the commencement of the Russian monarchy. Ruric
was assisted by two other chiefs of the Varages, Sinaus
and Truvor, who are supposed to have been his brothers,
and with whom he divided the territory of which he had
possessed himself. Of these, Sinaus took up his residence
at Bielo Osero, or the White Lake; wdiile Truvor kept
his court at Isborsk, or, according to some, at Twertzog,
in the district of Pleskow. The three chiefs having thus
divided among them the territories of the Novgorodians,
continued to reign in amity with each other for several
years.
The Slavi, however, did not immediately submit to the
dominion of their new masters. They flew to arms, and
chose for their leader Vadim, who by his feats in war had
acquired the honourable appellation of the valiant. A fierce
engagement took place between the Novgorodians and the
Varages, which ended in favour of the latter, and the brave
Vadim, with several other chiefs of the Novgorodians, lost History,
their lives in the attempt to free their country from its am- s,“*- y ^
bitious guests. This new success emboldened Ruric to
extend his territories, and to change the seat of government
from the insignificant town of Ladoga, to the spacious and
opulent city of Novgorod. Soon after, by the death of his
partners in sovereignty, he became sole monarch of the
conquered territory, where he reigned without further mo¬
lestation for seventeen years, and became the primogenitor
of a long line of descendants, who held the throne without
interruption for several centuries. He appears to have been
zealous for the strict administration of justice in his domi¬
nions, and issued his command to all the boyars, or nobles,
who held territories under him, in order to see it exercised
in an exact and uniform manner. Ruric assumed the title
of grand prince. His dominions extended over the present
governments of Riga, Revel, Polotsk, Pscov, Vyborg, St
Petersburg, Novgorod, Smolensk, Olonetz, Archangel, Vla¬
dimir, Yaroslavl, Kostroma, and Vologda.
As Ruric left only one son, Igor, who was still a minor An. 879.
at his father’s death, Oleg, a kinsman of the deceased mo- Regency of
narch, took upon him the administration of affairs. Either 01eS-
from the natural restlessness of the Varages, or from the
spirit of rebellion manifested by the Novgorodians, which
indicated the necessity of employing his people on some
active enterprise, the new ruler did not long remain idle.
He appears very early to have projected the extension of
his territories, by annexing to them the settlement which
the Slavi had formed about Kief, against which he soon un¬
dertook a formidable expedition. Collecting a numerous
army, composed of Slavi, Varages, and Tschudes (a Fin¬
nish tribe dwelling in districts embraced in the modern
governments of Pscov and Revel), he carried with him the
young prince Igor, and opened the campaign with the cap¬
ture of Lubitch, and of Smolensk the capital of the Krivits-
ches.
Having advanced near the walls of Kief, he did not think Annexa-
it advisable to hazard an open attack. He therefore hadtionofKief
recourse to artifice, and leaving behind him the greater parH?1^6
of his troops, he concealed the remainder in the barks that prmcl"
had brought them down the Dnieper from Smolensk. He ‘
himself, disguising his name and quality, passed for a mer¬
chant sent by Oleg and his ward Igor on business of im¬
portance to Constantinople ; and he despatched officers to
Oskhold and Dir, the two chieftains of the Kievians, re¬
questing permission to pass through their territory into
Greece, and inviting them to visit him as friends and fel¬
low-citizens, pretending that indisposition prevented him
from paying his respects to them in person. The princes,
free from mistrust, accepted Oleg’s invitation, and scarcely
thought it necessary to take with them their ordinary at¬
tendants. They were soon undeceived; for when they ar¬
rived at the regent’s encampment, they were quickly sur¬
rounded by the Varagian soldiers, who sprung from their
place of concealment in the barks. Oleg taking Igor in his
arms, and casting on the sovereigns of Kief a fierce and
threatening look, exclaimed, “You are neither princes nor
of the race of princes ; behold the son of Ruric.” These
words, which formed the signal that had been agreed on,
were no sooner uttei’ed, than his soldiers rushed on the two
princes, and laid them prostrate at the feet of their master.
The inhabitants of Kief, thrown into consternation by this
bold and treacherous act, made no resistance, but opened
the gates of their city to their invader; and thus the two
Slavonian states were united under one head.
Having thus made himself master of the key to the eastern
528
History.
First Rus¬
sian expe¬
dition
against
Constan¬
tinople.
RUSSIA.
An. 913.
Accession
of Igor.
empire, Oleg prepared to carry into effect his ambitious
designs against Constantinople. Leaving Igor at Kief, he
himself embarked on the Dnieper with eighty-thousand war¬
riors, on board of not fewer than two thousand vessels. Their
passage down the river met with no obstruction, till they
came to that part where its course is embarrassed for nearly
fifteen leagues by seven rocks; and here began a series
of perils, labours, and fatigues, which none but barbarians
could have overcome. They were obliged to unload their
barks, and convey them over the rocks; and, in particular,
at the fourth rock, they carried their baggage for above six
thousand paces, exposed to the perpetual risk of attack from
the neighbouring nations with whom they were at war, while
thus hampered and encumbered. Having at length reached
the mouth of the Dnieper, Oleg drew together his scattered
vessels to be repaired, and waited for a favourable wind to
carry him across the Black Sea to the mouth of the Dniester.
Here the vessels were again refitted, and hence the expe¬
dition, coasting along the shores of the Euxine, soon arrived
at the Strait of Constantinople.
The inhabitants of the imperial city, on discovering the
approach of the barbarians, had drawn a massy chain across
the harbour, thus hoping to prevent their landing. In this
hope, however, they were deceived. The invaders drew
ashore their barks, fitted wheels to their flat bottoms, and
converted them into carriages, which by the help of sails
they forced along the roads that led to the city, and thus
arrived under the walls of Constantinople. In their route
they ravaged the whole country, and pillaged and demolished
the houses ; loaded the inhabitants with irons, and commit¬
ted other enormities which generally attend the incursions
of a barbarous enemy. The weak Leo, who then swayed
the sceptre of the Grecian empire, instead of making a
manly resistance, is said to have attempted carrying off his
enemy by poison ; but this not succeeding, he was obliged
to purchase from the conqueror an ignominious peace. Oleg
on his return made his entrance into Kief laden with the
wealth acquired by his victory; and the people, dazzled with
such splendid objects, imagined their prince to be endowed
with supernatural powers, and looked up to him with a re¬
verence approaching to adoration.
Soon after his return to his own dominions, the Russian
monarch despatched deputies to Constantinople with the
articles of a treaty, which he required the Greek emperor
to sign. This treaty, which is preserved in the Chronicles
of Nestor, is extremely curious ; and we learn from it many
important particulars respecting the internal policy of the
Russians at the beginning of the tenth century. Several
articles of it show that the Russian laws laid great stress on
oaths ; that they pronounced the sentence of death against
the murderer, instead of inflicting on him only a pecuniary
fine, and thus allowing the rich to commit assassination with
impunity; that the punishment of offences did not extend
to the entire confiscation of goods, and hence the widow
and orphan did not suffer for a crime of which they were
innocent; that robbery, which attacks only property, was
punished by the privation of property ; that the citizens, se¬
cure in their possessions, were under no apprehension that
the sovereign would seize on their heritage, and might even
dispose of their effects in favour of friends.
Oleg maintained the sovereign power for thirty-three
years; nor does it appear that, Igor, even after he attained
the age of majority, had any share in the administration, till
the death of his guardian, in 913, left him in full possession
of the throne.
Igor had reached his fortieth year before he entered upon
the government. He soon discovered marks of the same
warlike spirit which had actuated his predecessor. Among
the nations that had been subjugated by Oleg, several, on
the accession of the new sovereign, attempted to regain their
independence; the Drevlians, who dwelt on the banks of
the Uscha, in the present district of Vrutsch, being the first Histo
to revolt. They were, however, soon quelled, and punished
by the imposition of an increased tribute.
Igor had next to contend with more formidable enemies.
The Petchenegans, a nation hitherto unknown, quitted their
settlements on the Yaik and the Volga, and made incur¬
sions into the Russian territory. These people appear to
have been at least as pow erful and warlike as the Varages;
and Igor, finding himself unable to cope with them, con¬
cluded a treaty of alliance. About five years afterwards,
disputes arose between the new allies, and both had recourse
to arms. It appears that the Russians were finally victo¬
rious, and the Petchenegans were for some time disaoled
from giving further molestation.
The Russian monarch, in imitation of his guardian, soon An. 94
turned his attention towards the Grecian empire, where de-Seeomi
predations might apparently be made with impunity. Idc against
equipped an immense armament, consisting, if we may credit Constan
the improbable tale of the Russian annals, of ten thousand nople.
barks, each carrying forty men, thus forming an army of four
hundred thousand warriors. Lie set sail for Constantinople,
without any previous declaration of war, and without any
ostensible motive for thus infringing the treaty which had
been concluded some years before between Oleg and Leo.
In his route he overran and ravaged the provinces of Paph-
lagonia, Pontus, and Bithynia, plundering the towns, and
butchering the inhabitants. For some time the barbarians
met with no opposition, as the imperial troops were engaged
in distant provinces ; but the government of the empire was
now in very different hands from those wrhich had held it dur¬
ing the former invasion. The Grecian forces were well ap¬
pointed, and commanded by two generals of approved ability
and courage. These were iheophanes and 1 hocas, of whoni
the former commanded the fleet, and the latter the army.
The Russians had soon cause to repent their temerity. Theo-
phanes attacked them on board their ships, within sight of
the Pharos, and throwing among them the unquenchable
Grecian fire, with the effects of which they were wholly
unacquainted, produced such confusion, that many plunged
into the sea in order to avoid the flames that threatened
and pursued them. L neir vessels were dispersed, shatter¬
ed, or burned, and great numbers of their crews perished.
The remainder reached the shores of Bithynia; but be¬
fore they could recover from their consternation, they were
met by Phocas, who fell upon them with his troops, and
made prodigious slaughter. So great were the losses sus¬
tained by Igor in this unfortunate expedition, that he car¬
ried back with him scarcely a third of his army. ^ This se¬
cond naval expedition of the Russians against Constanti¬
nople took place in 941.
Though discouraged by the ill success which had at¬
tended his first invasion of the Grecian empire, Igor was
too much stimulated by the desire of plunder, not to risk a
second attempt. Three years afterwards, he collected new
forces, took into pay many of the Petchenegans, and again set
out for Greece; but before he had advanced beyond the Tau-
rican Chersonesus, the emperor Romanus, informed of Ins
approach, and not choosing to hazard the result of an en¬
gagement, sent deputies to the Russian leader, olfering to
pay him the same tribute which had been given to his pre¬
decessor. With this offer Igor complied, and once more
retired with his army. . .
Igor was now far advanced in years ; but the insatiable
rapacity of his officers, ever craving for fresh spoils from van¬
quished nations, impelled him to turn his arms against the
Drevlians, for the purpose of obtaining from them an in¬
crease of their yearly tribute. In this unjust attack he was
at first successful, and returned loaded with the contribu¬
tions which he had levied from that people ; but having
dismissed great part of his troops with the spoils of the van¬
quished, and marching with the remainder too far. into the
JJl
RUSSIA.
529
A 545.
E; :ncy
o!
i-
,%a
country, he fell into an ambuscade, which the Drevlians,
now grown desperate, had formed on his approach, in the
neighbourhood of Iskorosch. The Russians were soon over¬
powered, and Igor being made prisoner, was put to death.
Before the death of Oleg, Igor had married a princess of
a bold and daring spirit, named Olga, by whom he had one
son, Sviatoslaf; but as this boy was very young at the death
of his father, the queen-mother Olga assumed the reins of
government. Her first care was to take signal vengeance
upon the unhappy Drevlians, for having bravely defended
themselves against the encroachments of foreign enemies.
This tribe, satisfied with the death of their oppressor,
appeared desirous of renewing their amicable intercourse
with the Russians, and their chief, Male, is even said to
have made an offer of his hand to Igor’s widow. Olga, with
that deep cunning and concealed malice that so often mark
the character of the despotic leader of a barbarous people, pre¬
tended to listen to their overtures, and received the deputies
of Male, but immediately ordered them to be privately put
to death. In the mean time she invited a larger deputa¬
tion from the Drevlian chief, which she treated in the same
inhuman manner, taking care that no tidings of either mur¬
der should be carried to the Drevlians. She then set out,
as if on an amicable visit, to conclude the new alliance, and
having proclaimed a solemn entertainment, to which she in¬
vited some hundreds of the principal inhabitants of the Drev¬
lian towns, she caused them to be treacherously assassinated.
But this w'as only the first step to the more dreadful vengeance
which she had resolved to inflict on this deluded people.
She laid waste the whole country of the Drevlians, and in
particular the town near which Igor had lost his life. For
a long time she could not master the place, as the inhabi¬
tants, dreading the horrible fate that awaited them, from
the revengeful spirit of Olga, defended themselves with the
utmost valour and success. At length, being assured of
clemency, upon condition of sending to their besieger all the
pigeons of the town, they submitted ; but the queen causing
lighted matches to be fastened to the tails of the pigeons, set
them at liberty. The birds flew to their usual places of resi¬
dence in the town, which were speedily in a conflagration.
The wretched inhabitants endeavouring to escape the flames,
fell into the hands of the Russsian soldiers, planted around the
town for that purpose, by whom they were put to the sword.
This was the only warlike transaction, if it deserves that
name, which took place during the regency of Olga. Though
not uncommon in the annals of a barbarous people, it would
have been sufficient to hand down her name with detesta¬
tion to posterity, had she not, in the opinion of her pane¬
gyrists, atoned for the enormity by attempting to introduce
into her dominions the Christian religion,
on of Hitherto the Slavi, and the Scandinavian nations who had
rav1- taken possession of their territories, were Pagans; and their
religious ceremonies, like those of all the surrounding na¬
tions, were marked by an absurd and cruel superstition.
Their deities seem to have been borrowed, partly from the
Greeks and Romans, and partly from the Scythians; but
were characterised by peculiar names, and represented by
idols of complex workmanship and grotesque appearance.
Thus, the god Perune, or Perkune, who was the chief among
the Slavonian deities, was personated by an idol whose head
was of silver, its ears and mustachios of massy gold, its legs
of iron, and its trunk of hard incorruptible wood. It was
decorated with rubies and carbuncles, and held in its hand
a stone carved, being the symbol of lightning. The sacred
fire burned continually before it; and if the priests suffered
this to be extinguished, they were doomed to perish in the
flames, as enemies of the god. Sacrifices of their flocks to
this supreme deity were regarded as trifling. His altar smok¬
ed with the blood of captives, and even the children of his
worshippers were sometimes immolated to appease his wrath
or propitiate his favour.
VOL. xix.
It is uncertain at what time the light of Christianity be- History,
gan to beam on the nations that occupied the banks of^"—
the Dnieper, nor are we acquainted with the circumstances
that led to the conversion of the queen-regent. We find, ('f.,.;sfU°
however, that about the middle of the tenth century, she nity.
undertook a journey to Constantinople for the express pur¬
pose of being initiated into the religion of Jesus. Constan¬
tine Porphyrogenneta, who then sat on the imperial throne,
received the royal convert with the greatest honour and
respect; he himself conducted her to the baptismal font, and,
in the character of her sponsor, gave to her the name of
Helen. Her example, however, had little influence on her
son, or the nation at large. The Russians do not seem to
have been very ardent in their religious observances, nor pe¬
culiarly attached to the opinions of their forefathers; but
the nature of Christianity, and the character of its disciples,
were not in their eyes sufficiently striking or alluring to pro¬
duce any change in their religious system. Olga’s son,
Sviatoslaf, either from his contempt for the unwarlike cha¬
racter of the Greek Christians, or through fear of the ridi¬
cule to which his conversion might subject him from his
young companions, disregarded all his mother’s solicitations.
He did not, however, prevent the people from receiving
baptism, and a few proselytes were made. Though the
character of Olga, even after her conversion to Christianity,
was by no means such as to entitle her to the rank which
she afterwards attained among the Russian saints, it ap¬
pears that she had given her son many wise and prudent
instructions respecting the government of his future empire.
She travelled with him round the country ; superintended
the erection of bridges and the making of roads, for the be¬
nefit of trade and commerce; built several towns and vil¬
lages, and founded such laudable institutions, as sufficiently
evince her talents for governing a nation. She died about
the year 969, at a very advanced age.
It is probable that Olga retired from the administration ;,rl) 0f
of affairs soon after her conversion to Christianity ; for we Sviatoslaf 1
find Sviatoslaf in full possession of the government long
before his mother’s death. This prince has been consider¬
ed as one of the Russian heroes; and if a thirst for blood, a
contempt of danger, and a disregard of the luxuries and con¬
veniences of life, be admitted as the characteristics of a hero,
he deserves the appellation. His habits rendered him the
idol of his army. He took up his habitation in the camp,
where he led a life exactly similar to that of the meanest,
soldier.
His first expedition wras against the Kozares, a people An. 965.
who had come from the shores of the Caspian and the sides
of the Caucasus, and had established themselves along
the eastern coast of the Black Sea. They had rendered
tributary both the Kievians, and the Viateches, a Slavonian
nation that dwelt on the banks of the Oka and the Volga.
Sviatoslaf, desirous of transferring to himself the tribute
which the Kozares derived from the latter people, marched
against them, and appears to have succeeded in his design.
He defeated them in a pitched battle, and took by storm
their capital city, Sarkel or Belgorod. It is said by some
historians that he even annihilated the nation; and cer¬
tain it is, that from that time no mention is made of the
Kozares.
The martial fame of Sviatoslaf had extended to Constan- Hjsaiijance
tinople; and the Emperor Nicephorus Phocas, who was wjtb the
then harassed by the Ungrians, assisted by his treacherous Greek em-
allies the Bulgarians, applied for succours to the Russian peror.
chieftain. A subsidiary treaty was entered into between
them, and Sviatoslaf hastened southward with a numerous
army. He quickly made himself master of most of the
Bulgarian towns along the Danube, and was so elated with
his success that he determined to remove the centre of
his government from Kief to the city of Pereiaslavatz, now
Yamboly, situated upon the shores of that river. He was
3 x
530
RUSSIA.
History, soon obliged, however, to postpone the completion of this
s ■»”' y * design, on receiving intelligence that his old enemies the
Petchenegans had assembled in great numbers, ravaged
the Kievian territory, and laid siege to the capital, within
the vralls of which were shut up his mother and his sons.
He hastened to the relief of his family, but before he reach¬
ed home, the Petchenegans had been induced to raise the
siege by an artifice of the Kievian general. Sviatoslaf on
his arrival pursued the enemy, defeated them, and obliged
them to sue for peace.
His divi- He now resumed his design of establishing himself on
sion of the the banks of the Danube, and divided his hereditary domi-
principality. njons among his children. He gave Kief to Yaropolk, the
Drevlian territory to Oleg, and on Vladimir, a natural son,
born to him by one of the attendants oi Olga, he bestowed
the government of Novgorod. On his return to Bulgaria,
indeed, he found that his affairs had assumed a very diffe¬
rent aspect; for the Bulgarians, taking advantage of his
absence with his troops, had recovered most of their towns,
and seemed well prepared to resist the encroachments of a
foreign power. Sviatoslaf, however, soon regained all that
he had lost. .
During these transactions the Emperor Nicephorus had
been assassinated, and John Zimisces, his murderer, had
succeeded to the imperial diadem. The new emperor sent
ambassadors to the Russian monarch, requiring him to
comply with the stipulations of his treaty with Nicephorus,
and evacuate Bulgaria, which he had agreed to occupy as
an ally, but not as a master. Sviatoslaf refused to give up
his newly-acquired possessions, and prepared to decide the
contest by force of arms. The particulars of this campaign,
and the numbers of the contending armies, are very diffe¬
rently related by the Russian annalists, and the historians
of the Grecian empire ; the former stating that Sviatoslaf
had not more than ten thousand men, and yet was victorious
over the troops of Zimisces; while the Grecian historians af¬
firm that the Russians amounted to three hundred thousand,
but were defeated, and compelled to abandon Bulgaria. As
far as respects the issue of the war, the Grecian writers are
probably correct; for it is certain that Sviatoslaf retreated
towards Russia with the shattered remains of his army. He
did not, however, live to reach the capital; for having, con¬
trary to the advice of his most experienced officers, attempt¬
ed to return to Kief by the dangerous navigation of the
Dnieper, he was intercepted by the Petchenegans near the
cataracts of that river. After remaining upon the defensive
during winter, exposed to all the horrors of famine and dis¬
ease, he, on the return of spring, attempted to force his way
through the ranks of the enemy; but his troops were de¬
feated, and himself killed in the battle.
Yaropolk, the sovereign of Kief, may be considered as
Succession the successor of Sviatoslaf upon the Russian throne; but his
of Yaro- reign was short and turbulent. A war took place between
him and his brother Oleg, on account of a base assassina¬
tion committed by the latter upon the son of his father’s
friend and privy councillor Svenald. Oleg was defeated
and slain, and the other brother, Vladimir, dreading the
increased power and ambitious disposition of It aropolk,
abandoned his dominions, which were quickly seized on by
the Kievian prince. Vladimir had retired among the Va-
ragians, from wdiom he soon procured such succours as
enabled him to make effectual head against the usurper.
While his natural courage was thus increased, his enmity
against Yaropolk received an additional spur from an af¬
front inflicted on hint by a lady whom he had sought in mar¬
riage, but who, despising the meanness of his birth, as being
the son of a slave, had rejected his proposals, and offered
heT hand to Yaropolk. The vindictive Vladimir, on being
informed of this insult, attacked the possessions of the
lady’s father, put both him and his two sons to the sword,
and obliged the princess to accept his hand, yet reeking
polk
with her parent’s blood. He now advanced towards Kief, History,
where Yaropolk was by no means prepared to oppose him. wv^-
The Kievian prince had indeed been lulled into security
by the treacherous report of one of his voyvodes, who was
in the interest of Vladimir, and who not only prevented
Yaropolk from taking effectual measures for his safety, but
found means to raise suspicions in his breast against the
inhabitants of his capital, which he thus induced him to
abandon. The Kievians, left without a leader, opened
their gates to Vladimir; and the wretched Yaropolk, still
misled by the treachery of his adviser, determined to throw
himself on the mercy of his brother. It is probable that
this would have availed him little, as Vladimir seems to
have determined on his death; but before he could reach
the arms of his revengeful brother, Yaropolk was assassi¬
nated by some of his Varagian followers. .
By this murder the conqueror acquired the undividedAn-
possession of his father’s territories, and maintained the
sovereignty during a long reign, respected at home, and
feared abroad. Indeed, had not the commencement of his
reign been stained with the blood of his father-in-law and
his brother, we might place him among the most distin¬
guished monarchs of the age in which he lived, as he not
only extended and enriched his empire, but was the means
of establishing in his dominions, upon a firm and lasting
basis, the Christian religion, which, though introduced by
Olga, appears hitherto to have made but a very timing
progress. , .
The commencement of Vladimir’s reign formed but a Reign of
continuation of those enormities which had conducted hun^J^
to the throne. He began with removing Elude, the trea¬
cherous voyvode by whom his brother had been betrayed
into his power, and to whom he had promised the highest
honours and dignities. Accordingly, for three days he suf¬
fered Elude to live in all the splendour of a prince. At the
end of that period he thus addressed him : “ I have fulfilled
my promise; I have treated thee as my friend; the honours
thou hast received exceed thy most sanguine wishes. Io-
day, as the judge of crimes and the executor of justice, 1
condemn the traitor, and punish the assassin of his prince.
Having uttered these words, he caused Elude to be put to
death. He displayed still more the perfidiousness of his
character in his behaviour towards the Varagians, who had
assisted in placing him on the throne of his ancestors; tor
on their requesting permission to go and seek their fortune
in Greece, he granted their request, but privately adver¬
tised the emperor of their approach, and caused them to be
arrested and secured. j v* a
Vladimir engaged in numerous wars, and subjected se¬
veral of the neighbouring states to his dominion. He seized
on part of the Polish territories, and compelled the Bul¬
garians who dwelt in the districts that now form the go¬
vernment of Kazan to do him homage. He subjecte t e
Petchenegans and Khazares, who lay in the immediate
neighbourhood of the Kievian state ; he reduced to his au¬
thority Halitsch and Vladimir, countries which are now
called Gallicia and Lubomiria; he conquered Lithuania as
far as Memel, and took possession of a great part ot tne
modern Livonia
tort
i jslisbes
jstiani-
idem Livonia. nrimnallr
His conduct after these successes by no means prognos-^^
ms conuuci miei . .— 11VT ^ radevOi
ticated his future zeal for the Christian religion. JNone o pagaIli
the Russian monarchs appears to have been more devou in
the adoration of their heathen deities. It was usual tor
him to return thanks to the gods for the success whi'- eY
had granted to his arms, and to show his gratitude by o
fering on their altars a part of the prisoners he had taken
in war. Upon one occasion his piety extended so far, tnai
he resolved on selecting one of his own subjects as the oo-
ject of his sacrifice, thinking that he should thus more wo -
thily testify his gratitude for the signal favours he had
ceived from heaven. His choice fell upon a young
531
} ory. gian, who was the son of a Christian, and had been brought
up in the new faith. The unhappy father refused the de¬
manded victim. The enraged people, deeming their prince
and their religion insulted, assailed the house, and having
burst open the doors, butchered both the father and the son,
folded in mutual embraces.
Es lishes Yet this furious Pagan and bloody warrior afterwards
Ch'tiani- became a most zealous Christian, and a shining example of
V us' charity and benevolence to his subjects. The circumstances
*hat led to these important changes are, as well as the mar¬
tial achievements of this favourite prince, related with great
minuteness by the Russian annalists, and give this part of
their chronicles the air rather of a historical romance than
a narrative of facts. We are told that the fame of Vladi¬
mir’s military exploits had rendered him so formidable to
the neighbouring nations, that each courted his alliance,
and strove to render this more lasting by engaging him in
the ties of the same religion with themselves. In particu¬
lar, the Grecian emperors sent to him a philosopher, whose
exhortations, though they did not at first induce Vladimir
to embrace the Greek ritual, at least succeeded in giving
him a favourable opinion of it; so that the philosopher was
entertained with respect, and returned home loaded with
presents. We are also told, that, determined to act in the
most impartial manner with respect to the several religions
which he had been invited to embrace, the prince despatch¬
ed persons remarkable for their wisdom and sagacity to visit
the surrounding nations, inspect the religious tenets and ce¬
remonies that distinguished them, and communicate to him
the result of their observations. On the return of these
deputies, the report of those who had visited the churches
of Constantinople, and witnessed the imposing splendour of
religious adoration, and the gorgeous decorations of the
Greek priests in the superb basilica of St Sophia, proved
so satisfactory to Vladimir, that he determined on embra¬
cing the Christian religion according to the observances*of
the Greek church. But though he resolved on baptism, he
was too proud to seek from the Greek emperor a priest by
whom the solemn ordinance might be performed. He as¬
sembled an army selected from all the nations of which his
empire was composed, and marching to Taurida, laid siege
to Theodosia, which is the modern Kaffa. On sitting down
before the walls of this place, he is said to have offered up
the following characteristic prayer : “ O God, grant me thy
help to take this town, that I may carry from it Christians
and priests to instruct me and my people, and convey the
true religion into my dominions.” His prayer was at length
granted ; for, rather by stratagem than by force, he made
himself master of the town, and, through it, of the whole of
the Crimea. He might now have received baptism; but his
desire of being initiated in the Christian faith seems to have
been excited more by ambition than by true devotion. His
ruling passion promised to be amply gratified by an alliance
with the Grecian emperors, as he would thus acquire some
legal claim on the territories which they possessed. He
therefore demanded in marriage Anna, the sister of Basi-
lius and Constantine, who jointly held the imperial dignity;
threatening, that if they refused his proffered alliance, he
would lay siege to Constantinople. After some delibera¬
tion, the emperors complied, on condition that Vladimir and
his people should become Christians ; and these conditions
being accepted, the Russian monarch was baptized, took
the name of Basilius, received the Grecian princess, and, as
the reward of his victories, carried off several popes and ar¬
chimandrites, together with sacred vessels and church books,
Sis i of saints, and consecrated relics
cbai tereC* Whatever might have been the considerations that sway-
' ed Vladimir in his conversion to the Christian faith, it is
certain that his new religion had the happiest influence on
his subsequent life and conduct. He not only abjured ido¬
latry himself, and destroyed the idols which he had caused
to be raised in his dominions, but he used every exertion to History,
persuade and compel his subjects to follow his example.
Before his conversion he is said to have possessed five wives
and eight hundred concubines^ but after he became a Chris¬
tian, he maintained an unshaken fidelity towards the impe¬
rial piincess. As a Pagan he had been lavish of human
blood; but after he had adopted the religion of Jesus, he
could scarcely be prevailed on to sentence to death a single
highway lobber. His former delight had been in storming
towns and gaining battles ; but he now found his greatest
pleasure in building churches, and endowing seminaries of
education. He encouraged the raising of new cities and
towns ; peopled the waste districts of his country with the
prisoners whom he had taken in war; and not"only con¬
ducted himself as a sovereign who consulted the welfare of
his dominions, but displayed many benevolent and amiable
qualities that highly endeared him to his subjects. By thus
showing that Christianity had made him both a milder and
a wiser prince, he insured from his people a respect for the
new religion, whilst the striking example of the sovereign
and his nobles could not fail to influence the minds of the
inferior orders. Having one day issued a proclamation, or¬
dering all the inhabitants of Kief to repair next morning to
the banks of the river to be baptized, the people cheerfully
obeyed the order; observing, that if it were not good to be
baptized, the prince and the boyars would never submit
to the ceremony.
The establishment of Christianity in the Russian domi-An, 1015.
nions forms one of the most prominent features in the reign Death and
of Vladimir, and gives him a much juster claim to the title c;!ar^ct®ro^
of Great, which has been bestowed on him by historians, ^
than all his numerous victories. We have therefore dwelt
on it with the greater minuteness. Indeed the latter trans¬
actions of his reign afford but little interest. His last days
were embittered by domestic vexations. His wife and one
of his favourite sons died long before him; while another of
his sons, Yaroslaf, on whom he had bestowed the govern¬
ment of Novgorod, refused to acknowledge him as his liege
lord, and applied to the Varagians for assistance against his
father. The aged Vladimir, compelled to march against a
rebellious son, died of grief upon the road, after a long and
glorious reign of thirty-five years.
Notwithstanding the unfavourable circumstances we have His im-
noticed, the improvement which Russia owed to this prince Provement
was great and permanent. With the Christian religion he°.fthe lius-
imported from Greece the arts which then flourished in that^n rnonar'
empire; and almost entirely new-modelled the language ofC y‘
his country, by engrafting on it the more refined dialect of
the Greeks, and adopting, in a great measure, the letters of
their alphabet.
The dominions of Russia, which at first consisted of two
principalities, that of Novgorod, bordering on the Baltic,
and that of Kief, occupying no very large space on the
eastern bank of the Dnieper, were, by the victories of Vla¬
dimir, extended westward along the shores of the Baltic
into Lithuania and Poland ; southward along the shores of
the Euxine, so as to include the Crimea and great part of the
Bulgarian territories; whilst to the east it extended to the
Oka, the Don, and the Volga. He still maintained the seat
of government at Kief, of which he was styled grand prince,
whilst the other districts were either tributary to that prin¬
cipality, or held of it as their superior.
Before his death, Vladimir had divided his extensive ter-Partition
ritories amongst his twelve sons, reserving to himself and of his do-
his immediate heir the grand principality of Kief. The con- ininions
sequences of this ill-judged distribution were disunion, con- amon£st
tention, and almost perpetual warfare amongst the brothers.
The most respectable, and in the end the most powerful of
these, was Yaroslaf, or, as he is commonly called, Jarislas,
prince of Novgorod. This prince, finding that Sviatopolk,
who had raised himself to the sovereignty of Kief after his
532
RUSSIA.
Reign of
Yaroslaf.
History, father’s death, attempted by assassination, or force of arms,
—' to take possession of the neighbouring principalities, deter¬
mined to resist him in his encroachments. Collecting an
army of Novgorodians, he, in 1016, drove Sviatopolk from
Kief, and forced him to seek an asylum with his father-in-
law, Boleslas, duke of Poland. Boleslas, easily persuaded
to engage in the cause of his son-in-law, accompanied Svia¬
topolk into Russia with an army, retook Kief, and obliged
the Novgorodian prince to retire with precipitation. Whilst
he was endeavouring to collect fresh forces to renew the
war with Boleslas and Sviatopolk, the latter, by the treach¬
ery and perfidy with which he treated his Polish allies, con¬
tributed to his own downfall. He caused great numbers of
the Poles to be secretly massacred, a transaction by which
Boleslas was so incensed, that he plundered Kief, made
himself master of several places on the Russian frontiers,
and then left his perfidious son-in-law to shift for himself.
Sviatopolk now sought assistance from the Petchenegans,
and with an army of these auxiliaries offered battle to Ya¬
roslaf, not far from the place where he had, four years be¬
fore, caused one of his brothers to be murdered. The con¬
test was long and bloody, but terminated in favour of Yaros¬
laf. Sviatopolk was put to flight, and died soon afterwards.
By this victory Yaroslaf acquired possession of the greater
part of his father’s dominions, and testified his gratitude for
the assistance given him by the Novgorodians, by the at¬
tention which he paid to the particular improvement of that
state. He drew up for it a code of laws, which are still
known by the appellation of the municipal law of Novgorod.
He also exerted himself for the welfare of other towns, and
of the country at large.
Yaroslaf did not neglect the advancement of the Chris¬
tian religion. He established a metropolitan in Kief, and
thus gave to the Russian clergy a head, who might watch
over the morals of the inferior pastors, and provide for the
general dissemination of the Christian doctrine. He col¬
lected several books on the Greek religion, and caused many
of them to be translated into the Russian language.
This monarch is supposed to have died in 1054, and to
have reigned thirty-five years. He followed the example
of his father, in dividing his territories amongst his sons,
though he endeavoured to prevent the dissensions which he
himself had witnessed from such a partition, by exhorting
them on his death-bed to the most intimate concord, and
endeavouring to convince them that they would be re¬
spected by their subjects, and feared by their enemies, only
whilst they continued to act with unanimity.
Dissensions We know little of the proceedings of Yaroslaf’s succes-
amongthe S0rS5 except that Isiaslaf, his eldest son, who until 1078
successors reigned as grand prince of Kief, had frequent disputes with
0 his brothers, in which he was assisted by the Poles, and
supported by the influence of the Roman pontiff.
An. 1051.
An. 1054.
From the death of Isiaslaf to the beginning of the thir- History;
teenth century, the history of Russia comprises little else than's—
a continued series of intestine commotions and petty wars
with the neighbouring states. The same system of dismem¬
berment was continued by the succeeding princes, and was
attended with the same result. There were during this
period not fewer than seventeen independent principalities,
though these were at length reduced to seven, viz. those of
Kief, Novgorod, Smolensk, Vladimir, Tver, Halitch, and
Moskva or Moscow. Of these, Kief and Novgorod long
continued to be the most powerful, though they could not
always maintain their superiority over the others; and to¬
wards the latter end of the period which we have men¬
tioned, the district of Vladimir erected itself into a grand
principality, and became at least as powerful as Kief and
Novgorod.1 * * *
During the intestine broils that attended the dismember-Inroads i
ment of the Russian monarchy, the ambition of its neigh-the Polti-
hours, with the folly of the contending princes, who solicit¬
ed foreign aid against their rivals, contributed to diminish
the strength and resources of the empire. In particular, the
Poles and the Hungarians availed themselves of these cir¬
cumstances. By ravaging the towns and villages, carrying
off the captives into slavery, and making a prey of whatever
appeared most useful, they quickly recompensed themselves
for their assistance. The Poles seem to have been the most
successful in their depredations, and to have fully revenged
themselves for their former humiliation.
A state of anarchy and confusion, such as we have de-Invasion!
scribed, held out a strong temptation to powerful states in Tartars‘
the vicinity. In the neighbourhood of the Sea of Aral, not
far from the confines of Vladimir and Kief, the wandering
hordes of Mongols, or Mongol Tartars, had taken up their
residence. They were perhaps descended from the ancient
Scythians, and long dwelt on the confines of China. Hence
they gradually marched westward, and about the year 1223
arrived on the shores of the Sea of Aral, under the conduct
of Tuschi, son of the famous Tschinghis Khan, chief of the
Mogul empire. From the Aral, Tuschi conducted his horde
along the shores of the Caspian Sea, and gradually approach¬
ed the Dnieper. In his course he attacked and overcame
the Tscherkasses, or Circassians, who on his approach had
joined with the Polovtzes to resist the terrible enemy. The
defeated Polovtzes gave notice to their neighbours the Rus¬
sians, of the approaching storm, and invited them to form a
common cause against the enemy. In the mean time the
Tartars had sent ambassadors to the Russians, hoping to
prevent their alliance with the Polovtzes, and thus the more
easily to subdue the disunited nations. For this time, how¬
ever, the Russians were true to their ow n interest. In con¬
cert with the Polovtzes they assembled an army, and pre¬
pared to resist the incursions of the Tartars. Both parties
1 In the supremacy of these three great principalities, we may trace the division of European Russia into Great, Little, and
Russia ; a distinction which long maintained its ground, and in later times gave to the sovereign of this empire the it e o m ^
or emperor of all the Russias. Great Russia comprehended the principality of Novgorod, and extended northward to the White Sea,
eastward to the river Dvina, and the entrance of the Petchora into the Ural Mountains ; whilst to the south it bordered on
trict of Vladimir, as far as the Volga and the mouth of the Medveditza, and to the west on Lithuania and Prussia, including the tri¬
butary tribes on the Baltic, as far as Memel. Its capital was Novgorod. Little Russia extended on the north along the river Ager
to White Russia, on the east above the Donetz and the Oka to the Polovtzes and the Petchenegans; whilst to the south it stretcneu
as far as the Tauric Chersonesus, or the Crimea, and to the west along the banks of the river Goryn. This was the P™clPal1 ,
Kief, and in that city was the seat of government. The principality of Vladimir received the name of White Russia. It
northward along the Volga, to the southern boundary of Great Russia; to the east it bordered on the possessions of the Ugres, ana
the territory of the Mordvines, stretching down the Volga to the mouth of the Oka ; and to the south it extended along the Oka t
the principality of Riazan, and the Bulgarian territory. The metropolis of this division was at first Shuja, and afterwards in sue
sion Rostof, Susdal, and Vladimir, till at length the seat of government was transferred to Moscow. with
The principality of Novgorod appears, during this interval, to have been the most respect able for its commercial in^rcourse t0
the neighbouring nations, and for the independent spirit of its internal government. This, though nominally mofa,re“;.^nSce^
have possessed much of a republican character. The princes were evidently dependent on the peope, an some ut ic refused
of this dependence are related by the old historians. One of the grand princes had so much displeased his people, that they i
to pay him their usual obedience. As the prince seems to have been aware of th^ little influence which he possessed in the state,
employed the metropolitan of the principality to negotiate a reconciliation^ This prelate, accordingly, by a letter addressed
Novgorodians, interceded for the sovereign, and pledged himself as surety for his good behaviour.
R U S
itory. met near the small river Kalka, which flows into the Sea of
v"~'' Azof, and a furious engagement took place, ending in the
complete overthrow of the Russians and their allies.
About thirteen years after this defeat, another horde of
Tartars, headed by Baaty Khan, the grandson of Tschinghis
Khan, penetrated into Russia, after having attacked and de¬
feated their neighbours the Bulgarians. The invaders soon
spread far and wide the terror of their name. Wherever
they came, the whole face of nature was laid waste ; towns
and villages were destroyed by fire; all the men capable
of bearing arms were put to the sword, and the children,
women, and old men, carried into captivity. If the inha¬
bitants of the towns to which they approached offered a
compromise, the faithless barbarians affected to receive
their submission, but immediately broke the agreement, and
treated those who surrendered to their mercy with as much
rigour as those who had endeavoured to defend themselves
and had been overcome. If the inhabitants of the open
towns and villages came out to meet them, and to receive
them as conquerors and friends, death, torture, or the most
ignominious bondage, was the reward of their spontaneous
submission.
The first state which the Tartars attacked was Riazan,
the prince of which applied for assistance to Yury, commonly
called by historians George Vsevolodovitch, grand prince
of Vladimir. He sent them a few auxiliaries, but these
either came too late, or their number was too small. The
principality of Riazan fell, and its fall was succeeded by
that of Pereiaslavl, Rostof, Susdal, and several others. Like
a furious torrent rushing down the mountain side, and ir¬
resistibly bearing with it all that impedes its progress, these
barbarous hordes poured rapidly along, sweeping all before
them in one common devastation. They now approached
the principality of Vladimir, and no army appeared to re¬
sist them upon the frontiers. They advanced unimpeded to
the capital, which, left to its fate by the grand prince, had
nothing to expect but the same cruel treatment which the
neighbouring cities had received. Yury, with unpardon¬
able negligence, wras celebrating a marriage feast, when he
ought to have been employed in collecting the means of
defence against the enemy, of whose approach to his bor¬
ders he had received timely intimation. The city of Vla¬
dimir, which contained the princess and two of her sons,
was left to the protection of a chieftain totally unqualified
for its defence; and the inhabitants seemed to share in the
pusillanimity of their governor. Instead of annoying the
enemy by occasional excursions, and preparing the means
of defending the walls against a sudden attack, they gave
themselves up to terror and despair ; and as they conceived
death to be inevitable, they prepared for it, by taking the
habits of monks and nuns, in order to insure to themselves
a blissful departure. A prey to fear and despondency, the
city soon fell into the hands of the Tartars. They one
morning scaled the walls, and meeting with little opposi¬
tion, quickly made themselves masters of the place, when
they cast aside every feeling of humanity, and, like beasts
of prey, glutted their appetite for blood amongst the wretch¬
ed inhabitants. The grand princess, and other ladies of
distinction, dreading the brutality of the relentless con¬
querors, had taken refuge in the choir of a church, an asy¬
lum which all the assurances of the Tartars that they should
suffer no injury could not prevail on them to abandon. It
was therefore set on fire by the barbarians, who feasted
their ears with the shrieks and groans of the women as the
flames surrounded them.
Yury, incensed almost to desperation at the fate of his
capital, and the horrible death of his wife and children, was
determined to take signal vengeance on the assailants. He
assembled all the forces which he could draw together;
and though his army was greatly inferior in number to the
Tartars, he marched against the enemy, and attacked them
S I A. 533
with the most determined valour. The struggle was short History,
but bloody. The Tartars were victorious, and the body of
Yury was found amongst the slain.
This appears to have been the only vigorous stand made
by the Russian princes. The Tartars pushed forward with
rapidity, and successively overpowered the principalities of
Novgorod and Kief. In the latter city they found immense
booty ; but this circumstance did not prevent them from
repeating here the same bloody scenes which they had
acted in the other capitals. The governor was preserved
from the cruelties that had been inflicted upon the inhabi¬
tants, by the courage he had displayed in defence of the
city; and his noble demeanouf, when he fell into the
hands of the conqueror, acquiring the esteem and affection
of that chief, enabled him to obtain a temporary repose to
his country.
The Tartars had now established themselves in the Rus- Succession
sian territories, and their khan or chief, though he did not°f ^ussian
himself assume the nominal sovereignty, reigned as para- un'
mount lord, and placed on the throne any of the native Tartars
princes whom he found most obsequious to his will, or who
had ingratiated themselves by the magnificence of their
presents. Till the middle of the fourteenth century, the
throne w7as successively occupied by Yaroslaf II., Alexander
Yaroslavitch called Saint Alexander Neffsky, Yaroslaf
Yaroslavitch, Vasilii Yaroslavitch, Dimitri Alexandrovitch,
Andrei, Daniil, both brothers of Dimitri, Mikaila Yarosla¬
vitch, Yury Danilovitch, Alexander Mikailovitch, Ivan
Daniloviteh, Simeon Ivanovitch, and Ivan Ivanovitch.
During these several reigns, the miseries of a foreign Partial
yoke were aggravated by all the calamities of intestine dis-subjuga-
cord and war ; w hilst the knights of Livonia, or Brothers ^
the Short Sword, as they are sometimes called, a kind o^the Poles,
military order of religious, on one side, and the Poles on
the other, catching at the opportunity, and attacking Rus¬
sia, took several of its towns, and even some considerable
countries. The Tartars and Russians, whose interests
were in this case the same, often united to oppose their
common enemy; but they were generally worsted. The
Livonians took Pleskow% and the Poles made themselves
masters of Black Russia, the Ukraine, Podolia, and the city
of Kief. Casimir the Great, one of their kings, carried his
conquests still farther. He asserted his pretensions to a
part of Russia, in right of his relation to Boleslas, duke of
Kalitz, who died without issue, and forcibly possessed him¬
self of the duchies of Perzesmylia, Kalitz, and Luckow,
with the districts of Sanock, Lubakzow, and Trebowia ; of
all which countries he made a province of Poland.
The newly-conquered Russians were ill disposed to en¬
dure the government of the Poles, whose laws and cus¬
toms were more contrary to their own than those of the
Tartars had been. They joined the latter to rid them¬
selves of the yoke, and assembled an army numerous enough
to overwhelm all Poland, but destitute of valour and dis¬
cipline. Casimir, undaunted by this deluge of barbarians,
presented himself at the head of a few troops on the bor¬
ders of the Vistula, and obliged his enemies to retire.
About the year 1362 Dimitri Ivanovitch received the An. 1362.
sovereignty from the Tartar chief, and established the seat Reign and
of his government at Moscow. This prince possessed con - ^ ^
siderable ambition, and contrived to inspire the other ^us"nJ™tcri|- *
sian princes with so much respect for his person and go¬
vernment, that they consented to hold their principalities^
as fiefs under Dimitri. This increased the consequence ot
the Russian prince, and excited the jealousy of Mammai
the Tartar khan, who determined to take measures for
maintaining his superiority. He began by demanding an
increase of tribute ; but when Dimitri demurred to this new
encroachment, the khan not only insisted on his demand,
but required the grand prince to appear before, him in per¬
son. This requisition Dimitri thought proper to refuse,
534
RUSSIA.
History, and prepared to support his refusal by force of arms. The
—-v-^' terror with which the Tartars had inspired the inhabitants
of Russia had now considerably subsided, whilst the hatred
which the Russians bore these haughty masters was kept
alive by the barbarism of their manners and the difference
of their religion. The Christian ministers, justly dreading
that the Tartars, in their furious progress, might extirpate
Christianity, contributed all in their power to confirm the
spirit of revolt amongst the people; and they promised the
crown of martyrdom to such as should fall in battle against
the infidels. Thus the contest into which the grand prince
determined to enter in support of his authority became in
some measure a holy war, undertaken in defence of the
national religion. This combination of favourable circum¬
stances operated so strongly in favour of Dimitri, and the
princes that had confederated with him, that they soon col¬
lected an army of tw'o hundred thousand men. With this
force the grand prince left Moscow, and marched towards
the Don, on the southern bank of which the Tartars were
encamped. Arrived at this river, he left it to the choice of
his troops, either to cross the river and encounter the ene¬
my on the other side, or to await the attack where they were.
The general voice declared for passing over to the assault.
He accordingly transported his battalions across the river,
that he might cut off all hope of escaping by retreat. The
fight now commenced, and though the numbers of the enemy
far exceeded their own, the Russians defended themselves
valiantly against the furious onset of the Tartars; but as
these barbarians were continually relieved by fresh rein¬
forcements, they appeared to be gaining ground. Indeed,
nothing but the impossibility of retreating across the river,
and the firm persuasion that death would immediately trans¬
port them to the mansions of eternal bliss, restrained the
Russians from a general flight. At the moment when the
day seemed entirely lost, a detachment of the grand prince’s
army which had been stationed in reserve, and had remained
out of the view of the enemy, came up with unabated force,
fell on the rear of the Tartars, and threw them into such
terror and confusion that they fled with Mammai at their
head, leaving the Russians masters of the field.
This glorious victory, which took place in 1380, was at¬
tended with numerous advantages to the Russian cause.
In particular, it taught the native princes that the Tartars
were not unconquerable; and that nothing was wanting to
relieve them from the galling yoke under which they had
long groaned, but mutual union, courage, and prudence.
The Tartars appear to have been so much humbled by this
defeat, that for a time they left the Russians to enjoy in
peace their recovered liberty. This forbearance, however,
was not of long duration. Before the death of Dimitri, re¬
turning with increased numbers, they laid siege to Moscow,
which, after an obstinate defence, was at length induced
to surrender, and Russia once more submitted to her old
masters.
An. 1389. Dimitri died in the year 1389, and was succeeded by his
Reign of son Vasilii Dimitrievitch. In the reign of this prince a new
Yasilii. incursion of the Tartars took place, under the great Timur
or Tamerlane, who, after having subdued all the neighbour¬
ing Tartar hordes, extended his conquests to the Russian
territories, took Moscow by assault, and carried off immense
plunder.
The grand principality of Vladimir, or, as it may now be
called, of Moscow, had, at the end of the fourteenth century,
attained its greatest height, whilst that of Kief had propor¬
tionally declined. This latter principality was, at the time
of which we are now writing, under the dominion of the
Poles, having been seized on in 1320 by Gedemin, duke
of Lithuania.
Accession The later part of the fifteenth century forms a splendid
of Ivan Va- epoch in the Russian history. At this time, viz. from 1462
siliivitch. to 1505, reigned Ivan Vasiliivitch, or, as he is commonly
called, John Basilovitz. This able prince, by his invincible History,
spirit and refined policy, became both the conqueror and
deliverer of his country, and laid the first foundation of its
future grandeur. Observing with indignation the narrow
limits of his power at his accession to the throne, after the
death of his father Vasilii the Blind, he began immediately
to resolve within himself upon the means of enlarging his
dominions. He demanded and obtained in marriage Maria,
sister of Michael duke of Twer, whom he soon afterwards
deposed, on pretence of revenging the injuries done to his
father, and added this duchy to his own territories of Mos¬
cow. Maria, by whom he had a son, who died before him,
did not live long ; and upon her death he married Sophia,
daughter of Thomas Palseologus, who had been driven from
Constantinople, and forced to seek shelter at Rome, where
the pope portioned this princess, in hopes of thus procur¬
ing great advantage to the Catholic religion; but his expec¬
tations were frustrated, Sophia being obliged to conform to
the Greek church after her arrival in Russia.
The Russians certainly owed to this alliance their deli-Incited by
verance from the Tartar yoke. Shocked at the servile
homage exacted by these proud victors, when she saw her ^
husband going to meet their ambassadors at some distance y0ke.
from the city, and standing to hear what they had to say,
whilst they were at dinner, Sophia told him that she was
surprised to find she had married a servant to the Tartars.
Nettled at the reproach, Ivan feigned himself ill when the
next deputation from the Tartars arrived, and by means of
this stratagem avoided a repetition of the humiliating cere¬
monial. Another circumstance equally displeasing to the
princess was, that the Tartars possessed by agreement, with¬
in the walls of the palace at Moscow, houses in which their
ministers resided; a stipulation w-hich they had made at once
to show their power and watch the actions of the grand
prince. To rid her husband and herself of these unplea¬
sant neighbours, Sophia sent a formal embassy to the khan,
to inform him, that as she had been favoured with a vision
from above, commanding her to build a temple in the place
where then stood the houses of the Tartar ministers, her
mind could not be at ease till she had fulfilled the divine
command; she therefore desired his leave to pull them
down, and give his people others. The khan consented.
The houses within the Kremlin were demolished, and no
new ones being provided, the Tartar residents were oblig¬
ed to leave Moscow; an affront which their prince was not
able to revenge, as he was then engaged in a war with the
Poles.
Ivan, taking advantage of this circumstance, and having His suc-
gradually increased his forces, now openly disclaimed all cesses
subjection to the Tartars, attacked their territories, andgj^
made himself master of Kazan. Here he was solemnly
crowned with a diadem which is said to be the same that
is still used in the coronation of the Russian sovereigns.
This took place about the year 1470, and led to a complete
emancipation of Russia from the Tartar dominion. Ivan
afterwards carried his arms against the neighbouring states.
Asiatic Bulgaria, and great part of Lapland, soon submit¬
ted to him ; and the great Novgorod, a city then so famous
that the Russians were accustomed to intimate their idea
of its importance by the proverbial expression, Who can re¬
sist God and the great Novgorod ? was reduced by his ge¬
nerals after a seven years’ siege, and yielded immense trea¬
sure. After he quitted the city, which had been awed by
his presence, the discontents excited at his violent mea¬
sures broke out into acts of mutiny, upon which he, in 1485,
carried off fifty of the principal families, and distributed
them through several of the Russian towns. He after¬
wards removed some thousands of the most considerable
inhabitants, and substituted for them more loyal subjects
from other places. By these proceedings the flourishing
commerce of this city received a considerable shock, and
liliO
RUSSIA.
-tory.
I inva-
f; of Li-
vj-i '.a and
Bfionia.
A 1505.
li kn of
\ Jiilll
i
1533.
Vasi.
ch II.
i ha.
rad
547.
it suffered still more by the imprisonment of all the German
merchants, and the confiscation of their effects, with the
abolition of the old municipal franchises. Indeed from this
period Novgorod never recovered its former splendour.
After his reduction of this city, Ivan invaded the terri¬
tories of Livonia and Esthonia, in consequence, as we are
told, of an affront offered to him by the inhabitants of Re¬
vel. Here, however, he met with a stout resistance, and
does not seem to have made much progress. Towards the
conclusion of his reign, the Kazanian Tartars, who, though
humbled, had continued to inhabit that district, made a hard
struggle to shake off the Russian yoke that had been im¬
posed on them ; but Ivan had established his authority too
firmly for them to accomplish their purpose during his life.
He died in 1505, and was succeeded by his son Vasilii Ivano-
vitch, commonly called Basilius III.
The Tartars of Kazan were still suffered to maintain a
show of independency, by electing their own khans ; but a
Russian noble, under the denomination of voyvode, was as¬
sociated with the khan in the government, and took care
that the administration should be conducted in such a man¬
ner as to secure the interests of his master. About four¬
teen years after the death of Ivan, however, the Tartars
resolved to overturn so humiliating an administration. They
murdered the Russian voyvode, expelled their nominal khan,
and united themselves with their brethren of the Crimea.
With their assistance they assembled a mighty force, en¬
tered the Russian dominions, and carried their arms even
to the gates of Moscow. The grand prince Vasilii found
himself at that time unable to resist the barbarians; and
therefore purchased an exemption from general pillage by
great presents, and a promise of renewed allegiance. The
Tartars retired, but carried off immense booty, and nearly
three hundred thousand prisoners, the greater part of whom
they sent to Theodosia in the Crimea, and sold to the
Turks. This humiliation of Vasilii did not, however, long
continue; and he was soon enabled to make head against the
Tartars, and to recover possession of the city Kazan, and of
Pscove, a city which had been built by the Princess Olga,
and was the great rival of Novgorod in wealth and commer¬
cial importance. Under this prince all the principalities of
Russia were once more united, and they have remained ever
since under the dominion of one sovereign.
It was under the son and successor of Vasilii, Ivan IV.,
or, as he is styled by the Russian historians, Ivan Vasilii-
vitch II., that Russia completely emancipated herself from
her subjection to the Tartars, and acquired a vast acces¬
sion of territory, which extended her empire into the north¬
east of Asia, and rendered her for the first time superior
in extent to any state that had appeared since the Roman
empire. Vasilii died in 1533, having reigned twenty-eight
years, and lived fifty-five. His son Ivan was only three
years old when he succeeded to the throne ; and during his
minority the state became a prey to anarchy and confu¬
sion. But when he attained his seventeenth year, he was
able to assume the reins of government without opposi¬
tion ; and, from the important transactions in which he im¬
mediately engaged, he must have been possessed of consi¬
derable resources.
In taking into his own hands the administration of the
state, Ivan displayed so much prudence and manly forti¬
tude as soon raised him very high in the estimation of his
subjects. At the same time he showed marks of a tyran¬
nical disposition and irritability of temper, which made him
rather feared than admired by his friends, whilst they ren¬
dered him an object of terror to his neighbours and his
enemies. He saw himself surrounded on all sides by con¬
tending factions, and to suppress these was the first object
ot his care. In the choice of means for effecting this, he
does not seem to have been very scrupulous, provided they
tended to the accomplishment of his end; and in punish¬
ing the offences of those who opposed his purpose, his vio¬
lence of temper not unfrequently led him to confound the
innocent with the guilty. He was successful, however, in
his great design ; and having secured the domestic tranquil¬
lity of his dominions, he had leisure to direct his attention
to the more remote but not less predominant objects of his
ambition. He resolved to attempt liberating his country
for ever from the dominion of the Tartars; and he succeed¬
ed. In the year 1551 he marched an army in the depth of
v> inter into the district ot Kazan, and laid siege to the capital,
checking by severe punishments the murmurs of his troops,
who loudly and openly expressed their dislike to this ex¬
pedition.
Before entering seriously on the siege of Kazan, he built His sWe
several forts on the frontiers of the Tartar territories, byoftheTar-
which he hoped to awe these barbarians, and to prevent tar capital,
them from disturbing the peace of his dominions. He then
invested Kazan, and, in the year 1552, made himself master
ot it by the new, and, to the Tartars, unheard-of method
of springing a mine below the walls. The inhabitants that
escaped slaughter were offered mercy on condition that they
should embrace the Christian faith. By this important con¬
quest, the dominion of the Tartars, who had oppressed the
Russians for more than three centuries, was completely and
permanently overthrown.
About two years later Ivan extended his conquests east- His exten-
ward to the shores of the Caspian, and took possession of sion of the
the territory that lay on the right bank of the Volga, round Russian
the city of Astracan, which was also inhabited by the Tar-temtories-
tar hordes.
Ivan, as well as his grandfather, had found it necessary His severe
to chastise the inhabitants of Novgorod. But, in the year treatment
1570, this city, being suspected of forming a plot for deliv-Nov^°"
ering itself and the surrounding territory into the hands ofr° '
the king of Poland, felt still more severely the effects of
his vengeance. All who had been in any degree implicated
in the conspiracy, to the number of twenty-five thousand, suf¬
fered by the hands of the executioner. The city of Pscove
was threatened with a similar proscription; but Ivan, on their
voluntary submission, contented himself with the execution
of a few monks, and the confiscation of the property of the
most opulent inhabitants. It is not surprising that acts like
these should have given to this prince the names of terrible
and tyrant, by which historians have occasionally distinguish¬
ed him ; though it is not a little extraordinary that he should
have retained so much interest in the affections of his sub¬
jects, that when, to try their attachment, he, in 1575, ab¬
dicated the government, and retained only the title of Prince
of Moscow, the majority of the nation loudly expressed their
wish for him to resume the administration of affairs. We
can account for this only by considering the measures
which he had adopted for the improvement and the civiliza¬
tion of his people. These were of such a nature as in a
great measure to obliterate the remembrance of his cruelty
and oppression. He promulgated a new code of laws, com¬
posed partly of such ancient statutes as were still in force,
and were capable of improvement, and partly of new regu¬
lations, which he either contrived himself, or adopted from
the neighbouring states. He found it necessary, however,
to render many of these laws extremely severe; though their
execution was most frequently exemplified in the persons
of his nobles, whose proud obstinacy seemed unconquer¬
able by more lenient measures.
Ivan cultivated an intercourse with several of the Euro- Cultivates
pean states, especially with Germany. In 1547, he sent a an inter-
splendid embassy to the Emperor Charles V., requesting him £ourse.wftb-
to permit a number of German artists, mechanics, and lite- louring *
rary men, to establish themselves in Russia. Charles rea- states.’
dily complied with his request, and several hundred volun¬
teers were collected and assembled at Lubeck, whence they
w ere to proceed through Livonia to Moscow. The Lubeck-
536
History.
RUSSIA.
War be¬
tween the
liussians
andSwedes,
An. 1553.
First in¬
tercourse
between
England
and Rus¬
sia.
Ivan an¬
nexes Sibe
ria to the
Russian
empire.
ers, however, afraid lest the improvement of the Russians
in arts and manufactures might render them independent
of their neighbours, and diminish the commercial intercourse
that had long subsisted between their city and the principal
towns of Russia, arrested the Germans on their route ; and,
in concert with the merchants of Revel and Riga, sent a
petition to Charles, requesting him to recall the permission
he had granted. In consequence of these measures, many
of the German artists returned home ; but several of them
escaped the vigilance of the Lubeckers, and reached Mos¬
cow by a circuitous journey. Ivan endeavoured to revenge
himself on the Livonians by invading their country, which
was strenuously defended by the 1 eutonic knights; and
these champions, finding at last that they were unable to
maintain their ground, put the territory under the protec¬
tion of Poland.
The Swedes also received a share of the Livonian terri¬
tories ; and this circumstance gave rise to a war between
them and the Russians. Ivan invaded Finland ; but that
country was bravely defended by William of F urstenberg,^
grand-master of the Livonian knights, with the assistance of
the troops of Gustavus Vasa; and it does not appear that
Ivan gained much in this expedition, though wre are told
that the Livonian grand-master ended his life in a Russian
prison. . >
In 1553, an event happened which first led to an inter¬
course between Russia and England. Some Englishmen,
who were at that time on a voyage of discovery, landed on
the shores of the White Sea, where soon after was built the
port of Archangel. They were hospitably received by the
natives ; and intimation of the circumstance being convey¬
ed to Ivan, he sent for the strangers, and was so much
pleased with their abilities and deportment, that he resolv¬
ed to give every encouragement to the English commerce,
and thus open a new channel of intercourse with a highly
polished nation, by which his subjects might obtain fresh
incitements to activity and industry. He expressed the
highest esteem for Queen Elizabeth, and requested by his
ambassador, that if the ingratitude of his subjects should
ever compel him to quit Russia (a circumstance by no means
improbable), she would grant him an asylum in her domi¬
nions. It was in consequence of this accidental communi¬
cation between the Russians and the English that England
first engaged in a trade to Russia, and promoted this new
commerce by the establishment of a company of Russian
merchants in London.
About twenty years after Astracan had been annexed to
the Russian empire, a new acquisition of territory accrued
to it from the conquests of a private adventurer, in the un¬
known regions of Siberia. The steps that led to the acqui¬
sition of this immense tract of the Asiatic continent are
thus related by Tooke. ’
“ The grand prince, Ivan III. had already sent out a body
of men, who penetrated across the Ingrian Mountains, and
traversed all the districts as far as the river Oby. But,
amidst the urgent affairs of government, the discoveries
they made insensibly fell into oblivion. Some years after¬
wards, a merchant named Stroganof, who was proprietor of
some salt-works on the confines of Siberia, was curious to
gain a farther knowledge of that country, which was like¬
wise inhabited by Tartars, whose khan resided in the capi¬
tal Sibir. Perceiving, among the persons who came to him
on affairs of trade, men who belonged to no nation with
which he was acquainted, he put several inquiries to them
concerning the place whence they came, and once sent a
few of his people with them back to their country. These History
people brought with them, at their return from the regions''—'
they had now explored, and which proved to be this very
Siberia, a great quantity of valuable furs, and thus opened
to their master a new road to wealth. However, not so
covetous as to wish to keep this treasure to himself, he sent
information of it to the court, and the attention of govern¬
ment was once more directed to this country. But the con¬
quest of it, and its conjunction with Russia, was reserved for
an adventurer named Timoseyef Yermak. This Yermak,
at the head of a gang of Don Kozaks, had made it his prac¬
tice to rob and plunder the caravans and passengers that
occasionally frequented the roads, as well as the inhabitants,
wherever he came, and was so fortunate as to escape the
search of the Russian troops that had been sent out against
him and his band, which consisted of not fewer than six thou¬
sand men. On their flight, he and his people accidentally
came to the dwelling of Stroganof, where, hearing much talk
about Siberia, and being persons who had nothing to lose,
and therefore might put all to the hazard, they soon formed
a plan to penetrate farther into that country, and there seek
at once their safety and their fortune. After numerous
struggles and conflicts with the natives, which greatly re¬
duced their numbers, they at length conquered the capital,
and shortly after the whole country. Yermak now present¬
ed the fruit of his toilsome and perilous victories to his Czar,1
Ivan, in hopes of obtaining thereby a pardon of his former
depredations, which was granted him accordingly ; and by the
building of several towns, and the constructing a number of
forts, the possession of this country was soon permanently
secured. The less and the greater Kabardey were also
added to Russia in the reign of Ivan. Ihis Czar, however,
not only enlarged the circumference of his empire, partly
by force of arms and partly by accident, but he resolved to
reform his people, to render them more polished, more skil¬
ful, and more industrious ; but this he found to be the most
arduous enterprise he could possibly have undertaken. 1 he
insuperable impediments which threw themselves in the
way of the execution of this grand work, were the principal
incitements to those frequent acts of cruelty and despotism
which have covered his memory with so deep a stain.”
Towards the close of Ivan’s reign, a prodigious army ofllisvicto
Tartars entered Russia, with a design to subdue the wholerj-sever
country. But Zerebrinoff, the Czar’s general, having attack-
ed them in a defile, put them to flight with considerable
slaughter. They then retired towards the mouth of the
Volga, where they expected a considerable reinforcement;
butbeing closely pursued by the Russians, and the Tartars in
alliance with them, they were again defeated, and forced to
fly towards Azof, where their army was almost annihilated.
From this time the empire of Russia became so formi- Destnir I
dable that none of the neighbouring nations could hope totionob j
make a total conquest of it. The Poles and Swedes indeed
continued to be very formidable enemies; and, by the in¬
stigation of the former, the Crim Tartars, in 1571, again in¬
vaded the country with an army of seventy thousand men,
which totally defeated the Russians in a battle fought within
eighteen miles of the city of Moscow. The Czar retired with
his most valuable effects to a well-fortified cloister; upon
which the Tartars entered the city, plundered it, and set
fire to several churches. A violent storm which happened
at the same time soon spread the flames all over the city,
which was entirely reduced to ashes in six hours. The fire
likewise communicated itself to a powder magazine at some
distance from the city; an accident by which upwards of fifty
1 Previous to the reign of Vasilii, the predecessor of the monarch whose transactions we are now relating, the Russian sovereigns e
the title of Velikii Kniaz, which has been translated Clrand Duke, though it more properly denotes Grand Prince ; and by this latter ap¬
pellation we have accordingly distinguished the preceding monarchs. Yasilii, near the conclusion of his reign, adopted the title ot
or Emperor ; but this title was not fully established till the successes and increasing power of his son Ivan enabled the iatter .o con .
it both at home and abroad ; and since his time it has been universally acknowledged.
11 U S S I A.
A.
of
and
l« :don
'i is,
nni.
of
‘nas-
‘H iu.
nc.
rods of the city wall, with all the buildings upon it, were
destroyed ; and, according to the historians, upwards of a
hundred and twenty thousand citizens were burned or bu¬
ried in the ruins. The castle, however, which was strongly
fortified, could not be taken ; and the Tartars, hearing that a
formidable army was coming against them under the command
of Magnus duke ofHolstein, whom Ivan had made king of Li¬
vonia, thought proper to retire. The war, nevertheless, con¬
tinued with the Poles and Swedes; and the Czar being defeat¬
ed by the latter after some trifling success, was reduced to the
necessity of suing for peace; but the negotiations being
broken off, the war was renewed with the greatest vigour.
The Livonians, the Poles, and the Swedes, having united in
a league against the Russians, gained great advantages over
them; and in 1579, Stephen Batory, who was then raised
to the throne of Poland, levied an army expressly with a
design of invading Russia, and of regaining all that Poland
had formerly claimed, which, indeed, was little less than
the whole empire. Ivan found his undisciplined multi¬
tudes unable to cope with the regular forces of his enemies ;
their conquests were so rapid that he was soon obliged to
sue for peace, which, however, was not granted ; and it is
possible that the number of enemies which now attacked
Russia might have overcome the empire entirely, had not
the allies grown jealous of each other. The consequence
of this was, that in 1582 a peace was concluded with the
Poles, in which the Swedes were not comprehended. How¬
ever, the Swedes, finding themselves unable to effect any
thing of moment after the desertion of their allies, were
obliged to conclude a truce; shortly after which, the Czar,
having been worsted in an engagement with the Tartars,
died in the year 1584.
The eldest son of the late Czar, Feodor (or, as he is com¬
monly called, Theodore) Ivanovitch, was by no means fitted
for the government of an empire so extensive, and a peo¬
ple so rude and turbulent, as had devolved to him by the
death of his father. Ivan had seen the incapacity of his
son, and had endeavoured to obviate its effects by appoint¬
ing three of his principal nobles as administrators of the
empire ; whilst to a fourth he committed the charge of his
younger son Dmitri or Demetrius. This expedient, how¬
ever, failed of success ; and, partly from the mutual jealousy
of the administrators, partly from the envy which their
exaltation had excited in the other nobles, the affairs of
the empire soon fell into confusion. The weak Feodor had
married a sister of Boris Gudonof, a man of great ambition,
immense riches, and tolerable abilities. He had long di¬
rected his wishes towards the imperial dignity, and began
to prepare the way for its attainment by removing Dmitri,
this young prince suddenly disappeared; and there is
every reason to believe that he was assassinated by the
order of Boris. Feodor did not long survive his brother,
but died in 1598, not without suspicion of having been
poisoned by his brother-in-law. We are told that the
Czarina, Irene, was so much convinced of this, that, retir¬
ing to a convent, she never afterwards held any communi¬
cation with her brother.
Mdth Feodor ended the family of Ruric, a dynasty which
had enjoyed the supreme power in Russia ever since the
establishment of the principality by the Varagian chief, that
is, during a period of above seven hundred years. On the
death of Feodor, as there was no hereditary successor to the
vacant throne, the nobles assembled to elect a new Czar;
and the artful Boris having, through the interest of the pa¬
triarch, procured a majority in his favour, was declared the ob¬
ject of their choice. He pretended unwillingness to accept
the crown, declaring that he had resolved to live and die in
a monastery; but when the patriarch, at the head of the
principal nobles, and attended by a great concourse of peo¬
ple, bearing before them the cross, and the effigies of seve¬
ral saints, repaired to the convent, where the artful usurper
VOL. XIX.
had taken up his residence, he was at length prevailed on
to accompany them to the palace of the Czars, and suffer
himself to be crowned.
Boris is one instance amongst many of a sovereign who
became beneficial to his subjects, though he had procured
the throne by unjustifiable means. If we give implicit
credit to the historians of those times, he was a murderer
and a usurper, though he had the voice of the people in his
favour ; but by whatever means he had attained the imperial
power, he seems to have employed it in advancing the in¬
terest ot the nation, and in improving the circumstances of
his people. He was extremely active in his endeavours to
extend the commerce, and improve the arts and manufac¬
tures, of the Russian empire; and for this purpose he in¬
vited many foreigners into his dominions. Whilst he exert¬
ed himself in securing the tranquillity of the country, and
defending its frontiers against the incursions of his neigh¬
bours, he made himself respected abroad, and received am¬
bassadors from almost all the powers of Europe.
Soon after the commencement of his reign, the city of JXII_
Moscow was desolated by one of the most dreadful famines Dreadful
recorded in history. Thousands of people lay dead in the famine at
streets and roads; and in many houses the fattest ofMoscow-
the inmates was killed to serve as food for the remainder.
Parents are said to have eaten their children, and children
their parents ; and we are told by one writer of the time
that he saw a woman bite several pieces out of her child’s
arm as she was carrying it along. Another relates, that
four wromen having desired a peasant to come to one of
their houses, on pretence of paying him for some wood,
killed and devoured both him and his horse. This dread¬
ful calamity lasted three years, notwithstanding all the ex¬
ertions of Boris to provide for the necessities of the inha¬
bitants.
During these distresses of the capital, the power of Boris Invasion
was threatened with annihilation by an adventurer who °f tiie pre.
suddenly started up, and pretended to be the young prince ^nc?er.
Dmitri, whom all believed to have been assassinated, or, mun*
as Boris had given out, to have died of a malignant fever.
This adventurer was a monk named Otrepief. He retired
from Russia into Poland, where he had the dexterity to
ingratiate himself with some of the principal nobles, and
to persuade them that he was really the lawful heir to the
crown of Russia. The better to insure to himself the sup¬
port of the Poles, he learned their language, and professed
a great regard for the Catholic religion. By this last arti¬
fice he both gained the attachment of the Catholic Poles,
and acquired the friendship of the Roman pontiff’, whose
blessing and patronage in his great undertaking he further
secured, by promising that, as soon as he should have es¬
tablished himself on the throne, he would make every ex¬
ertion to bring the Russians within the pale of the Catho¬
lic church. To the external graces of a fine person, the
pretended Dmitri added the charms of irresistible elo¬
quence ; and by these accomplishments the Polish voyvode
of Sandomir was so much captivated that he not only es¬
poused his cause, but promised to give him his daughter in
marriage as soon as he should be placed on the throne of
his fathers. This respectable man exerted himself so warm¬
ly in behalf of his intended son-in-law, that he brought
over even the king of Poland to his party. The Kozaks
of the Don, who were oppressed by Boris, hoping to gain at
least a temporary advantage by the disturbance excited in
favour of the adventurer, eagerly embraced the oppor¬
tunity of declaring in his favour. The news soon pene¬
trated into Russia ; and although Boris did all in his power
to destroy the illusion, by prohibiting all intercourse be¬
tween his subjects and the Poles, and by appealing to the
evidence of the murdered prince’s mother in proof of his
death, the cause of the pretender continued to gain ground.
Many circumstances concurred to interest the Russian
•S'J
History.
538
RUSSIA.
His suc-
History. people in favour of Otrepief. The courtiers of the usurper,
 V who had long been jealous of his elevation, pretended to
believe his assertions; whilst those who were persuaded
that the young prince had been murdered by order of the
present Czar, regarded this event as a judgment from hea¬
ven. The greater part of the nation appear to have been
persuaded that the pretender was the real Dmitri; and as
they believed that he had been miraculously preserved,
they piously resolved to concur with the hand of Provi¬
dence in assisting him to recover his just rights. Thus,
before he had set foot in Russia, a numerous party was form¬
ed in his behalf. He soon made his appearance on the fron¬
tiers with a regiment of Polish troops, and a body oi Ko¬
zaks. Boris sent an army to oppose him; but though the
number of these troops greatly exceeded the small force of
the invaders, the latter were so animated by the eloquence
of their leader, and the intrepidity and personal bravery
which he displayed in the field of battle, that, after a
bloody conflict, the army of Boris was defeated, and the
pretended Dmitri remained master of the field.
This victory served still further to strengthen the be¬
lief that Dmitri was favoured by heaven, and consequently
could not be an impostor. To confirm the good opinion
which he had evidently acquired, the victor treated his pri¬
soners with great kindness; caused the dead to be decently
interred; and gave strict injunctions to his troops to behave
with humanity in the towns through which he passed. 1 his
gentle behaviour, when contrasted with the horrible exces¬
ses committed by the soldiers of Boris, wherever the people
appeared to show any inclination towards the cause of the
invader, gained Dmitri more adherents than even the per¬
suasion that he was the lawful sovereign of the country.
Unluckily for Boris, likewise, the superstition of the Rus¬
sians was about this time directed against him, by the ap¬
pearance of a comet, and by the more than usual coruscations
of the aurora borealis, phenomena which were immedi¬
ately regarded as manifest demonstrations that the Al¬
mighty was pouring out his phials of wrath on the devot¬
ed country. Boris, unable to resist the torrent of pub¬
lic opinion in favour of his rival, is said to have taken poi¬
son, and thus hastened that fate which he foresaw awaited
him if he should fall into the hands of his enemies.
The death of Boris took place in the year 1605; and
though the principal nobility at Moscow placed his son Feo¬
dor on the throne, the party of Dmitri was now so strong,
that Feodor was dethroned and sent to prison with his
mother and sister, within six weeks after his accession.
He ascends The successful monk had now attained the summit of
the Russian his ambitious hopes, and made his entry into Moscow with
the utmost magnificence. Not deeming himself secure,
however, whilst the son of Boris remained alive, he is said
to have caused him to be strangled, together with one of
his sisters. The new Czar, though he evidently possessed
great abilities, seems to have been deficient in point of pru¬
dence. Instead of conciliating the favour of his subjects,
he openly displayed his predilection for the Poles, confer¬
ring on them high posts and dignities, and even conniving
at the extravagance and enormities which they committed.
This impolitic conduct, together with his partiality for the
Catholic religion ; his marked indifference towards the pub¬
lic worship of the national church, and his want of reve¬
rence for the Greek clergy; his marrying a Polish lady ;
his affectation of Polish manners; his inordinate voluptu¬
ousness, and the contempt with which he treated the prin¬
cipal nobility; so exasperated the Russians, frhat discon¬
tents and insurrections arose in every quarter of the empire.
The populace of the capital were at length roused to fury,
by a rumour that a timber fort which he had caused to be
constructed before Moscow, was intended to serve as an en¬
gine of destruction, and that at a martial spectacle which the
Czar was preparing for the entertainment of his bride, the
An. 1005.
throne.
Poles, and other foreigners that composed his body guard, Histon
were from this building to cast firebrands into the city, and
then slaughter the inhabitants. The people were still further
incensed by the clergy, who declaimed against Dmitri as a
heretic, and by Schuiskoy, a nobleman who had been con¬
demned to death by the Czar, but had afterwards been par¬
doned. This nobleman put himself at the head of the en¬
raged mob, and led them to attack the palace. They en¬
tered it by assault, put to the sword all the Poles whom
they found within its walls, and afterwards extended their
massacre to such as were discovered in other parts of the
city. Dmitri himself, in attempting to escape, was over
taken by his pursuers, and thrust through with a spear;
and his dead body, being brought back into the city, lay
for three days before the palace, exposed to every outrage
that malice could invent or rage inflict. Flis father-in-
law and his wife escaped with their lives, but were detain¬
ed as prisoners, and the Czarina w’as confined at \ aroslaf.
Schuiskoy, who had pretended to be actuated by no Unsettl
other motives than those of the purest patriotism, now aspir-g^.of
ed to the vacant throne, and had sufficient interest to carry his u'ja'
election. His reign was short and uninteresting, and in¬
deed from this time till the accession of the house of Rom-
anof in 16B3, the alfairs of Russia have little to gratify our
curiosity. Schuiskoy’s reign was disturbed by the preten¬
sions of two fictitious Dmitris, who successively started up,
and declared themselves to be either the late Czar, or the
prince whom he had personated; and his neighbours the
Swedes and Poles, taking advantage of the internal dissen¬
sions in the empire, made many successful incursions into
Russia, set fire to Moscow, and massacred above a hundred
thousand of the people. 1 he Russians, dissatisfied with the
reigning prince, treated with several of the neighbouring
potentates for the disposal of the imperial crown. They of¬
fered it to Vladislaf, or Lladislas, son of Sigismund, king oi
Poland, on condition that he should adopt the Greek per¬
suasion; but as he rejected this preliminary, they turned
their eyes first on a son of Charles IK. of Sweden, and
then on a young native Russian, Mikhail Feodorovitch,
of the house of Romanof, a family which was distantly re¬
lated to their ancient Czars, and of which the head was then
metropolitan of Rostof, and as such held in great estimation.
The influence of the clergy, who exerted themselves for
Mikhail, both by personal intrigues and by the dissemina¬
tion of pretended revelations from heaven, silenced the
supporters of the other claimants; and alter a long se¬
ries of confusion and disastef, there ascended the Rus¬
sian throne a new family, whose descendants have raised
the empire to a state of grandeur and importance unequal¬
led in any former period.
Having traced Russia through the obscurer stages of its
history, we are now to witness its sudden elevation amongst
the powers of Europe, and to accompany it in its hasty
strides towards that importance which it has lately assum¬
ed. But before we enter on the transactions that have en¬
riched the pages of the Russian annals since the accession
of the house of Romanof, it may not be uninteresting to
take a general view of the state of the empire at the be¬
ginning of the seventeenth century
Jlling OI LI1C ofc;VcllLCCiii* j* • * CF fpflft
At this period the government of Russia may be consi-tywt ,
   ” . empire a1
dered as a pure aristocracy, since the supreme power resu
ed in the hands of the nobles and the superior clergy. fling of tl
particular, the boyars, or chief officers of the army, who were 17th cen-
also the priw counsellors of the prince, possessed a very con- tury.
siderable share of authority. The election of the late prin¬
ces Boris, Dmitri, and Schuiskoy, had been conductea
principally by them, in concert with the inhabitants ot
Moscow, where was then held the seat of government. 1 ne
common people, especially those of the inferior towns,
though nominally free, had no share in the government or
in the election of the chief ruler. The boors, or those
j
R U S
istory. peasants who dwelt on the noblemen’s estates, were almost
■"V"'' completely slaves, and transferable with the land on which
they dwelt. An attempt to annul this barbarous vassalage
had been made, both by Boris and by Schuiskoy ; but, from
the opposition of the nobles, it was abandoned.
The laws then in force consisted partly of the municipal
laws drawn up for the state of Novgorod by Yaroslaf, and
partly of an amended code, called Sudebnik, promulgated
by Ivan Vasiliivitch II. By this Sudebnik the administra¬
tion of the laws was made uniform throughout the empire,
and particular magistrates were appointed in the several
towns and districts, all subject to the czar as their chief.
The Sudebnik consisted of ninety-seven articles, all con¬
taining civil laws; as the penal statutes are only briefly
mentioned in some articles, so as to appear either connect¬
ed with the civil, or as serving to illustrate them. The
criminal laws were contained in a separate code, called
Guhnaia Gramota, which is now lost, but is referred to in
the civil code. In neither of these codes is there any men¬
tion of ecclesiastical affairs ; but these were regulated by a
set of canons drawn up in 1542, under the inspection of
Ivan Vasiliivitch, in a grand council held at Moscow. In
the civil statutes of the Sudebnik, theft was punished in the
first instance by restitution ; or, if the thief were unable to
restore the property stolen, he became the slave of the in¬
jured party till by his labour he had made sufficient compen¬
sation. Of murder nothing is said, except where the per¬
son slain was a lord or master, when the murderer was to be
punished with death. There is no mention of torture, ex¬
cept in cases of theft.
Before the accession of the house of Romanof, the com¬
mercial intercourse which the cities of Novgorod and Pscov,
formerly held with the Hanse Towns, had entirely ceased ;
but this wras in some degree compensated by the newly es¬
tablished trade between Russia and England, the centre of
which was Archangel. This trade had been lately increased
by the products derived from the acquisition of Siberia, in
exchange for which the English principally supplied the
Russians with broad cloth. In 1568, an English counting-
, house was established at Moscow, and about the same time
the Russian Company was incorporated. Previously to the
fifteenth century, the trade of the Russians had been car¬
ried on merely by barter; but during that century the coin¬
age of money commenced at Novgorod and Pscov; and
from this time their commerce was placed on an equal foot¬
ing with that of the other European nations.
Except in the article of commerce, the Russians were
deplorably behind the rest of Europe; and though attempts
had been made by Ivan I., Ivan V&siliivitch II., and Boris,
to cultivate their manners and to improve the state of their
S I A. 53g
arts and manufactures, these attempts had failed of sue- History.
cess.1    .
At the accession of Mikhail, who was crowmed in June An. 1613.
1613, the Swedes and Poles were in possession of several Mikhail
paits of the empire; and to dislodge these intruders wasmil^es
the first object of the new czar. Aware of the difficulty of^jT1
contending at once with both these formidable enemies, he and Poles
began by negotiating a treaty of peace with Sweden. This
was not effected without considerable sacrifices. Mikhail
agreed to give up Ingria and Karelia, and to evacuate Es-
thonia and Livonia. Thus freed from his most dangerous
enemy, he prepared to oppose the Poles, of whom a nume¬
rous body had entered Russia, to support the claims of their
king s son Vladislaf. Mikhail proceeded, howrever, in a very
wary manner, and instead of opposing the invaders in the
open field, he entrapped them by ambuscades, or allured
them into districts already desolated, where they suffered
so much from cold and hunger, that in 1619 they agreed
to a cessation of hostilities for fourteen years and a half, on
condition that the Russians should cede to Poland the go¬
vernment of Smolensk.
Ihus freed from external enemies on terms which, though His pru-
not very honourable, were the best that the posture of his(ler|t eon.
affairs admitted, Mikhail applied himself to arranging the ^uct-
internal economy of his empire. He began by placing his
father at the head of the church, by conferring on him the
dignity of patriarch, which had become vacant. The coun¬
sels of this venerable man were of great advantage to the
emperor, and contributed to preserve that peace and tran¬
quillity by which his reign was in general distinguished.
His next step was to form treaties of alliance with the prin¬
cipal commercial states of Europe. He accordingly sent
ambassadors into England, Denmark, Holland, and the Ger¬
man empire ; and Russia, which had hitherto been consi¬
dered rather as an Asiatic than a European power, became
so respectable in the eyes of her northern neighbours, that
they vied with each other in their eagerness for establishing
with her commercial relations.
Mikhail also commenced those improvements of the laws
which we shall presently see more fully executed by his son
and successor; but the tide of party ran so high, that he could
effect only a very imperfect reformation. He was also ob¬
liged to put his frontiers in a state of defence, by providing
for the expiration of the truce with Poland, which now drew
nigh ; and as no permanent peace had been established,
both parties began to prepare for a renewal of hostilities.
Indeed the armistice was broken by the Russians, who, on
the death of Sigismund, king of Poland, appeared before
Smolensk, justifying the infringement of the treaty, on the
pretence that it was concluded with Sigismund, and not
1 Tooke furnishes the following characteristic features of the state of Russia in the sixteenth century.
The houses were in general of timber, and badly constructed, except that in Moscow and other great towns there were a few built
of brick.
That contempt for the female sex which is invariably a characteristic of defective civilization, was conspicuous among the Rus¬
sians. The women were kept in a state of perfect bondage, and it was thought a great instance of liberality if a stranger were but
permitted to see them. They were scarcely ever allowed to quit the house, even for the purpose of going to church, though attendance
on divine worship was considered of the highest importance.
The men of the middle ranks always repaired about noon to the market, where they transacted business, conversed about public
affairs, and attended the courts of judicature to hear the causes that were going forward. In agreements and bargains the highest as¬
severation was, “ If I keep not my word, may it turn to my infamya custom extremely honourable to the nation, as they held the
disgrace of having forfeited their word to be the deepest degradation.
If the wife was so dependent on her husband, the child was still more dependent on his father; for parents were allowed to sell their
children. Masters and servants entered into a mutual contract respecting the terms of their connection; and a written copy of
this agreement was deposited in the proper court, where, if either party broke the contract, the other might lodge his complaint.
Single combat still continued to be the last resource in deciding a cause ; and to this the judge resorted in cases which he knew
not otherwise how to determine. But duels out of court were strictly prohibited ; and when these took place, and either party fell,
the survivor was regarded as a murderer, and punished accordingly. Personal vengeance was forbidden, under the strictest penalty'.
The nobles were universally soldiers, and were obliged to appear when summoned, to assist the prince in his wars. Till the end of
the sixteenth century the boor was not bound to any particular master. He tilled the ground of a nobleman for a certain time on
stated conditions. Thus he either received part of the harvest or of the cattle, a portion of wood, hay, &c. ; or he worked five days
for the master, and on the sixth was at liberty to till a piece of ground set apart for his use. At the expiration of the term agreed
on, either party might give up the contract; the boor might remove to another master, and the master dismiss the boor that did not
suit him.
540
History.
RUSSIA.
An. 1645.
A ecession
of Alexei
Milhailo-
vitch.
War with
Sweden
and Poland
with his successors. Nothing of consequence, however,
was then executed; and the Russian commander, after hav¬
ing lain there in perfect indolence, with an army of fifty
thousand men, for two years, at length raised the siege. Mik¬
hail attempted to engage the Swedes in an alliance with him
against Poland; but failing in this negotiation, he concluded
a new treaty, which continued unbroken till his death. This
event happened in 1645.
Mikhail was succeeded by his son Alexei; but as the
young prince was only fifteen years of age at the time ot
his father’s death, a nobleman named Morosof had been ap¬
pointed his governor and regent of the empire. This man
possessed all the ambition of Boris, without his prudence and
address; and in attempting to raise himself and his adherents
to the highest posts in the state, he incurred the hatred of
all ranks of the people. Though, by properly organizing
the army, he provided for the defence of the empire against
external enemies, he shamefully neglected internal policy,
and connived at the most flagrant enormities in the admi¬
nistration of justice. These abuses went so far that the
populace once stopped the czar as he was returning from
church to his palace, calling aloud for righteous judges.
Although Alexei promised to make strict inquiry into the
nature and extent of their grievances, and to inflict de¬
served punishment on the guilty, the people had not the pa¬
tience to await this tardy process, and proceeded to plun¬
der the houses of those nobles who were most obnoxious to
them. They were at length pacified, however, on condi¬
tion that the author of their oppression should be brought
to condign punishment. One of the most nefarious judges
was executed; and the principal magistrate of Moscow was
killed in a tumult. The life of Morosof was spared at the
earnest entreaty of the czar, who engaged for his future
good behaviour.
Similar disturbances had broken out at Novgorod and
Pscov; but they were happily terminated, chiefly through
the exertions of the metropolitan Nicon, a man of low birth,
who, by his reputation for extraordinary piety and holiness,
had raised himself to the patriarchal dignity, and was hign
in favour with Alexei. The pacific conduct of the neigh¬
bouring states did not long continue, though indeed we may
attribute the renewal of hostilities to the ambition of the czar.
The war with Poland was occasioned by Alexei’s sup¬
porting the Kozaks, a military horde, who had left the north¬
ern shores of the Dnieper, and retired further to the south.
Here they had established a military democracy, and during
the dominion of the Tartars in Russia had been subject to
the khan of those tribes; but after the expulsion or subju¬
gation of the Tartars, the Kozaks had put themselves under
the guardianship of Poland, to which kingdom they for¬
merly belonged. As the Polish’ clergy, however, attempted
to impose on them the Greek faith, they threw off their al¬
legiance to the king of Poland, and claimed the patronage
of Russia. Alexei, who seems to have sought a pretext
for a rupture with that state, gladly received them as his
subjects, hoping, by their assistance, to recover the ter¬
ritories which had been ceded to Poland by his father.
He began by negotiation, and sent an embassy to the king
of Poland, complaining of some Polish publications, in which
reflections had been cast on the honour of his father, and
demanding that, by way of compensation, the Russian ter¬
ritories formerly ceded should be restored. The king of
Poland of course refused so arrogant a demand, and both
parties prepared for war. The Russians, assisted by the
Kozaks, were so successful in this contest, that the king of
Sweden became jealous of Alexei’s good fortune, and ap¬
prehensive of an attack. He therefore determined to take
a very active part in the war, especially as the Lithuanians,
who were extremely averse to the Russian dominion, had
sought his protection. The war with Sweden commenced
in 1656, and lasted for two years, without any important
advantage being gained by either party. A truce was con- Histor
eluded in 1658 for three years, and at the termination s
of this period a solid peace was established. In the mean
time the war with Poland continued, but was at length ter¬
minated by an armistice, which was prolonged from time to
time during the remainder of Alexei’s life.
The reign of this monarch is as remarkable for turbu¬
lence as that of his predecessor had been for tranquillity.
No sooner was peace established with the neighbouring
states than fresh commotions shook the empire from within.
The Don Kozaks, who now formed a part of the Russian
population, felt themselves aggrieved by the rigour with
which one of their officers had been treated, and, placing at
their head Radzin, the brother of the deceased,' broke out
into open rebellion. Allured by the spirit of licentiousness
and the hopes of plunder, vast numbers, both of Kozaks
and inferior Russians, flocked to the standard of Radzin,
and formed an army of nearly two hundred thousand men.
This force, however, ill armed and quite undisciplined, was
formidable merely from its numbers. Radzin himself seems
to have placed no reliance on the courage or fidelity of his
followers, and eagerly embraced the first opportunity of
procuring a pardon by submission. Having been deceived
into a belief that this pardon would be granted on his sur¬
rendering himself to the mercy of the czar, he set out for
Moscow', accompanied by his brother; but when he had
arrived within a short distance of the capital, whither no¬
tice had been sent of his approach, he wras met by a cart
containing a gallows, on which he was immediately hang¬
ed. His followers, who had assembled at Astracan, wrere
surrounded by the czar’s troops, taken prisoners, and twelve
thousand of them hung on the gibbets in the highways.
The authority which Alexei had obtained over the Don- Commews
skoi Kozaks excited the jealousy of the Sublime Porte,
which justly dreaded the extension of the Russian territo-^^ '
ry on the side of the Crimea, a peninsula at that time be¬
longing to Turkey. After a successful attempt on the fron¬
tiers of Poland, a Turkish army entered the Ukraine, and
the Russians made preparations to oppose them. Alexei
endeavoured to form a confederacy against the infidels _
among the Christian potentates of Europe ; but the age of
crusading chivalry was over, and the czar was obliged to
make head against the Turks, with no assistance but that
of the king of Poland. The Turkish arms were for some
years victorious, especially on the side of Poland; but at
length a check was given to their successes by the Polish
general Sobieski, who afterwards ascended the throne of
that kingdom. Hostilities between the Turks and Rus¬
sians w7ere not, however, terminated during the reign of
Alexei, and the czar left to his successor the prosecution of
the war.
The reign of Alexei is most remarkable for the improve-Alexeis
ments introduced by him into the Russian laws. Before
his time the Emannoy Ukases, or personal orders of the so- ^ ^
vereign, were almost the only laws of the country. These
edicts were as various as the opinions, prejudices, and pas¬
sions of men; and before the days of Alexei they produced
endless contentions. To remedy this evil, he made a se¬
lection, from all the edicts of his predecessors, of such as
had been current for a hundred years, presuming that these
either were founded in natural justice, or during so long a
currency had formed the minds of the people to consider
them as just. This digest, which he declared to be the
common law of Russia, and which is prefaced by a sort of
institute, is known by the title of the Uloshenie or Selection.
It w'as long the standard law-book, all edicts prior thereto
being declared to be obsolete. He soon made his new code,
however, more bulky than even the Selection; and the ad¬
ditions of his successors are beyond enumeration. This
was undoubtedly a great and useful work; but Alexeipel"
formed another still greater.
RUSSIA.
541
story. Though there were many courts of judicature in this
widely-extended empire, the emperor was always lord pa¬
ramount, and could take a cause from any court immediate¬
ly before himself. But as several of the old nobles had the
remains of principalities in their families, and held their
own courts, the sovereign or his ministers, at a distance up
the country, frequently found it difficult to bring a culprit
out of one of these hereditary feudal jurisdictions, and to try
him by the laws of the empire. This was a very dangerous
limitation of imperial power, and the more so that some fa¬
milies claimed even a right of replevance. A fortunate op¬
portunity soon offered of settling the dispute, and Alexei
embraced it with great ability.
Some families on the old frontiers were taxed with their
defence, for which they were obliged to maintain regi¬
ments ; and as they were but scantily indemnified by the
state, it sometimes required the exertion of authority to
make them keep up their levies. When, by the conquest
of Kazan, the frontiers were far extended, these nobles
found the regiments no longer burdensome, because, by
the help of false musters, the formerly scanty allowance
much more than reimbursed them for the expense of the
establishment. The consequence was, that disputes arose
among them about the right of guarding certain districts,
and lawsuits were necessary to settle their respective
claims. These were tedious and intricate. The emperor
ordered all the family archives to be brought to Moscow,
and all documents on both sides to be collected. A time
was fixed for the examination ; a fine wooden court-house
was built; every paper was lodged under a guard ; and the
day was appointed when the court should be opened and
the claims heard. But on that morning the house, with all
its contents, was in two hours consumed by fire. The em¬
peror then said, “ Gentlemen, henceforward your rank,
your privileges, and your courts, are the nation’s, and the
nation will guard itself. Your archives are unfortunately
lost, but those of the nation remain. J am the keeper, and
it is my duty to administer justice for all and to all. Your
rank is not private, but national, attached to the services
you are actually performing. Henceforward Colonel Bu¬
turlin (a private gentleman) ranks before Captain Viazem¬
sky (an old prince).”
The Russians owe more to this prince than some of their
historians seem willing to acknowledge ; and there appears
to be no doubt that several of the improvements attributed
to Peter the Great were at least projected by his father.
Under Alexei a considerable trade was opened with China,
from which country silks, and other rich stufl's, were brought
into Russia, and exchanged for the Siberian furs. The ex¬
portation of Russian products to other countries was also in¬
creased ; and we are assured that Alexei had even project¬
ed the formation of a navy, and would have executed the
design, had he not been perpetually occupied in foreign
wars and domestic troubles.
1676. Alexei died in 1676, leaving three sons and six daughters.
,;1 ot Two of the sons, Feodor and Ivan, were by a first marriage;
the third, Peter, by a second. The two former, particu¬
larly Ivan, were of a delicate constitution, and some at¬
tempts were made by the relations of Peter to set them
aside. These attempts, however, proved unsuccessful, and
Feodor became the successor of Alexei.
The reign of this prince was short, and distinguished ra¬
ther for the happiness which the nation then experienced,
than for the importance of the transactions which took place.
He continued the war with the Turks for four years after
his father’s death, and at length brought it to an honour¬
able conclusion, by a truce for twenty years, after the Turks
had acknowledged" the Russian right of sovereignty over the
Kozaks. Feodor died in 1682, but before his death nomi¬
nated his half-brother Peter his successor.
Ihe succession of Peter, though appointed by their fa¬
vourite czar Feodor, was by no means pleasing to the ma- History,
jority of the Russian nobles, and it was particularly op-
posed by Galitzin, the prime minister of the late czar. This^n\^''~-
able man had espoused the interest of Sophia, the sister ofofthe 'prin
Feodor and Ivan, a young woman of eminent abilities and Cess Sophia,
the most insinuating address. Sophia, upon pretence of
asserting the claims of her brother Ivan, who, though of a
feeble body and weak intellect, was considered as the law¬
ful heir of the crown, had really formed a design of secur¬
ing the succession to herself; and with that view, had not
only insinuated herself into the confidence and good graces
of Galitzin, but had brought over to her interests the Stre-
litzes, who were the body-guard of the czars, and at this time
were about fourteen thousand in number. These licentious
soldiers assembled for the purpose, as was pretended, of pla¬
cing on the throne Prince Ivan, whom they proclaimed czar
by acclamation. During three days they roved about the
city of Moscow, committing the greatest excesses, and put¬
ting to death several of the chief officers of state who were
suspected of being hostile to the designs of Sophia. Their
employer did not, however, entirely gain her point; for as
the new czar entertained a sincere affection for his half-
brother Peter, he insisted that this prince should share
with him the imperial dignity. This was at length agreed
to; and on the 6th of May 1682, Ivan and Peter were so¬
lemnly crowned joint emperors of all the Russias, while the
Princess Sophia was nominated their copartner in the go¬
vernment.
From the imbecility of Ivan and the youth of Peter, who Joint reign
was now only ten years of age, the whole power of the go-of Ivan and
vernment rested with Sophia and her minister Galitzin, !>eter *•
although till the year 1687 the names of Ivan and Peter
only were annexed to the imperial decrees. Scarcely had
Sophia established her authority when she was threatened
with deposition, from an alarming insurrection of the Stre-
litzes. This was excited by their commander Prince Ko-
vanskoi, who had demanded of Sophia that she should mar¬
ry one of her sisters to his son, but had met with a morti¬
fying refusal. In consequence of this insurrection, which
threw the whole city of Moscow into terror and consterna¬
tion, Sophia and the two young czars took refuge in a mo¬
nastery about twelve leagues from the capital; and before
the Strelitzes could follow them thither, a considerable
body of soldiers, principally foreigners, was assembled in
their defence. Kovanskoi was taken prisoner, and instant¬
ly beheaded; and though his followers at first threatened
dreadful vengeance on his executioners, they soon found
themselves obliged to submit. From every regiment was
selected the tenth man, who was to suffer as an atonement
for the rest; but this cruel punishment was remitted, and
only the most guilty among the ringleaders suffered death.
The quelling of these disturbances gave leisure to the An. 1687.
friends of Peter to pursue the plans which they had formed The party
for subverting the authority of Sophia; and about this time°f Peter
a favourable opportunity offered, in consequence of a rup- ,,
ture with Turkey. The Porte was now engaged in a war "
with Poland and the German empire, and both these latter
powers had solicited the assistance of Russia against the
common enemy. Sophia and her party were averse to the
alliance; but as there were in the council many secret
friends of Peter, these had sufficient influence to persuade
the majority that a Turkish war would be of advantage to
the state. They even prevailed on Galitzin to put himself
at the head of the army, and thus removed their principal
opponent. It is difficult to conceive how a man, so able in
the cabinet as Galitzin, could have suffered his vanity so
far to get the better of his good sense, as to accept a mili¬
tary command, for which he certainly had no talents. As¬
sembling an army of nearly three hundred thousand men,
he marched towards the confines of Turkey, and there con¬
sumed two campaigns in marches and countermarches, and
542
RUSSIA.
History, lost nearly forty’thousand men, partly in unsuccessful skir-
'''—-v'—^ mishes with the enemy, but chiefly from disease.
While Galitzin was thus trifling away his time in the
south, Peter, who already began to give proofs of those
great talents which afterwards enabled him to act so con-
procured a supply of artillery and engineers from the em- History
peror and the Dutch, and found means to provide a num- N‘
ber of transports. With these auxiliaries he opened the
second campaign, defeated the Turks on the Sea of Azof,
and made himself master of the town. Peter was so elated
spicuous a part in the theatre of the north, was strengthen- with these successes, that on his return from the seat of war
inar his party among the Russian nobles. His ordinary re- he marched his troops into Moscow in a triumphal proces-
sidence was at a village not far from Moscow, and here he sion, in which Lefort as admiral of the transports, and
had assembled round him a considerable number of young Schein as commander of the land forces, bore the most con-
men of rank and influence, whom he called his play-mates, spicuous parts, while Peter himself was lost without dis-
Among these were two foreigners, Lefort a Genevese, and tinction in the crowd of subaltern officers.
Gordon a Scotchman, who afterwards signalized themselves He now resolved to form a fleet in the Black Sea , but
n his service. These young men had formed a sort of mi- as his own revenues were insufficient for this purpose, he
An. 1689.
Peter ob¬
tains the
undivided
sovereign¬
ty.
He esta¬
blishes a
military
and naval
force.
itary company, of which Lefort was captain ; and the young
czar, beginning with the situation of drummer, gradually
rose through every subordinate office. Under this appear¬
ance of a military game, Peter was secretly establishing
himself' in the affections of his young companions, and ef¬
fectually lulled the suspicions of Sophia, till it was too late
for her to oppose his machinations.
About the middle of the year 1689, Peter, who had now
attained his seventeenth year, determined to make an effort
to deprive Sophia of all share in the government, and to
secure to himself the undivided sovereignty. On occasion
of a solemn religious meeting that was held, Sophia had
claimed the principal place, as regent of the empire; but
this claim was strenuously opposed by Peter, who, rather
than fill a subordinate situation, quitted the place of assem¬
bly, and, with his friends and adherents, withdrew to the
monastery of the Holy Trinity, which had formerly sheltered
him and his copartners from the fury of the Strelitzes. This
was the signal for an open rupture. Sophia, finding that
she could not openly oppose the party of the czar, attempt¬
ed to procure his assassination; but as her design was dis¬
covered, she thought proper to solicit an accommodation.
This was agreed to, on condition that she should give up
all claim to the regency, and retire to a nunnery. The
commander of the Strelitzes, her agent in the assassina¬
tion of Peter, was beheaded, and the minister Galitzin sent
into banishment to Archangel.
Peter now saw himself in undisputed possession of the
imperial throne ; for though Ivan was still nominally czar,
issued a ukase, commanding the patriarch and other digni¬
fied clergy, the nobility, and the merchants, to contribute a
part of their income towards fitting out a certain number
of ships. This proclamation was extremely unpopular, and,
together with the numerous innovations which Peter was
every day introducing, especially his sending the young
nobles to visit foreign countries, and his own avowed inten¬
tion of making the tour of Europe, contributed to raise
against him a formidable party. The vigilance and pru¬
dence of the czar, however, extricated him from the dan¬
gers with which he was threatened, and enabled him to
carry into execution his proposed journey.
In returning to his own dominions, Peter passed through An. IJCO.
Rawa, where Augustus king of Poland then was. The czar Peter en-
had determined, in conjunction with Augustus and the king£aSe*“,a
of Denmark, to take advantage of the youth and inexperi- ^tar;ei
ence of Charles XII. who had just succeeded to the Swedish xil. of
throne; and in this interview with Augustus, he made the Sweden,
final arrangements for the part which each was to take in
the war. Augustus was to receive Livonia as his part of
the spoil, while Frederick king of Denmark had his eye on
Holstein, and Peter had formed designs on Ingria, formerly
a province of the Russian empire.
In the middle of the year 1700, Charles had left his ca- Defeated j
pital to oppose these united enemies. He soon compelled by the
the king of Denmark to give up his designs on Llolstein, Swede.-,
and sign a treaty of peace; and being thus at liberty to
turn his arms against the other members of the confederacy,
he resolved first to lead his army against the king of Poland;
he had voluntarily resigned all share in the administration but on his way he received intelligence that the czar had
of affairs, and retired to a life of obscurity. The first ob- laid siege to Narva with an army which some authorities
ject to which the czar directed his attention wras the es- calculate at a hundred thousand men. On this he imme-
tablishment of a regular and well-disciplined military force, diately embarked at Carlscrona, though it was then the
He had learned by experience how little dependence w'as depth of winter, and the Baltic was scarcely navigable; and
to be placed on the Strelitzes; and these regiments he de- soon landed at Pernaw in Livonia with part of his forces,
termined to disband. He commissioned Lefort and Gor-
don to levy new regiments, which, in their whole constitu¬
tion, dress, and military exercises, should be formed on the
model of other European troops. He next resolved to car¬
ry into execution the design which had been formed by his
father, of constructing a navy. For this purpose he first
having ordered the rest to Revel. , His army did not ex¬
ceed twenty thousand men, but it was composed of the
best soldiers in Europe, while that of the Russians was
little better than an undisciplined multitude. Every pos¬
sible obstruction, however, had been thrown in the way of
the Swedes. Thirty thousand Russians were posted in a
took a journey to Archangel, where he employed himself defile on the road, and this corps was sustained by another
in examining the operations of the shipwrights, and occa- body of twenty thousand drawn up some leagues nearer
sionally taking a part in their labours; but as he learned Narva. Peter himself had set out to hasten the march
that the art of ship-building was practised in greater per- of a reinforcement of forty thousand men, with whom he
fection in Holland, and some other maritime countries of intended to attack the Swedes in flank and rear; but the
Europe, he sent thither several young Russians to be ini- celerity and valour of Charles baffled every attempt to op-
tiated into the best methods of constructing ships of war. pose him. He set out with four thousand foot and an
Hissucees- The war with Turkey still languished, but Peter was re- equal number of cavalry? leaving the rest of the army to
ses against so]ve(j t0 prosecute it with vigour, hoping to get possession follow at their leisure. With this small body he attacked
tlie U1 of the town of Azof, and thus open a passage to the Black and defeated the Russian armies successively, and pushed
Sea. He placed Gordon, Lefort, and two of his nobles, at his way to Peter’s camp, for the attack of which he gave
the head of the forces destined for this expedition, and him- immediate orders. This camp was fortified by lines of cir-
self attended the army as a private volunteer. The sue- cumvallation and contravallation, by redoubts, and by a
cess of the first campaign wras but trifling; and Peter learn- line of a hundred and fifty brass cannons placed in front,
ed that his deficiency of artillery and his want of transports and it was defended by an army of eighty thousand men ,
prevented him from making an effectual attack on Azof, yet so violent w7as the attack of the Swedes, that in three
These difficulties, however, were soon surmounted. He hours the intrenchments were carried, and Charles, wit
RUSSIA.
543
R<
wed
ext ons
Dei ; of
fedes.
only four thousand men, that composed the wing which he
commanded, pursued the flying enemy, amounting to fifty
thousand, to the river Narva. Here the bridge broke
down with the weight of the fugitives, and the river was
filled with their bodies. Great numbers returned in de¬
spair to their camp, where they defended themselves for a
short time, but were at last obliged to surrender. In this
battle, thirty thousand were killed in the intrenchments
and the pursuit, or drowned in the river; twenty thousand
surrendered at discretion, and were dismissed unarmed,
while the rest were totally dispersed. A hundred and
fifty pieces of cannon, twenty-eight mortars, a hundred
and fifty-one pairs of colours, twenty standards, and all
the Russian baggage, fell into the hands of the Swedes;
and the Duke de Croy, the Prince of Georgia, and seven
other generals, were made prisoners. Charles behaved with
the greatest generosity to the conquered. Being inform¬
ed that the tradesmen of Narva had refused credit to the
officers whom he detained prisoners, he sent a thousand
ducats to the Duke de Croy, and to every other officer a
proportional sum.
Peter was advancing with forty thousand men to surround
the Swedes, when he received intelligence of the dreadful
defeat at Narva. He was greatly chagrined; but comforting
himself with the hopes that the Swedes would in time teach
the Russians to beat them, he returned to his own domi¬
nions, where he applied himself with the utmost diligence
to the raising of another army. He evacuated all the pro¬
vinces which he had invaded, and for a time abandoned all
his great projects, thus leaving Charles at liberty to prose¬
cute the war against Poland.
As Augustus had expected an attack, he endeavoured to
draw the czar into a close alliance with him. The two mo-
narchs had an interview at Birzen, where it was agreed that
Augustus should lend the czar fifty thousand German sol¬
diers, to be paid by Russia; that the czar should send an
equal number of his troops to be trained up to the art of
war in Poland ; and that he should pay the king three mil¬
lions of rix-dollars in the space of two years. Of this
treaty Charles had notice, and, by means of his minister
Count Piper, entirely frustrated the scheme.
After the battle of Narva, Charles became confident and
negligent, while the activity of Peter increased with his
losses. He supplied his want of artillery by melting down
the bells of the churches, and constructed numerous small
vessels on the lake of Ladoga to oppose the entrance of the
Swedes into his dominions. He took every advantage of
Charles’s negligence, and engaged in frequent skirmishes,
in which, though often beaten, he was sometimes victorious.
He contrived to make himself master of the river Neva,
and captured Nyenschantz, a fortress at the mouth of that
river. Here he laid the foundation of that city w hich he
had long projected, and which was to become the metro¬
polis of his empire. At length, in 1704, he became master
of Ingria, and appointed his favourite Prince Menzikoff to
be viceroy of that province, with strict orders to make the
building of the new city his principal business. Here edi¬
fices were already rising in every quarter, and navigation
and commerce wTere increasing in vigour and extent.
In the mean time Augustus king of Poland, though treat¬
ing with Charles for the surrender of his dominions, was
obliged to keep up the appearance of war, which he had
neither ability nor inclination to conduct. He had been
lately joined by Prince Menzikoff with thirty thousand Rus¬
sians ; and this obliged him, contrary to his inclination, to
hazard an engagement with Meyerfeldt, who commanded
ten thousand men, one half of whom were Swedes. As at
this time no disparity of numbers whatever was reckoned an
equivalent to the valour of the Swedes, Meyerfeldt did not
decline the combat, though the army of the enemy was four
times as numerous as his own. With his own countrymen he
oefeated the enemy’s first line, and was on the point of defeat- History,
ing the second, when Stanislas, with the Poles and Lithua-'"“"'V'*"''
nians, gave way. Meyerfeldt then perceived that the battle
was lost; but he fought desperately, that he might avoid
the disgrace of a defeat. At last, however, he was oppressed
by numbers, and forced to surrender ; suffering the Swedes
foi the first time to be conquered by their enemies. The
whole army were taken prisoners excepting Major-general
Krassau, who having repeatedly rallied a body of horse
formed into a brigade, at last broke through the enemy, and
escaped to Posnania. Augustus had scarcely sung Te Deum
for this victory, when his plenipotentiary returned from
Saxony with the articles of the treaty, by which he was to
renounce all claim to the crown of Poland in favour of his
rival Stanislas. The king hesitated and scrupled, but at
last signed them; after which he set out for Saxony, glad
at any expense to be freed from such an enemy as the king
of Sweden, and from such allies as the Russians.
The czar Peter was no sooner informed of this extraor-Peter de-
dinary treaty, than he learned also the cruel fate of histermi"es to
plenipotentiary Patkul, a Livonian emigrant, whom Charles jjntinue
claiming as a subject, seized and executed. Peter imme- ^ " U’
diately sent letters to every court in Christendom, com¬
plaining of this breach of the law of nations. He entreated
the emperor, the queen of Britain, and the states-general,
to revenge this insult on humanity. He stigmatized the
compliance of Augustus with the opprobrious name of pu¬
sillanimity ; and exhorted them not to guarantee a treaty so
unjust, but to despise the menaces of the Swedish bully. So
well, however, was the prowess of the king of Sweden known,
that none of the allies thought proper to irritate him, by re¬
fusing to guarantee any treaty which he thought proper to
accept. At first, Peter thought of revenging Patkul’s death
by massacring the Swedish prisoners at Moscow; but from
this he was deterred, by remembering that Charles had many
more Russian prisoners than he himself had of Swedes. In
the year 1707, however, he entered Poland at the head of
sixty thousand men, and, assembling a diet, solemnly de¬
posed Stanislas, with the same ceremonies which had been
used with regard to Augustus. The appearance of a Swe¬
dish army under King Stanislas and General Lewenhaupt
put a stop to this invasion, and the czar retired into Lithua¬
nia, giving out as the cause of his retreat, that the country
could not supply him with the provisions and forage neces¬
sary for so great an army.
During these transactions Charles had taken up his resi- Charles
dence in Saxony, where he gave laws to the court of Vienna, v’s't!; Au*
and in a manner intimidated all Europe. At last, satiated gustus‘
with the glory of having dethroned one king, set up another,
and struck all Europe with terror and admiration, he began
to evacuate Saxony in pursuit of his great plan, the dethron¬
ing the czar Peter, and conquering the vast empire of Russia.
While the army was on full march in the neighbourhood of
Dresden, he took the extraordinary resolution of visiting
King Augustus with no more than five attendants. Although
he had no reason to imagine that Augustus either did or
could entertain any friendship for him, he was not uneasy
at the consequences of thus putting himself entirely in his
power. He reached the palace door of Augustus before it
was known that he was in the city ; and he entered the
elector’s chamber in his boots before the latter had time to
recover from his surprise. He breakfasted with him in a
friendly manner, and then expressed a desire of viewing
the fortifications. While he was walking round them, a Li¬
vonian, who had formerly been condemned in Sweden, and
served in the troops of Saxony, thought he could never have
a more favourable opportunity of obtaining pardon. He
therefore begged of King Augustus to intercede for him,
being fully assured that his majesty could not refuse so
small a favour to a prince in whose power he then was.
Augustus accordingly made the request, but Charles refused
544
Historv.
He inarches
against the
Russians.
RUSSIA.
The Rus¬
sians again
defeated.
Peter at¬
tempts to
make
peace, but
is unsuc¬
cessful.
An. 1708.
Charles
advances
towards
Moscow.
it in such a manner that he did not think proper to ask it
a second time. Having passed some hours in this extraor¬
dinary visit, he returned to his army, after having embraced
and taken leave of the king he had dethroned.
The armies of Sweden, in Saxony, Poland, and Finland,
now exceeded seventy thousand men ; while the available
force of Russia amounted to about a hundred thousand.
Peter, who had his army dispersed in small parties, in¬
stantly assembled it on receiving notice of the king ot
Sweden’s march, was making all possible preparations for a
vigorous resistance, and was on the point of attacking Sta¬
nislas, when the approach of Charles struck his whole army
with terror. In the month of January 1708, Charles passed
the Niemen, and entered the south gate of Grodno just
as Peter was quitting the place by the north gate. Charles
at this time had advanced some distance before the army,
at the head of six hundred horse.
The czar having received intelligence of his situation,
sent back a detachment of two thousand men to attack
him; but these were entirely defeated, and thus Charles
became possessed of the whole province of Lithuania. The
king pursued his flying enemies in the midst of ice and
snow, over mountains, rivers, and morasses, and through
obstacles which appeared to be insurmountable. These
difficulties, however, he had foreseen, and had prepared to
meet them. As he knew that the country could not fur¬
nish provisions sufficient for the subsistence of his army, he
had provided a large quantity of biscuit, and on this his
troops chiefly subsisted, till they came to the banks of the
Beresina, in view of Borisow. Here the czar was posted,
and Charles intended to give him battle, after which he
could the more easily penetrate into Russia. Peter, how¬
ever, did not think proper to come to an action, but re¬
treated towards the Dnieper, whither he was pursued by
Charles, as soon as he had refreshed his army. ^ The Rus¬
sians had destroyed the roads and desolated the country,
yet the Swedish army advanced with great celerity, and
in their march defeated twenty thousand Russians, though
intrenched to the very teeth. This victory, from the cir¬
cumstances in which it was gained, was one of the most
glorious that ever Charles had achieved. The memory of
it was preserved by a medal struck in Sweden with this in¬
scription ; Sylvce, paludes, aggeres, hostes, victi.
When the Russians had repassed the Dnieper, the czar,
finding himself pursued by an enemy with whom he could
not cope, resolved to make proposals for an accommodation.
Charles made only this arrogant reply, “ I will treat with
the czar at Moscow a taunt which was received by Peter
with the coolness of a hero. “ My brother Charles,” said
he, “ affects to play the Alexander, but he shall not find in
me a Darius.” He still, however, continued his retreat,
and Charles pursued so closely that daily skirmishes took
place between his advanced guard and the rear of the Rus¬
sians. In these actions the Swedes had generally the ad¬
vantage, though their petty victories cost them dear, by con¬
tributing to weaken their force in a country where it could
not be recruited. The two armies came so close to each
other at Smolensk, that an engagement took place between
a body of Russians composed of ten thousand cavalry and
six thousand Kalmuks, and the Swedish vanguard, compos¬
ed of only six regiments, but commanded by the king in
person. Here the Russians were again defeated; but
Charles, having been separated from the main body of his
detachment, was exposed to great danger. With one regi¬
ment only he fought with such fury as to drive the enemy
before him, when they thought themselves sure of making
him prisoner.
By the 3d of October 1708, Charles had approached with¬
in a hundred leagues of Moscow ; but Peter had rendered
the roads completely impassable, and had destroyed the
villages on every side, so as to cut off' every possibility of
subsistence to the enemy, while the season was far advan- History
ced, and the severity of winter was approaching. In these''—'*
circumstances, the king, at length sensible that he had com¬
mitted a perilous mistake, endeavoured to retrieve it by a
step which proved yet more calamitous. He resolved, be¬
fore attacking the Russian capital, to achieve the conquest
of the Ukraine, where Mazeppa, a Polish gentleman, was
general and chief of the Kozaks. Mazeppa having been
affronted by the czar, readily entered into a treaty with
Charles, whom he promised to assist with thirty thousand
men, great quantities of provisions and ammunition, and
with all his treasures, which were falsely stated to be im¬
mense. The Swedish army advanced towards the river
Disna, where they had to encounter the greatest difficul¬
ties ; a forest above forty leagues in extent, filled with
rocks, mountains, and morasses. To complete their mis¬
fortunes, they were led thirty leagues out of the right way;
all the artillery was sunk in bogs and marshes ; the provi¬
sion of the soldiers, which consisted of biscuit, was exhaust¬
ed ; and the whole army were spent and emaciated when
they arrived at the Disna. Here they expected to have
met Mazeppa with his reinforcement; but instead of that,
they perceived the opposite banks of the river covered with
a hostile army, and the passage itself rendered almost im¬
practicable. Charles, however, was still undaunted; he
let his soldiers by ropes down the steep banks ; they cross¬
ed the river either by swimming, or on rafts hastily put to¬
gether, drove the Russians from their post, and continued
their march. Mazeppa soon after appeared, having with
him about six thousand men, the broken remains of the
army he had promised. The Russians had got intelli¬
gence of his designs, defeated and dispersed his adherents,
laid his town in ashes, and taken all the stores collected
for the Swedish army. However, he still hoped to be use¬
ful by his intelligence in an unknown country; and the
Kozaks, out of revenge, crowded daily to the camp with pro¬
visions.
Greater misfortunes still awaited the Swedes. When
Charles entered the Ukraine, he had sent orders to Gene¬
ral Lewenhaupt to meet him with fifteen thousand men,
six thousand of whom were Swedes, and a large convoy
of provisions. Against this detachment Peter now bent
his whole force, and marched against him with an army
of sixty-five thousand men. Lewenhaupt had received in¬
telligence that the Russian army consisted of only twenty-
four thousand, a force to v/hich he thought six thousand
Swedes superior, and therefore disdained to intrench him¬
self. A furious contest ensued, in which the Russians were
defeated with the loss of fifteen thousand men. Now, how¬
ever, affairs began to take another turn. The Swedes,
elated with victory, prosecuted their march into the inte¬
rior ; but, from the ignorance or treachery of their guides,
they were led into a marshy country, where the roads were
made impassable by felled trees and deep ditches. Here
they were attacked by the czar with his whole army. Le¬
wenhaupt had sent a detachment to dispute the passage of
a body of Russians over a morass ; but finding his detacn-
ment likely to be overpowered, he marched to support them
with all his infantry. Another desperate battle ensued.
The Russians were once more thrown into disorder, and
were just on the point ot being totally defeated? when Pe-
ter gave orders to the Kozaks and Kalmuks to fire upon
all that fled ; “ Even kill me,” said he, “ if I should be so
cowardly as to turn my back.” The battle was now re¬
newed with great vigour; but notwithstanding the czar’s
positive orders, and his own example? the day would ave
been lost, had not General Bauer arrived with a strong
reinforcement of fresh Russian troops. The engagement
was once more renewed, and continued without intermis¬
sion till night. The Swedes then took possession of an ad¬
vantageous post, but were next morning attacked by t e
R U S
B; e of
Pi iva.
Russians. Lewenhaupt had formed a sort of rampart with
his waggons, but was obliged to set fire to them to prevent
their falling into the hands of the Russians, while he re¬
treated under cover of the smoke. The czar’s troops, how¬
ever, arrived in time to save five hundred of these waggons,
filled with provisions destined for the distressed Swedes. A
strong detachment was sent to pursue Lewenhaupt; but
so terrible did he now appear, that the Russian general of¬
fered him an honourable capitulation. This was rejected
with disdain, and a fresh engagement took place, in which
the Swedes, now reduced to four thousand, again defeated
their enemies, and killed five thousand on the spot. After
this Lewenhaupt was allowed to pursue his retreat without
molestation, though deprived of all his cannon and provisions.
Prince Menzikoff was indeed detached with a body of forces
to harass him on his march ; but the Swedes were now so
formidable, even in their extremity, that Menzikoff dared not
to attack them, so that Lewenhaupt with his four thousand
men arrived safe in the camp of Charles, after having de¬
stroyed nearly thirty thousand of the Russians.
This may be said to have been the last successful effort
of Swedish valour against the troops of Peter. The diffi¬
culties which Charles’s army had now to undergo exceeded
what human nature could support; yet still they hoped by
constancy and courage to subdue them. In the severest
winter known for a long time, even in Russia, they made
long marches, clothed like savages in the skins of wild
beasts. All the draught-horses perished ; thousands of sol¬
diers dropt down dead through cold and hunger; and by
the month of February 1709 the wdiole army was reduced
to eighteen thousand. Amidst numberless difficulties these
penetrated to Pultava, a town on the eastern frontier of the
Ukraine, where the czar had laid up magazines, of which
Charles resolved to obtain possession. Mazeppa advised the
king to invest the place, in consequence of his having cor¬
respondence with some of the inhabitants, by whose means
he hoped it would be surrendered. He was, however, de¬
ceived. The besieged made an obstinate defence; the Swedes
were repulsed in every assault, and eight thousand of them
were defeated, and almost entirely cut off, in an engagement
with a party of Russians. To complete his misfortunes,
Charles received a shot in his heel from a carabine, which
shattered the bone. For six hours afterwards, he continued
calmly on horseback, giving orders, till he fainted with the
loss of blood; after which he was carried into his tent.
For some days the czar, with an army of seventy thousand
men, had lain at a small distance, harassing the Swedish
camp, and cutting off the convoys of provision ; but now in¬
telligence was received that he was advancing as if with a
design of attacking the lines. In this situation, Charles,
wounded, distressed, and almost surrounded by enemies, is
said to have, for the first time, assembled a grand council of
war, the result of which was, that it was determined to march
out and attack the Russians. Voltaire, however, asserts
that the king did not relax one iota of his wonted obstinacy
and arbitrary temper ; but that, on the 7th of July, he sent
for General Renschild, and told him, without any emotion,
to prepare for attacking the enemy next morning.
The 8th of July 1709 is remarkable for the battle which
decided the fate of Sweden. Charles, having left eight thou¬
sand men in the camp to defend the works and repel the sal¬
lies of the besieged, began by break of day to march against
his enemies with the rest of the army, consisting of twenty-
six thousand men, of whom eighteen thousand were Kozaks.
The Russians were drawn up in two lines behind their in-
trenchments, the horse in front, and the foot in the rear,
with chasms to suffer the horse to fall back in case of ne¬
cessity. General Slippenbach was despatched to attack the
cavalry, which he did with such impetuosity that they were
broken in an instant. They, however, rallied behind the
infantry, and returned to the charge with so much vigour,
VOL. xix.
S I A.
545
that the Swedes were disordered in their turn, and Slippen- History,
bach was made prisoner. Charles was now carried in his v*-*'
litter to the scene of confusion. His troops, re-animated by
the presence of their leader, returned to the charge, and the
battle became doubtful, when a blunder of General Creuk,
who had been despatched by Charles to take the enemy in
flank, and a successful manoeuvre of Prince Menzikoff,
decided the fortune of the day in favour of the Russians.
Creuk’s detachment was defeated, and Menzikoff, who had
been sent by Peter with a strong body to post himself be¬
tween the Swedes and Pultava, so as to cut off the commu¬
nication of the enemy with their camp, and fall upon their
rear, executed his orders with so much success as to inter¬
cept a corps de reserve of three thousand men. Charles had
ranged his remaining troops in two lines, with the infantry
in the centre, and the horse on the two wings. They had
already twice rallied, and were now again attacked on all
sides with the utmost fury. Charles "in his litter, wdth a
drawn sword in one hand, and a pistol in the other, seemed
to be everywhere present; but new misfortunes awaited him.
A cannon-ball killed both horses in the litter; and scarcely
were these replaced by a fresh pair, when a second ball
struck the litter in pieces, and overturned the king. The
Swedish soldiers, believing him killed, fell back in conster¬
nation. The first line was completely broken, and the se¬
cond fled. Charles, though disabled, did every thing in his
power to restore order; but the Russians, emboldened by
success, pressed so hard on the flying foe, that it was im¬
possible to rally them. Renschild and several other general
officers were taken prisoners, and Charles himself would have
shared the same fate, had not Count Poniatowski, father of
the future favourite of Catherine II., with five hundred horse,
surrounded the royal person, and with desperate fury cut
his way through ten regiments of the Russians. With this
small guard the king arrived on the banks of the Dnieper,
and was followed by Lewenhaupt with four thousand foot
and all the remaining cavalry. The Russians took posses¬
sion of the Swedish camp, where they found a prodigious
sum in specie ; while Prince Menzikoff pursued the flying
Swedes, and, as they were in want of boats to cross the
Dnieper, obliged them to surrender at discretion. Charles
escaped with the utmost difficulty, but at length reached
Otchakof, on the frontiers of Turkey.
By this decisive victory, Peter remained in quiet posses¬
sion of his new acquisitions on the Baltic, and was enabled
to carry on, without molestation, the improvements which
he had projected at the mouth of the Neva. His haughty
rival, so long and so justly dreaded, was now completely
humbled, and his ally the king of Poland was again esta¬
blished on his throne. During the eight years that had
elapsed from the battle of Narva to that of Pultava, the
Russian troops had acquired the discipline and steadiness of
veterans, and had at length learned to beat their former
conquerors. If Peter had deci’eed triumphal processions for
his trifling successes at Azof, it is not surprising that he
should commemorate by similar pageants a victory so glo¬
rious and so important as that of Pultava. He made his tri¬
umphal entry into Moscow for the third time, and the pub¬
lic rejoicings on this occasion far exceeded all that had be¬
fore been witnessed in the Russian empire.
The vanquished Charles had, in the mean time, found aAn. 1711.
valuable friend in the monarch in whose territories he had Dangerous
taken refuge. Achmet II. who then filled the Ottoman pg1^.10^
throne, had beheld with admiration the warlike achieve- ^
ments of the Swedish hero; and, alarmed at the late suc¬
cesses of his rival, determined to afford Charles the most
effectual aid. In 1711, the Turkish emperor assembled an
immense army, and was preparing to invade the Russian
territories, when the czar, having intimation of his design,
and expecting powerful support from Cantemir, hospodar of
Moldavia, a vassal of the Porte, resolved to anticipate the
3 z
546
RUSSIA.
History.
An. 1721.
Advantage
ous peace
with Swe¬
den.
Peter’s na
tional im¬
prove¬
ments.
Character
of Peter.
Turks, and to make an inroad into Moldavia. Forgetting
his usual prudence and circumspection, Peter crossed the
Dnieper, and advanced by rapid marches as far as Yassy or
Jassy, the capital of that province, which is situated on
the river Pruth ; but his temerity had nearly cost him his
liberty, if not his life. The particulars of his dangerous
situation, with the manner in which he was extricated from
it by the prudent counsel of his consort Catherine, and the
treaty of the Pruth, which was the result ot that counsel,
have been already related under the head of Catherine I.
By this treaty, in which the interests of Charles had been
■almost abandoned, Peter saw himselt delivered from a dan¬
gerous enemy, and returned to his capital to prosecute
those plans for the internal improvement of his empire
which justly entitled him to the appellation of Great. Be¬
fore we enumerate these improvements, however, we must
bring the Swedish war to a conclusion. I he death ot
Charles, in 1718, had left the Swedish government deplo¬
rably weakened, by the continual drains of men and money
occasioned by his mad enterprises, and little able to carry
on a war with a monarch so powerful as Peter. At length,
therefore, in 1721, this ruinous contest, which had con¬
tinued ever since the commencement ot the century, vyas
brought to a conclusion by the treaty of Iv/ystadt, by which
the Swedes were obliged to cede to Russia, Livonia, Es-
thonia, Ingria, a part of Karelia, the territory of \ yborg, the
isle of Oesel, and all the other islands in the Baltic, from
Courland to Vyborg; for which concessions they received
back Finland, that had been conquered by Peter, together
with two millions of dollars, and the liberty of exporting duty
free, from Riga, Revel, and Arensberg, corn to the annual
amount of fifty thousand roubles. In consequence of this
great accession to the Russian empire, Peter received from
his senate the title of Emperor and Autocrat of all the Rus-
sias, and the ancient title of czar fell into disuse.
The improvements introduced by Peter into the internal
policy of the empire must be acknowledged to have been
numerous and important. He organized anew the legisla¬
tive assembly of the state; he greatly ameliorated the ad¬
ministration of justice ; he new-modelled the national army ;
he entirely created the Russian navy ; he rendered the eccle¬
siastical government milder and less intolerant; he zealously
patronized the arts and sciences; he erected an observatory
at St Petersburg, and by publicly proclaiming the approach
of an eclipse, and the precise time at which it was to take
place, taught his subjects no longer to consider such a phe¬
nomenon as an omen of disaster, or an awful menace of di¬
vine judgment. He enlarged the commerce of his empire,
and gave every encouragement to trade and manufactures.
He formed canals, repaired the roads, instituted regular
posts, and laid down regulations for a uniformity of weights
and measures. Lastly, he in some measure civilized his
subjects, though it is evident that he could not civilize him¬
self.
Various have been the estimates formed of the character
of Peter by those who have detailed the events of his reign.
It is certain that to him the Russian empire is indebted for
much of that splendour with which it now shines among the
powers of Europe. As a monarch, therefore, he is entitled
to our admiration; but as a private individual we must con¬
sider him as an object of detestation and abhorrence. His
tyranny and his cruelty admit of no excuse ; and it we were
to suppose, that in sacrificing the heir of his crown he emu¬
lated the patriotism of the elder Brutus, we must remember
that the same hand which signed the death-warrant of his
son, could with pleasure execute the sentence of the law,
or rather of his own caprice, and, in the moments of dissi¬
pation and revelry, could make the axe of justice an instru¬
ment of diabolical vengeance or of cool brutality.
Peter was succeeded by his consort Catherine, in whose
favour he had, some years before his death, altered the or¬
der of succession. As the character of this princess, and History;
the transactions of her short reign, have been fully detailed ^
under her life, we shall here only notice in the most cur-RV^
sory manner the events that took place. From the coyn- Cathoriiu;
mencement of her reign, Catherine conducted herself with
the greatest benignity and gentleness, and thus secured the
love and veneration of her subjects, which she had acquired
during the life of the emperor. She reduced the annual
capitation tax; ordered the numerous gibbets which Peter
had erected in various parts of the country to be cut down;
and caused the bodies of those who had fallen victims to
his tyranny to be decently interred. She recalled the greater
part of those whom Peter had exiled to Siberia; paid the
troops their arrears; and restored to the Kozaks those pri¬
vileges and immunities of which they had been deprived
during the late reign, while she continued in office most ot
the servants of Peter, both civil and military. In her reign
the boundaries of the empire were extended by the submis¬
sion of a Georgian prince, and the voluntary homage ofthe
Kubinskian Tartars. She died on the 17th of May 1/27,
having reigned about two years. She had settled the crown
on Peter the son of the Czarovitch Alexei, who succeeded
by the title of Peter II.
Peter was only twelve years of age when he ascended An. 1)2,
the imperial throne, and his reign was short and uninte-
resting. He was guided chiefly by Prince Menzikoff, whose
daughter Catherine had decreed him to marry. This am¬
bitious man, who, from the mean condition of a pye-boy,
had risen to the first offices of the state, and had, during
the late reign, principally conducted the administration ot
the government, was now, however, drawing towards the
end of his career. The number of his enemies had greatly
increased, and their attempts to work his downfall at last
succeeded. A young nobleman of the family ot the Dol-
goruki, who was one ot Peter’s chief companions, was ex¬
cited by his relations, and the other enemies of Menzikoft,
to instil into the mind of the young prince feelings hostile
to that minister. In this commission he succeeded so well,
that Menzikoff and his whole family, not excepting the young
empress, were banished to Siberia, and the Dolgorukis took
into their hands the management of affairs. Ihese artiul
counsellors, instead of cultivating the naturally good abilities
of Peter, encouraged him to waste his time and exhaust his
strength in hunting and other athletic exercises, for which
his tender years were by no means calculated. It is sup¬
posed that the debility consequent on such fatigue increased
the natural danger of the small-pox, with which he was at¬
tacked in January 1730, and from which he never recovered.
Notwithstanding the absolute power with which Petei An. Ri1
I. and the Empress Catherine had settled by will the title Anne
to the throne, the Russian senate and nobility, upon the duchess o.
death of Peter II. ventured to set aside the order ot suC'su0“ee(]3t
cession which those sovereigns had established. The male^^
issue of Peter was now extinct; and the Duke of Holstein, riaj
son to Peter’s eldest daughter, was by the destination ol
the late empress entitled to the crown; but the Russians,
for political reasons, filled the throne with Anne duchess
of Courland, second daughter to Ivan, the eldest brother ot
Peter, though her eldest sister, the Duchess of Mecklen¬
burg, was still alive. Anne’s reign was extremely prospe¬
rous; and though she accepted the crown under limita¬
tions which some thought derogatory to her dignity, yet
she broke them all, asserted the prerogative of her ances¬
tors, and punished the aspiring Dolgoruki family, who had
imposed those restrictions, with a view, as it is said, that
they themselves might govern. She raised her favourite
Biren to the duchy of Courland; and was obliged to give
way to many severe executions on his account. Few trans¬
actions of any importance took place during the reign ot
Anne. She followed the example of her great predecessoi
Peter, by interposing in the affairs of Poland, where she
‘■zn.
RUSSIA.
547
istory. had sufficient interest to establish on the throne Augustus
III. She entered into a treaty with the shah of Persia, by
which she agreed to give up all title to the territories that
had been seized by Peter I. on the shores of the Caspian,
in consideration of certain privileges to be granted to the
Russian merchants.
In 1735, a rupture took place between Russia and Tur¬
key, occasioned partly by the mutual jealousies that had
subsisted between these powers ever since the treaty on
the Pruth, and partly by the depredations of the Tartars
of the Crimea, then under the dominion of the Porte. A
Russian army entered the Crimea, ravaged part of the
country, and killed a considerable number of Tartars ; but
having ventured too far, without a sufficient supply of pro¬
visions, it was obliged to retreat, after sustaining a loss of
nearly ten thousand men. This ill success did not discou¬
rage the court of St Petersburg; and in the following
year another armament was sent into the Ukraine, under
the command of Marshal Munnich, while another army un¬
der Lascy proceeded against Azof. Both these generals
met with considerable success; the Tartars were defeat¬
ed, and the fort of Azof once more submitted to the Rus¬
sian arms. A third campaign took place in 1737, and the
Russians were now assisted by a body of Austrian troops.
Munnich laid siege to Otchakof, which soon surrendered,
while Lascy desolated the Crimea.
I No material advantages were, however, gained upon either
side ; and disputes arose between the Austrian and Russian
generals. At length, in 1739, Marshal Munnich, having
crossed the Bog at the head of a considerable army, de¬
feated the Turks in a pitched battle near Stavutshan ; made
himself master of Yassy, the capital of Moldavia; and be¬
fore the end of the campaign reduced the whole of that
province under his subjection. These successes of the
Russian arms induced the Porte to propose terms of ac¬
commodation; and in the end of 1739 a treaty was con¬
cluded, by which Russia again gave up Azof and Molda¬
via, and, to compensate the loss of above a hundred thou¬
sand men, and vast sums of money, gained nothing but per¬
mission to build a fortress on the Don.
. 1740. Upon the death of Anne, which took place in 1740, Ivan,
i ession the son of her niece the Princess of Mecklenburg, was, by
impri- her will, entitled to the succession ; but as he was no more
than two years old, Biren was appointed to be administra¬
tor of the empire during his minority. This nomination
was disagreeable to the emperor’s father and mother, and
unpopular among the Russians. Count Munnich was em¬
ployed by the princess to arrest Biren, who was tried and
condemned to die, but was sent into exile to Siberia.
The administration of the Princess Anne of Mecklenburg
and her husband was upon many accounts disagreeable, not
only to the Russians, but to other powers of Europe ; and
the Princess Elizabeth, daughter of Peter the Great by
Catherine, formed such a party, that in one night’s time she
was proclaimed empress of the Russias, and the Princess of
Mecklenburg, her husband, and son, were made prisoners.
The fate of this unhappy family was peculiarly severe. All
but Ivan were sent into banishment, to an island at the
mouth of the Dvina, in the White Sea, where the Princess
Anne died in childbed in the year 1747. Ivan’s father sur¬
vived till 1775, and at last ended his miserable career in pri¬
son. The young emperor Ivan was for some time shut up
in a monastery at Oranienburg, when, on attempting to es¬
cape, he was removed to the castle of Schlusselburg, where
he was cruelly put to death.
1741. The chief instrument in rousing the ambition of Eliza-
?ssion beth, and procuring her elevation to the throne, was her
!iza- physician and favourite Lestocq, who, partly by his insi¬
nuating address, and partly by the assistance of French
gold, brought over to Elizabeth’s interest most of the royal
guards. During the short regency of Anne of Mecklenburg,
a new war had commenced between Russia and Sweden; and History,
this war was carried on with considerable acrimony and some '
success by Elizabeth. The Russian forces took possession
of Abo, and made themselves masters of nearly all Finland.
But at length, in 1743, in consequence of the negotiations
that were carrying on regarding the succession to the Swe¬
dish crown, a peace was concluded between the two powers,
on the condition that Elizabeth should restore the greater
part of Finland.
Soon after her accession, Elizabeth determined to no- An. 1742.
minate her successor to the imperial throne, and had fixed Peter duke
her eyes on Charles Peter Ulric, son of the Duke of Hol-of .Ho1-
stein-Gottorp, by Anne, daughter of Peter the Great. This®tem‘G<^‘
prince was accordingly invited into Russia, persuaded to GrandU 6
become a member of the Greek church, and proclaimed Duke of
Grand Duke of Russia, and heir of the empire. The cere-Russia,
mony of his baptism was performed on the 18th of November
1742, when he received the name of Peter Feodorovitch.
He was at this time only fourteen years of age; but before
he had attained his sixteenth year, his aunt had destined
him a consort in the person of Sophia Augusta Frederica,
daughter of Christian Augustus prince of Anhalt-Zerbst-
Dornburg. This princess, on entering the Greek church,
took the name of Catherine which she afterwards bore on
the throne.
Having thus settled the order of succession, Elizabeth Elizabeth
began to take an active part in the politics of Europe. Theenga&es in
death of Charles VI. emperor of Germany, had left hiSy^Sevei^
daughter, Maria Theresa queen of Hungary, at the mercy 1'
of the enterprising king of Prussia, till a formidable party
was organized in her behalf. To this confederacy the em¬
press of Russia acceded, and in 1747 sent a considerable
body of troops into Germany, to the assistance of the em¬
press-queen. The events of this long and bloody contest
have been fully detailed in the article Prussia, compre¬
hending the greater part of those transactions in the reign
of Elizabeth that do not particularly regard the internal
policy of the empire. The more private transactions of the
court of St Petersburg, as far as they are connected with
the intrigues of her niece Catherine and the follies of the
Grand Duke Peter, have also been related in our life of
Catherine II. Elizabeth died on the 5th of January 1762,
the victim of disease brought on by intemperance. With
her character as a private woman we have little business
here. Her merits as a sovereign are fairly estimated in the
following sketch of her character by Tooke.
“ Elizabeth, as empress, governed but little of herself, Character
it being properly her ministers and favourites who dictated of Eliza-
her regulations and decrees. Of this number, besides Bes-beth-
tuchef, was also Razumofsky, to whom, it has been said,
the empress was even privately married. At the begin¬
ning of her reign, it is true, she went a few times to the
sitting of the senate ; but the matters transacted there were
by much too serious for her mind; and, accordingly, she
very soon left off that practice altogether, contenting her¬
self by confirming with her signature the resolutions of that
assembly, and the determinations of her minister, or the con¬
ference, which supplied the place of the council.
“ Her character in general was mild, as was evident from
the tears it cost her whenever she received accounts from
Prussia even of victories gained by her own army, on ac¬
count of the human blood by which they must necessarily
have been purchased. Yet even this delicate sensibility
did not restrain her from prosecuting the war into which
she had entered from a species of revenge, and for the pur¬
pose of humbling the king of Prussia, and, even on her
death-bed, from exhorting the persons who surrounded her
to the most vigorous continuation of it. It also proceeded
from this sensibility, that immediately on her accession to
the government she made the vow never to put her signa¬
ture to a sentence of death. A resolution which she faith-
548
RUSSIA.
pire
History, fully kept, though it cannot be averred to have been for
''■“"'y'"—^ the benefit of the empire ; since, in consequence of it, the
number of malefactors who deserved to die was every day
increasing, insomuch that even the clergy requested the
empress to retract her vow, at the same time urging proofs
that they could release her from it. All the arguments
they could use, however, were of no avail to move the con¬
scientious monarch ; she would not give effect to any sen¬
tence of death, although the commanders in the army par¬
ticularly would have been glad that her conscience had
yielded a little on that point. They declared that the sol¬
diers were not to be restrained from their excesses by the
severest corporal punishments they could employ ; whereas
such was their dread of a solemn execution, that a few
examples of that nature would have effectually kept them
in awe.
Her im- “ Commerce and literature, arts, manufactures, handi-
provementscrafts, and the other means of livelihood, which had been
16 em' fostered by the former sovereigns, continued their course
under Elizabeth with increasing prosperity. The country
products were obtained and wrought up in greater quanti¬
ties, and several branches of profit were more zealously
carried on. The sum appointed for the support of the Aca¬
demy of Sciences founded by Peter I. at St Petersburg,
was considerably augmented by Elizabeth; and she more¬
over established, in 1758, the academy still subsisting for
the arts of painting and sculpture, in which a number of
young persons are brought up as painters, engravers, sta¬
tuaries, architects, &c. At Moscow she endowed a univer¬
sity and two gymnasia.
“ The Empress Elizabeth herself having a good voice, mu¬
sic, which Anne had already much encouraged, found under
her administration a perpetual accession of disciples and ad¬
mirers ; so that even numbers of persons of distinction at
St Petersburg became excellent performers. The art of
acting plays was now also more general among the Rus¬
sians. Formerly none but French or Italian pieces were
performed on the stage of St Petersburg, whereas now
Sumarokof obtained celebrity as a dramatic poet in his na¬
tive language, and, in 1756, Elizabeth laid the foundation of
a Russian theatre in her residence. Architecture likewise
found a great admirer and patroness in her, St Petersburg
and its vicinity being indebted to her for great embellish¬
ments and numerous structures.
“ The magnificence which had prevailed under Anne at
the court of St Petersburg was not diminished during her
reign, and the court establishment therefore amounted to
extraordinary sums. Elizabeth, indeed, in this respect did
not imitate her great father ; and accordingly in the Seven
Years’ War the want of a well-stored treasury was already
very sensibly felt.
“ The population of the empire was considerably increas¬
ed under her reign; and so early as 1752, according to the
statement in an account published by an official person, it
was. augmented by one fifth.
“ Elizabeth continued the practice of her predecessors in
encouraging foreigners to come to settle in her empire.
Emigrant Servians cultivated a considerable tract of land,
till then almost entirely uninhabited, on the borders of Tur¬
key, where they built the town of Elizabethgorod, and mul¬
tiplied so fast, that in the year 1764< a particular district was
formed of these improvements, under the name of New
Servia. Only the Jews Elizabeth was no less resolute not
to tolerate than her father had been ; insomuch that, so
early in her reign as 1743, they were ordered to quit the
country on pain of death.
“ The army was augmented under Elizabeth, but cer¬
tainly not improved. There were now no longer at the
head of it such men as the foreigners Munnich, Keith, or
Loevendal, who, besides their personal courage and intre¬
pidity, possessed the soundest principles of the art of war ;
and, what is of no less consequence in a commander, kept Historj?
up a strict discipline, and took care that the laws of subor-
dination were punctually observed. The excessive license
which the regiments of guards, particularly the life company
of the Preobajerskoy guards, presumed to exercise, under
the very eyes of the empress in St Petersburg, afforded no
good example to the rest of the army; and Elizabeth, in
appointing those soldiers of that life company who had been
most guilty of flagrant disorders, and the basest conduct,
to be officers in the marching regiments, gives us no very
high idea of what was required in an officer, but rather
serves easily to explain whence it arose that such frequent
complaints were made of insubordination. A great number
of excellent regulations that had been introduced into the
army, and always enforced by foreigners, especially by Mun¬
nich, were suffered by the Russian generals to fall into to¬
tal disuse. The bad effects of this negligence were very
soon perceived ; and it was undoubtedly a circumstance
highly favourable to the Russian troops, that for several
years successively in the war which we have had occasion
so often to mention, they had to engage with such a master
in the military art as the king of Prussia, and by their con*
flicts with him, as well as by their connection with the Aus¬
trians, and in the sequel with the Prussian soldiery, had
an opportunity of learning so many things, and of forming
themselves into regular combatants.
“ Elizabeth tarnished her reign, however, by the institu- She esta-
tion of a political court of inquisition, under the name of ablbhesa
secret state chancery, empowered to examine into and'30.1*?,
punish all such charges as related to the expression of any4
kind of displeasure against the measures of government.
This, as is usual in such cases, opened a door to the vilest
practices. The lowest and most profligate of mankind were
now employed as spies and informers, and were rewarded
for their denunciations and calumnies against the most vir¬
tuous characters, if these happened by a look, a shrug of the
shoulders, or a few harmless words, to signify their disap¬
probation of the proceedings of the sovereign.”
The grand duke ascended the throne by the name of An. 1762,
Peter III. This prince’s conduct has been variously re-Accession
presented. He entered on the government possessed of an^eter
enthusiastic admiration of the virtues of the king of Prussia,1
with whom he immediately made peace, and whose prin¬
ciples and practice he seems to have adopted as patterns
for his imitation. He might have surmounted the effects
even of these peculiarities, unpopular as they then were in
Russia ; but it is said that he aimed at reforms in his domi¬
nions which Peter the Great durst not attempt; and that
he even ventured to cut off the beards of his clergy. He
was certainly a weak man, who had no opinions of his own,
but childishly adopted the sentiments of any person who
took the trouble to teach him. His chief amusement was
buffoonery ; and he would sit for hours looking with plea¬
sure at a merry-andrew singing drunken and vulgar songs.
He was a stranger to the country, its inhabitants, and their
manners; and suffered himself to be persuaded by those
about him, that the Russians were fools and beasts unwor¬
thy of his attention, except to make them, by means of the
Prussian discipline, good fighting machines. These opinions
regulated his whole conduct, and prepared the way for that
revolution which faults of a different kind tended to hasten.
Becoming attached to a lady of the noble family of ^0‘(kj1Scl!™p U
rontzoff, he disgusted his wife, who was then a beautiful wo¬
man in the prime of life, of great natural talents and great
acquired accomplishments ; whilst the lady whom he pre¬
ferred to her was but one degree above an idiot. The
Princess Dashkoff", the favourite’s sister, who was married
to a man whose genius was not superior to that of the em¬
peror, being dame d'honneur and lady of the bed-chamber,
had of course much of the empress’s company. Similarity
of situations knit these two illustrious personages in the
foi :
ty
fa1
) 'nne
R U S
closest friendship. The princess, being a zealous admirer
of the French economistes, could make her conversation
both amusing and instructive. She retailed all her statis¬
tical knowledge ; and finding the empress a willing hearer,
she spoke of her in every company as a prodigy of know¬
ledge, judgment, and philanthropy. Whilst the emperor,
by his buffoonery and attachment to foreign manners, was
daily incurring more and more the hatred of his subjects,
the popularity of his wife was rapidly increasing; and some
persons about the court expressed their regret that so much
knowledge of government, such love of humanity, and such
ardent wishes for the prosperity of Russia, should only fur¬
nish conversations with Catharina Romanovna (the Princess
Dashkoff). The empress and her favourite did not let these
expressions pass unobserved, but continued their studies in
concert; and whilst the former was employed on her famous
code of laws for a great empire, the latter always reported
progress, till the middling circles of Moscow and St Peters¬
burg began to speak familiarly of the blessings which they
might enjoy if these speculations could be realized.
Meanwhile Peter III. was giving fresh cause of discon¬
tent. He had recalled from Siberia Count Munnich, who
was indeed a sensible, brave, and worthy man; but Munnich,
as he was smarting under the effects of Russian despotism,
and had grounds of resentment against most of the great
families, did not much discourage the emperor’s unpopular
conduct, trying only to moderate it and give it a system.
Peter, however, was impatient. He publicly ridiculed the
exercise and evolutions of the Russian troops ; and hastily
adopting the Prussian discipline, without digesting and fit¬
ting it for the constitution of his own forces, he completely
ruined himself by disgusting the army.
In the midst of these imprudences, indeed, Peter was
-apar-sometimes disturbed by the advice of virtuous counsellors.
r L But these remonstrances produced only a temporary gleam
of reformation, and he soon relapsed into his accustom¬
ed sensuality. What he lost in popularity was gained by
the emissaries of Catherine. Four regiments of guards,
amounting to eight thousand men, were speedily brought
over by the three brothers Orlof, who had contrived to in¬
gratiate themselves with their officers. The people at large
were in a state of indifference, out of which they were parti¬
ally roused by the following means. A little manuscript was
handed about, containing principles of legislation for Russia,
founded on natural rights, and on the claims of the different
classes of people, which, insensibly formed, became so fa¬
miliar as to appear natural. In that performance was pro¬
posed a convention of deputies from all the classes, and
from every part of the empire, to converse, but without au¬
thority, on the subjects of which it treated, and to inform
the senate of the result of their deliberations. It passed
for the work of her majesty, and was much admired.
While Catherine was thus high in the public esteem and
affection, the emperor took the alarm at her popularity, and
in a few days came to the resolution of confining her for
life, and then of marrying his favourite. The servants of
that lady betrayed her to her sister, who imparted the in¬
telligence to the empress. Catherine saw her danger, and
instantly formed her resolution. She must either tamely
submit to perpetual imprisonment, and perhaps a cruel and
ignominious death, or contrive to hurl her husband from
his throne. No other alternative was left her, and the con¬
sequence was what was undoubtedly expected. The pro¬
per steps were taken. Folly fell before abilities and address,
and in three days the revolution was accomplished.
When the emperor saw that all was lost, he attempted
ut to t0 enter Cronstadt from Oranienbaum, a town on the Gulf
of Finland, thirty versts, or nearly twenty-six miles, from
St Petersburg. The sentinels at the harbour presented
their muskets at the barge; and though they were not
loaded, and the men had no cartridges, he drew back.
Pe • de-
ied
an
(fe'.
S I A.
549
Munnich received him again, and exhorted him to mount History,
his horse and head his guards, swearing to live and die v-*-
with him. He said, “ No, I see it cannot be done without
shedding much of the blood of my brave Holsteiners. I
am not worthy of the sacrifice.”
Six days had already elapsed since the revolution, and
that great event had been apparently terminated without
any violence that might leave odious impressions upon the
mind of the public. Peter had been removed from Peter-
hof to a pleasant retreat called Ropscha, about thirty miles
from St Petersburg; and here he supposed he should be
detained but a short time previous to his being sent into
Germany. He therefore transmitted a message to Catherine,
desiring permission to have for his attendant a favourite ne¬
gro, and that she would send him a dog, of wffiich he was
very fond, together with his violin, a bible, and a few ro¬
mances ; telling her that, disgusted with the wickedness of
mankind, he was resolved henceforth to devote himself to
a philosophical life. However reasonable these requests,
not one of them was granted, and his plans of wisdom were
turned into ridicule.
In the mean time the soldiers were amazed at what they
had done. They .could not conceive by what fascination
they had been hurried so far as to dethrone the grandson
of Peter the Great, in order to give his crown to a German
woman. The majority, without plan or consciousness of
what they were doing, had been mechanically led on by the
movements of others; and each individual now reflecting
on his baseness, after the pleasure of disposing of a crown
had vanished, was filled only with remorse. The sailors,
who had never been engaged in the insurrection, openly
reproached the guards in the tippling-houses with having
sold their emperor for beer. One night a band of soldiers
attached to the empress took the alarm, from an idle fear,
and exclaimed that their mother was in danger, and that
she must be awaked, that they might see her. During the
next night there was a fresh commotion more serious than
the former. So long as the life of the emperor left a pre¬
text for inquietude, it was thought that no tranquillity was
to be expected.
On the sixth day of the emperor’s imprisonment at Rop¬
scha, Alexei Orlof, accompanied by an officer named Tep-
loff, came to him with the news of his speedy deliverance,
and asked permission to dine with him. According to the
custom of that country, wine glasses and brandy were
brought previous to dinner ; and while the officer amused
the czar with some trifling discourse, his chief filled the
glasses, and poured a poisonous mixture into that which he
intended for the prince. The czar, without any distrust,
swallowed the potion, on which he immediately experienced
the most severe pains ; and on his being offered a second
glass, on pretence of its giving him relief, he refused it, with
reproaches against him that offered it. He called aloud for
milk, but the two monsters offered him poison again, and
pressed him to take it. A French valet-de-chambre, greatly
attached to him, now ran in. Peter threw himself into his
arms, saying in a faint tone of voice, “ It was not enough,
then, to prevent me from reigning in Sweden, and to de¬
prive me of the crown of Russia. I must also be put to
death.”
The valet-de-chambre presumed to intercede for his
master; but the turn miscreants forced this dangerous wit¬
ness out of the room, and continued their ill treatment ot
the czar. In the midst of this tumult the younger of the
Princes Baratinsky came in, and joined the two former.
Orlof, who had already thrown down the emperor, was
pressing upon his breast with both his knees, and firmly
griping his throat with his hand. The unhappy monarch
now struggling with that strength which arises from de¬
spair, the two other assassins threw a napkin round his neck,
and put an end to his life by suffocation.
1
550
RUSSIA.
H istory.
It is not known with certainty what share the empress
' v-'-'' had in this event; but it is affirmed that on the very day
on which it happened, while the empress was beginning her
dinner with much gaiety, an officer, supposed to be one of
the assassins, precipitately entered the apartment with his
hair dishevelled, his face covered with sweat and dust, his
clothes torn, and his countenance agitated with horror and
dismay. On entering, his eyes, sparkling and confused, met
those of the empress. She arose in silence, and went into
a closet, whither he followed her. A few moments after¬
wards she sent for Count Panin, the former governor of
Peter, who was already appointed her minister, and, in¬
forming him that the emperor was dead, consulted him on
the manner of announcing his death to the public. Panin
advised her to let one night pass over, and to spread the
newrs next day, as if they had received it during the night.
This counsel being approved, the empress returned with
the same countenance, and continued her dinner with the
same gaiety. On the day following, when it was published
that Peter had died of an hsemorrhoidal colic, she appeared
bathed in tears, and proclaimed her grief by an edict.
The corpse was brought to St Petersburg, there to be
exposed. The face was black, and the neck excoriated.
Notwithstanding these horrible marks, in order to assuage
the commotions, which began to excite apprehension, and
to prevent impostors from hereafter disturbing the empire,
it was left three days exposed to all the people, with only
the ornaments of a Holstein officer. The soldiers, disband¬
ed and disarmed, mingled with the crowd, and as they be¬
held their sovereign, their countenances indicated a mix¬
ture of compassion, contempt, and shame. They were
soon afterw ards embarked for their country; but, as the
sequel of their cruel destiny, almost all of these unfortu¬
nate men perished in a storm. Some of them had saved
themselves on the rocks adjacent to the coast; but they
again fell a prey to the waves, while the commandant of
Cronstadt despatched a messenger to St Petersburg to
know whether he might be permitted to assist them. Thus
fell the unhappy Peter III. in 1762, in the thirty-fourth year
of his age, after having enjoyed the imperial dignity only six
months.
Catherine On her accession, Catherine behaved with great magna-
II* ascends nimity anj forbearance towards those who had opposed her
t!1® in1?6* elevation, or were the declared friends of the deceased em-
n i mjne- peror> She gave to Prince George, in exchange for his
title of Duke of Courland, conferred on him by Peter, the
government of Holstein. She reinstated Biren in his duke¬
dom of Courland, received into favour Marshal Munnich,
who had readily transferred his fidelity from the dead to
the living, and even pardoned her rival the Countess Vo-
rontzoff, and permitted her to retain the tokens of her
lover’s munificence. She permitted Gudovitch, who was
high in the confidence of Peter, and had incurred her par¬
ticular displeasure,.to retire to his native country. Per¬
haps the most unexpected part of her conduct towards the
friends of Peter, was her adhering to the treaty of peace
which that monarch had concluded with the king of Prus¬
sia six months before. The death of his inveterate enemy
Elizabeth had relieved Frederick from a load of solicitude,
and had extricated him from his dangerous situation. He
now, as he thought, saw himself again involved in a war
with the same formidable power ; but, to his great joy, he
found that Catherine, from motives of policy, declined en¬
tering on a war at the commencement of her reign.
In one particular the empress showed her jealousy and
her fears. She increased the vigilance with which the
young prince Ivan was confined in the castle of Schlussel¬
burg, from which Peter III. had expressed a resolution to
release him. Not long after her accession, this unfortu¬
nate prince was assassinated, though whether this event
was to be imputed to the empress or her counsellors, cannot
if#!-
An. 1764.
Assassina¬
tion of the
dethroned
czar.
be positively determined. But a manifesto published by the History
court of St Petersburg, and supposed to have been written
by the empress herself, admitted that the prince was put
to death by the officers of his guard, alleging that this was
necessary, in consequence of an attempt to carry him off.
Were we to offer a detailed account of the principal Chronolo-
transactions that took place during the long reign of Ca-gicalsken
therine, we should far exceed the limits within which this°”ghe a*
article must be confined, and should at the same time r6-^^^1 ’
peat much of what has already been given under other^ reign j
heads. As the events that distinguished the life of Cathe- of Cathe
rine, however, are too important to be wholly omitted, we fine II.
shall present our readers with the following chronological
sketch of them, referring for a more particular account to
Tooke’s Life of Catherine II., and to the articles Cathe¬
rine II., Britain, France, Poland, Prussia, Sweden,
and Turkey, in this work.
The year 1766 presented at St Petersburg the grand-An. 1761,, j
est spectacle that perhaps was ever seen in Europe. At
an entertainment, which the empress chose to name a ca¬
rousal, the principal nobility appeared in the most sump¬
tuous dresses, sparkling with diamonds, and mounted on
horses richly caparisoned, in a magnificent theatre erected
for that purpose. Here all that has been read of the an¬
cient jousts and tournaments was realized and exceeded in
the presence of thousands of spectators, who seemed to vie
with each other in the brilliancy of their appearance.
In 1768, the empress composed instructions for a new An. 1768.
code of laws for her dominions; and the same year she Establish,
submitted to the danger of inoculation, in order that her“h
subjects, to whom the practice was unknown, might be be-]aws
nefited by her example.
In the same year a war broke out with the Ottoman IV ar with
Porte. The various events of this long and important con-the Turk;
flict, which continued for seven years, must here be only
briefly enumerated, as they will hereafter be more particu¬
larly noticed under the article Turkey. In this war our
countryman Greig, then an admiral in the Russian service,
highly distinguished himself by his conduct in a naval en¬
gagement with the Turks, in the harbour of Tschesme, in
the Archipelago, in which the Turkish fleet was entirely
defeated, and their magazines destroyed. rlhis took place
on the 4th of November 1772.
In the beginning of the year 1769, the khan of the Cri-An. 1769.
mea made an attack on the territory of Bachmut, on the
river Bog, where he was several times bravely repulsed,®?^ A
with his army of Tartars and Turks, by Major-General Ro-^^h
manius and Prince Prosorofskoi. At the same time were Turkey, ji IL1'
fought the battles of Zekanofca and Soroca on the Dnie¬
per, when the large magazines of the enemy were burned.
In February the Polish Kozaks in the voyvodeship of Brac-
lau put themselves under the Russian sceptre. In the same
month the Nisovian Saparogian Kozaks gained a battle in
the deserts of Krim. In March the Polish rebels were sub¬
dued, and their town taken, by Major-General Ismailof.
On the 2d of April the fort of Taganrog, on the Sea of
Azof, was taken. On the 15th the Russian army, under
the general-in-chief Prince Galitzin, crossed the Dniester.
On the 19th a victory was gained by Prince Galitzin near
Chotzim. On the 21st the Turks were defeated not far
from Chotzim by Lieutenant-General Count Soltikof. The
29th, an action was fought between the Russian Kalmucks
and the Kuban Tartars, to the disadvantage of the latter.
June the 8th, the Turks were defeated at the mouth of the
Dnieper, near Otchakof. An action took place on the
Dniester on the 19th, when the troops of Prince Proso¬
rofskoi forced the Turks to repass the river in great dis¬
order. Chotzim was taken on the 19th of September.
Yassy, in Moldavia, was taken on the 27th of September.
Bukarescht, in Wallachia, was taken, and the hospodar
made prisoner, in November 1770. A victory was gained
Lp
k
*
RUSSIA.
I ,tory. by the Russians under Generals Podhorilshany and Potem-
551
'.1779.
kin, near Fokshany. The town of Shursha was taken by
Lieutenant-General Von Stoffeln, February 4. A Russian
fleet appeared in the port of Maina, in the Morca, on the
17th February. Mistra, the Lacedaemon of the ancients, and
several other towns of the Morea, were taken in February.
Arcadim in Greece surrendered, and a multitude of Turks
were made prisoners, in the same month. The Turks and
Tartars were driven from their intrenchments near the
Pruth, by Count Romantzof, Prince Repnin, and General
Bauer, llth-16th June. Prince Prosorofskoi gained seve¬
ral advantages near Otchakof, June 18. The Russian fleet,
under Count Alexei Orlof, gained a complete victory over
the Turks near Tschesme, 24th June ; the consequence of
this victory was the destruction of the whole Turkish fleet,
near Tschesme, where it was burned by Admiral Greig on
the 26th of June. A battle was fought on the Kagul, in
which Count Romantzof defeated the Turkish army, con¬
sisting of a hundred and fifty thousand men, and took their
camp, and all the artillery, July 21. The fortress Bender
was taken July 22. The town of Ismail was taken by
Prince Repnin, July 26; Kilia by Prince Repnin, August
21; and Akjerman in October. Brailof was taken on the
10th of November 1771; the town of Kaffa, June 29 ; and
numberless other victories were obtained by sea and land,
till peace was concluded on the 13th January 1775. By
this the Crimea was declared independent of the Porte, and
all the vast tract of country between the Bog and Dnieper
was ceded to Russia, besides the Kuban and the isle of
Taman, with free navigation in all the Turkish seas, in¬
cluding the passage of the Dardanelles, privileges granted
to the most favoured nations, and stipulations in behalf of
the inhabitants of Moldavia and Wallachia.
In 1779, the empress intending to divide the empire in-
i of to viceroyalties, began in January with the viceroyalty of
. ™P’re Orlof. March 21st, a new treaty was signed at Constanti-
mee-
roties.
St
<urg.
AiJ!782.
le of
Pt • the
Gipt fi-
nople between Russia and the Porte. May 13th, the treaty
of peace between the belligerent powers in Germany and
the French king was signed under the mediation of her
majesty. In October, a ship built at Taganrog, named
the Prince Constantine, sailed to Smyrna with Russian
commodities. December 3d, the viceroyalty of Voronetsk
was instituted; and the 27th, Count Romantzof Zadunaiski
opened the viceroyalty of Kursk with great solemnity.
A i780-l. In 1780, February 28th, appeared the memorable decla-
E: Irtish- ration of her imperial majesty, relating to the safety of na-
ofpu-vigation and commerce of the neutral powers. In 1781,
in Pe0 S^arcIl Ist> empress became mediatrix between England
and Holland ; April 5th, instituted the first public school in
St Petersburg.
In 1782, by a command of her majesty, dated January
the 18th, a Roman Catholic archbishop was installed in
the city of Mohilef, with authority over all the Catholic
churches and convents in the Russian empire. August
7th, the famous equestrian statue of Peter the Great, being
finished, was uncovered to the public in presence of the
empress, on which occasion she published a proclamation
containing pardons for several criminals. November 22d,
the order of St Vladimir was instituted. The 27th, the
empress published a new tariff.
In 1783, May 7th, the empress instituted a seminary for
cfc ac-the education of young persons of quality at Kursk. June
tht nssia,,^8*'’ a treaty of commerce was concluded with the Otto¬
man Porte. July, the institution of the other viceroyalties
of the empire followed in succession. On July 21st, the
empress published a manifesto by her commander-in-chief
Prince Potemkin, in the Krim, in regard to the taking pos¬
session of that peninsula, the Kuban, and the island of Ta¬
man. The 24th, a treaty was concluded with Heraclius
II. czar of Kartalinia and Kachetti, by which he submitted
himself) his heirs and successors for ever, with his territo-
nb
(1.
Ar
Va ii
-783.
ries and dominions, to the sceptre of her majesty, her heirs History,
and successors. On the 29th, accounts were received ^
from the camp of Prince Potemkin, at Karas-Basar, that the
clergy, the beys, and other persons of distinction, with the
towns of Karas-Basar, Bachtshiserai, Achmetchet, Kaffa,
Kosloft, with the districts of Turkanskoikut and Neubasar,
and that of Perekop, in the peninsula of the Krim, together
with the hordes of Edissank and Dshambolusk, the sultan
tj an<^ vassals, with all the Budshaks and
liashkirs there, and all the tribes dwelling bevond the river
Kuban, the sultan Boatur Giray and his vassals, took the
oath of allegiance to her imperial majesty, and with willing
hearts submitted for ever to her glorious sway. On the
30th the hospodar of Wallachia was deposed, and Draco
Sutzo set up in his place. September 22d, her majesty rais¬
ed Gabriel, archbishop of Novgorod and St Petersburg,
to the dignity of metropolitan. October 21st, in the great
hall of the Academy of Sciences, the new institution of the
Imperial Russian Academy was opened, after a most solemn
consecration by the metropolitan Gabriel, and others of the
clergy, under the presidency of the Princess Dashkoff.
November 7th, the empress became mediatrix for accom¬
modating the differences between the king of Prussia and
the city of Dantzig. The school for surgery was opened
at St Petersburg on the 18th. December 13th, a school
commission was instituted for superintending all the public
schools. On the 28th, an act was concluded with the Otto¬
man Porte, by which the possession and sovereignty of the
Krim, the Kuban, and Taman, were solemnly made over to
the empress.
1784. January 1st, the senate, in a speech by Field-Mar- 2784,
shal Count Razomofskoi, performed the ceremony, repeated Georgia
annually, of most humbly thanking her majesty for the be-annexed fo
nefactions which she had graciously bestowed on the whole ^
empire in the preceding year. October 14th, the Lesgiers,sian enipire*
having crossed the river Alasan, and invaded the domi¬
nions of Georgia, were repulsed with great loss by a detach¬
ment of Russian troops. December 29th, Katolikos Mak¬
sim, the serdar and court-marshal Prince Zeretelli, and the
chief justice Kuinichese, ambassadors from David, czar of
Imeretia, were admitted to a public audience of her majesty,
at which they submitted, in the name of the czar, him and
his subjects to the will and powerful protection of her im¬
perial majesty, as the rightful head of all the sons of the
orthodox eastern church, and sovereign ruler and defender
of the Georgian nations.
1785. The 12th of January, Maurocordato, hospodar of An. 1785.
Wallachia, was deposed, and Alexander Maurocordato, Several
his uncle, restored to that dignity. The 21st, the empress provincial
visited the principal national school, and passed a long time
in examining the classes, and the proficiency of the youthta
in that seminary; on which occasion a marble tablet was
fixed in the wall of the fourth class, with this inscription,
in gold letters: Thou visitest the vineyard which
thine own hand hath planted. April 21 st, the privi¬
leges of the nobility were confirmed, and on the same day
the burghers of towns constituted into bodies corporate, by
a particular manifesto. The public school in Voronetsk was
opened. July 14th, a manifesto was issued, granting full
liberty of religion and commerce to all foreigners settling
in the regions of Mount Caucasus, under the Russian go¬
vernment. September 15th, the public school at Nishnei
Novgorod was opened. October 12th, the Jesuits in White
Russia, in a general assembly, elected a vicar-general of
their order. November 1st, a treaty of commerce was con¬
cluded with the emperor of Germany. The 24th, the Rus¬
sian consul in Alexandria made his public entry on horse¬
back, an honour never before granted to any power ; erect¬
ed the imperial standard on his house, with discharge of
cannon, &c. December 28th, a Russian mercantile frigate,
fully freighted, arrived at Leghorn from Constantinople,
552
RUSSIA.
History* 1786. The 29th of January, the empress confirmed the
' v^—^ plan of a navigation school. February 12th, by a decree,
An. 1786. t|ie usua] slavish subscriptions to petitions were to be dis-
Historji
The roads contjnue^; instead of them, only the words humble or
the e'xpensefaitltful subject, and in certain cases only subject, were or-
of govern- dained to be used. March 2d, the empress granted the
ment. A university of Moscow a hundred and twenty-five thousand
loan bank roubieS} and all the materials of the palace Kremlin, for in-
e^tab i» led. creasjng its buildings. The 25th, a decree was passed for
making and repairing the roads throughout the whole em¬
pire at the sole expense of the crown, and four millions of
roubles were immediately allotted for the road between St
Petex*sburg and Moscow. April 10th, a new war establish¬
ment for the army was signed ; 23d, the hospodar of Wal-
lachia was deposed, and Mavroyeni set up in his place.
June 28th, the empress instituted a loan bank at St Pe¬
tersburg, to the fund whereof she allotted twenty-two mil¬
lions to be advanced to the nobility, and eleven millions
to the burghers of the town, on very advantageous terms.
August 5th, there were published rules to be observed in
the public schools. October 4th, a large Russian ship, with
Russian productions, from St Petei-sburg, arrived at Cadiz.
November 24th, the empress erected public schools at Tam¬
bov. December 14th, Prince Ypsilanti was appointed hos¬
podar of Moldavia, in the room of the deposed Maurocor-
dato. December 31st, a treaty of commerce and navigation
was concluded between Russia and France.
'n 1~87 1787. March, public schools were endowed and opened
Renewal of at Rostof, Ugiitsh, Molaga, and Romanof, in the viceroyalty
hostilities of Yaroslavl; also at Ustiug and Arasovitz, in the viceroyalty
with Tur- 0f Vologda. April 21st, a manifesto was issued for promot-
key.
ing peace and concord among the burghers of the empire.
The 25th, took place the concerted interview between the
19th-29th, A small Russian squadron from the fleet at Sevas¬
topol, cruising along the coast of Anatolia, destroyed many
of the enemy’s vessels, prevented the transporting of the
Turkish troops, and returned with great booty. 20th, Us-
senier Shamanachin, chief of the Bsheduchovians, was, on
his petition, admitted a subject of Russia. 26th, A nume¬
rous host of Kubanians and Turks were beaten on the river
Ubin, with the loss of fifteen hundred men. November 7th,
Prince Potemkin, at the head of his Kozaks, took the island
Beresan, with many prisoners and much ammunition. De¬
cember 6th, the town and fortress of Otchakof were taken
by Prince Potemkin Tavritsheskoi; nine thousand five hun¬
dred and ten of the enemy were killed, four thousand taken
prisoners, a hundred and eighty standards, three hundred and
ten cannons and mortars. All the inhabitants were taken pri¬
soners, amounting to twenty-five thousand; the Russians lost
nine hundred and fifty-six killed and eighteen hundred and
twenty-four wounded. December 19th, General Kamenskoy
gained considerable advantages over the Turks near Gangur.
1789. April 16th, Colonel Rimskoy Korsakoff was sur-An. 178S
rounded by the Turks, who were beaten, with great slaugh-Numeoui
ter, by Lieutenant-General Von Derfelden. 17th-28th, ™tr°™s
Some Russian cruisers from Sevastopol effected a landing on ^urj,s an,;
Cape Karakarman, burnt six mosques, and carried off great Swedes,
booty. 20th, General Derfelden drove the Turks from Ga-
latch, gained a complete victory, killed two thousand, took
fifteen hundred prisoners, with the seraskier Ibrahim Pasha,
and the whole camp. Several skirmishes took place between
the Russians and Swedes in Finland, always to the advantage
of the former. May 31st, another victory was gained over the
Swedes. June 5th, Sulkof was taken from the Swedes, and
Fort St Michael on the 8th. July 15th, Admiral Tchitcha-
gcff engaged the Swedish fleet under the command of the
isiof.
empress and the king of Poland, near the Polish town of Duke of Sudermania; but no ship was lost on either side.
Konief. The treaty of commerce with England being ex- 21st, A battle was fought at Fokshany, to the great loss of
pired, the British factory were informed that they must the Turks, and Fokshany was taken. August 13th, the
henceforward pay the duties on imports in silver money,
like the other nations who had no commercial treaty. May
7th, the empress hearing that the emperor of Germany was
at Cherson, proceeded thither, and met him there on the
12th. June 28th, the twenty-fifth anniversary of her reign,
she displayed various marks of her bounty. The debtors to
the crown were forgiven, prisoners released, imposts taken
off, soldiers rewarded, &c. The 12th July, the new-built
school at Riga, called a Lyceum, was solemnly dedicated.
August 5th, Bulgakoff, the Russian ambassador at the Ot¬
toman Porte, was imprisoned in the Seven Towers, con¬
trary to the law of nations, which the empress regarded as
a public declaration of war. 21st, The Turkish fleet at
Otchakof attacked the Russian frigate Skorui and the sloop
Bitingi, but was repulsed and put to flight by the bi'avery
of the latter. Many signal advantages were gained over
the Turks ; several public schools founded in various parts
of the empire between this and August following, during
which time the war bx-oke out with Sweden.
1788. August 12th, in the expedition beyond the Kuban,
War with the Russian troops entirely routed a company of four thou-
Svveden. sand Arutayans and Alcasinians ; eight hundred of the ene¬
my were slain, and five villages destroyed. 15th, The sur¬
render of the Turkish fortress of Dubitsha took place. 18th,
The Turks made a violent sortie from Otchakof, but were
repulsed by the Russian yagers, and, after a battle of four
hours, were driven back with the loss of five hundred men.
23d, A fierce battle was fought between the Russian troops
and Sacubanians, in which the latter lost a thousand men.
The Russian fleet kept the Swedish blocked up in Sveaborg
ever since the battle of Jidy 6th. The Swedish army left
the Russian tei’ritory in Finland. September 18th, The
An. 1788.
Russian galley fleet fought the Swedish under Count Eh-
renschwerdt, the former took a frigate and five other ships,
and two thousand prisonex’s. August 21st, another sea-
fight took place, and Pi’ince Nassau Siegen made good his
landing of the Russian troops in sight of the king of Swe¬
den at the head of his army. September 7th, Prince Rep-
nin attacked the seraskier Hassan Pasha near the river Selt-
ska, and took his whole camp. 11th, Count Suwaroff and
prince of Saxe-Cobourg engaged near the river Kymnik
the grand Turkish army of nearly a hundred thousand men,
and gained a complete victory ; from which Count Suwaroff
received the surname Kymnikskoi. 14th, The Russian
troops under General Ribas took the Turkish citadel Chod-
shabey, in the sight of the whole of the enemy’s fleet. 30th,
The fortress Palanka being taken, the town of Belgorod or
Akjerman surrendered to Prince Potemkin Tavritsheskoi.
November 4th, the town and castle of Bender submitted
at discretion to the same commander.
1790. April 24, General Numsen gained a victory over An. 1790.
the Swedes near Memel. May 2, a sea-fight took place offfea^ 'ut
Revel, in which the Russians captured the Prince Charles s'u ll"
of sixty-four guns from the Swedes; and in this engage¬
ment those two gallant English officers Captains Treven-
nian and Dennison were killed. 23d, The fleet under Vice-
Admiral Kruse engaged the Swedish fleet near the island
Siskar in the Gulf of Finland, without any advantage being
gained on either side, though they fought the whole day.
24th, An action was fought at Savataipala, when the Swedes
were forced to fly. June 6th, the Swedes were defeated
by Major Buxhovden, on the island Uransari. June 22,
the whole Swedish fleet, commanded by the Duke of Suder¬
mania, was entirely defeated by Admiral Tchitchagoff and
if1
i
i*
town and fortress of Chotzim surrendered to the Russians, the Prince of Nassau Siegen; on this occasion five thousand
w ith the garrison of two thousand men, a hundred and prisoners were taken, amongst whom were the centre admiral
fifty-three cannon fourteen mortars, and much ammunition, and two hundred officers. 28th, General Denisoff defeated
I -story, the Swedes near DavidofF. July 9th, Admiral UshakofF ob-
v v—tained a victory over the Turkish fleet commanded by the
capudan pasha, at the mouth of the Straits of Yenikali. Au¬
gust 3d, peace was concluded with Sweden, without the me¬
diation of any other power. August 28th, 29th, an engage¬
ment took place on the Euxine, not far from Chodshabey,
between the Russian admiral UshakofF and the capudan
pasha, when the principal Turkish ship, of eighty guns, was
burnt, one of seventy guns and three others taken, the admi¬
ral Said Bey being made prisoner, and another ship sunk; the
rest made off. September 30th, a great victory was obtained
over the Turks by General Germann, with much slaughter,
and the seraskier Batal Bey, and the whole camp, were taken.
October 18th, Kilia surrendered to Major Ribas. November
6th, 7th, the fortress Cultsha and the Turkish flotilla were
taken. December 11th, the important fortress of Ismail,
after a storming for seven hours without intermission, sur¬
rendered to Count SuvvarofF, with the garrison of forty-two
thousand men ; thirty thousand eight hundred and sixteen
were slain on the spot, two thousand died of their wounds,
nine thousand were taken prisoners, with two hundred and
sixty-five pieces of cannon, an incredible store of ammu¬
nition, &c. The Russians lost only eighteen hundred and
fit teen killed, and twro thousand four hundred and fifty
wounded.
A1791. 1791. March 25th-31st, the campaign opened by the
1 Turks troops under Prince Potemkin, not far from Brailof, when
Ited ^UI'ks were defeated in several battles, in which they
aiSjobliged upwards of four thousand men. June 5th, the troops
t( ake under General Golenitshef KutusofF, near Tultsha, drove
pfe. the Turks beyond the Danube, and at Babada entirely
routed a body of fifteen thousand men, of whom fifteen
hundred were left dead upon the field. 22d, The fortress
Anapuas was taken by storm, when the whole garrison, con¬
sisting of twenty-five thousand men, were put to the sword,
excepting one thousand who were taken prisoners. 28th, The
troops under Prince Repnin attacked the Turkish army, con¬
sisting of nearly eighty thousand men, commanded by the
grand vizir Yussuf Pasha, eight pashas, two Tartar sultans,
and twro beys of Anatolia ; and after a bloody battle of six
hours, entirely routed them: five thousand Turks were killed
in their flight. June 28th, Sudskuk Kale was taken. July
31st, Admiral UshakofF beat the Turkish fleet on the coasts
of Rumelia. Prince Repnin and Yussuf Pasha signed the
preliminaries of peace between the Russian empire and
the Ottoman Porte, by which the Dniester was made the
boundary of the two empires, with the cession of the coun¬
tries lying between the Bog and Dniester to Russia. Au¬
gust 15th, 16th, at Pilnitz, near Dresden, a congress was
held by the emperor of Germany, the king of Prussia, the
elector of Saxony, the Count d’Artois, &c. &c. One of the
most important events in this year was the death of Prince
Potemkin, at It assy in Moldavia, on the 15th October.
Am792. 179 2. Early in this year BulgakofF, the Russian minister
si* jiTo'at ^arsaw’ declared war against Poland ; and the Polish
la- patriots raised an army in wEich Thaddeus Kosciuszko soon
bore a conspicuous part.
In 1788, the diet of Poland had abrogated the constitu¬
tion which the empress of Russia had, in 1775, compelled
that nation to adopt, and had formed an alliance with the
king of Prussia, by way of defence against the further en¬
croachments of the Russian despot. Three years after, viz.
on the 3d of May 1791, the new constitution, which was in¬
tended further to destroy the ambitious hopes of Catherine,
was decreed at Warsaw. (See Poland.) These were af¬
fronts which the Russian empress could not forgive, and in
one of the conciliabula, in which the ministers of state, and
the favourite for the time being, sat to regulate the affairs
of the north of Europe, and to determine the fate of the
surrounding nations, the annihilation of the Polish mo¬
narchy was resolved on.
VOL. XIX
The declaration of war above mentioned was denounced History.
by BulgakofF at an assembly of the diet. That body re-' 
ceived the declaration with a majestic calmness, and re¬
solved to take measures for the defence of the nation. The
generous enthusiasm of liberty soon spread throughout the
state,. and even the king pretended to share in the ge¬
neral indignation. An army was hastily collected, and the
command of it bestowed on Prince Joseph Poniatowsky,
a general whose inexperience and frivolous pursuits were
but ill adapted to so important a charge.
In the mean time several Russian armies were preparing
to overwhelm the small and disunited forces of the Poles!
A body of eighty thousand Russians extended itself along
the Bog, another of ten thousand was collected in the en”
virons of Kief, and a third of thirty thousand penetrated in¬
to Lithuania. While these armies were carrying murder and
desolation throughout the Polish territories, Catherine was
employing all her arts to induce the neighbouring powers to
join in the partition of Poland; and in this she was but too
successful. A treaty was accordingly concluded between
the empress and the king of Prussia, by which each ap¬
propriated to itself a share of the remains of Poland. Sta¬
nislas Augustus, the powerless head of that state, was pre¬
vailed on to make a public declaration that there was a ne¬
cessity for yielding to the superiority of the Russian arms.
1793. On the 9th of April the Polish confederation of An. 1793.
the partisans of Russia assembled at Grodno; and on this
occasion the Russian general placed himself under the ca¬
nopy of that throne which he was about to declare for
ever vacant, and the Russian minister Sievers produced a
manifesto, declaring the intention of his mistress to incor¬
porate with her domains all the Polish territory which her
arms had conquered.
The Russian soldiers dispersed throughout the provinces
committed depredations and ravages of which history fur¬
nishes but few examples. Warsaw became especially the
theatre of their excesses. Their general, Igelstrom, who
governed in that city, connived at the disorders of the sol¬
diers, and made the wretched inhabitants feel the whole
weight of his arrogance and barbarity. The patriots of
Poland had been obliged to disperse, their property was
confiscated, and their families reduced to servitude. Goad¬
ed by so many calamities, they once more took the resolu¬
tion to free their country from the oppression of the Rus¬
sians, or perish in the attempt. Some of them assembled,
and sent an invitation to Kosciuszko, to come and lead them
on against the invaders of their freedom.
Kosciuszko had retired to Leipsig, with a few other Poles,
all eminent for patriotism and military ardour. These he¬
sitated not a moment in giving their approbation to the re¬
solution adopted by their indignant countrymen ; but they
were sensible that, in order to succeed, they must begin by
emancipating the peasants from the state of servitude under
which they then groaned. Kosciuszko and Zagonchek re¬
paired with all expedition to the frontiers of Poland, and the
latter proceeded to Warsaw, where he held conferences with
the chief of the conspirators, and particularly with several
officers, who declared their detestation of the Russian yoke.
All appeared ripe for a general insurrection; and the Rus¬
sian commanders, whose suspicions had been excited by
the appearance of Kosciuszko on the frontiers, obliged that
leader and his confederates to postpone for a time the exe¬
cution of their plan. In order to deceive the Russians, Kos¬
ciuszko retired into Italy, and Zagonchek repaired to Dres¬
den, whither Ignatius Potoski and Kolontay had gone be¬
fore him. On a sudden, however, Zagonchek appeared again
at Warsaw, but was impeached by the king to General
Igelstrom, and, in a conference with the general, was or¬
dered to quit the Polish territory. He must now have
abandoned his enterprise altogether, or immediately pro¬
ceed to open insurrection. Pie chose the latter.
RUSSIA.
An. 1794
Attempts of
the patriots
to oppose
the en¬
croach
ments of
.Russia.
Final dis'
member-
ment of
Poland.
1794. Kosciuszko was recalled from Italy, and arrived
at Cracow, where the Poles received him as their deliverer.
Here he was joined by some other officers, and took the
command of his little army, consisting of about three thou¬
sand infantry and twelve hundred cavalry. On the 24th
of March was published the manifesto of the' patriots, in
which they declared the motives for their insurrection, and
called on their countrymen to unite in the glorious attempt
to free the republic from a foreign yoke. Kosciuszko was
soon joined by three hundred peasants armed with scythes,
and some other small reinforcements gradually came in. A
body of seven thousand Russians had collected to oppose
the movements of this little army, and a battle took place, in
which the patriots were successful.
While the insurrection had thus auspiciously commenced
on the frontiers, the confederates of the capital were near¬
ly crushed by the exertions of the Russian general. Hear¬
ing at Warsaw of the success of Kosciuszko, Igelstrom
caused all those whom he suspected of having any concern
in the insurrection to be arrested; but these measures
served only to irritate the conspirators. On the 18th of
April they openly avowed their confederacy with the pa¬
triots of the frontiers, and proceeded in great numbers to
attack the Russian garrison. Two thousand Russians were
put to the sword, and the general, being besieged in his
house, proposed a capitulation ; but, profiting by the delay
that had been granted him, he escaped to the Prussian
camp, which lay at a little distance from Warsaw.
Wilna, the capital of Lithuania, followed the example of
Warsaw; but the triumph of the insurgents was there less
terrible, as Colonel Yasinsky, who headed the patriots, con¬
ducted himself with so much skill, that he made all the Rus¬
sians prisoners without bloodshed. The inhabitants of the
cantons of Chelm and Lublin also declared themselves in a
state of insurrection, and three Polish regiments who were
employed in the service of Russia espoused the cause of
their country. Some of the principal partisans of Russia
were arrested, and sentenced to be hanged.
Kosciuszko exerted himself to the utmost to augment
his army. He procured recruits among the peasants, and
to inspire them with the more emulation, he adopted their
dress, ate with them, and distributed rewards among such
as appeared most to merit encouragement. All his at¬
tempts to inspire the lower orders of the Poles with the
ardour of patriotism were, however, unavailing. A mu¬
tual distrust prevailed between the nobles and the peasants,
and this was fomented by the arts of Stanislas and the
other partisans of Russia.
The empress had sent into Poland two of her best ge¬
nerals, Suwaroff and Fersen. For some time Kosciuszko
succeeded in preventing the junction of these commanders,
and several engagements took place between the Russians
and patriots, in which the former were generally success¬
ful. At length, on the 4th of October, the fate of Poland
was decided by a sanguinary conflict between Kosciuszko
and Fersen, at Macieyovitch, a small town of Little Po¬
land, about sixty miles from Warsaw. The talents, valour,
and desperation of Kosciuszko could not prevent the Poles
from yielding to superior numbers. Almost the whole of
his army was either cut in pieces or compelled to surrender
at discretion, and the hero himself, covered with wounds,
fell senseless on the field of battle, and was made prisoner.
The small number that escaped fled to Warsaw, and shut
themselves up in the suburb of Praga. Hither they were
pursued by Suwaroff, who immediately laid siege to the
suburb, and prepared to carry it by storm. On the 2d of
November he gave the assault, and having made himself
master of the place, put to the sword both the soldiers and
the peaceable inhabitants, without distinction of age or sex.
It is computed that twenty thousand persons fell victims to
the savage ferocity of the Russian general; and, covered
with the blood of the slaughtered inhabitants, the barbarian Histor
entered Warsaw in triumph.
Thus terminated the feeble resistance of the Polish pa¬
triots. The partition of the remaining provinces was soon
effected, and Stanislas Augustus, who had long enjoyed
merely the appearance of royalty, and had degraded himself
by becoming the instrument of Russian usurpation, retired
to Grodno, there to pass the remainder of his days, on a
pension granted him by the empress.
1795. On the 18th of February, a treaty of defensive An. 1711
alliance between the empress of Russia and his Britannic
majesty was signed at St Petersburg. The ostensible ob¬
ject of this treaty was to maintain the general tranquillity
of Europe, and more especially of the north; and by it
Russia agreed to furnish Great Britain with ten thousand
infantry and two thousand horse in case of invasion; while
Great Britain was, under similar circumstances, to send her
imperial majesty a squadron consisting of two ships of se¬
venty-four guns, six of sixty, and four of fifty, with a com¬
plement of four thousand five hundred and sixty men. On
the 18th of March was signed the act by which the duchy
of Courland, together with the circle of Pilten, all of which
had lately belonged to the Duke of Courland, but had long
retained only the shadow of independence, submitted them¬
selves to the Russian dominion.
In this year there took place between the courts of St Dispute
Petersburg and Stockholm a dispute which threatened to with Sure,
terminate in a war. Gustavus III. had been assassinatedden-
by Ankerstroem at a masquerade, on the 15th of March
1791 ; and the young king Gustavus Adolphus being still a
minor, the Duke of Sudermania, his uncle, had been ap¬
pointed regent of the kingdom. The regent had deter¬
mined to effect a marriage between his nephew and a prin¬
cess of the house of Mecklenburg; but Catherine publicly
declared that the late king had betrothed his son to one of
her grand-daughters. The misunderstanding hence origi¬
nating was increased by the rude and indecorous behaviour
of the Baron von Budberg, the Russian minister at Stock¬
holm ; and matters seemed tending to an open rupture, when,
in the year 1796, a French emigrant named Christin effect¬
ed a reconciliation, and General Budberg, the baron’s uncle,
was sent as ambassador to Stockholm from the Russian
court. In consequence of this reconciliation, the young
king, attended by the regent, and a numerous train of Swe¬
dish courtiers, set out on a visit to St Petersburg, where they
arrived on the 24th of August, and an interview took place
between the empress and her royal visiters, for the purpose
of finally adjusting the projected matrimonial alliance. Gus¬
tavus Adolphus was much pleased with the appearance of
the Grand Duchess Alexandra, but informed the empress,
that by the fundamental laws of Sweden he could not sign
the marriage-contract before the princess had abjured the
Greek religion ; and as neither the solicitations nor the flat¬
teries of Catherine could prevail on the young monarch to
depart from the received custom of his country, the nego¬
tiation ended, and the next day Gustavus and his retinue
quitted St Petersburg.
The last transaction of importance in the reign of Cathe¬
rine was her invasion of the Persian territories, undertaken
for the purpose of acquiring certain possessions on the shores
of the Caspian. A Russian army entered Daghestan, and
made itself master of Derbent, but was afterwards defeated
by the Persians under Aga Mahmoud. The death of the
empress took place, as we have elsewhere stated, on the 9th
of November of this year ; and the Grand Duke Paul Pe-
trovitch ascended the throne under the title of Paul I.
Paul Petrovitch had attained his forty-second year before An. RSf
the death of his mother placed him on the imperial throne; Reign ot
but for many years before her death he had lived in a state au
of comparative obscurity and retirement, and had apparent¬
ly been considered by the empress- as incapable of taking
Sililar
hi fal of
P. III.
RUSSIA.
any active part in the administration of affairs. It is well been preceded by a provisional treaty between the same
known that Catherine never admitted him to any partici- powers at the end of the year 1798. By the latter which
pation of power, and kept him in a state of the most abject was fortified by a relative treaty with Austria it had been
and mortifying separation from court, and in almost total stipulated that Paul should assist the king of Prussia if the
ignorance of the affairs of the empire. Although by his latter could be persuaded to join his arms to the’ allied
birth he was generalissimo of the armies, president of the powers against France, with forty-five thousand men and
admiralty, and grand admiral of the Baltic, he was never that the king of Great Britain should pay to Russia a sub¬
permitted to head even a regiment, and was interdicted sidy of L.75,000 sterling per month; and in case the kine
from visiting the fleet at Cronstadt. From these circum- of Prussia should refuse to join the coalition, the same num-
stances, it is evident that the empress either had conceived ber of troops, in consideration of the same subsidy, should
some jealousy of her son, or saw in him some mental im- be employed, as occasion might require, to assist the com-
becility, which appeared to her to disqualify him for the ar- mon cause. By the new treaty, the emperor of Russia in-
duous concerns of government. There is little doubt, from stead of the forty-five thousand troops, engaged to furnish
the circumstances which distinguished his short reign, that seventeen thousand five hundred and ninety-three, with the
Catherine had been chiefly influenced in her treatment of necessary artillery, to be employed in an expedition against
the grand duke by the latter consideration. There were Holland; and six ships, five frigates, and two transports,
certainly times at which Paul displayed evident marks of for the purpose of transporting part of the invading army
insanity, though he occasionally gave proofs of a generous from Britain to the continent. In consideration of these
An 799.
Tr.iy 0f
nili fe be<
*'ve Rus.
and tender disposition, and even of intellectual vigour
It is generally believed that, a short time before her
death, Catherine committed to Plato Zuboff, her last fa¬
vourite, a declaration of her will, addressed to the senate,
desiring that Paul should be passed over in the succession,
and that on her death the Grand Duke* Alexander should
ascend the vacant throne. As soon as Zuboff was made
acquainted with the sudden death of the empress, he flew
to Pavlovsk, about twenty-three miles from St Petersburg,
where Paul occasionally resided ; but meeting the grand
duke on the road, he, after a short explanation, delivered
up the important document. Paul, charmed with his zeal
and loyalty, rewarded the favourite, by permitting him to
retain the wealth and honours which had been heaped on
him by his mistress, while a general and rapid dispersion
soon took place among the other adherents of the late sove¬
reign. On the day following the death of his mother, Paul
made his public entry into St Petersburg, amidst the accla¬
mations of all ranks of people.
One of the first measures adopted by the new emperor
excited considerable surprise, and divided the opinions of
the public with respect to the motives by which it had been
suggested; some attributing it to his respect for the me¬
mory of his late father, and others to a culpable reflection
on that of his mother. He ordered the corpse of Peter III.
to be removed from the sepulchre in which it had been
deposited in the church of St Alexander Nefsky, solemnly
crowned it, and caused it to lie in state for three weeks, while
it was watched day and night by the only two remaining
conspirators who had assisted at his assassination. After this
dreadful mark of his justice on the murderers of his father,
surely more terrible to the guilty mind than death itself, he
consigned the ashes to the sepulchre of Catherine II. in the
cathedral of St Peter and St Paul, obliging the assassins to
walk in the procession as chief mourners.
Few political events of any importance marked the reign
of Paul previously to the year 1798, when, in consequence
of a treaty between him and the emperor of Germany, a
Russian army of forty-five thousand men, under Field-Mar¬
shal Suwaroff, joined the imperialists in the Austrian terri¬
tories in Italy. The progress of Suwaroff, his successes over
Moreau, and his final recall by his master, have already been
related in the article France.
In 1799, Paul entered into a treaty of offensive and de¬
fensive alliance With his Britannic majesty. This treaty
was signed at St Petersburg on the 22d of June, having
succours, the court of London engaged to advance to Rus¬
sia a subsidy of L.44,000 sterling per month ; to pay the
sum of L.58,929. 10s. sterling for the expenses of equipping
the fleet; and after the period of three months had elapsed
from such equipment, to pay a further subsidy of L. 19,642.
10s. sterling per month, as long as the fleet should remain
under the command of his Britannic majesty.
In consequence of this treaty, a Russian fleet joined that
of Britain in Yarmouth Roads, and took part in the unfor¬
tunate expedition to the coast of Plolland, which was under¬
taken in the summer of 1799. The military fame of Russia
was more augmented by the share which its army under Su-
waroff took in the campaign of Italy during the same year,
although the victories which won for the veteran his name
of Italinski were far more than overbalanced by the mis¬
fortunes which ensued in Switzerland under the emperor’s
favourite Korsakoff. But in December 1800, Paul, after
having laid an embargo on the British shipping which lay
in his ports, openly abandoned his relations with our coun-
try, and proclaimed, in confederacy with Sweden and Den¬
mark, to whom Prussia afterwards added herself, the great
Northern Coalition with France against Great Britain.
In the beginning of the year 1801, all Europe was as-An. 1801.
tonished or amused by a paragraph which appeared in the Oaul’schal-
Hamburg Gazette of the 16th of January. It was dated from lenge totbe
Petersburg, the 30th December 1800, and is as follows. of'Europe.
“ We learn from Petersburg, that the emperor of Rus¬
sia, finding that the powers of Europe cannot agree among
themselves, and being desirous to put an end to a war which
has desolated it for eleven years past, intends to point out
a spot to which he will invite all the other sovereigns, to
repair and fight in single combat; bringing with them, as
seconds and squires, their most enlightened ministers and
their most able generals, such as Messrs Thugot, Pitt,
and Bernstorff; and that the emperor himself proposes be¬
ing attended by Generals Count de Pahlen and Khutosofi
We know not if this report be worthy of credit; however,
the thing appears not destitute of some foundation, and
bears strong marks of what he has been often taxed with.”
This paragraph was immediately copied or translated into
all the public papers, and it was strongly affirmed by many
that it was the composition of Paul himself. This has since
been confirmed by the poet Kotzebue, who was employed
by the emperor of Russia to translate the original into Ger¬
man, for the express purpose of its being inserted in the
Hamburg Gazette.1
tain
1 Bri-
1 This paragraph is such a curious morceau of witty insanity, that we shall here give the original French, as written by Paul him¬
self, and published by Kotzebue in his account of his exile into Siberia. “ On apprend de Petersbourg, que PEmpereur de lius-
sie, voyant que les puissances de PEurqpe ne pouvoient s’accorder entr’elles, et voulant mettre fin a une guerre qui la desoloit depuis
onze ans, vouloit proposer un lieu oil il inviteroit tous les autres Souverains, de se rendre et y combattre en champ clos, ayant avec
eux pour e'cuyers juges de camp et heros des armes leurs ministres les plus eclaire's et les gendraux les plus habiles, tels que MM.
Thugot, Pitt, Bernstorff; lui-meme se proposant de prendre avec lui les generaux C. de Pahlen et Khutoso-f. On ne s^ait si on
doit y ajouter foi; toutefois, la chose ne paroit pas destitue'e de fondement, en portant i’empreinte de ce dont il a souvent ete taxe.”
>56
History.
RUSSIA.
Other
marks of
the ernpe
ror’s de-
This was not the only mark of mental derangement dis¬
played by the unhappy monarch. The army, which form¬
ed his favourite employment, was tormented by incessant
caprices affecting its discipline; and the press, the na¬
tive Russians, and the resident foreigners, suffered tyran-
nuigenient. nical and unaccountable restrictions. His favours and his
displeasure were alternately experienced by some of his
most distinguished courtiers and adherents. Stanislas, the
deposed king of Poland, partook by turns of his beneficence
and his severity; and at length, on the death of that
monarch, Paul assisted at his funeral, commanded in per¬
son the guards that attended on the ceremony, and un¬
chamber, passed under a false stove in the anti-room, and History
led by a small door to the terrace.
It was the custom of the emperor to sleep in an apart-His assas;
ment next to the empress’s, upon a sofa, in his regimen-Iiation. |
tals and boots, whilst the grand duke and duchess, and the
rest of the imperial family, were lodged at various distan¬
ces, in apartments below the story which he occupied. On
the 10th March, the day preceding the fatal night, whether
Paul’s apprehension, or anonymous information, suggested
the idea, is not known; but conceiving that a storm was
ready to burst upon him, he sent for Count Pahlen : “ I am
informed,” said the emperor, that there is a conspiracy cn
covering himself with the utmost emotion, saluted the cof- foot against me ; do you think it necessary to take any pre¬
fin as it passed. To the memory of the aged Suwaroff, caution?” The count, without betraying the least emotion.
who is said to have fallen a broken-hearted victim to the
distraction of his imperial master, he raised a colossal statue
of bronze; and on the days when he reviewed his troops
in the square where the figure had been erected, he used to
command them to march by in open order, and face the mo¬
nument. Notwithstanding the important service that had
been rendered him by Zuboff, the emperor soon became
disgusted with him ; spoke of him to his friends with great
replied, “ Sire, do not suffer such apprehensions to haunt,
your mimd ; if there were any combinations forming against
your majesty’s person, I am sure I should be acquainted
with it.” “ Then I am satisfied,” said the emperor ; and the
governor withdrew. Before Paul retired to rest, he, be¬
yond his usual custom, expressed the most tender solici¬
tude for the empress and his children, kissed them with all
the warmth of farewell fondness, and remained with them
asperity; at length denounced him as a defaulter to the for a considerable time. He afterwards visited the senti-
imperial treasury of half a million of roubles; and, convinced
of the justice of the allegation, proceeded to sequestrate the
vast estates which belonged to him and his two brothers.
Driven to desperation by such conduct, the second bro¬
ther of the favourite one day walked up boldly to the em¬
peror upon the parade, and with manly eloquence repre¬
sented the injustice of his measures. Paul received him
without anger, heard him without interruption, and restored
nels at their different posts, and then retired to his chamber.
Soon after the emperor had retired, the guard that was
always placed at his chamber door was, on some pretext,
changed by the officers who had the command for the
night, and who were engaged in the conspiracy. One man
only remained. This was a hussar whom the emperor had
honoured with particular marks of attention, and who al¬
ways slept at night in the antechamber, at his sovereign's
the property ; but soon afterwards he ordered Plato Zuboff bed-room door, i his faithful soldier it was found impos-
" ’ ‘ " sible to remove, except by force, which at that time the
conspirators did not think proper to employ. Silence now
reigned throughout the palace, disturbed only by the pa¬
cing of the sentinels, or by the distant murmurs of the Ne¬
va ; and only a few straggling lights were to be seen, irre¬
gularly gleaming through the windows of the palace. In
the dead of the night, Zuboff and his friends, amounting to
eight or nine persons, passed the draw-bridge, ascended the
staircase that led to the emperor’s apartments, and met with
to reside on his estate, though he again restored him to fa¬
vour.
Conspiracy It is not surprising that these instances of folly and ca-
formed price should alarm and disgust many of the nobles. In
against the particular, Count Pahlen, the governor of St Petersburg,
emperoi. some other men of rank, entered into a confederacy
with Zuboff and his brothers for removing the emperor.
In their conferences, which were managed with great pru¬
dence and discretion, it was resolved that Paul should die, . .
and that the day of the festival called Maslaintza, the 1 Jth no opposition till they reached the antechamber, where the
of March O. S. 1801, should be the day for executing the faithful hussar, awakened by the noise, challenged them,
awful deed. At the time of this plot, the emperor and his and presented his fusee. 1 hough they must have admired
family resided in the new palace of St Michael, an enor- the brave fidelity of the guard, neither time nor circum-
mous quadrangular pile standing at the bottom of the sum- stances would admit of an act of generosity wmich mig ^
mer gardens. Paul being anxious to inhabit this palace have endangered their whole plan of operations
soon after he was crowned, the masons, carpenters, and
various artificers, toiled with incredible labour, by day and
by torch-light, under the sultry sun of the summer, and in
all the severity of a polar winter; and in three years this
enormous and magnificent fabric was completed. The
whole is moated round ; and when the stranger surveys its
bastions of granite, and numerous draw-bridges, he is na¬
turally led to conclude that it was intended for the last
asylum of a prince at war with his subjects. Those who
Zuboff
therefore drew his sabre, and cut the poor fellow down.
In the mean time, Paul, roused by the unusual bustle,
sprang from his couch. At this moment the whole party
rushed into his chamber. The unhappy sovereign, antici¬
pating their design, at first endeavoured to intrench him¬
self behind the chairs and tables; but soon recovering some
share of his natural courage, he assumed a high tone, told
them they were his prisoners, and required them to surren¬
der. Finding that they fixed their eyes steadily and fiercely
have seen its "massive walls, and the capaciousness and va- upon him, and continued to advance, he implored them to
riety of its chambers, will easily admit that an act of vio- spare his life, declared his willingness instantiy to rehnqms
lence might be committed in one room, and not be heard the sceptre, and to accept of any terms which they mxg
by those who occupy the adjoining one; and that a mas- dictate. He even offered to make them princes, an o
sacre might be perpetrated at one end, and not known at confer on them orders and estates. Regardless alike of ns
the other. Paul took possession of this palace as a place of threats and promises, they now began to press on him, when
strength, and beheld it with rapture, because his imperial he made a convulsive effort to reach the window, but fallen
mother had never even seen it. While his family were in the attempt; and, indeed, had he succeeded in his en ea-
here, by every act of tenderness endeavouring to soothe vour to escape that way, the height from the window to tie
the terrible perturbation of his mind, there were not want- ground was so great, that the expedient would proba y
ing those who exerted every stratagem to inflame and in- have only put a more speedy period to lis existence,
crease it. These people were constantly insinuating that the conspirators drew him back, ne grasped a ciair, wi
every hand was armed against him. With this impression, which he knocked down one of the assailants, an a e
which added fuel to his burning brain, he ordered a secret perate conflict now took place. So great was the ’
staircase to be constructed, which, leading from his own that notwithstanding the massive walls and ou e o .
xi U o
| dory, doors that divided Paul’s apartments from those of the em-
press, she was disturbed, and began to call for help, when
a voice whispered in her ear, commanding her to remain
quiet, and threatening that if she uttered another word she
should instantly be put to death.
Paul was now making his last struggle, when one of the
party struck him on the temple with his fist, and laid him
prostrate on the floor. Recovering from the blow, the un¬
happy monarch again implored his life. At this moment
the heart of one of the conspirators relented, and he was
observed to hesitate and tremble, when a young Hanove¬
rian who was present exclaimed, we have passed the Ru¬
bicon ; if we spare his life, we shall, before the setting of
to-morrow’s sun, become his victims; on saying which he
took off his sash, turned it twice round the naked neck of
the emperor, and giving one end to ZubofF, he himself drew
the other, till the object of their attack expired.
jLassion fhe Emperor Alexander, Paul’s eldest son, was in his
oidexan-twenty-fourth year when he ascended the throne, and from
i! t I'iuilo-his amiable disposition had acquired the love and respect
'’•h' of all his subjects. The first measure which he adopted,
his proclamation, and his first imperial orders, all tended
to encourage and confirm the confidence with which the
people beheld him ascend the throne of his forefathers.
He solemnly promised to tread in the steps of Catherine
II.; he allowed every one to dress according to his own
fancy; he exonerated the inhabitants of the capital from
the trouble and duty of alighting from their carriages on
the approach of the imperial family; he dismissed the court
advocate, who was universally and justly detested; he sup¬
pressed the secret inquisition, that had become the scourge
of the country; he restored to the senate its former autho¬
rity, set at liberty the state prisoners, and recalled from Si¬
beria several of the exiles. He even extended his mercy
to the assassins of the late emperor. Zuboff was ordered
not to approach the imperial residence, and the governor
of the city was transferred to Riga.
It is not easy to explain the motives that induced Alex¬
ander to forego that vengeance which justice seemed to
demand on the heads of his father’s assassins. It has been
attributed by one of his panegyrists to a forlorn and me¬
lancholy conviction that the murderers had been prompted
to commit the bloody deed solely by a regard for the sal¬
vation of the empire. This conviction might have induced
the young monarch to diminish the weight of the punish¬
ment which piety and justice called on him to inflict, but
can scarcely account for his total forbearance,
table Alexander, on his accession to the throne, appeared de-
«ition sirous to cultivate the friendship of the neighbouring states,
lex an. an(} especially that of Great Britain. His late father, among
wards other projects, had procured himself to be elected grand¬
master of the knights of Malta, and had laid claim to the
sovereignty of that island. This claim, which had nearly pro¬
duced a rupture between the courts of London and St Peters¬
burg, Alexander consented to abandon, though he expressed
a wish to be elected grand-master of the order, by the free
suffrages of the knights. A confederacy, as wre have seen, had
been formed among the northern powers of Europe, with a
view to oppose the British claim to the sovereignty of the
seas; but by the spirited interference of the British court,
especially with the cabinet of St Petersburg, the good un¬
derstanding between Britain and the northern states was re¬
established, and the embargo which had been laid on British
vessels in the Russian ports was taken off. Alexander, how¬
ever, earnestly desired to maintain peaceful relations with
k ranee; and expressed this wish, both in public manifestos,
and in private communications addressed to the First Consul.
Early in the same year there was signed at St Peters¬
burg a treaty of amity, commerce, and navigation, be¬
tween Russia and Sweden, to continue for twelve years, by
which Sweden was allowed to import into Russia, alum,
Tjfty of
and
an
<'0( igrce
wi
(!«!
Sive-
S 1 A.
557
salt herrings, and salt, on the payment of one half of the History,
duties then exacted, and into Russian Finland the produce
of Swedish Finland duty free; while the importation of
Russia into Sweden, of hemp, linen, and tallow, was allow¬
ed at one half of the existing duties, and of linseed at
two thirds. The most remarkable part of this treaty was
the recognition, by the court of St Petersburg, of the
northern confederacy, which the amicable adjustment with
Britain appeared to have done away. The commerce of
Russia had now recovered its former splendour. The ex¬
ports fiom the city of Riga alone, for the year ending July
1801, amounted to 6,770,638 roubles, and of these exports
England alone imported to the value of 2,509,853 roubles.
On the 25th of March 1802 was signed at Amiens the An. 180°
definitive treaty of peace between the belligerent powers of Russia gua-
Europe, by one material article of which the islands of Malta, rantees the
Gozo, and Comino, were to be restored to the knights ofsove"eiSn'
St John of Jerusalem, under the protection and guarantee ^ ^eMalta
of France, Great Britain, Austria, Spain, Russia, and Prus-knights of
sia; and his Sicilian majesty was invited to furnish two thou- St John of
sand men, natives of his states, to serve in garrisons at theJerusalem*
different fortresses of the said islands, for one year after their
restitution to the knights, or until they should be replaced
by a force deemed sufficient by the guaranteeing powers.
Some time after the conclusion of this treaty, disputes arose
among the contracting powers relative to the sovereignty
of Malta, which the emperor of Russia insisted should be
yielded to Naples, otherwise he would not undertake to
guarantee the order, and would separate from it the prio¬
ries of Russia. The result of these disputes is well known,
as they afforded a reason for renewing the bloody contest
which so long desolated Europe.
During the short interval of peace, the emperor of Rus-Prudent
sia made several prudent regulations in the internal adminis- regulations
tration of his empire. On the 12th of September 1801, aof
manifesto had been published, proclaiming the union of^^Alex*
Georgia, or Russian Grusinia, with the empire ; and on the' e ’
1st of April 1802, Alexander sent a deputation to establish
the new government at Teflis, the capital of the province.
On the 28th of May the emperor wrote a letter to the cham¬
berlain Wittostoff, president of the commission for ameliorat¬
ing the condition of the poor of St Petersburg, in which he
recommended to the commission to follow the example of a
similar establishment at Hamburg, in selecting proper objects
for their charitable bequests, preferring the humble and in¬
dustrious pauper to the idle and sturdy beggar. He also of¬
fered considerable premiums to persons who should introduce
any new or advantageous mode of agriculture, or who should
bring to perfection any old invention, open any new branch
of commerce, establish any new manufacture, or contrive
any machine or process that might be useful in the arts.
Early in the year 1803, the emperor fitted out, at his own An. 1803.
expense, two vessels for a voyage of discovery round the A voyage
world, under the command of Captain Krusenstern. These ^
ships were provided with every necessary for accomplishing^^ se t“
the object of the voyage ; and several men of eminence for
science and literature, among whom was Churchman the
American astronomer, volunteered their services on this
occasion.
In the beginning of 1804 the emperor established a uni-An. 1804.
versity at Kharkof, in Lithuania, for the cultivation and dif-Establish,
fusion of the arts and sciences in that part of the Russian me.nT °[ an
empire; and Mr Fletcher Campbell, a Scotch gentleman,
was employed to procure masters for this new institution. anja>
Some time after, the emperor ordered that meteorological
observations should be regularly made at all the universities
and public schools, and the results published. It appears
that at the end of this year the sums allotted by the Rus¬
sian government for defraying the expenses of these insti¬
tutions amounted to 2,149,213 roubles, besides a gift of
nearly 60,000 roubles towards erecting the new university.
558
RUSSIA.
History.
Emancipa¬
tion of the
Jews in
Russia.
Dispute
with
France.
An. 1805.
Treaty of
concert be'
tween
Great Bri.
tain and
Russia-
About this time an imperial ukase was published, grant-
ins; to the Jews a complete emancipation from the shackles
under which that devoted people had long groaned, and
allowing them the privileges of educating their children in
any of the schools and universities of the empire, or esta¬
blishing schools at their own expense.
For some time the genius of discord, which had again
actuated the minds of the European sovereigns, failed to
extend her baleful influence over the Russian empire ; but
it was scarcely possible that the emperor should long re¬
main an impartial spectator of the renewed disputes be¬
tween his more powerful neighbours. An important change
had, in the latter end of 1802, taken place in the ministry
of the empire; and Count Worontzoff, brother of the late
ambassador at London, had been appointed great chan-
cellor-in-chief of the department of foreign affairs, with
Prince Adam Czartoryski for his assistant. How far this
change in the councils of the empire influenced the politi¬
cal measures of the court of St Petersburg, it is not easy
to determine; but in the latter end of 1803, Alexander
appeared to view with a jealous eye the presumption and
violence exercised by France among the German states,
and the encroachments which she appeared desirous ot
making on the freedom of the Baltic. Alexander had of¬
fered his mediation between Great Britain and Franee, but
without effect; and both these parties strove to bring over
the Russian emperor to their alliance. France seems to
have held out to the ambition of Alexander the bait of a
partition of the Turkish territories, the dismemberment of
which had long been a favourite object with his predeces¬
sors. At length, however, the court of London prevailed,
and the Russian ambassador, by his master’s orders, took
leave of the First Consul of the French republic, though
without demonstrating any intentions of immediate hostili¬
ty. A new levy of a hundred thousand men was imme¬
diately ordered, to recruit the Russian army; and, to prevent
any jealousy on the side of Turkey, assurances were given
to the Sublime Porte of the amicable intentions of Russia
towards that power.
On the 11th of April 1805 a treaty of concert was con¬
cluded between Great Britain and Russia, in which the two
governments agreed to adopt the most efficacious means
for forming a general league of the states of Europe, to be^
directed against the power of France. From the terms ot
the treaty, its objects appear to have been, first, the eva¬
cuation of the country of Hanover and the north of Ger¬
many ; secondly, the establishment of the independence of
the republics of Holland and Switzerland ; thirdly, the re¬
establishment of the king of Sardinia in Piedmont; fourthly,
the future security of the kingdom of Naples, and the com¬
plete evacuation of Italy, the island of Elba included, by
the French forces ; fifthly, the establishment of an order of
things in Europe, which might effectually guarantee the se¬
curity and independence of the different states, and present
a solid barrier against future usurpation.
For the prosecution of the great objects of this treaty, it
was proposed by the first article that an army of five hun¬
dred thousand men should be levied ; but in a subsequent
separate article, the contracting parties, after observing that
it was more desirable than easy to assemble so large a
force, agreed that the treaty should be carried into execu¬
tion as soon as it should be possible to oppose to France
an active force of four hundred thousand men. It was un¬
derstood and stipulated that these troops should be provided
by the powers of the continent who should become parties
to the league, and subsidies should be granted by Great
Britain in the proportion of L.1,250,000 sterling for every
hundred thousand men, besides a considerable additional
sum for the necessary expense occasioned in bringing them
into the field.
About this time the occupation of Genoa by the French,
on the pretence that that republic was too feeble to sup- History,,
port itself against the attacks of Great Britain, was com- ''““v—‘
municated to the different courts of Europe, and excited in ^Pen ruP
every quarter the highest indignation. The Emperor Alex-
ander, in particular, was incensed at this new outrage. Such
an open violation of those principles which were justly re¬
garded as essential to the general safety, committed not
only during the peace of the continent, but when passports
had been delivered to his ambassador, in order that a ne¬
gotiation might be commenced for the purpose of provid¬
ing for the permanent security and repose of Europe, he
considered as an indecent insult to his person and crown.
He issued immediate orders for the recall of M. Novosilt-
zoff; and the messenger despatched upon this occasion was
commanded to repair with the utmost diligence to Berlin.
M. Novosiltzoff had not yet left that city ; he immediately
therefore returned his passports to the Prussian minister of
state, Baron de Hardenberg, and at the same time deliver¬
ed, by order of his court, a spirited memorial explanatory
of the object of his mission, and of the circumstances which
had led to its termination.
The recall of the Russian envoy appeared to be the sig¬
nal of hostilities on the part of Russia and Austria against
France. These hostilities may be said to have commenced
and terminated in the autumn of this year. The military
operations that distinguished this short but bloody conflict,
the rapid successes of the French, the capitulation of Ulm
on the 17th of October, the occupation of Vienna by the
French on the 12th of the same month, and the sanguinary
battle of Austerlitz on the 27th of November, have been
already noticed under the head of France. The conse¬
quences of these disastrous events were, first a cessation of
hostilities, and at length a treaty of firm alliance between
France and Russia.
But before Alexander finally stooped to the imperial ea-An. 1806.
gles of Napoleon, he was determined to make one more ef¬
fort to preserve his independence. The Russian envoy at
Paris, D’Oubril, had hastily concluded a preliminary treaty
of peace between his master and the emperor of the French,
which he signed at Paris on the 8th of July 1806, and in¬
stantly set out for St Petersburg to procure the ratification
of his master. When the terms of this convention were
laid before the privy council by Alexander, they appeared
so derogatory to the interests of Russia, that the emperor
refused°them his sanction, and declared that the counsellor
of state, D’Oubril, when he signed the convention, had not
only departed from the instructions he had received, but
had acted directly contrary to the sense and intention of
the commission with which he had been intrusted. His
imperial majesty, however, signified his willingness to renew
the negotiations for peace, but only on such terms as were
consistent with the dignity of his crown and the interests
of his empire.
In the mean time the king of Prussia began, when it was Alliance
too late, to see the folly and imprudence of the neutrality with !
J
k,!f
■[!»
which he had so long maintained, and he at length prepar- s’a r
ed to oppose his now feeble efforts to the growing power of
France. He brought together in the summer of this year an
army of at least tw o hundred thousand men, near Weimar
and Jena, while the French myriads assembled in Franconia
and on the frontiers of Saxony. Previously to the com¬
mencement of hostilities, his Prussian majesty issued a spi¬
rited manifesto, in which he explained his motives for aban¬
doning his plan of neutrality, and appealed to Europe for the
justice of his cause. He entered into an alliance with the
Emperor Alexander, and with the king of Sweden ; and it
was expected that these united forces would at length hurl
the tyrant of Europe from his throne, or at least compel him
to listen to equitable terms of pacification. These expecta¬
tions were, however, miserably disappointed. The same
extraordinary success was still to attend the arms of trance,
Trance,
Aul807.
Me of
Eili.
of
Fri 'and.
RUSSIA.
559
and the north of Europe was again condemned to submit in country round Konigsberg, and Marshal Soult entered that History,
si ence o leryo^e. -ion/. ..v, -p • • j ^iu^ph. Ihus concluded the campaign in Ger-'s—'
On the 13th of October 1806 the Prussrans received a many, in which the Russians sustained a loss of at least
dreadful check at the battle of Jena; and on the 27th of thirty thousand of their choicest troops
the same month Napoleon entered Berlin. While the While these military operations were going forward on War da-
French were thus successful, the troops of the Emperor the continent of Europe, the emissaries of France were cIare(l
Alexander occupied Prussian Poland, and took up their re- busily employed at Constantinople in excitin°- the divan to against
sidence at Warsaw ; but they were soon attacked by the declare against their ancient enemies. They at length sue- by
French under Murat, who on the 28th entered Warsaw ceeded; for on the 30th of December 1806 war with Rus- e}'
with his cavalry, on which the Russians retreated across sia was proclaimed, and twenty-eight regiments of ianissa-
the Vistula, burning the bridge over which they had passed, ries assembled under the command of the "rand vizir. But
On the 26th of December, a dreadful engagement took the disturbances which broke out in the latter end of Mav
place between the Russians commanded by General Ben- 1807 prevented any operations of importance from takim-
ningsen, and the French under Generals Murat, Davoust, place; and the pacification which was soon concluded be^
and Lannes. The scene of action was at Ostralenka, about tween Russia and France, though it did not entirely put a
sixty miles from Warsaw, and the fighting continued for stop to the war between the former power and Turkey, in
three days. The loss was immense on both sides, though some measure diminished their hostile preparations,
the advantage appears to have been on the side of the The defeats which the allied armies had sustained in Treaty of
French. According to French accounts, the Russian army Prussia and Poland rendered peace, on almost any terms, Tilsit,
lost twelve thousand men in killed and wounded, together a desirable object; and Alexander found himself constrain-
with eighty pieces of cannon, and all its ammunition wag- ed to meet, at least with the appearance of friendship, the
gons; while the Russian account states the loss of the French conqueror of his armies. Propositions for an armistice had
at five thousand men. been made by the Prussian general to Murat near Tilsit,
In the beginning of February 1807, the Russians ob- and after the battle of Friedland the Russian prince Laba-
tained a partial advantage in the battle of Eylau. Accord- noff had a conference, on similar views, with the prince of
ing to the account of this battle, given by General de Bud- Neufchatel, soon after which an armistice was concluded
berg in a despatch to the Marquis of Douglas, the British between the French and Russians. On the 25th of June
ambassador at St Petersburg, the Russian general Ben- an amicable meeting took place on the river Niemen, be-
ningsen, after having fallen back for the purpose of choos- tween the emperors of France and Russia, and adjoining
ing a position which he judged well adapted for manoeuvring apartments were fitted up for the reception of both courts
the troops under his command, drew up his army at Preus- in the town of Tilsit. This politic friendship was soon after
sisch Eylau. During four days successively his rear-guard cemented by the treaty of Tilsit, concluded between the
had to withstand several vigorous assaults; and on the 7th emperor of the French on the one part, and the emperor
of February, at three o’clock in the afternoon, the battle of Russia and the king of Prussia (whom it despoiled of a
became general throughout the whole line of the main army, fourth of his dominions) on the other, on the 7th and 12th
The contest was destructive, and night came on before it of July in this year. Thenceforth, until Napoleon’s star
could be decided. Early on the following morning the began to wane, Alexander was his firm partisan ; and his
French renewed the attack, and the action was contested faithlessness towards his former allies gave them no temp-
with obstinacy on both sides; but towards the evening of tation to repose further confidence in him.
that day the assailants were repulsed, and the Russian ge- The conclusion of the treaty of Tilsit was notified to the Rupture
neral remained master of the field. In this action Napo- court of London on the 1st of August; and at the same with Bn-
time a proposal was made from his imperial majesty for me- ta‘n-
dialing a peace between France and Britain.
Icon commanded in person, having under him Augereau,
Davoust, Soult, Ney, and Bessieres at the head of the im¬
perial guards. The loss of the Russians in that engage¬
ment was by themselves stated at above six thousand men,
while they estimated that of the French, probably untruly,
at nearly double that number.
This was the last important stand made by the Russian
army. In May, Dantzig, defended by eighteen thousand
Russians and Prussians, surrendered to the French. Seve¬
ral actions succeeded at Spanden, at Lamitten, at Guttotadt,
and at Heilsberg, in all of which the French had the advan¬
tage, till at length, on the 14th of June, the Russians ap¬
peared in considerable force upon the bridge of Friedland,
whither the French army under Napoleon was advancing.
At three in the morning the report of cannon was first heard,
and at this time Marshals Lannes and Mortier were engaged
with the Russians. After various manoeuvres, the Russian
troops received a check, and filed off towards Konigsberg.
In the afternoon the French army drew up in order of battle,
having Marshal Ney on the right, Lannes in the centre, and
Mortier on the left, while Victor commanded a corps de re¬
serve, consisting of tbe guards. At half-past five the at¬
tack began on the side of Marshal Ney; and notwithstand¬
ing the different movements of the Russians to effect a di¬
version, the French soon carried all before them. The loss
of the Russians, according to the usual exaggerations of the
French bulletins, was estimated at from ten thousand to
fifteen thousand men, and twenty-five of their generals wrere
said to have been killed, wounded, or taken. In conse¬
quence of this victory the French became masters of all the
This me¬
diation, however, was declined on the part of Great Bri¬
tain, until his Britannic majesty should be made acquainted
with the stipulations of the treaty of Tilsit, and should find
them such as might afford him a just hope of the attain¬
ment of a secure and honourable peace. This declining of
the mediation of Russia was no doubt expected by the court
of St Petersburg; but it served as a pretext for binding
more closely the alliance between that power and France,
by breaking off her connection with Great Britain. Ac¬
cordingly, in October, Lord Granville Leveson Gower, who
had succeeded the Marquis of Douglas as British envoy, re¬
ceived a note from the government, intimating that, as a
British ambassador, he could no longer be received at the
court of St Petersburg, which he therefore soon after quit¬
ted. An embargo was laid on all British vessels in the
ports of Russia, and it was peremptorily required by Na¬
poleon and Alexander that Sweden should abandon her
alliance with Great Britain.
An additional ground of complaint against the British
court was furnished by the attack on Copenhagen, and the
seizure of the Danish fleet, in the beginning of September ;
and though Lord Gower had attempted to justify these
measures on the plea of anticipating the French in the
same transaction, the emperor of Russia expressed, in the
warmest terms, his indignation at what he called an unjust
attack on a neutral power. A considerable Russian fleet
joined the French ; but the combined squadrons were com¬
pelled to seek for shelter in the Tagus, where they remain-
560
RUSSIA.
Historv.
An. 1808.
Renewed
negotia¬
tions with
Britain.
War with
Sweden.
ed blocked up by the British, till they were surrendered by
the convention of Cintra; and another fleet of fifteen sail
of the line that proceeded up the Mediterranean, and ad¬
vanced as far as Trieste, shared a similar fate.
On the 26th of October the emperor of Russia published
a declaration, notifying to the powers of Europe that he
had broken off all communication between his empire and
Great Britain, until the conclusion of a peace between this
power and France. In a counter-declaration, published at
London on the 10th of December, his Britannic majesty
repels the accusations of Russia, while he regrets the in¬
terruption of the friendly intercourse between that power
and Britain. His majesty justifies his own conduct, and
declares, that when the opportunity for peace between
Great Britain and Russia shall arrive, he will embrace it
with eagerness; satisfied if Russia shall manifest a disposi¬
tion to return to her ancient feeling of friendship towards
Great Britain, to a just consideration of her ovvn true inte¬
rests, and to a sense of her ovvn dignity as an independent
nation.
In October 1808, a meeting took place at Erfurt be¬
tween the emperors of France and Russia, and a letter was
drawn up under their signature, addressed to his Britannic
majesty. The object of this letter was, to induce the king
of Great Britain to enter into negotiations for a general
peace, and with that view it was despatched by Count Ro-
m an/.off, the Russian minister at Erfurt, to Mr Canning,
the British secretary of state for foreign affairs. It was
answered by an official note, requiring the emperors, as an
indispensable condition of any treaty with Britain, to re¬
ceive Sweden as a party, to protect the interests of Portu¬
gal and of the ex-king of Naples, and to extend the bene¬
fits of the projected arrangements to Ferdinand VII. of
Spain. These requisitions were evidently quite inconsistent
with Napoleon’s views ; the emperors refused to accede to
them ; and all hope of accommodation was in the mean time
at an end.
The demand of concurrence in the views of b ranee and
Russia made on Sweden was formally repeated in a decla¬
ration of the Emperor Alexander, published at St Peters¬
burg on the 10th of February in this year. In this declara¬
tion his imperial majesty intimated to the king of Sweden
that he was making preparations to invade his territories ;
but that he was ready to change the measures he was about
to take, to measures of precaution only, if Sweden would,
without delay, join Russia and Denmark in shutting the
Baltic against Great Britain, until the conclusion of a ma¬
ritime peace. He professed that nothing could be more
painful to him, than to see a rupture take place between
Sweden and Russia; but that his Swedish majesty had it
still in his power to avoid this event, by resolving without
delay to adopt that course which could alone preserve strict
union and perfect harmony between the two states.
The king of Sweden, however, determined to abide by
the measures which he had for some time pursued, and to
adhere to the terms of the convention which had just been
concluded between him and the king of Great Britain. In
consequence of this determination, a Russian army entered
Finland in the beginning of March, under the command
of General Buxhovden, and advanced against Helsingfors,
which was occupied by a single battalion of a Swedish re-
o-iment. This small force retired into the fortress of Swea-
borg, where they maintained themselves with great bravery
till the 17th of April, when they were obliged to capitulate.
The loss of this fortress, though inconsiderable in itself, so
highly enraged the king of Swreden, that he dismissed the
naval and military commanders who had been concerned
in the capitulation.
On the 27th of April, some slight advantage was gained
over the Russians near Rivolax, by the Swedish army under
General Count Klinspor; but this was only a partial gleam
of success. The Russians soon overran almost all Finland, History
took possession of Wasa, Old and New Carleby, and reduced'' 
under subjection the whole province of which Wasa is the
capital. The army of Field-Marshal Klinspor, which ori¬
ginally consisted of sixteen thousand regulars, and many
boors, was, by the end of the campaign, reduced to little
more than nine thousand men.
The king of Sweden sent some reinforcements to his army
in Finland; but the forces which should have supported
Klinspor were foolishly employed in a fruitless attempt to
conquer Norway ; and in 1809 the Swedes were compelled
to cede Finland to Russia.
Russia continued to appear in the unworthy character of
Napoleon’s ally; and when Austria made an effort in 1809
to recover her losses, a Russian army advanced to co-ope¬
rate with the French. The diversion which this produced
was one cause of the final success of Napoleon, whose situ¬
ation after the battle of Aspern was extremely critical.
When Austria was at last compelled to accept of peace on
humiliating terms, Russia received as the reward of her
services the district of Tarnopol in Galicia, with a popula¬
tion of four hundred thousand souls. This district was re¬
stored to Austria in 1815.
In 1811, hostilities commenced between Russia and the
Porte. It is of little consequence to inquire into the causes
of this rupture; a powerful and ambitious government in
the neighbourhood of a weak one never wants pretexts for
war. The result might have been serious, if not fatal to
the Porte, had not the prospect of a more arduous struggle
induced Russia to suspend her efforts in that quarter, and
conclude a peace on condition of receiving a part of Molda¬
via and Bessarabia.
The great contest was now approaching which was to try
the resources of Russia, and ultimately to raise her to un¬
exampled greatness. The seizure by France of the terri¬
tories of the Prince of Oldenburg, who was the emperor of
Russia’s brother-in-law, on the one hand, and the admis¬
sion of British produce into the Russian harbours on the
other, furnished the ostensible grounds of the quarrel. After
some fruitless negotiations, Napoleon dismissed the Rus¬
sian ambassador, and left Paris to join the army on the 9th
of May 1812. The events oPthis disastrous expedition into
Russia have been minutely related in the article France;
and the reader does not require to be reminded of those
lamentable sufferings of the French army, which were its
principal result. The spirited resistance of Russia now
roused Prussia and Austria ; and early in 1813 a league was
formed between these powers, to which Bavaria and other
small states acceded. The battle of Leipsic, fought on the
18th of October, led to the final overthrow of the French
domination. In all the transactions which followed, Russia
bore a leading part. At the congress of Vienna in 1814,
the duchy of Warsaw, consisting of part of the original con¬
quests of Austria and Prussia in Poland, was assigned to
Russia, which thus ultimately obtained about four fifths of
the territory and three fourths of the population of that
ancient kingdom.
In passing to the new system of foreign policy which has Russianai
prevailed in Russia, as well as in the rest of Europe, sincecess.ons0
the year 1815, we must pause for a moment to remark the^j7^
accessions of territory which the empire had made during theyenrs be.
half century which preceded that epoch. Ihe reign of Ca-fort;
therine II. had, as we have seen, been by far the most fertile
in foreign acquisitions. Her conquests included the Crimea,
which was an incorporated portion of Russia since 1783;
Georgia, gained in 1785, though, as we have observed, not
formally annexed till 1801; Bessarabia, with a part of Mol¬
davia, and other Turkish possessions, finally secured to,Rus¬
sia by the treaty of Bukarescht in 1812; Courland, acquired
in 1795; and the extensive spoils of Poland in 1793 and
1794. Paul’s reign made no permanent addition of import-
1815.
RUSSIA.
istory. ance, except some districts within the Persian frontier.
~Y Alexander s gave to Russia in the first years of the present
century several of the tribes of the Caucasus; Finland in
1809 ; Daghestan and other large territories ceded by Persia
in 1813; and in 1814, Napoleon’s grand duchy of Warsaw,
which was erected into a kingdom of Poland. The total
population of these new Russian provinces cannot at the
very least be estimated under fifteen millions, and probably
exceeds that number.
j *an- During the ten years of Alexander’s reign which suc-
{Mo- eeeded the peace, and ended with his death in 1825, he ac-
£ ISlof clljire<i no new territory as a substantive addition to his do¬
minions, but occupied himself assiduously in that indirect
augmentation of Russian influence on the states around the
fiontier, which had before his time formed, and has since
continued to form, the first step in all the schemes of con¬
quest projected by his ambitious nation. The objects of
Alexander’s foreign policy after 1815 were chiefly three;
the suppression of constitutional, or, as they were called by
preference, revolutionary movements, in the central and
southern states of Europe ; the weakening of Turkey, and
the gradual reduction of that power into a state of depend¬
ence on the cabinet of St Petersburg, so as to pave the way
for the Russians towards the sovereignty of the Levant; and
the extension of the Russian influence in Persia and those
adjacent states, which must form the stepping-stones bv
which the Muscovites will strive to pass, if they shall ever
make the attempt, to the throne of British India. For the
attainment of the first of these great ends, there was formed,
under the guidance and by the suggestion of Alexander,
that league of princes which has been named the Holy Al¬
liance ; a confederacy whose bitter fruits have been tasted
in full measure by Italy and Spain, but whose conception
is in one view an encouraging tribute to the growing en¬
lightenment of the world, since it is the earliest instance in
which despots, conspiring against truth and freedom, have
condescended to speak the language of Christianity and
peace. In reference to Turkey, the policy of Alexander
aimed at gradually detaching the Porte from its friendly re¬
lations with Great Britain and other European powers, and
insidiously advancing towards a position in which the sul¬
tan should find himself powerless against his neighbours and
his own subjects, until Russia should stretch forth her pro¬
tecting hand; but a check was administered to this train of
diplomacy, and a peculiar relation introduced between the
courts of Constantinople and St Petersburg, by the insur¬
rection of Greece in 1821. To the founder and head of the
Holy Alliance the Greeks must have appeared to be mere
rebels, whom it was his duty as a neighbouring sovereign to
assist in punishing; w hile to the watchful power which de¬
sired by every available means to weaken and circumscribe
the power of Turkey, such an opportunity as the Greek revo¬
lution was unusually tempting, and indeed the sultan’s minis¬
ters openly alleged that the disturbances had been fomented
by Russian agents. The result of the rising in Greece has
been related in our article on that country ; and the other
misunderstandings between Russia and Turkey, the princi¬
pal of which related to the appointment of the hospodars in
Wallachia and Moldavia, wTere not sufficient to disturb the
diplomatic system w hich was resumed after the Greek ques¬
tion had been settled by the interposition of the other great
European powers. The designs of the emperor on the side
of India chiefly exhibited themselves in intrigues among
the northern neighbours of our possessions in that country;
and the system scarcely came to light till after Alexander’s
death.
In the internal government of the empire, Alexander in-
nal *ntei educed many salutary changes, especially in the early part
ffle )VeUi‘0f his reign ; but here, not less than in his foreign policy,
the last ten years of his life exhibitecT a marked contrast
to its earlier portion. The transition in his mind from a
VOL. XIX.
561
A1
love of liberal institutions to a distrust of every thing that History,
seemed to threaten the stability of thrones, began almost
wi i ms alliance with Napoleon, but reached full maturity
after that extraordinary man’s fall. In the first year of his
reign he abolished the literary censorship, and afterwards
restored it with less absurd but not less severe rules than
t lose of his father. He at one time patronized both the edu¬
cation of the young and the general dissemination of reli¬
gious know ledge; but after the peace the missionary so¬
cieties were suppressed, and very harsh measures adopted
against the universities. In several particulars a better
spirit prevailed. That tolerant disposition towards the va¬
rious sects of Christianity, of which we have remarked more
than one instance in passing, had already become systema¬
tic, and was never departed from. The emancipation of the
peasants from their state of serfdom was long a favourite
object vyith the emperor, who was able to attain it in Cour-
land, Livonia, and one or two other provinces, and used
openly to lament that private interests and prejudices had
baffled his good intentions elsewhere. Another plan of his,
which was connected with the scheme just mentioned, was
that of the military colonies, of which Dr Lyall has pub¬
lished an interesting account. The advantages which this
system promised to confer were these: the diminution of
the expenses of the army in times of peace, and the easy
training of a large agricultural population to the trade of
war. For these purposes villages were built on the crown-
estates along the western frontier of the empire, and in
these, soon after the peace, formidable detachments of sol¬
diers were settled with their families, and mixed among the
boors who, belonging to the crown, had previously been the
sole or the principal inhabitants of the districts. The whole
male population of these new settlements was to occupy it¬
self alternately in rural labour and military exercises ; and
while the troops who had already seen service were always
in a position to take the field again, the boors were gradu-
ally to qualify themselves for acting as a corps de reserve,
and for filling up vacancies. The plan excited consider¬
able opposition ; and although the obstacles were finally to
appearance vanquished, and the colonies speedily mustered
four hundred thousand fighting men, yet new difficulties
have arisen since Alexander’s death, and the present empe¬
ror has abandoned the idea of extending the principle, or
making it permanent.
During the last few years of Alexander’s life he appears Alexan-
to have been completely miserable. To family misfor-der’s death,
tunes, religious despondency, and disappointment in political
schemes, was added the continual terror of conspiracies in
the heart of the empire, which were said to have ramifica¬
tions everywhere, and to aim at nothing less than a total
revolution, and the assassination of the whole royal family.
Those constant travels through the several Russian pro¬
vinces in which Alexander was engaged for two or three
years before his death, have been mainly attributed by
some writers to his dread of poison or the dagger. In the
course of one of these journeys he died at Taganrog, on the
Sea of Azof, on the 1st day of December 1825.
Alexander’s brother, the Grand Duke Constantine, whose Resigna-
conduct as governor of Poland has been described in our tion of the
article on the history of that country, was immediately pro- Grand
claimed emperor at St Petersburg ; and whatever may have ^r^n^°n*
been the feelings of the Russians themselves, foreigners8™1 me*
who were acquainted with the new sovereign by his gene¬
ral reputation, looked on his accession with pity for his sub¬
jects and alarm for the peace of Europe. But the danger
had been foreseen and averted by Alexander and the rest
of the family. Constantine had been induced to resign his
claims to the crown by a formal deed executed in 1822.
The senate, on opening the will of Alexander, found it to
contain a nomination of his second brother, the Grand Duke
Nicholas, as his successor in the empire. The act of resig-
4 B
562
R U S S I A.
The fo¬
reign po¬
licy of
Nicholas.
History, ration was at the same time discovered, and in a few days
there arrived from Warsaw a communication from Constan¬
tine, in which he acknowledged the existence and validity
of the deed, and anew waived his right of succession.
Accession Accordingly Nicholas I. ascended the throne, announ-
of Nicholas cing the event by a proclamation of the 23d of December
1. 1825. The disturbance of the natural order of succession
was seized by the discontented as a favourable pretext for
insurrection ; and the reign of the new emperor was open¬
ed by a military mutiny in St Petersburg, which, after hav¬
ing been suppressed with bloodshed, was followed by seve¬
ral executions, and many imprisonments and banishments
to Siberia. Nicholas, and his spouse, the princess royal of
Prussia, were crowned at Moscow in 1826, and at Warsaw
in 1829. The latter of these two ceremonies did not long
precede the revolution of Poland, which has been the most
remarkable event of the emperor’s reign. It is unnecessary
to repeat the circumstances of that unfoitunate struggle.
The whole character and policy of Nicholas have been si¬
milar to those of his brother since 1815, with, however, an
additional degree of force and boldness, which may be at¬
tributable partly to the natural progress of the political tac-
ics which were common to both, and partly to the more en¬
ergetic will and greater attachment to military principles
and forms which distinguish the younger brother.
If we look to the three questions which were described
above as forming the main business of Alexander in his f o¬
reign policy, we find the position of Russia regarding them
to have remained, with slight alterations, the same since the
commencement of the new reign as it was before. ’I he
anti-constitutional views of the Holy Alliance have been
necessarily modified, but not abandoned \ although Nicho-
las speedily recognised the title of Louis Philippe to the
French throne, and took an active share in the conferences
of the five powers at London for arranging the affairs of
Belgium and Holland. On the side of Turkey, Russia has,
during the last fifteen years, been rapidly gaining strength.
The treaty of Akjerman between the two powers in 1826,
extending the principles laid down in the peace of Buka-
rescht, was ill executed on both sides ; and the mutual mis¬
understanding, being still further complicated by the emer¬
gence of the Greek question, issued first in the battle of
Navarino, and afterwards in a regular war of two years be¬
tween Russia and the Porte. The first campaign, in 1828,
was favourable to Russia, but not completely decisive ; that
of 1829 was celebrated for the successful passage of the
Balkan by the Russian general Diebitsch, and was closed
in September by the peace of Adrianople, in which Turkey
consented to several articles both humiliating and injurious.
Russia received but a slight direct accession of territory, but
obtained a confirmation of the right of her vessels to navigate
the Black Sea, a definitive settlement of frontier towards
Turkey, and a recognition of such restrictions on the Turk¬
ish government of Moldavia and Wallachia as materially
weakened the sultan’s power. The fortresses of these pro¬
vinces were moreover to be garrisoned by Russian troops,
till the Porte should have paid to Russia the expenses of
the war; and accordingly the provinces were not evacuat¬
ed till 1834. Diplomatic skill, and other means less justi¬
fiable, strengthened the hold of Russia on the Porte, whose
weakness was completely exposed in 1832, when Russian
troops appeared as its protectors against its own rebellious
subject the viceroy of Egypt. Turkey, in short, has in the
mean time thrown herself unreservedly under the influence
of Russia, and it appears not improbable that the course of
events may very soon allow that influence a yet more fa¬
vourable field. The most conspicuous incident of recent
Russian history on the side of India has been the w ar with
Persia, commenced in 1826, carried on successfully by the
generals Yermoloff and Paskewitsch, and terminated in 1828
by the cession of some important provinces to Russia. (See
Persia.) Since that time, both in Persia and in the neu- History,
tral countries on the frontiers of British India, there is little
reason to doubt that the Russian diplomacy has been ac¬
quiring an increasing influence. The only actual accession
of territory to Russia in this quarter that deserves notice
w'as given in 1829 by the revolt of the Kirghis Tartars,
formerly subject to China, who nowr placed themselves un¬
der the sovereignty of Russia, and brought the Russian
frontier nearer by another step to our Asiatic possessions.
Internally Russia has had to contend with incursions of Invasions
the Caucasian hordes from beyond the frontier, with revolts and insur-
of the Lesghians and other tribes nominally subject to thereclons-
empire, and lately with an extensive and spirited insuri ec-
tion of the Circassians, which it has not yet been possible
to quell.
The domestic government of Nicholas has little to dis- Internal
tinguish it from that of his brother. Education has been govern,
to some extent more favoured than it had recently been by1
Alexander; the Catholic and Lutheran churches continue
to receive the support of the government, which has also
aided missions to the Calmucks and other nomadic hordes;
trade and manufactures have been furthered by regulations
devised with much intelligence ; and the law’s have since
1826 received a tolerably complete revision and concentra¬
tion.
STATISTICS.
The Russian empire is of enormous extent, of vast re¬
sources, and of great capacity of improvement. It forms a
connected territory, extending from the frontiers of Ger¬
many and Prussia,'and the shores of the Gulf of Bothnia,
eastward to the sea which separates Asia from America,
thus embracing nearly one half of Europe and all the north
of Asia. Beyond Behring’s Straits it extends over a portion
of the north-west territory of America, embracing at the
same time a number of islands situated in the ocean \vliich
washes the northern shores of Europe and Asia, and flows
between Asia and America. Its most westerly point is in
longitude 18° 20' 15", and its most easterly in 209° 14' east
from Greenwich, thus extending through about 190 de-
orees of longitude. Its northern and southern^ boundaries
have deep indentations; the extreme points of the former
are in 78° 4', and of the latter in 38° 40' of north latitude.
This empire embraces about the one-ninth (some estimate
it as high as the one-seventh) part ol the habitable globe,
the one-fourteenth part of the northern hemisphere, and
above the one twenty-eighth part of the superficies ou^
planet. The whole of China is not equal to two thirds ot
Russia; and the Roman empire, at the period of its great¬
est extension, did not comprehend more than one fourth of
the territory which now bows to the sceptre of the czar.
Some have included the mountains of Caucasus, others the
whole of the Caspian Sea, whilst some again have omitted
the one and not the other. A very elaborate calculation ot
the superficies of Russia has, within these few years, been
published by M. Sernoff, who has invented an improved
method of computing areas, by which he can allow for tne
inequalities of boundaries. “ Russia in Europe, including
Russian Poland and the islands of the Baltic and German
Ocean, contains 2,078,646^ English square miles, of which
151,048-AAt lie within the frigid zone, and l>yf‘>OJ?ioo
within the temperate zone. Siberia (under which
tion are included the islands of the North Frozen Ocean,
except Nova Zembla, and of the Pacific °cean,as weflas
the peninsula of Alyaska in America) contains 4,866,6^0 0
English square miles, of which 1,130,495^ are sRuated
within the frigid zone, and 3,786,147^ within the tern
perate zone. It is impossible to calculate the exact are
of Nova Zembla, as the southern coast of that island ha
RUSSIA.
'istics. bpen laid down; but if it be supposed to extend in the
form of a circle between the promontories of Nikolskoi and
Winter, the area would amount to 83,271^^ English square
miles. Thus the whole superficial extent of the Russian
empire is about 7,028,561-^j English square miles, of which
1,364,815-^q lie within the frozen, and 5,663,745^^ with¬
in the temperate zone.” According to an estimate pre¬
viously made by Kraft, Russia has a superficies of 7,023,252
English square miles, including 571,858 miles of steppes
possessed by the Kirghises, which however are omitted
by M. SernofF. We are inclined to adopt the computation
of the latter writer as the nearest approximation to the
truth ; for perfect accuracy is not to be expected where so
many liabilities to error exist. In the statistical account of
this great empire, we shall describe the European and the
Asiatic possessions of Russia separately; its American ter¬
ritory, and the islands in the Polar an^ Eastern Oceans,
coming under the latter head.
Russia in Europe.
Russia in Europe is bounded on the south by the Cau¬
casus and the Black Sea ; on the north by the Arctic Ocean,
especially by its great gulf the White Sea ; on the east by
the river Kara Baigarama, the Ural chain of mountains,
the river Ural to its embouchure in the Caspian, and
thence by the shores of this sea to the eastern extremity of
the Caucasus; and on the west by the principality of Mol¬
davia, Austria, Prussia, the Baltic Sea, and the dominions
of Sweden. Excluding Nova Zembla and the archipelago
of Spitzbergen, but including the part of Poland which has
been absorbed by this vast empire, European Russia lies
between 18° 20' 15'' and 64° 20' 15" of east longitude, and
between 40° and 70° of north latitude. Its extreme length,
from the northern declivities of the Caucasian range, near
the sources of the river Samour, to the banks of the Muo-
nio, near Ekontekis in East Bothnia, is 1840 miles of sixty
to a degree; and its breadth, from the west side of the
Ural chain, near the sources of the Sylva, in the govern¬
ment of Perm, to the western limits of Volhynia, on a line
with Loutsk, is 1300 miles. In comparison with its size,
Russia has less sea-coast than any other great European
power. Its line of coast on the Frozen Ocean is about 920
miles in length, on the Baltic Sea about 1230, and on the
Black Sea and the Sea of Azof about 1280 ; forming alto¬
gether a district of sea-coast about 3430 miles in length.
Thus a greatly preponderating part of the country is cut
off from all maritime intercourse and influence, except by
means of navigable rivers and canals, which at best are but
an indifferent substitute for the ocean. Owing to this cir¬
cumstance, and the interruptions occasioned by the ice in
the Arctic Sea, and in a considerable portion of the Baltic
for the greater part of the year, Russia has made less pro¬
gress in commerce and civilization than other nations of
Europe more favourably situated.
fal European Russia, together with Poland, belongs entirely
to that immense level plain which begins in the north of Ger¬
many, and extends over the whole east of Europe. From
the Carpathian to the Ural range, a distance of five hun¬
dred leagues, all is one immense undulating plain, without
a mountain to break the monotonous level of the horizon,
or oppose a barrier to the winds. A great portion of it, in
the south especially, consists of those immense levels called
sfeppes, that, like the pampas of South America, present to
the eye only a dead flat for many hundreds of miles. Here
and there indeed the surface is diversified by some large
ancient tumuli, supposed to be the burial-places of the an¬
cient Scythians, and in a few places there are small table¬
lands ; but the latter swell so gently above the surrounding
level as scarcely to be perceptible. Of these, the most
worthy of notice are the Valdai Hills and the forest of Vol-
konskoi, situated in the governments of St Petersburg,
5(33
Moscow, Tver, and I ula, the loftiest summit of which, lying Statistics,
between the villages of Poloschva and Mosti, and the towns
of Ostasckov and \aldai, is only 1064 French feet in
height. No part of the forest of Volkonskoi is very rug¬
ged ; on the contrary, it is a gently sloping plain. But the
rivers and the deeply-indented lakes are encompassed by
steep banks of slate, gypsum, and limestone mixed with
shells. Masses and blocks of granite are scattered on the
surface. 1 his ridge, or rather plateau, is rich in iron, sul¬
phur pyrites, vitriol, alum-earth, a species of coal, petrifac¬
tions, salt springs, and lime and gypsum quarries. Here
are situated, within the distance of a hundred miles, the
sources of the rivers Volga, Dvina, Dnieper, Don, Oka,
Volchow, Lowat, Pola, Kolp, and others less distinguished,
lo the north-east, the land gradually slopes to the almost
flat shores of the Baltic Sea, and is for the most part co¬
vered with immense forests, marshes, and turf-moors. Be¬
tween this ocean inlet and the White Sea, on the north-north¬
west, lies a tract of country which is richer in water than
any other in Europe. Here a multitude of lakes, large and
small, are united together like a network of water, and be¬
tween them extend those rocky ridges which, on the north¬
west, rise into the inferior Finnish chain of hills. These, -
however, sink again towards the lake Enara and the river
lana, without joining the Scandinavian system of moun¬
tains. Proceeding south-west from the interior hills of
Voldai, the land also gradually sinks, and becomes encum¬
bered by immense marshes, situated between Minsk and
Volhynia. Through these the river Priepetz, the great feeder
of the Dnieper, takes its way, constituting their drain or
outlet. The northern declivities of the Carpathian Moun¬
tains only in a few places cross the borders of the Austrian
territory, and enter Russia, but not as hills of any height.
Near the sources of the Oder, they proceed towards the
Vistula, and along this stream, as a plateau eight hundred
feet in height, which, eastwards between Pilica and the above
river, rises into groups of mountains, which extend, in five
parallel chains, having a breadth of about fifty miles, for a
distance of ninety miles. In two places they reach about
two thousand feet in height, which are the loftiest points in
Poland. Upon the other side, in the east, the declivities
of the Carpathian range extend as a broad plateau across
the whole of Southern Russia. It thus separates the low
land of the interior from the maritime country of the Black
Sea. Unlike the table-land of Volkonskoi', which bears on
its broad surface lakes and fens, this southern plateau con¬
sists of large steppes, penetrated by the rivers Dniester,
Dnieper, and Don, which here form cataracts. Between
the last-named stream and the Volga it rises as a continua¬
tion of the Lower Volga range, which, under the name of the
Irgeni Hills, extends southwards to the Caucasus. On the
peninsula of Crimea, a wholly insulated chain of mountains
rises to a considerable height, and runs from east to west
nearly a hundred and twenty miles, close to the coast of the
Black Sea. In one part it attains an elevation of 4740 feet,
and in another 4600 feet. Along the eastern boundary of
European Russia, the Ural mountain chain extends from the
shores of the Frozen Ocean southwards towards the Caspian
Sea, for a distance of nearly 1500 miles, unconnected with
any other mountain system of Europe. The northern portion
of the Ural chain, from the Straits of Waygats to the sources
of the Petchora, consists of rough, naked, limestone rocks,
which in one place, Padwinski, are 6500 feet in height.
This part of the country is comparatively little known.
The middle portion of the chain, as far as the sources of
the Oufa, called the Verchoturic Urals, forms a broad table¬
land of moderate elevation, overspread with morasses. Fur¬
ther to the south the Urals rise again in height, and be¬
come thickly wooded, whilst in the government of Oren¬
burg they expand in broad ramifications on both sides of
the river Ural. The chain, with all its branches, sinks to-
564
R U S S I A.
Statistics, wards the Caspian, without coming into contact on the east
with the mountain systems of Asia. It is called at differ¬
ent points the Orenburg, Baschkir, and Kirghis Urals, and
sends out an offshoot on the south-west, between the rivers
Ural and Samara, the Obschtschei-Syrt, which stretches to
the banks of the Volga. The Sok Mountains form a part
of this spur of the Urals. There are seven defiles or passes
through this great range, the most practicable of which are
the roads from Perm and Orenburg into Asia. Between the
southern declivities of the Urals and the Caspian Sea and
Aral, there is an opening of about two hundred and eighty
miles in breadth, through which, more than once, the hordes
of Asia in former times have poured like a flood over Europe.
Steppes. Steppes, or plains, are an important feature of the geogra¬
phy of Russia, as well as of that of Tartary, with which the
term is more frequently associated. The most important of
these are the following: 1. The Steppe of Petchora, which
stretches along both sides of the rivers Dvina and Petchora,
from the Icy Ocean and White Sea, to the northern part of
the government of Vologda. It is called Tundra, and con¬
sists of turf-moor covered with moss. In the north it is
destitute of wood ; in the south it is thickly wooded, and has
many small fresh-water lakes. 2. The little Jaroslav Steppe,
situated between Koslov and Tambov, a plain rich in flowers,
and fifty versts1 * * * * * in diameter. In connection with it may be
mentioned the great steppe between Tambov and Kopersk,
which is plentifully supplied with water, very fruitful, and
rich in vegetables and pasture. 3. The Steppe of the Don,
belonging to the Don Cossacks. This immense plain, wholly
destitute of hills, is about 57,600 geographical square miles
in extent; in some parts it is fruitful, but in general the
soil is barren and uncultivated. 4. The Kuban Steppe, ex¬
tending from Kuban to the Manitch. The soil is very un¬
productive, and rests on a bed of sandy limestone. 5. The
Steppe of Azof, which extends on both sides of the Lower
Manitch, to the Sea of Azof and the Lower Don ; but it is
as worthless as the former. 6. The Steppe of Taurida, a
gentle declivity of the northerly and easterly mountains of
Taurida, inclining towards Kertsch and the Bosphorus, the
Putrid Sea (a branch of the Sea of Azof), and the Straits of
Perekop. The soil near the mountains is poor and unpro¬
ductive ; but farther down it becomes clayey and fruitful,
and towards the sea is impregnated with salt. Similar to
the Steppe of Taurida are those of Vosnesenks and Otcha-
kof. 7. The Steppe of Nogais on the Black Sea and the
Sea of Azof, from the Lower Don to the Lower Dnieper. It
is a dry unwooded tract, of some value to the wandering
tribes, but nearly useless to the settled countryman. 8. The
Steppe of Astraean, stretching between the Don, the Volga,
and the Caucasus ; and, 9. the Steppe of Kalmytz. Accord¬
ing to Pallas, both of these immense plains must at one
time have been covered with the waters of the Caspian Sea.
But, in fact, the whole country appears at some period of
remote antiquity to have lain beneath the tide of the ocean.
Two large oases must be noticed as occurring in the midst
of these steppes ; they form the country of the Little Rus¬
sians, and that of the Don Cossacks.
Rivers, M. Huot, in his new edition of Malte-Brun’s great geo¬
graphical work, thus mentions the rivers of Russia. “ The
soil of Russia is so slightly undulated, that to consider
the spaces traversed by its rivers as true basins, would be
an abuse of terms; notwithstanding that it contains the Statistics;
most important water-courses in Europe. It would not per-
haps be more exact to apply the same name to the Black,
Caspian, and Baltic Seas, or to the Icy Ocean, in one or
other of which all its waters disembogue. I prefer desig¬
nating by the denomination of declivities the inclination of
the. soil to these several seas, and hence shall term them
the Tauric, Caspian, Icy, and Baltic declivities. The Tau-
ric, to which I give the name because all the water-courses
which descend on this side have their embouchures around
the peninsula of Taurida, is watered by the Dniester, the
Dnieper, the Bog, and the Don; the Caspian, the waters
of which fall into the sea of that name, is furrowed by the
Terek, the Volga, and the Ural; the Icy declivity, formed
by the tracts which incline towards the White Sea and Icy
or Frozen Ocean, is watered by the Petchora, the Mezen,
and the Northern Dvina; lastly, the Baltic comprehends all
the streams which fall into the Baltic, the most important
being the Torneo or Tornea, the Neva, the Southern Dvina
or the Dima, and the Niemen.” Some eminent German
geographers have also adopted this plan of classifying the
rivers according to the seas into which they discharge them¬
selves ; and as it has several advantages over the usual me¬
thod of describing the streams of a country in the order of
their size and importance, we shall follow it.
In the declivity which slopes to the Black Sea and the Sea
of Azof, there is, 1. the Danube, whose northern arm forms
part of the southern boundary between Russia and Turkey.
Below Galatz it receives its last tributary the Pruth, which
descends from the mountains of Gallicia or Austrian Po¬
land, and separates Bessarabia in Russia from Moldavia in
Turkey. 2. The Dniester, which rises also in Gallicia, and
flows with many serpentine windings towards Russia. Be¬
low Chotzim it is broken by rapids, so that near Bender
boat-navigation is interrupted, and without receiving any
tributaries of importance it falls into the Black Sea at the
broad but shallow estuary or Lake of Ovidovo. 3. The
Dnieper, which has its source in the government of Smolen-
sko, on the southern slope of the Volkouski Wood, and emp¬
ties itself into the Black Sea below Kerson. I his noble
stream receives many tributaries, amongst which, on the
right, flow in the Berezina, the Priepetz, and the Bug, and on
the left the Soj, the Desna, the Sem, Sula, Psiol, Vorskla,
and others. This river is the ancient Borysthenes. It is
connected by canals with the Dvina and the Niemen. 4.
The Don, which originates in the small lake ot Ivanovsko,
in the government of Riasan. After intersecting the Cos¬
sack territory to which it gives name, it discharges itseif be¬
low Tcherkask into the Sea of Azof, by several mouths.
In summer it is shallow ; in spring it overflows its low banks
to a great extent, and forms unhealthy morasses. By means
of navigable canals it is connected with the rivers Shat,
Upa, Oka, and Volga. Its principal affluents on the right
are the Sosna and Donetz, and on the left the Voronej (on
which stream Peter the Great built his ships for the Black
Sea), the Khoper, Medveclitsa, and the Manitch. 5. The
Kuban, which descends from the northern side of Elburz
in the Caucasus, flows first north and then west, upon the
boundary between Asia and Europe. It separates into two
main branches, the northern of which falls into the Sea of
Azof, and the southern into the Black Sea.
1 As we shall have frequent occasion to mention Russian weights and measures, we here present a table, to which the reader can
refer, in order to understand what the calculations are equivalent to in English.
A verst is 3520 English feet; consequently three versts are equal to two English miles.
A dessaitine is equal to 2T75ths English acres nearly. „ ,
A chetwert is equal to 5-952 Winchester bushels; consequently 100 chetwerts are equivalent to v-t’d English quarters.
A vedro is equal to 3fth English wine gallons.
A rouble, that is, a paper rouble, the only basis of commercial calculations, is equal to 104d., which is very nearly the value
French franc. But the rouble fluctuates with the exchange.
A pood or poud is always reckoned in commerce as equal to thirty-six pounds English.
HUS
istics.
On the Caspian declivity we have, 1. the Volga, the
largest river in Europe. It originates in the government of
Tver, near the village of Volgo Verkovie, in the forest of
Volkouski, in north latitude 57° 4' 37". It traverses Lakes
Steij, Peno, and Volga, and on receiving the waters of Lake
Seligher, it becomes navigable, and falls into the Caspian
Sea by eight principal arms, which have in all sixty-five
mouths, forming about seventy islands. It has a number of
tributaries, the principal of which, on the left, is the Kama,
or Little Volga, which has a course of about a thousand miles
in length. Before the Volga receives the Kama, the rivers
Tverza, Mologa, Ounja, Vetlouga, and others, join it on
the left; and on the right the Oka, which descends from
the water-shed where the Don and the Dnieper originate.
The Soura, which flows from the mountains of Volga, is
another large tributary, which joins it on the right. The
Volga is nearly two thousand miles in length. Its breadth
at Astracan, where it embraces many islands, is nearly five
leagues at the greatest height of the water. The depth of
its waters varies from seven to eighteen feet. In the winter
it is covered with ice throughout its whole extent, but there
are always many apertures in the south, from which currents
of air escape, and hence they are termed the lungs of the
Volga. During summer the Volga is crowded with thou¬
sands of boats, constructed in the well-wooded countries of
Northern Russia, and bearing down from the interior all kinds
of commodities. Their return being difficult, they are gene¬
rally broken up and sold at Astracan. This noble river is
the principal commercial road of the interior of the Russian
empire. It encircles the central table-land, receiving, as we
have seen, the Oka, the principal river in this fertile region.
It communicates in the upper part of its course by the canal
ofVichnei-Volotchock, with the Lakes Ladoga and Onega;
and, lastly, the Kama conveys to it all the waters of Eastern
Russia. “ The town of Astracan,” says Malte-Brun, “ may
be supposed an Alexandria on a Scythian Nile, but the river
enters an inland sea; it does not communicate with the
ocean, and the countries which it waters are inhabited by bar¬
barous nations; still, however, the advantages which human
industry may derive from the majestic courses of the Vol¬
ga and the Danube are not as yet realized.” The term
“ barbarous” is now scarcely merited. 2. The Ural, or
Oural, so called in conformity ta a decree of Catherine II.
It descends from the eastern declivities of the mountains
bearing the same name, and flowing in a smooth channel
sufficiently deep for small vessels,, traces for a considerable
distance the eastern and southern frontiers of the govern¬
ment of Orenburg, and the eastern limits of Europe. On
the right it receives the Sakmara, on the left the Ilek, and
after a course of above a thousand miles falls into the Cas¬
pian near Gouriev. 3. The Terek. This stream rises at
the base of the Kazbek; receives on the right the rivers
Songa and Aksai, on the left the Ourong, Tcherek, Bekhar,
and Malka; and enters the Caspian by three principal
mouths, between the Gulfs of Kouma and Agrakhan.
On the declivity, of the Frozen Ocean we have, 1. the
Petchora, which rises in the Ural mountain range, and tra¬
verses the most solitary deserts of Russia, the governments
of Archangel and Vologda. Its steep calcareous banks are
broken by caverns and ravines; and hence its name Pet-
choran, which in the Russian language signifies caverns.
After receiving, amongst other tributaries, the Oussa on
the right and the Tyra on the left, it falls into the Arctic
Ocean in north latitude 67° 10', its mouths forming an im¬
mense estuary. The length of its course is about 670 miles.
2. The Mezen, which originates in some bogs in the govern¬
ment of Vologda, and after a course of five or six hundred
S I A.
565
mdes discharges itself into a bay of the same name on the Statistics,
siores of the White Sea, almost under the polar circle. 3.
1 . which name the rivers Soukhona and Joug re¬
ceive after their junction near Weliki-Oust-Joug. The
Soukhona flows from Lake Koubinskoe, in the government
of Vologda; it is united with Lake Bielo by means of a canal,
and also with the rivers Volga and Neva in the same man¬
ner. 1 he Joug rises in the same government, but is a
much smaller stream. The Dvina does not assume the di¬
mensions of a large river till after the junction of the Vy¬
chegda, which falls into it on the right. The latter is united
with the Volga by means of Catherine’s Canal. Near Khol-
mogory it divides into several arms, and after a course of
above 700 miles falls into a gulf of the same name. Its
mouth is greatly obstructed by a bar of mud. 4. The Onega,
which is the outlet of several lakes, but not that of Onega,
although it be situated in the neighbourhood. There are
other rivers which fall into the White Sea and Arctic Ocean,
but none of them are of any great moment.
The declivity of the Baltic Sea contains a variety of rivers.
1. The forneo, or lornea. It originates in Swedish Lap-
land, and, after the confluence of its great tributary the
Muonio, down to its embouchure in the Baltic Sea, it forms
the boundary between Russia and Sweden. The Muonio,
likewise, traces for some distance the limit of the empire
on this side. The Tornea has a course of about 280 miles.
2. Ihe Neva, in several respects a remarkable river. “ The
Neva,” says Colonel Jackson,1 “ though it be called a river,
is more properly a bosphorus or strait. Its length, from
Schlusselburg, at the south-west angle of the Ladoga Lake,
to its mouth, is sixty-nine versts; its direction that of a
straight line from east to west; its medium breadth about
1500 feet; and its depth, in many places considerable, is ge¬
nerally in the channel about fifty feet. The water of the
Neva is remarkably pure, and though the first use of it by
strangers generally produces slight diarrhoea, yet it is very
wholesome and extremely palatable. This fine river is the
grand and only outlet for the superabundant waters of four
great basins, each of which has an extensive natural reser¬
voir of its own. These reservoirs are the Lakes Onega,
Ilmen, Saima, and Ladoga ; the latter receiving the drains
of the other three. Ten different streams flow into the
Onega, whose length from north to south is 190 versts,
and its breadth from east to west seventy versts. It dis¬
charges into the Ladoga by the Sveer, a river 202 versts
long, and of very unequal breadth. The Ilmen is fifty-five
versts long from north-east to south-west, and about thirty
wide from north-west to south-east. It receives eleven
streams, and has its outlet into the Ladoga by the Volkoff,
206 versts long, with a medium breadth of 1400 feet. The
Saima, which is rather a collection of lakes, of gulfs, and
bays, of all shapes and sizes, communicating with each other,
than a regularly-formed and single sheet of water, is estimat¬
ed by Peter Friccius at 130 versts long in the direction of
west-south-west to east-north-east, and 120 from north to
south ; but on the Swedish side it is about 280 versts more.
It pays its tribute to the Ladoga by means of the Yoksha
or Voxa, a river about 180 versts long, and not navigable in
consequence of its several cascades, of which the most con¬
siderable, that of Imatra, has a fall of upwards of thirty-two
feet. Besides the Sveer, Volkoff, and the Voxa, the La¬
doga receives the waters of thirteen other streams. This,
the largest lake of Europe, is about 175 versts long and
105 broad, and of an oval form. The surfaces of the four
lakes are thus estimated. The Onega, 430 leagues, of 25
to a degree; the Ilmen, 36 ; the Sai'ma, 210; and the
Ladoga, 830 degrees.” At St Petersburg the Neva di-
1 Journal of the Itoval Geographical Society, vol. v. part i. p. 1. To this able paper the reader is referred for some interesting
particulars regarding the Neva.
566
RUSSIA.
Statistics, vides into several deltoid branches, the largest of^which
' ' is 1260 feet across, and bears along a mass of about 74,000
cubic feet of water in a second, while the Nile in the same
time furnishes but 21,800 cubic feet. It moves at the rate
of about two miles and one furlong in an hour ; but not¬
withstanding the immense mass of water which is borne
along, and the speed with which it moves, taking one year
with another, for five months of the year the navigation is
interrupted by its being frozen over, the ice sometimes ex¬
ceeding three feet in thickness. 3. The Diina, or Southern
Dvina. This river originates in a fen on the western de¬
clivities of the forest of VolkonskoT, in the government of
Tver, not far from the sources of the Volga. It soon be¬
comes deep enough to be navigable, but its course is bi oken
by falls and sand-banks ; it falls into the Bay of Riga, with¬
out having received any affluents of importance on its way.
4. The Niemen, which rises in the forests of Kopislov, in
the government of Minsk. It flows first in a northerly di¬
rection, and then bending to the west, enters Prussia under
the name of Memel. On the right it receives the Vilia, a
navigable stream; and on the left one or two others, but
they are small and unimportant. 5. The Vistula. This
river rises in the principality of Teschen, in Eastern Silesia,
at the foot of the western Carpathian range of mountains.
It flows in an easterly direction to Cracow, where it be¬
comes navigable, and as far as Sandomir forms the boun¬
dary line between Gallicia and Poland. Amongst its con¬
fluents, the most important are, the Bug, which originates
on the northern side of a chain or lofty ridge of hills sepa¬
rating the chalky lands of Volhynia from the rich plains of
Podolia; the Priepetz, a feeder of the Dnieper, which unites
the Bug and the Niemen in spring and autumn; and at Sie-
rock it receives the Narew, a river which flows from the plains
of Lithuania, and is believed by the common people to be
fatal to water-snakes. Its other tributaries are the Pilica,
which originates in the heights above Warsaw ; the San,
which rises not far from the sources of the Dniester; and
the Bzura. 6. The Wartha. This river rises in a plateau
near Kromolow, in Cracow, flows in a broad channel like
the Vistula, and inundates the neighbouring fields. After
receiving the Ner, it becomes navigable, and though not so
deep as the Vistula, has the appearance of a large river.
After receiving the Prosna, which for a great distance forms
the boundary between Poland and Prussia, the W artha en¬
ters the Prussian territory, and adds its waters to the Oder.
Lakes, seas, The Baltic, the Black Sea, and the Caspian, will be found
and coasts, described in this work, each under its own proper head.
In the foregoing account of the rivers of Russia, we have
noticed four of the most considerable sheets of water in
this country. Deep in the interior are a few pretty large
collections of water ; but lakes are not a characteristic of
Russia, except in the north-west part, where Finland is si¬
tuated. Here immense numbers of winding lakes of varied
form and dimensions intersect the country in all directions,
o-iving rise to numerous rivers; but none of them irrigates a
great extent of country. All these, surrounded by flat and
bleak shores and frozen plains, present little that is strik¬
ing in point of scenery, and afford few facilities for inter¬
nal intercourse. The coasts of Russia are deeply pene¬
trated by large arms of the sea, forming gulfs, bays, and
the like. Besides the Black and Baltic Seas, we have the
Sea of Kara, which is the most easterly, and bathes at once
Europe and Asia. It is four hundred and fifty miles in
length ; but navigation is almost constantly interrupted by
ice at its northern entrance. On the extreme west is the
Bieloe More, or White Sea, which itself embosoms a num¬
ber of bays and gulfs of considerable size, fthe largest of
these are the Gulfs of Mezen, Dvina, and Onega, so called
from the rivers which flow into them; and Kandala.sk, which
communicates with Lake Kovdozero. The White Sea is
about the same length as that of Kara, with a breadth of
from sixty to seventy miles. Between these two great in- Statistics.,
lets of the Arctic Ocean occur other gulfs, the most consi-
derable being Tcheskaia, which is separated from the Vv hite
Sea by the peninsula of Kaniskaia Zemlia, and that formed
to the east of this by the estuary of the river Petchora.
The extensive inlets of the sea above mentioned of course Capes, &c.
form numerous promontories and other projections of land.
In looking over a good map, the most striking which meets
the eye is Cape Kamin or Canin, the north-western extre¬
mity of the peninsula of Kaniskaia Zemlia. This neck oi
land, which separates the Gulf of Tcheskaia from the White
Sea, stretches directly north into the Arctic Ocean, a dis¬
tance of about 150 miles. Its breadth is between forty and
fifty miles. Cape Onega projects into the White Sea near
the bottom of that gulf, and forms the Bay of Archangel on
the north-east, and the Bay of Onega on the south-west.
In European Russia, the predominating kinds ot rocks, or, Geology,
to use the language of geology, formations, are tertiary and
alluvial; those of an older date, says Professor Jameson,
namely, the secondary, transition, and primitive series, occu¬
pying but comparatively small space. The two latter occur
in the Ural chain, in Finland, and Russian Lapland, in some
parts of Karelia, Olonetz, Crimea, Caucasus, the Valdai
plateau, and Sandomir Mountains, Revel, the country
around Lake Ilmen and \ ologda, and the tiact extending
from Brody across the Bug and the Dnieper. The second¬
ary lands frequently appear rising like little islands in the
great Russo-Polish plains. Amongst the formations of this
class of rocks are found coal, lime, gypsum, chalk, and salt,
which will be afterwards noticed. The tertiary rocks,
which occupy vast tracts of the low country, are clay,
loam, limestone, brown coal, with gypsum, and in many
tracts, as in Austrian Poland, rich deposits ot rock-salt.
There is a tertiary limestone almost peculiar to this part
of Europe, and extensively distributed throughout Poland,
Podolia, and Southern Russia. “ It occurs, however,”
says Jameson, “ in the basin of Vienna, and Hungary, and
in France. It is the last depot of that sea which covered
all the country to the north of the Carpathians, from the
Baltic Sea to the foot of that chain, and to the Black Sea,
in the middle of which rose the mountains of Sandomir,
and the plateau south-west, in the form of islands. It is
covered by a marly clay, and a sand formed by the last
great alluvial catastrophe, which gave to Europe its pre¬
sent form, and buried in its depots remains of unknown
species of the elephant, mastodon, rhinoceros, &c.” In
Central Poland there is a clay, with lignite or brown coal,
resting upon chalk, which is supposed by some geologists
to be the oldest members of the tertiary formations. The
alluvial formation consists of an old and new deposit, the for¬
mer being composed of a great stratum ot marly clay or loam,
interspersed with numerous blocks of granite and other
primitive rocks. It covers vast tracts of country in Rolnnn,
varying in thickness from thirty to a hundred feet. The
soil which it forms in the south of Poland is excellent; but
as it advances northward it becomes less and less produc¬
tive, and more and more intermixed with sands, gravels,
and primitive blocks. It is this deposit which contains
such an immense quantity of fossil remains of animals, in¬
cluding great wdiales. An alluvial sand, different from t le
sand of rivers, is widely distributed in Poland, and connecte
with the great sandy plain of Northern Germany. Vast
numbers of large and small primary blocks occur in this
plain, and which, from their identity with the rocks ot
Sweden and Finland, it is believed, on good grounds, have
been transported from these countries by a debacle flowing
from the north-east to the south-west. The same debacle
has also formed the marly clay or alluvial loam ; it has in¬
terred the elephants and other animals of unknown anti¬
quity ; it has broken up the chalk plains of the north, and
separated Denmark from Sweden, and, in general, given o
RUSSIA.
567
iljliistics. the Baltic, and the Gulfs of Bothnia and Finland, their pre-
^ sent forms.
5 «rals. The great mineral repositories of this empire occur in
1 , coal, the Ural and Altaic chains; those in European Russia are
s: cop- few i„ number, and of little importance. A tract called
f the central mining district of Russia extends from the Oka
to near the town of Kalouga, including portions of the go¬
vernments of Niznei-Novgorod, Vladimir, Tambov, Riazan,
and Kalouga. But it is for the most part a poor sandy district,
containing iron ore ; and as the metal is manufactured in
the localities where it is found, several extensive iron-works
are situated at intervals along the line mentioned. The
ore is described as occurring in regular beds, sixty feet be¬
low the surface. It is of several varieties, the lightest co¬
loured producing the most iron. Few minerals occur in
that large and sandy plain which we have noticed as form¬
ing the northern and central portion of Poland. The land,
as in all the northern countries on our globe, is incrusted
with a ferruginous deposit, and every marsh and every
meadow contains iron in a greater or less proportion. The
iron is of indifferent quality ; and the existing veins of lead,
gold, and silver, which, it appears, were once productive,
lie beyond the Russian territory. At Petrozavodsk, near
Lake Onega, in Finland, there are iron-works, which, it is
believed, are the largest in the north of Russia. Bog-iron
ore abounds in the neighbourhood ; and for a long time this
was the only kind smelted; but thirteen different mines are
now wrought. Vast quantities are obtained by simply
dragging the lakes. Another great iron-work of the same
description is situated four versts from St Petersburg, on
the road to Riga. Finland also yields copper and tin, but
only one mine of the former is wrought. Coal is found in
very inconsiderable quantities in European Russia. There
is a small mine worked at Tula, another at Bakhmout in
the government of Ikaterinoslav, but neither seem to be
of much utility. In Southern Poland and Cracow there
are numerous beds of black bituminous coal, resembling
j that of Great Britain, some of which are thirty feet in
thickness. These occur in the secondary formation. In
the tertiary districts deposits of brown coal are met with,
which also yields amber, the exudation of a dicotyledonous
tree. Russia possesses a great treasure in the numerous
salt-lakes and marshes of the Siberian steppes, and the
country to the north of the Caspian Sea. There are also
mines of salt dispersed throughout the empire, and from
these sources immense quantities are annually obtained,
the amount increasing indefinitely with the population.
There is a tract of country called the Northern Salt Dis¬
trict, which stretches in a line parallel writh the Petersburg
limestone, for a thousand versts. It makes its first appear¬
ance in the island of Oesel, and is u7orked in several parts of
the south of Livonia. Quarries of gypsum are also situat¬
ed in this great tract. A central salt district is described
as existing in the course of the Volga. Along the course
of the river Kama there is also a rich and extensive marl,
salt, and gypsum tract, probably connected on the south
with that of the Volga, and on the north with that of Vo¬
logda. The principal salt-works are in the neighbourhood
of Solikamsk; and the gypsum grottoes of Koungour, in
the government of Perm, are of great size and magnificence,
i here are in Poland large mines of rock-salt, which annu¬
ally yield immense supplies of the article. They form part
of that enormous layer of fossil-salt which extends along
the Carpathian Mountains, and is large enough to supply
the consumption of all the nations of the earth for an inde¬
finite period of time. Copper-sand is found throughout a
vast tract of country extending over the governments of
Perm, Viatka, and Oufa. It completely skirts the south
and west sides of the Ural Mountains. The sand is of a
dull red or green colour, and is usually worked for copper.
It contains fossil-wood impregnated with the metal. But
it is in the Asiatic territory of Russia that the most abun- Statistics,
dant mines of copper are found, as well as those of gold, v——'
silver, platina, and other metals.
In a country of such vast dimensions, the soil must ofSoil.
course vary considerably in different situations. There is a
vast tract of territory 65,000 geographical square leagues
m extent, which possesses a peculiar and rather remarkable
soil. Indeed, Ritter, in his Erdkunde, informs us that
there is only one other place on the surface of the earth
where any thing similar in soil has been discovered, and
that is the north of Hindustan. It consists entirely of de¬
composed vegetable matter, and is deposited in a thick
layer. It is situated in the south of Russia, stretching in
a broad belt from Volhynia in a north-easterly direerion,
to the foot of the Ural chain, near Perm. It is prolonged
on one side from this to the shores of the Black Sea; and
on the other it stretches from Perm to Orenburg, and thence
to the Caspian Sea. All this vast tract, exceeding in ex¬
tent France, Spain, and Prussia united, is covered through¬
out with a stratum of vegetable mould, which varies in
thickness from three to five feet. It is so extremely pro¬
ductive as to stand in no need of manure. Its fertility is
shown in the large returns of grain, especially rye, which it
yields, and in the excellent breeds of cattle w hich are rear¬
ed upon it. From the thinness of the population, this vege¬
table mould is far from being wholly laid out in corn -fields ;
vast tracts still remaining unoccupied. The soils of the
steppes which cover so large a portion of the surface of
Russia we have already adverted to when describing these
plains. What remains to be said regarding the soil of this
country must be stated in reference to specific localities, a
general description being impracticable.
The country between the Dniester and the Dnieper has
a soil impregnated with nitre, a substance deleterious to ve¬
getation ; yet, as soon as it is removed or diminished, wheat,
millet, and the arbute melon, may be cultivated with great
success. The mildest and most fruitful region in all the
Russian empire is that continuation of valleys arranged in
natural amphitheatres at the southern base of Taurida,
along the coasts of the Black Sea. Proceeding eastward,
we meet the government of Astracan, only part of the
soil of which is fertile. This portion includes the low dis¬
tricts on the banks of the Volga, the Ural, and the Terek,
and is by no means large; but here vegetables attain an
enormous size. The soil is impregnated with saline and
bituminous substances. Higher up, the land on the Volga
becomes sandy and unproductive. The soil of Little Rus¬
sia and the Polish Ukraine is partly sandy and not very
fruitful, partly very rich and fertile. A great part of
Western Russia is sandy, and intersected by vast marshes
and bogs. Large tracts are covered with immense forests,
the retreat of the bear, wolf, and wdld boar; whilst not
an inconsiderable portion of this westerly territory ranks
amongst the most fertile in the empire.
It thus appears, with regard to the soil of Russia, taking climate,
a summary view7 of it along with the climate, that from the
forty-fourth to the fiftieth parallel of north latitude, com¬
prising Bessarabia, Podolia, Kherson, Ikaterinoslav, and
Taurida, it is for the most part low and level, little wood¬
ed, partly very fruitful, partly arid and unfruitful, and here
and there impregnated with salt. The winters are short,
with little snow; but in some parts the cold is severe. The
spring is early and mild; the summer is of long duration,
with oppressive heat and little rain ; autumn follows late
in the year. In the heat of summer a dangerous disease
called jassia is generated ; it is fatal to the lower animals
as wrell as to man. Violent whirlwinds are frequent. The
south of Russia is subject to a north-easterly wind called
mitel, often accompanied by snow, which is drifted with
great violence, and much dreaded by the inhabitants. The
middle or temperate district, extending from 50° to 57°,
568
RUSSIA.
Statistics, has a rough and long-continued winter, especially in the
' v——'' eastern territory. This district is the largest and wealthi¬
est portion of the empire, and forms broad, open, undu¬
lating plains, over which, as far as the declivities of the
Ural chain upon the east, only slight elevations break the
monotonous level. The northern district, from 57° to 67 ,
in European Russia, has a much milder climate than the
same parallels in Asia. With the exception of the wooded
mountains of Finland on the west, it is, as far as the Urals,
a continuation of the former flat land, upon which forests,
meadows, marshes, and moor-ground, alternate with one
another. The poor, meagre soil, only insures the husband¬
man a return as far as the sixtieth parallel, ihe winter
here is long and severe, there being six or seven months
in which travelling is prosecuted on sledges. Mercury
freezes in the winter, and the autumn is foggy. Here only
slow-growing wood succeeds, and beyond 6/° is confined
to dry, stunted shrubs. From 64° the rearing of cattle is
always difficult, and agriculture is limited to roots. Under
the parallel of 66° the sun does not set on the 21st of June,
nor rise above the horizon on the 21st of December. Ac¬
cording to observations by the Imperial Russian Academy
of Sciences, extending over twenty years, from 1/77 to
1797, the duration of winter in St Petersburg extends
from the end of September to the beginning of May. Snow
and ice set in about the 9th of October, and continue to
the beginning of May. Upon an average, 2d0 days of the
365 are reckoned as belonging to winter. 4 or 160 of
these, that is, from the 27th of November till the 19th of
April, the waters are bound fast with ice. In winter the
east wind prevails for 113 days, and the west sixty-eight
days. In summer the westerly wind prevails for 110 days,
and the easterly for eighty-four days. I he quantity of
rain which falls is from ten to eleven French inches; the
number of rainy days is reckoned at about eighty. In
1774 there were reckoned forty-eight appearances of the
northern lights; but since 1782 their number has decreas¬
ed in a remarkable degree, especially within the last fifteen
years. In the arctic or hyperborean region, extending from
67° to 74°, the rigours of the climate tell upon man and
other animals, as well as upon vegetation; for neither at¬
tain the full size nor the complete development of their
members. In Archangel the sun rises on the 11th of De¬
cember at twenty-three minutes past ten, and sets about
our mid-day, thirty-seven minutes past one ; whilst on the
10th of June it rises thirty-seven minutes past one in the
morning, and does not disappear below the horizon until
twenty-three minutes past ten in the evening- But beyond
67° the climate is one long summer day and long winter
night. The summer, however, is much overcast with va¬
pours, which obscure, and sometimes wholly conceal, the
sun. The dark and dreary reign of winter is greatly alle¬
viated by clear moonlight and the brilliant apparition of the
aurora borealis. Trees cease entirely about 67°, only hardy
shrubs being able to endure the intense cold of the climate.
In St Petersburg in 1732 the cold was 33° below zero, and
in Tornea 37°.. On the 12th of January 1809, quicksilver
froze into a solid mass in Moscow, and was extended with a
hammer like lead. As this metal becomes solid about 33 ,
we may reckon the degree of cold in this case as about 35°
below zero. Earthquakes were almost unknown in this
country till the 17th of November 1821, when Kief and
other places were visited by one, which shook the buildings
with violence, but did no material damage.
From the vast extent of this empire, and the great range
of its temperature, it is not surprising that the productions
of every clime are found, or may be successfully cultivated,
in some parts of its wide-spread surface. On the east, the
Vegetable
produc¬
tions.
great chain of the Urals separates by a bold line the Stat
northern European from the northern Asiatic botany; and
over this vast expanse winter reigns with excessive seve¬
rity, while the almost tropical temperature of the brief
summer brings the productions of the vegetable kingdom
to sudden maturity; and this rapid growth is followed by
as rapid a decay in autumn.
The forests of Russia are in several respects an import- Forest;,!
ant feature of the country; firstly, as a physical characteris¬
tic, from their overspreading such enormous tracts of coun¬
try ; secondly, in a commercial point of view, from the tim¬
ber, tar, pitch, potash, and turpentine, which they afford,
forming important items of trade ; and, thirdly, from their
supplying fuel in a country nearly destitute of coal. An
able writer thus describes them: “ Estimating the surface
of European Russia,” says M. Schnitzler,1 at 402,100,552
dessaitines, 156,000,000 of this number are occupied by
forests; 178,000,000 by uncultivated land, water, houses,
and roads; 61,500,000 dessaitines by arable, and a little
more than 6,000,000 by meadow-land. On this general
view of the surface, we may compute that a dessaitine of
wood occurs for every two and five-ninth dessaitines with¬
out it. The forests, indeed, constitute a source of riches
which may long continue inexhaustible, and which might
be indefinitely increased by strict regulations for their eco¬
nomy and management. Seventy-six millions of dessai¬
tines are still completely covered with pines, firs, and other
cone-bearing trees, without counting the oaks, maples,
beeches, poplars, and elms, which are by no means rare in
the latitudes within the 52d degree, and the birch, which
grows in still more northern districts....4he governments
of Novgorod and Tver, in particular, are studded with fo¬
rests ; that of Volkonskoi, which extends to the Valdai
Hills, is one of the largest known. In the government of
Perm, out of 18,000,000 of dessaitines, 17,000,000 are fo¬
rest. These immense tracts, covered with wood, are a great
blessing in so inclement a climate, as they form a shelter
against the winds from the icy seas. The provinces to the
south have not the same necessity for them, and are so des¬
titute of wood as to occasion the burning of grass and dung
for fuel.” The trees furnish the inhabitants with fir-timber
of the finest and most durable quality, for building, house¬
hold furniture, and utensils; and for these purposes it is
largely used in the interior. The same tree supplies the
peasantry with torches, which they use instead of candles.
The brushwood, which covers a vast extent of forest coun¬
try, consists almost entirely of the hazel, dwarf birch, alder,
willow, and juniper. In other places the surface of the earth
is covered with wild bilberry, and the cranberry, which is
extensively exported. .
Russia is as yet chiefly an agricultural country. It is Chain,
so extensive, and in many parts yields such abundant crops jemp,
of grain, that enough is produced not only for home con-
sumption, but for exportation in considerable quantities.
On an average of five years, the annual production of grain
amounts to 180,965,000 chetwerts, or about 134,818,920
English quarters, of which quantity 50,335,864 chetwerts
were reserved for seed, leaving 119,498,213 chetwerts for
home consumption or exportation. The price of grain va¬
ries exceedingly in different governments. Rye-meal in
1818 was, in Revel and Mittau, twenty^six and twenty-
seven roubles per chetwert, while in Viatka and Simpero-
pol it was only about the one half. St Petersburg, Moscow,
Archangel, Vologda, and Perm are the only governments
that consume more than they raise; all the others produce
more than they require. The grains most commonly cu -
tivated are rye and oats. The best wheat is produced m
Southern Russia, where also, along with millet, a little rice
La Rauicy la Pologne, et la Finlande, Paris and St Petersburg, 1835. This is a valuable work on the statistics oi Russia.
RUSSIA.
'ul , mul-
f - su-
girane,
ai laidigo.
Ffi s and
flii rs.
An
Cal
, me-
i, and
•'oods.
Ws.
&c.
is raised. Hemp and flax are very largely cultivated, and
yield not only material for the manufactures of the country,
but a large surplus for exportation.
Whilst corn and cattle constitute the riches of the cen¬
tral districts, the southern abound in productions of a more
precious or delicate nature. The peninsula of Crimea is
adapted, by climate and soil, for all the productions of Italy
and Greece, and here, indeed, many of them are indige¬
nous. Government has taken a most lively interest in de¬
veloping the resources of each district of the empire; and
in consequence of this the cultivation of the vine, an indi¬
genous plant, and the mulberry tree and sugar-cane, has been
carried to a considerable extent. In 1835 there were plant¬
ed in Crimea 1,4)54,000 feet of vines, the annual produce
of which, in a few years, will be at least 75,000 vedros, or
250,000 gallons. I he vine cultivation is extending with
great success in the south, in the governments of Astra-
can, Kherson, Podolia, the country of the Don Cossacks,
and especially in the Taurida. In 1837, 1,150,000 vedros
of wine were produced, and 1,300,000 to be distilled; while
in 1836 the whole quantity was not more than 800,000
vedros. The mulberry tree has been as carefully attend¬
ed to as the vine, and the result has been, upon the whole,
favourable. Vast plantations of mulberries have been form¬
ed near all the principal towns of the southern districts.
Every encouragement is held out to planters by the govern¬
ment. In Crimea and the countries of the Caucasus, the
rearing of the silk-worm is likewise rapidly advancing. Ex¬
periments have also been made to cultivate sugar-cane and
indigo; but it is doubtful if they will succeed. The cork¬
tree was transplanted from Portugal to the Crimea in 1817,
but we see no notice of it in recent works.
In Southern Russia, a region whose climate differs little
from that of Asia Minor, we find a similar abundance and
variety of fruits and vegetables. The flora of Russia is
very abundant in the south. As Pallas informs us, the
country presents the most enchanting aspect. On the
mountain side, in the valley, in the forest, everywhere, the
earth is clothed with a profusion of the loveliest flowers, and
aromatic herbs, whose delicate odours embalm all the sur¬
rounding atmosphere.
Russia further produces hops (not sufficient for home
consumption), and tobacco, the Nicotiana paniculata, of
winch the young leaves are gradually removed, dried in the
shade, and buried beneath hay-ricks, where they become
of a brownish-yellow colour. Of garden vegetables there
are the usual varieties found in Europe. Spanish pepper
is raised on the Samara and Lower Volga ; poppy in Char-
kov, where it yields a return of a hundred and sixty fold ;
rhubarb, which grows wild in Taurida; rhapontick, which
grows wild in the Urals; and polygonum minus, which in
the Ukraine engenders worms that yield a beautiful crim¬
son dye used as paint by the Cossack women. Genuine
turpentine might be collected to a great extent. Many
plants useful for dyeing are produced in a wild state; and
for tanning there are several valuable plants. In short, the
Crimea presents great facilities for rendering this a lucrative
branch of manufacture. It only remains to be stated with
regard to the vegetation of Russia, that in the south there
is abundance of excellent food for cattle, consisting not
only of a great variety of grasses, but also of the best vege¬
tables recommended for artificial meadows.
The quadrupeds of Russia are numerous. Some appear
to be peculiar to the country, but our business is chiefly
with the domesticated animals. Cattle of every descrip¬
tion are bred in vast numbers in the steppes, and they have
increased with the improvement of agriculture. Black
cattle and oxen are raised as far north as the sixty-fourth
parallel, especially in Podolia and the Ukraine. Some of
the calves of the latter territory weigh from 480 to 600
lbs. Sheep are reared to a great extent, there being sup-
vol. xix.
569
posed to be between sixty and seventy millions of these Statistics,
useful animals in different parts of the country. In Tau-
nda a poor Tartar may have in his possession 1000, and
a rich Eartar 50,000. The Merino breed of sheep has
been naturalized in Little Russia, in the governments com¬
prised under the name of New Russia on the south and
east, and in those of the shores of the Baltic Sea. These
different regions, so remote from one another, are too dis¬
similar to enjoy precisely the same advantages; neverthe¬
less, the perseverance and judicious management of the cul¬
tivators have been crowned with success. Even in those
districts least favoured by nature rapid improvement has
been made. In 1826 the exports of wool from Odessa
were only 18,000 poods, valued at ten roubles each; in
1835 they were 116,000 poods, the price being advan¬
ced to thirty roubles per pood. At Taganrog the exports
have increased in the same proportion; and in Little Rus¬
sia this branch of commerce is acquiring fresh activity.
I he wool tiade is now also cultivated in Siberia, where
a wool-company was established in 1832. In fine,* Rus¬
sia, lately so poor in this species of produce that even in
1824 her exports did not exceed annually 35,000 poods,
valued at only 600,000 roubles, in 1834 sold 281,450 poods,
the value of which amounted to 1,557,066 roubles. This
is of course independently of the demands for the cloth
manufactories in the interior, which have increased to a
very great extent. The report of the minister of the in¬
terior for 1837 states the extensive advancement made in
agricultural industry, and the improvement of the breeds of
cattle and sheep, especially the great increase in the num¬
ber of Merino sheep in New Russia, as well as in Esthonia,
Livonia, and Courland. Amongst the animals are horses of
very different races, to improve the breed of which, races
have been instituted; goats, from the silken hair of some
of which animals the celebrated Cashmere shawls are wroven;
camels in the warm and saline steppes of Taurida and
Kherson; asses, which are especially domesticated in Tau¬
rida ; swine ; rein-deer, so valuable in the north ; the buf¬
falo, and others. Amongst useful insects there are bees,
which yield an abundance of honey and wax for exporta¬
tion. There are many wffld animals, the skins or furs of
which constitute important items of trade in the northern
parts of Russia: and abundance of others, whose flesh is
useful as food. Birds are very numerous, including field
and water game of various kinds. Fish abound in the seas,
lakes, and rivers; and the fisheries constitute an important
branch of productive industry, as will be afterwards showm.
European Russia consists of a variety of countries, viz. that Divisions
part improperly termed Muscovy, which is Russia strictly so an(1 popnla
called, and forms the nucleus of the empire ; the country of tloI1.of tlu>
the Cossacks of the Don and of the Black Sea; the king-
doms of Kazan and Astracan, wrested from the Tartars;
Biarmia; the greater part of Lapland ; Ingria, Karelia, Fin¬
land, Astrobothnia, Esthonia, Livonia, the archipelagos of
Abo and Aland, and the islands of Dago, Oesel, &c., coun¬
tries formerly appendages of the Swedish crown; the largest
portion of the once independent kingdom of Poland, com¬
prising the governments of Vitebsk, Moghilev, Minsk, Vol-
hynia, Grodno, Vilna, Podolia, the province of Bialystok,
and the new kingdom of Poland ; the former khanate of the
Crimea, with Little Tartary, Bessarabia, and part of Mol¬
davia, territories conquered from the Ottoman empire; and
the region beyond the Caucasus, wrested from the natives,
Turks, and Persians. “ The Russian government,” says
Balbi, “ does not recognise the distinction made by geo¬
graphers betwixt Russia in Europe, Russia in Asia, and
Russia in America. The first two are blended in several
governments. For instance, Perm and Orenburg, being tra¬
versed by the Urals, have one part of their territory in Eu¬
rope and another in Asia. However, having determined
the boundaries of Europe by the crest of the Urals and
4 c
570
RUSSIA.
Statistic*, that of Caucasus, I have admitted into my table the whole
V'-'' of the two governments of Perm and Orenburg, although
great part of their territory, lying east of the Urals, belongs
in reality to Asia; and I have rejected the general govern¬
ment of Caucasus, although its northern portion is situated
within the limits assigned by me to Europe. This was the
only course I could pursue in order not to divide what the
Russian government has willed to be united, and to pre- Statistic
serve the great natural divisions which are the base of all v-v
geography.” The following table is taken from M. Huot’s
edition of Malte-Brun’s great work. Whilst its divisions
correspond with those of the able geographer just named,
it contains important materials which are not to be found
in his work.
Governments.
Actual Po¬
pulation at
thebeginning
of 1827.
Baltic Provinces.
St. Petersburg 
Finlaml(Grand Duchy of)
Esthonia  
Livonia   
Courland 
Great Russia.
Chief Towns.
Distance in
Versts.
Population.
845,000
1,304,000
300,000
700,000
460,000
Moscow    1,338,000
Smolensk  1,325,000
780,000
1,260,700
915,500
359,000
363.100
802,000
1,038,100
1.455.500
1.334.500
1,380,000
1,500,000
1,308,600
1,130,000
1,175,000
1,300,000
1,649,000
1,500,000
1,472,100
1,410,000
1,878,000
950,000
826.100
Pscov 
Tver 
Novgorod 
Olonetz 
Archangel 
Vologda 
Jaroslav 
Kostroma 
Vladimir 
Niznei-N ovgorod.
Tambov -
Itiazan 
Toula  
Kalouga 
Orel..! 
Koursk 
V oronej 
Little Russia.
Kief. 
Tchernigov 
Pultava 
Slobodsk Ukraine....
Southern Russia.
Ikaterinoslav 
Kherson.
Taurida .
St Petersburg..
Helsingfors.....
Revel 
Riga 
Mitau 
Moscow... 
Smolensk  
Pscov 
Tver 
N ovgorod - V eliki
Petrozavodsk 
Archangel 
Vologda...., 
Jaroslav 
Kostroma 
Vladimir 
Niznei-N ovgorod
Tambov 
Riazan 
Toula 
Kalouga  
Orel 
Koursk  
Voronej 
DonCossacks(country of)
Bessarabia (province of).
Western Russia.
Wilo*   
Grodno...  
Bialystok (province of)..
Vitebsk 
Moghilev.
Minsk 
Volhynia.
Podolia....
Eastern Russia.
Kazan 
Kief 
Tchernigov.
Pultava 
Kharkov 
Ikaterinoslav.
Viatka.
Perm...
Simbirsk...
Penza 
Astragan..
Saratof 
Orenburg.
459,400
346,200
369,800
800,000
1,357,400
868,100
224,600
935,000
945,400
1,160,100
1,496,300
1,462,100
1,028,150
1,200,000
1,270,000
Kherson 
Simperopol.
Tcherkask.
Kichiriev..
VVilna 
Grodno...
Bialystok.
Vitebsk...
Moghilev....
Minsk 
Jitomir 
Kamienetz.
Kazan.
Viatka.
Perm ..
1,130,000 Simbirsk.
1,035,000 Penza.
222,000
1.333.500
1.343.500
Astracan,
Saratof....
Oufa..,..,.
- £?
C/) 3
Sf
g s
£ ti
448,221
9,400
16,000
41,600
. 14,026
257,694
11.155 1
10,000 I
21,706
7,985
5,500
19,262
12,553
23,860
12,058
7,144
14,430
15,718
18,866
38,850
25,660
30,300
22,897
18,508
413
359
565
607
698
700
330
537
182
459
1137
710
741
825
870
1139
1157
888
873
866
1054
1204
1196
698
1111
1057
1069
mi
Capital de¬
clared by the
Merchants.
26,000,000
26,020 1251
5,656 I 1104
8,140 1437
13,370 1405
7,«46
12,400
2,330
11,327
4,249
56,379
9,237
6,535
15,500
21,080
14,591
11,430
13,060
47,704
9,147
9,940
12,700
13,490
39,857
35,250
8,450
1600
1737
2067
1720
1693
382
721
161
515
1106
1218
428
241
325
172
441
459
190
175
168
355
506
498
888
801
844
707
921
1297
1485
1022
1419
3 2
£ g
Annual Har¬
vest, in chet-
werts.
787
889
1063
627
784
911
1248
1523
1519
1460
2093
1448
1397
2100
4,600,000
14,000,000
4,225,000
52,000,000
8,000,000
7,500,000
17,000,000
7,500,000
2,200,000
1,900,000
4,000,000
9,000,000
3,700,000
11,000,000
4,220,000
8,500,000
7,400,000
10,000,000
12,000,000
13,800,000
10,500,000
5,500,000
1,115,000
6,000,000
2,850,000
1,700,000
3,400,000
3,200,000
1,400,000
170
20
6
39
4
540
50
75
32
24
30
10
85
350
340
37
70
55
49
145
150
55
65
65
10
7
Natives of each Government.
874
1032
1105
576
563
670
1040
1314
821
1002
1395
750
699
1402
1,000,000
650,000
1596 898
2043 !l345
2,400,000
1,100,000
1,250,000
2,000,000
2,550,000
6,500,000
2,700,000
2,500,000
3,900,000
3,900,000
5,000,000
11,500,000
3,500,000
1,030,000
700,000
800,000
1,270,000
1,250,000
2,900,000
4,500,000
3,000,000
4,050,000
2,150,000
360,000
230,000
1,400,000
2,800,000
2,625,000
3,300,000
4,900,000
9,080,000
5,525,000
6,700,000
2,250,000
8,100,000
8,200,000
6,500,000
5,500,000
2,750,000
7,000,000
4,135,000
2,350,000
25
12
95
39
150
29
100
90
60
110
235
1
1,430,000
450,000
4,300,000
3,400,000
3,150,000
4,800,000
3,800,000
5,000,000
5,600,000
5,200,000
4,070,000
2,500,000
6,200,000
1,900,000
11,000
6,400,000
4,350,000
Russians, Fins, Ijors, Germans.
Fins, Swedes, Karelians, Laplanders.
Esthonians, Germans, Russians.
Letts, Esthonians, Germans, Russians.
Letts, Germans, Jews.
Russians, and numerous foreigners.
Russians, Poles.
Russians, Germans.
Russians, Karelians.
Russians, Karelians.
Russians, Fins, Laplanders.
Russians, Laplanders, Samoyedes.
Russians, Fins, Samoyedes.
Russians.
Russians.
Russians.
Russians, Mordouins, &e.
Russians, Tartars.
Russians, Tartars.
Russians.
Russians.
Russians, Cossacks.
Russians, Cossacks.
Russians, Cossacks, Bohemians.
Russians, Poles.
Russians.
Russians.
Russians, Cossacks.
Russians, Cossacks, Wallachians,
Greeks, and a mixture of other
nations.
Idem.
Tartars of Crimea. Nogai’s, Russians
Germans, Cossacks.
Cossacks, Tartars, Kalmuks.
Wallachians, Cossacks, Greeks, Itus
sians, Germans, Poles.
Lithuanians, Jews, Poles, Russians.
Rusniaks, Lithuanians, Jews, Poles.
Poles, Jews.
Rusniaks, Lithuanians, Russians,
Poles, Jews.
Rusniaks, Russians, Jews, Poles.
Rusniaks, Lithuanians, Jews, Poles.
Rusniaks, Poles, Jews.
Idem.
Russians, Mordouins, Tehe'remiss,
Tchecks.
Idem and Votiaks.
Russians, Permiaks, Mordouins,
Tchecks.
Idem.
Idem. _. ,
Cossacks, Tartars, Kalmuks, H)naus
Russians,Cossacks, Germans, tartars
Russians, Cossacks, Baschkirs, -tc
yemiss, Teptiars, &c.
R U S
« istics. The governments, provinces, cities, and principal towns,
V v—''being described in this work under their respective names,
we shall not in this article enter into details regarding them.
S I A.
571
The preceding table relates solely to European Russia ; Statistics,
but the following, which is a much more recent census, em-
braces the whole empire.
Census of the Russian Empire, taken in the year 1836.
Russian priests   
Deacons and sacristans   
Male children of priests, deacons, and sacristans,
52,331
63,178
138,548
Total 
Priests of the united Greek and Roman Church 
Catholic priests   
Armenian priests 
Lutheran priests 
Reformed Church  
Mahommedan mollahs 
Lamas (Tartar) 
Nobles:—
Hereditary     males...
By virtue of service, &c. with their sons 
Petty officers who have left the army and are employed)
in the civil service, &c f
Foreigners of all classes   
Military colonies 
Inhabitants of towns :—
Merchants 
Shopkeepers, artisans, &c 
Citizens in the eastern provinces 
Greeks of Nishnei, gunmakers of Toula, &c 
Citizens of Bessarabia  
Inhabitants of villages :—
Peasants (that is, slaves) the private property of the )
emperor and the imperial family, peasants annexed >
to the crown, &c.  ^
Peasants the property of nobles 
Wandering tribes:—
Kalmuks, Circassians, and Mahommedans of the Caucasus
Territory beyond the Caucasus :—
Georgia, Armenia, Mingrelia, &c nearly
Poland 
Finland 
Russian colonies in America 
254,057
7,823
2,497
474
1,003
51
7,850
150
284,731
78,922
187,047
22,114
950,698
131,347
1,339,434
7,535
10,882
57,905
10,441,339
11,403,722
245,715
689,147
2,077,311
663,658
30,761
Total of population 28,896,223
Grand total of both sexes,
Wives and daughters of priests, &c.... 249,748
Ditt0  7,318
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
Ditto
343
955
37
6,071
.... 253,429
74,273
.... 237,443
15,215
.... 981,467
.... 120,714
.... 1,433,982
.... 6,966
10,940
56,176
Ditto 11,022,594
Ditto 11,958,873
Ditto....,  261,982
Ditto nearly 689,150
Ditto  2,110,911
Ditto  708,484
Ditto  30,292
30,237,343
59,133,566.
Females...
Wives, &c.
Ditto 
Ditto 
Ditto 
Ditto 
Ditto  
Ditto  
Ditto 
Ditto 
In this number, however, the private soldiers of the army
and navy, with their wives and children, are not included,
so that the sum total, in round numbers, may be estimated
at sixty-one millions. In addition to this must be reckoned
the inhabitants of the mountains between the Black Sea
and the Caspian, 1,445,000 souls. There are also wander¬
ing tribes of Circassians and others, whom it is impossible
to number. In short, the population of Russia may be stated
in round numbers as about sixty-three millions.
This vast population consists of a number of distinct na¬
tions, tribes, and tongues, which have been classed and cal¬
culated by different writers. The last and most complete
classification is as under.
1. Slavonians.—These consist of six races, and compre¬
hend the inhabitants of Russia, Poland, and Courland.
I hey are estimated in round numbers at 44,000,000.
2. Fins.—These consist of twenty-two races, and com¬
prehend the chief residents of Finland, Livonia, Lapland,
and some other places. They are estimated at 2,950,000.
3. Lithuanians or Lettish.—There are three races of this
people, their chief residences being the governments of Mog-
hilev, Vitebsk, Wilna, Minsk, and Grodno. Their number
is estimated at 2,000,000.
4. Tartars or Tatars.—There are no less than twenty-
six or twenty-seven races of Tartars scattered over the
empire. The Tartars proper are divided into fourteen
branches; the Noggiers into six ; besides which there are
the Kirghises, Aralians, Chewensens, Bukharians, Baschkirs,
Teleutes, and Jakutes, whose aggregate number amounts
to 2,190,000.
5. Caucasians.—There are eleven races of Caucasians,
comprehending amongst others the Ischerkessens, the Aw-
cheses, Lesghies, Ossetts, and Kistenses, estimated at
1,400,000.
6. Germans.—One only race, which is estimated at about
450,000.
7. Jews.—There are 550,000 of this indestructible people
in the Russian empire.
8. Mongols.-—Under this head are comprehended the
Mongols proper, the Kalmuks, Buritens, and Kuriles, sup¬
posed to amount to 330,000.
9. Mandshurs.—These are divided into three branches
or races, viz. Mandshurs proper, Tunguses, and Lamutes,
whose number may be about 40,000.
10. Samoiedes There are twelve races of this polar
people, comprehending 70,000 souls in all.
572
Statistics.
Medical
statistics.
Govern¬
ment.
RUSSIA.
11. Kamschats.—This is another polar people, consisting
of six races and 48,000 souls.
12. Esquimaux.—This northern race is estimated at
20,000.
13. Indians.—There are three races of Indians, esti¬
mated at 30,000 souls in all.
There are, besides, in the Russian empire, 25,000 Greeks,
10,000 gypsies, 15,000 Persians, and 6000 Arabians on
the river Kama. There are likewise in the empire Hin¬
dus, Osman Turks, and in the cities and towns mercantile
people belonging to England, France, Italy, and other coun¬
tries.
It appears from the researches of De Jonnes in the Re¬
vue Encyclopedique for August 1833, that the mortality
of Russia and Poland has remained stationary for a great
number of years. The ratio of deaths to the population is
one in forty- four, the annual mortality in each million of the
inhabitants being 22,700. This differs somewhat from the
statements of Herrmann, from whose elaborate researches
concerning the progress of population in Russia the following
conclusions have been drawn, viz. 1. The proportion of births
to the number of inhabitants is one to twenty-five for the
whole empire. 2. The proportion of deaths to the total
population is one in forty.1 3. The general proportion of
births to deaths in the whole empire is sixteen to ten. 4.
The proportion of male to female births is forty-four to
forty. The following table is of a more recent date than
the researches of Herrmann. It is formed from the reports
published by the synod (which, however, includes only the
members of the orthodox Greek church), and shows the
rate of the progressive increase of the population, as far as
relates to that most numerous body of the people.
180G.
Marriage
Births
Deaths
Deaths of per¬
sons above
a hundred
years old
299,057
1,361,286
818,585
293
1810.
320,389
1,374,926
903,380
350
1816.
329,683
1,457,606
820,383
689
1820.
317,8052
1,570,3993
917,680*
807
The increase of population in Russia appears to be equal
to that of any European country. It is indeed not a little
remarkable, that in places where neither nature nor fortune
have been lavish of their bounties, the inhabitants live one
half longer than those who enjoy the sunny skies and lovely
landscapes of Italy, and exactly twice as long as those who
people the capital of Austria; yet very recent and elabo¬
rate investigations have proved this to be the fact. The
instances of longevity in Russia are astonishing. In 1821
the deaths were reckoned at 945,088; and of these, 221 were
above 105 years of age, 120 above 110 ditto, seventy-eight
above 115 ditto, forty-nine above 120 ditto, sixteen above
125 ditto, five above 130 ditto; one obtained to the great
age of between 145 and 150 ditto; and another had tena¬
ciously adhered to life till he had reached the almost ante¬
diluvian term of existence, 155 years.
The government of Russia is that of an absolute heredi¬
tary monarchy, where the will of the sovereign is the su¬
preme law of the empire. No restraint can be imposed on
it; but the emperors themselves have endeavoured in some
degree to qualify this unlimited power, which is likewise
somwehat moderated by the rights and privileges enjoyed
through long-established usage by many bodies of people in Statistics
different provinces, and which claims it would be danger-'—
ous to the monarch to infringe. The emperors of the house
of Holstein have more than once declared that they would
wish to follow fixed laws in whatever appertains to the
rights of individuals and corporations. Arbitrary enact¬
ments are partly abolished; indeed they are only enforced
against the great, or courtiers less solicitous about liberty
than personal aggrandisement. The highest department
of government is the council of the empire, which was es¬
tablished in 1810, to render the laws and the administra¬
tion less liable to change. In 1811 it was completely or¬
ganized, and consisted of thirty-five members and four
presidents. It is divided into four departments, viz. law
or legislation, the supreme court of judicature in spiritual
and civil affairs ; war; civil and church affairs ; and in¬
ternal political economy, or administration of the pub¬
lic revenue. The emperor himself is president, and, in his
absence, one of the members whom he formally appoints
president every year takes his place. Each department has
its president, and the whole together have a common secre¬
tary, who is principal director of chancery, and the organ
through which the council of the empire makes known its
decisions to the monarch. He is also the person who bears
the commands of the sovereign to the directing council of
the empire, or makes them known to individual depart¬
ments ; he expedites all the orders of the above council to
the respective authorities who are to execute them ; and he
receives all petitions, and the like, directed to the emperor
in person. Each department has its state secretary. The
ministers are members of the council of the empire, but
they are disqualified from being presidents of the depart¬
ments. The introduction of the members to the depart¬
ments takes place half yearly. The original outline, or
sketch of every law, ordinance, or regulation, is laid before
the council of the empire, who examine it; but the sovereign
power alone can give it efficiency. There are three com¬
missions in connection with the council of the empire;
these are, commissions of law, petitions, and the chancery
of the empire. Alexander gave new activity to the law
commission, by which about 70,000 ukases relative to civil
rights were rescued from oblivion, and arranged in proper
order. The archives of the chancery of the empire con¬
tain a collection of accurate accounts of state affairs of for¬
mer years; complete accounts of the present situation of
the government, the protocols of the council of the empire,
and the imperial decisions. Each commission has a direc¬
tor, and is divided into several sections, over which a head
presides. Such is the constitution of the Russian council
of the empire.
The directing senate is one over which the emperor also
presides. It is the supreme tribunal in all affairs of a home or
internal description, as distinguished from those of a foreign
nature. As guardian of the law, the sovereign watches over
the administration of justice, superintends the management
of the income and expenditure of the state, as well as looks
after the means of national instruction, the preservation of
public security, and the abolition of every illegal proceeding.
The minister of justice is at the same time general procura¬
tor; but the remaining members are undefined, partly con¬
sisting of the ministers, who have likewise seats in the council
of the empire. The directing senate is divided into eight
departments, five of which have their constant seat at St
Petersburg, and three at Moscow. These two bodies be¬
ing composed of individuals either directly or indirectly
1 The annual mortality has diminished in some localities since Herrmann drew up his tables, which in some measure accounts for
the discrepancy here observable.
* It appears that the marriages in 1820 were fewer by 22,470 than in the year 1819.
3 The births of 1820 exceeded those of 1819 by 48,265. ~ *
4 The deaths of 1820 were fewer than those of 1819 by 1429.
RUSSIA.
itistics. appointed by the emperor, and, besides, not having power
to act independently, cannot be looked upon as much bet¬
ter than mere agents for promulgating his decrees.
The holy directing synod has for its object the manage¬
ment of ecclesiastical affairs. It watches over the interests
of the established church, but its decrees are issued in the
name of the emperor.
The ministries of state, whose members officiate in their
several departments independently of each other, but sit in
the council of the empire and the senate, and to the latter
annually render an account of their stewardship, are distri¬
buted into three sections. The first section consists of
the minister of foreign affairs, whose ministry comprises a
vice-chancellor, vice-president of the imperial cabinet, di¬
rector of the Asiatic department for the study of the orien¬
tal languages, and a superintendent of the archives of the
empire; the minister of war, who takes cognizance of the
departments of artillery, engineering, inspection, auditory,
commissariat, provision, and medicine ; the minister of ma¬
rine ; the minister of the interior, under whom are the de¬
partments of the administration of the public revenue, police,
and medicine, the minister of spiritual matters, of public in¬
struction ; and, lastly, the minister of finance, who has su¬
preme direction over the revenues, and yearly lays before
the emperor a balance-sheet of the income and expenditure.
He is also the highest authority in matters relative to the
departments of trade, manufactures, the customs, mines,
and the demesnes of the empire. The second section forms
the treasury of the empire, into which all the revenues flow,
and from which all payments are made according to the di¬
rect orders of the emperor. And to the third section be¬
long the business of state accounts, the general direction of
land and water communication, and the ministry of justice.
There are likewise ministers of control, the post-office, and
of the imperial household. There is, besides, a special mi¬
nister of state, or- secretary, for Poland, and a secretary of
state for Finland.
To all the various ministers the necessary information is
weekly sent from the different governments ; the whole in¬
telligence being annually laid before the monarch in a de¬
finite form. The governors and other authorities in the
provinces hold their command through the ministers. Each
government has a head director or civil governor, who usu¬
ally has conjoined with him a military governor. Of course,
there is under these the usual train of functionaries, who as¬
sist in administering justice, and protecting the peace of the
country and the rights of the subject. How justice is ad¬
ministered it is difficult to say with certainty, for corruption
prevails to a great extent. Alexander did much to put an
end to it, and his successor has imitated his example with
the most laudable zeal, but equivocal success.1 Conjointly
with the judges are appointed assessors, who must be of the
same rank as the person tried, which is a plan somewhat
similar to that of our jury. In the cities, two burgomasters
and four councillors, and in the country, one justice and two
plebeian proprietors, form tribunals of the first instance.
From these, appeals may be made to higher courts esta¬
blished in the several provinces ; and from them again to
the supreme tribunals at St Petersburg and Moscow. A
kind of court of conscience exists in most places, which hears
verbal complaints, acts as arbiter indifferences about smaller
matters, and exercises power in behalf of minors and im¬
beciles. Great deviations from the general system exist in
some of the less civilized provinces, that of the Cossacks,
573
for instance, which has a sort of military administration. Statistics.
Siberia is also under a different system, as we shall see
when we come to describe that country.
I he civil and criminal codes of Russia are very irnper-Laws.
feet, notwithstanding the efforts which several successive
sovereigns have made to introduce order and certainty.
.The institutions and pandects of the Russian law were pub¬
lished in 1819—1823, by order of the emperor, in twenty-two
volumes. The Russian government has also made public
a collection of all the ukases, rules, ordinances, &c. in vigour
in Russia, which amounted in 1830 to forty-five volumes,
systematically arranged, with copious indexes, and forming
a single body of laws, divided into several codes. This
measure, according to the imperial manifesto of the 31st of
January 1833, guarantees the execution of the laws for the
present, at the same time that it establishes a solid basis
for their progressive improvement. This body of laws be¬
came the standard code of the empire in the beginning of
the year 1835. Amongst the particular laws, the ukase of
1822, abolishing the practice of branding after the admi¬
nistration of the knout, deserves particular mention. With
regard to the punishment of crime, capital punishment was
nominally abolished by the licentious Empress Elizabeth;
but in reality it was often inflicted. That horrible instru¬
ment the knout may be so administered as to produce
death, which often happened. However, it is no longer
allowed to extend so far as to take away life. Banishment
to Siberia is the other extreme punishment to which the
Russian is liable for such crimes as murder and robbery.
1 he police of Russia is a political body, and all travellers
complain of its regulations, as being formal and minute be¬
yond any thing known in other European countries. A.
very recent traveller thus speaks of it. “ The Russian po¬
lice, whose business it is to perform the various essential
duties of the civil government, are not, I think, more nu¬
merous than in other kingdoms on the Continent, where
the system of form and routine is kept up; while the offi¬
cials with whom you are brought in contact, as far as my
experience goes, although grossly venal, and taking bribes
without the smallest attempt at concealment, are alv/ays
disposed to treat a stranger with the utmost courtesy. But,
in addition to these acknowledged servants of the state,
there is a body of secret police, who are everywhere, and
most certainly spy out all the ways of the stranger.”2 Not
only are passports necessary to any one who wishes to enter
the country, but every person resident there, whether a na¬
tive or a foreigner, must have one, which is regularly re¬
newed at stated intervals at the police-office for the dis¬
trict in which the party resides. A fine is the consequence
of neglect of this periodical renewal. Every servant apply¬
ing for a place must produce a regular passport; and there
are other annoying minutiae connected with this branch of
the civil service. The police of Russia is strong in num¬
bers, and distinguished for its searching system of espionage.
The revenues of the Russian government arise chiefly Revenues
from a capitation tax of two roubles on each peasant, and and cur-
five on each burgher ; a tax on merchants’ capital, of about rencJ-
If per cent.; the leases of the crown-lands, and obrok or
rent of the crown-peasants, the customs, stamps, patents,
various leases, &c.; the monopoly of spirituous liquors and
salt; the mines ; the purchase of exemption from military
service; fines on smugglers and other delinquents; the
crown-fisheries, mills, manufactories, baths, &c.; the profits
of the coinage and the post-office ; and the iassac or tribute
1 Mr Bremner, whilst he does justice to Nicholas for his strenuous efforts to reform the bribing system, says, “ In spite of all his
efforts, however, bribery in public offices still prevails to a degree unheard of in other countries. Even in Austria, where they un¬
derstand such things very well, they are mere tyros in the science, compared with the Russians. It grinds the poor and impoverishes
the rich ; it is practised in every branch of the administration, from the lowest clerk to the highest minister; it paralyses industry,
enterprise, and merit, in every corner of the empire.”
2 Hand-Book for Travellers in Denmark, Norway, Sweden, and Russia. London, 1839.
574
RUSSIA.
Statistics, in furs of the nomade races. But in estimating the re-
' ceipts and expenditure of government, allowance must be
made for numerous and large sums never carried to the ac¬
count of either income or expenditure, because they are
either appropriated to local purposes, or are discharged in
kind by various portions of the population. This is the
case with the rent of the fisheries on the Ural, which either
serves as pay for specific services, or is assigned in perpe¬
tuity to certain classes of the community, so that it makes
no appearance amongst the public receipts. In some dis¬
tricts the capitation tax is commuted, either wholly or in
part, for labour or military service. According to Schu¬
bert’s reckoning, the income of the Russian empire for
1836 amounted to 354,268,000 paper roubles, or about
L.14,200,000 sterling. To the above may be added six
millions of roubles as the produce of the gold and platina
mines. The national debt, which in many other countries
swallows up so much of the revenue, here absorbs but a
comparatively small part of it. On the 1st of January
1834, the debt of the Russian government amounted to
933,871,673 roubles, a sum which two years and a half of
revenue would pay up. It has been materially reduced
since the above date, and, it is believed, will in a few years
be altogether extinguished. Every year a large sum is ap¬
propriated to this purpose. In the course of 1835, there
were consigned to the commission for the extinction of the
national debt no less than 66,529,080 roubles 96 kopecks.
For a long period the currency of the country was in a
very equivocal state, from government having issued paper
roubles or assignats at a gradually increasing depreciation.
The assignats," or bank-notes, of Russia were established
by an imperial ukase in 1768, and issued in the following
year. Of course they were at first equivalent in value to
silver roubles, or very nearly so, and were isstied to the
amount of 40,000, in notes of the value of a hundred,^se¬
venty-five, fifty, and twenty-five roubles a piece. In 1786
these assignats were exchanged for new ones, and their
quantity increased to the sum of 60,000,000 roubles. Their
number went on augmenting till the death of Catherine
II., when the sum in circulation amounted to 157,000,000
roubles. A natural consequence of the increased issue was
their proportional fall; so that, at the above-mentioned
epoch, the value of a hundred roubles in assignats was
equal to seventy in silver. During the reign of the Em¬
peror Paul I. the quantity of assignats was increased by
55,000,000 more ; and during the reign of Alexander the
issues were carried to such an extent, that in 1817 their
whole quantity amounted to 836,000,000, and their value
fell in proportion to their over-issue. The Russian trea¬
sury then adopted measures for diminishing the number of
its assignats; and from that year till 1822, assignats to the
amount of 236,077,650 roubles were withdrawn from cir¬
culation and destroyed. In 1819 the old assignats were
exchanged for new ones, issued in a much improved shape,
and in notes of two hundred, one hundred, fifty, twenty-
five, ten, and five. According to the report of the minis¬
ter of finance on the 20th of August 1835, the whole
amount of assignats in circulation was 595,776,310 roubles,
and their relative value to the metallic money was as a hun¬
dred to twenty-seven. There is little gold to be seen; and
the only silver coin is the rouble,1 and its aliquot parts of Statistics,
halves, quarters, tenths, and twentieths. There is an im- ^ v*
mense copper circulation of kopecks, one hundred of which
equal a paper rouble. Indeed the only true metallic cur¬
rency may be said to be copper. A coinage of platina was
made at the mint, but it is more rarely seen than even gold.
The amount of the Russian army in time of peace is Army,
nominallv 612,332 men, of which the imperial guard con¬
tains 41,200. The most correct enumeration of the va¬
rious corps of this enormous force appears to be that of
Marshal Marmont. He says that “ the imperial guard
are six divisions, three of infantry and three of cavalry,
making sixteen battalions in all. The grenadier corps has
three divisions of infantry, made up of twelve regiments,
and a division of light cavalry, made up of four regiments;
also two batteries of horse artillery and fifteen of foot.
The regiments of guards consist of three battalions of in¬
fantry and seven squadrons of cavalry. The six corps of
the line are composed each of a division of light cavalry
(made up of four regiments), and three divisions of infantry,
each of four regiments; in all twelve regiments; besides
two battalions of foot and two of horse artillery. The total
six corps of the line are seventy-two regiments of infantry
and twenty-four of cavalry, twelve batteries of horse and
ninety of foot artillery. The corps of cavalry reserve has
two divisions, each of four regiments, making a total of
twenfy-four regiments, and twelve batteries of artillery.
The reserve of the line are three divisions, composed of
twenty-four battalions. There is, in addition, the corps of
the Caucasus, Siberia, and Finland; the troops of the in¬
terior, fifty battalions of horse militia, and one hundred and
forty-six regiments of Cossacks.” The expense of this vast
force is very small; the articles for their equipment, pro¬
visioning, and arming, being of the cheapest and coarsest
kind, and the pay of both officers and men being low.2 See
the article Army.
The naval force of Russia, for a long time inferior both Navy,
in point of numbers and character, is now placed upon a
highly respectable footing. The present emperor, when he
ascended the throne, resolving to render Russia a first-rate
naval as well as military power, made great exertions to
realize his wishes. The Baltic fleet, in 1838, consisted of
the following vessels ; one three-decker of a hundred and
twenty guns, three three-deckers of a hundred and ten
guns, seven ships of eighty-four guns, and nineteen ships of
seventy-four guns ; thus making in all thirty heavy line-of-
battle ships. To these must be added one razee of fifty-
six guns, three frigates of fifty-two guns, and eighteen fri¬
gates of forty-four guns, besides corvettes and small craft.
The whole is manned by a force of 33,000 men. The fleet
in the Black Sea consists of sixteen heavy ships of the line,
besides a number of frigates, smaller vessels, gun-boats, &c.
On the Caspian Sea there are also several ships of very con¬
siderable size, and more are in rapid progress at the building-
yards recently established at favourable points. Russia pos¬
sesses at least sixty steam-boats of one kind or another. This
is a formidable armament, and it is admitted by unpreju¬
diced individuals, that the navy of Russia was never in such
high condition as it is at the present time. But it is quite
preposterous to look upon it in the light of a rival to that oi
1 Whenever the word rouble is used in any work relative to Russia, as well as throughout this article, the paper rouble (10^d.) is
meant The silver rouble is never made the basis of calculations of any kind, nor have the Russians apy higher denomination cor¬
responding to our pound sterling. Kopecks and roubles constitute the only practical elements of the currency throughout the wh
W says the British and Foreign Review, October 1838, «is the most horrible thingjbat
can be imagined. 'The levy of recruits is ordered almost every year, and each community is compelled to furnish one, two, thr ,
more recruits from every five hundred males, or, as they are officially called, souls. The choice of recruits is entirely left amongst p
sants to their masters and amongst the burghers to the elders of the community ; and it may be easily imagined to how many
such a mode of levying is liable.g We shall not enter into the disgusting details by which the levy of recruits is accom pan ied^n -
sia ; we shall onlv add, that the condition of a Russian soldier is considered so wretched and so hopeless, that there are many in
of individuals, who have not only mutilated, but even destroyed themselves, in order to escape military service.
RUSSIA.
575
tot'c Great Bntaul. The expense of the navy, l.ke that of the raw material for the use of her manufactures, as will be StatWies
army,» comparat.vely small. “Indeed,” says Mr Bremner, seen from our table of the imports; and the amount is yearly
it is one of the pomts which should never be forgotten m on the increase. In 1815 the total number of manufactur-
considering this question [viz. the maintenance of such a ing establishments throughout the empire was estimated at
large fleet], “ that Russia can not only build ships cheaper 3250, at which 150,000 workmen werePemploved In 1886
than any other European power, but can also man them for the number of manufacturing establishments in activity was
less. I he pay both of officers and men is so small, that the 6045, which gave employment to 279 673 workmen The
annual outlay on twenty Russian line-of-battle ships would financial agents of Russia residing at Paris Vienna and
not defray the expense of ten of ours ” The Russian sailor Berlin, as well as the consuls at the chief commercial towns
is brave, well-trained, somewhat after a military fashion, of Europe, have instructions to contribute to the progress
and subnussive; but he wants the activity and enthusiasm and improvement of national industry, by communicating
of the English seaman. To remedy a great defect under to Russian manufacturers every information respecting new
which the Russian navy has long laboured, a want of good inventions made in foreign countries, forwarding to them
native officers, colleges of naval cadets have been formed, patterns of new manufactures, models of machines and the
where young Russians are carefully trained for the higher like, and by engaging expert workmen for them. Govern-
branches of the service.
] iductive Ten or fifteen years ago the agricultural operations of the
i istry. Russians were conducted in a very clumsy manner. Rota¬
tion of crops was little understood or practised, and hus
ment holds out the greatest encouragement to persons en¬
gaging in new commercial enterprises. By a ukase dated
1827, such parties are relieved from certain taxes imposed
upon them as members of one of the three city guilds, and
bandry in general was carried on in a very ignorant and in 1835 the land-tax and municipal imposts were also re-
unprofitable manner. In the Ukraine, so famous for its mitted in their favour. A further evidence of the advance
fertility, the mode of farming is very simple. They take which Russia has made in commercial enterprise is furnish-
as many crops out of the ground as it will yield, and then ed by the fact, that the number of persons engaged in such
let it lie fallow for a year or two. But this branch of pro- pursuits is rapidly increasing, and that every year many ac-
ductive industry has made considerable progress within
these few years; partly through the exertions of govern¬
ment, and partly through those of the landed proprietors,
who find it for their advantage to approximate to those im¬
proved methods of cultivating the soil which are practised
in most other parts of Europe. Amongst other means em¬
ployed by government for encouraging agriculture, it has
ordered what are called model-gardens to be formed in a
number of governments. Native manufactures have like¬
wise been greatly extended and improved.
State of the Manufactures of Russia in 1831.
Value of the Produce (estimated in Increase
roubles) of since 1821.
Cotton manufacture 104,170,481 230 per cent.
Silk ditto  16,131,373  25
Woollen ditto  50,000,000  30
Flax and hemp  22,615,940  45
Leather  97,213,710  12
Paper  6,468,968  10
Hats    3,801,900  63
Dyes and colours  3,000,000  55
Tobacco and snuff  19,623,494 150
Refined sugar  23,007,004  34
6,591,690 131
62
2,000,000  0
Soap.
Tallow candles  8,095,584
Snuff-boxes, and different )
kinds of japanned goods /
Chemical preparations  3,000,000  11
China and earthenware  4,000,000  0
Glass and crystal  9,000,000  11
Potash  6,000,000  32
Metallic Produce.
} 25,905,680..
Copper.
{ 3
9,620,736  13
J 9
l 26
Sundry minerals  500,000  94
The whole amount of the above produce is 509,574,379
roubles.1 Russia, which formerly imported nothing but
manufactured goods, now imports immense quantities of duced 9,731,147 poods of cast iron. The forges, which
SiS.!:0”.":::} a*’828’000-
quire the means of passing from the inferior to the upper
guilds. The following statement will make this clear.
1835. More than
’ in 1834,
Merchants of the first guild  695  50
Ditto of the second  1,547  56
Ditto of the third 30,099......1,147
Peasants having permission to trade... 4,992...... 388
Clerks  7,976  831
In 1836 thirty-five applications were made for patents for
new inventions connected with manufactures, of which eleven
were granted.
The distillation of brandy is the most extensive and lu- Brandy,
crative branch of the productive industry of Russia. This
article is produced to the amount of 270,000,000 roubles
annually, for which government receives an excise duty of
90,000,000 roubles. The brandy monopoly of government
is productive of great mischief, as by the universal system
of bribery the cost to the consumer is greatly increased.
The farmer-general bribes the governor of the province,
whose duty it is to see that the article is not adulterated ;
the farmer-general, and his secretary who grants licenses,
are bribed by the retailer, so that by the time the spirit has
x’eached the tables of the peasantry, amongst whom the use
of it is universal, one gallon has multiplied itself to three or
even four. A kind of beer called braga is likewise made
to a great extent, and largely consumed.
The mines, particularly those on the Ural Mountains, Mines,
were worked at a very ancient period; but it is only in
modern times that the Russians have applied themselves to
that branch of industry. Gold, platina, silver, and copper,
are most abundant in the Asiatic governments, or along the
last declivities of what is called the great central ridge. The
quantities of gold and platina produced will be seen from a
table at the end of the exports and imports.
The silver mines yield annually about 43,200 lbs., be- Silver
sides 1,440,000 lbs. of lead. The aggregate produce of cop- mines,
per from the government and private mines is 7,596,000 lbs.
English. By a document published in the Russian Mining
Journal for 1830, we find that there were in the Ural dis¬
tricts alone fifty-eight smelting works (seven belonging to
the crown and fifty-one to individuals), which in 1827 pro-
1 The above official returns are taken from a work of M. Prelezynski, on the State of the Manufacturing Powers of Russia, pub¬
lished in Russian at St Petersburg in 1833.
57G
RUSSIA.
Statistics, amounted to 105 (only eight of them being crown pioper-
' v"—ty), sent into the markets in the same year 5,578,474 poods
of wrought iron. We learn, from the same source, that the
steel manufactured in all the empire in 1829 amounted only
to 80,000 poods.
Precious Another branch of industry to which the attention of the
stones. Russian government has been for some time directed, has
originated in the discovery of precious stones in the Ural
Mountains. Stones of great value have from time to time
been detected in that range, and scientific individuals have
been employed to make researches for the purpose of ob¬
taining extensive and accurate knowledge of these hidden
treasures. Diamonds have likewise been found in the auri¬
ferous sands of the Ural. But to what amount annually any
of these precious stones may be collected is still uncertain.
Iron. The mines of Finland, particularly those of iron, are
also an important branch of productive industry. Some of
the hills of that country contain veins of an ore fit for the
manufacture of wrought iron, while layers of a fusible ore
are found buried at a small depth, in marshes and along the
borders of lakes. For a long time the mines of the first
description were neglected; but there are thirteen now at
work. The richest ore, produced from the mines of the
Gamnholm and Oiama, contains from fifty-three to fifty-
four per cent, of metal; the poorest yields about thirty per
cent, of cast iron. The smelting of these ores is performed
in eight different furnaces, which consume more ore than
Finland can at present furnish ; and the deficit is supplied
by Sweden. Almost the whole of the cast iron produced by
them is distributed among the forges established in differ¬
ent parts of the country. There are sixteen of these forges,
which manufacture annually about 121,350 poods of wrought
iron. Those immense beds of iron ore which extend through¬
out the country, along the shores of lakes, and at the bot¬
tom of marshes, have been wrought from time immemorial.
* The number of forges and smelting-houses for working up
this product is considerable ; and as experience has proved
that the marsh ore is preferable to any other, several other
establishments of forges have recently been erected, and
more are in the course of being added to the number.
Next to iron, copper is the most important mineral which
Finland produces. Until very lately, however, only one
mine was wrought, that of Ovi-Yervi, discovered in 1758.
But a patent was a short time ago obtained for the working
of copper and tin mines found near Nitkaranda. Iron ot
the best quality is likewise found in the district of loula,
the seat of the iron manufactures. Russia possesses ano¬
ther treasure in the numerous salt-lakes and marshes in the
Siberian steppes, and in the country to the north of the
Caspian Sea. The quantity of this article obtained through¬
out the empire amounts to 22,000,000 poods annually. Alum
is also produced to the yearly extent of 16,000 poods.
Fisheries “ A prodigious quantity of fish,” says M. Schnitzler,
and the “ is supplied by the rivers and lakes, constituting almost
chase. the sole food of the population of extensive districts, and
during the long Lents replacing the use of meat. The
fisheries of the Volga and the Oka are particularly pro¬
ductive. Without speaking of the carp, the pike, the trout,
the herring, especially that species of herring termed rei-
pouchki, and of the pilchard, I shall cite the sturgeon, be¬
luga, and salmon fisheries, and the pickled lampreys and
mackerel of the Crimea. The sterlet of the Volga is a va¬
riety of the sturgeon. Caviare, the consumption of which
is so great in Russia, is made from the eggs of this fish, and
from those of the beluga. A single sterlet will give from
ten to thirty pounds weight; and from a single beluga there
may at times, it is said, be taken as much as 120 pounds. I he
best caviare comes from the Cossacks of the Ural, i he stur¬
geon fishery is usually ot considerable value ; 1,850,500 fish
of this species, caught in the year 1793 in the Volga, near
Astracan, yielded 124,970 poods of caviare, 3575 poods of
isinglass. The coasts, which are visited by the cachalot, Statistics,
the whale, and other cetaceous fish, and on which are col-
lected a quantity of pearl-oysters and mussels, likewise fur¬
nish cod and herrings. The largest fishery of the latter is
in the Sea of Kamtschatka. The net annual value of the
Russian fisheries amounts to more than 10,000,000 roubles.”
The chase in the Russo-North American colonies, and else¬
where, has long been a profitable branch of national enter¬
prise. Great quantities of furs and skins, of the otter, beaver,
and fox, are annually brought to market by the traders.
The internal traffic carried on in Russia is very consi-Internal
derable, and yearly upon the increase. The exchange of commerce,
agricultural produce, as well as of manufactures, is im-Im¬
mense. Nineteen fairs have been established for the be¬
nefit of trade in several principal towns of the empire, and
thirteen in lesser ones. A great number of bazaars have
likewise been erected for the accommodation of traders.
The great centre of the inland commerce of Russia is Niz-
nei-Novgorod, the annual fair at which place is entitled, both
from the amount and variety of its articles, to be considered
as the first in Europe, perhaps in the world. The trade
consists chiefly of three branches; namely, that of goods
brought from Asia, Russian manufactures, and merchandise
from Europe and America. The Asiatic trade consists prin¬
cipally of tea from China, of which article immense quanti¬
ties are annually brought to this great emporium. Russian
manufactures form the most important branch of the trade
of Niznei-Novgorod, and consist chiefly of cotton, silk, and
woollen goods brought from the central provinces of the
empire. The merchants of Kiakhta carry back large quan¬
tities of cotton and skins ; those of Bukharia and of Khiva
purchase nankeens, calicoes, cambrics, cloth, and sugar; the
Armenians and the Persians buy cotton and woollen stuffs.
Russian and Polish cloths are sent to this market in consi¬
derable quantities, part of which are sold to the Transcau¬
casian provinces, and some are even exported to China.
The produce of the Russian mines and founderies forms
also a considerable item of trade, consisting of iron, copper,
and steel articles from Toula, and which are bought for the
use of the inhabitants of the interior. Sugar is sent from St
Petersburg and Archangel. Much country produce is sold
for the purpose of exportation ; such as wax, wool, cotton,
camel-hair, hemp, feathers, and Russian leather. The su¬
perb furs of Siberia and the coast of the White Sea form
also most important objects of commerce. There is like¬
wise a smaller trade in earthenware, glass, and soap. The
third branch of the commerce of Niznei-Novgorod is the
produce of Western Europe and its colonies; but the
amount of goods imported from these countries is scarcely
one tenth of the merchandise sold at the fair. It consists
of indigo, cochineal, and madder, used for the purpose ot
dyeing manufactures. Foreign wines form also an import¬
ant article of trade. Coffee and rum are imported from the
West Indies; coral is also imported and sold, chiefly to
Kiakhta merchants for the Chinese markets. Foreign ma¬
nufactures, consisting of silks, cotton, and woollen stuffs,
are likewise sold in very considerable quantities. The value
of the goods which change hands at this fair, according to
Klaproth, amounts to ninety-four millions of roubles an¬
nually. Dr Lyall and Captain Cochrane raise it to double
this sum ; but the statement of Lord Londonderry is more to
be relied upon. He savs that the value of goods actually sold
amounted in 1831 to 98,329,525, in 1833 to 117,210,676,
and in 1835 to 117,743,300 roubles. A great deal more
merchandise than is sold is always brought to market. It is
supposed that this fair is visited by about 150,000 strangers.
The confluence of traders from such remote countries as
those mentioned is one of the most striking and picturesque
spectacles that can be witnessed. The fair lasts during the
months of August and September. By the official account
of the minister of the interior, the value of merchandise sold
RUSSIA.
577
sties, at the different fairs in 1836 was 284,949,191 roubles, and
in 1837 it was 277,108,436 roubles, or L.10,500,000.
and The internal commerce of Russia is greatly facilitated
by the vast system of inland navigation, which forms so
striking a feature of that country. All the great rivers,
lakes, and seas have been connected with one another by
means of canals, so that a water-communication exists be¬
tween the most remote parts of the empire. The Black
Sea and the Baltic communicate by means of three canals ;
the Baltic and the Caspian Seas are united by means of the
Volga and artificial cuts; and the same great river is con¬
nected with the White Sea and other lakes. Important
undertakings are in progress to perfect the junction of such
rivers as the Markta and the Volga, the Oka and the Don,
the Priepetz, the Niemen, the Bug, and others. In 1817
the Emperor Alexander created an office of “ director-ge¬
neral of the ways of communication,” including canals, roads,
and bridges. From that period the works of this descrip¬
tion have been vigorously prosecuted. The roads of Rus¬
sia are in general bad, but a number of new high roads are
in progress. That from St Petersburg to Moscow, which has
long been in existence, is a remarkable work. It is an ele¬
vated causeway of timber, running in one long, level, un¬
varying, straight line, over marsh and bog, through forest
and thicket. Many other important public works have been
undertaken, of which number is the construction of quays
along the Oka, and from the Volga to Niznei-Novgorod, and
the works upon the river Seyn. Steam-boats have been
established upon some of the principal rivers, for towing
barges as'well as for conveying passengers and goods. (See
Navigation, Inland.) .
The colonies of Russia, that is, those southern parts of Statistics,
the empire in particular which have been settled by fo- —■
reigners, constitute a distinct feature of the country. AtColonies-
the period when Catherine II. ascended the throne, that
vast tract of country which now forms the government of
Saratof was almost without cultivation; and in order to
bring it under proper culture, the empress issued a decree,
inviting colonists from tauropean countries, where agricul¬
ture was in the most advanced state. Great numbers of
German and Swiss, French and Swedish families, accord¬
ingly, flocked to the banks of the Volga, and to these fo¬
reigners Russia is indebted for what advancement she has
made in the manufacture of wine and the cultivation of the
silk-worm. The German colonists who have settled in
New Russia, Bessarabia, and the governments of Saratof,
Georgia, &c., but principally in Southern Russia, are lb
cated in four hundred and twenty villages. Their popula
tion in 1837 amounted to 270,085; the number of sheep
was 1,364,840; seed sown, 289,290 chetwerts; produce,
1,736,316 chetwerts ; fruit trees, 1,666,599 chetwerts ;
vine roots, 18,447,902 chetwerts; lands assigned to them,
5,836,771 English acres. After the peace of Adrianople,
about 60,000 Bulgarians and Rumelians came to settle in
Russia. Since the days of Peter the Great, the Russian
government has held out great encouragement to foreign¬
ers of all professions to settle in the empire, and to such
persons Russia is in no small degree indebted for her pre¬
sent greatness and prosperity. There is scarcely an insti¬
tution, an art, a manufacture, or a department of war or
peace, that has attained to excellence in the country, which
is not indebted to some foreigner for its efficiency.
The foreign commerce of Russia is very considerable, as the following tables will show.
Statement ot the Quantities and Value of Merchandise imported
into Russia from Countries in Europe, and from America, in the
year 1835.
Description.
Coffee 
Spices 
Wines and liqueurs 
Ditto ditto  
Champagne  
Fish 
Salt 
Tobacco  
Fruits 
Cotton, raw 
Ditto, twist.; 
Ditto, ditto, dyed 
Indigo 
Cochineal   
Madder 
Logwood 
Dyewoods, various 
Drugs 
Olive oil 
Hardware 
Lead 
Sugar, raw 
Silk 
Manufactures, cotton...
Ditto, silk 
Ditto, worsted,
Cloth 
Precious stones 
Miscellaneous 
...cwts.
...value
...casks
.bottles
.bottles
...value
...cwts.
...cwts.
..value
...cwts.
...cwts.
...cwts.
...cwts.
...cwts.
...cwts.
...cwts.
...value
...value
...cwts.
...value
...cwts.
...cwts.
...cwts.
...value
...value
...value
...cwts.
...value
,.. value
Total value.
Quantities.
31,302
52,094 1
118,406/
472,365
1,108,955
29,709
66,853
168,562
2,722
8,816
1,135
38,619
139,655
76,797
54,890
441,844
2,629
1,159
Value.
L. 123,642
42,701
470,313
142,331
180,136
212,216
222,144
283,468
306,481
1,516,709
63,787
287,637
48,599
130,311
106,354
71,827
75,647
225,388
99,006
53,812
1,179,889
312,690
233,823
393,066
203,453
85,099
103,115
1,388,817
8,563,461
Statement of the Quantities ana Value of Merchandise ex¬
ported from Russia to Countries in Europe, and to America,
in the year 1835.
Description.
Quantities.
.cwts.
Wheat qrs.
Rye qrs.
Barley qrs.
Oats qrs.
Wax cwts.
Hides (Muscovy \
leather)j
Ditto, tanned value
Ditto, raw cwts.
Flax cwts.
Hemp cwts.
Timber value
Potash cwts.
Oil (hemp and linseed)..cwts.
Copper cwts.
Iron..... cwts.
Tallow cwts.
Linseed qrs.
Wool cwts.
Bristles cwts.
Cordage cwts.
Sailcloth pieces
Ravensduck pieces
Flems pieces
Cattle value
Furs value
Hare-skins cwts.
Miscellaneous value
Total value
520,181
31,029
14,651
19,423
7,770
15,351
117,752
475,133
977,728
135,795
38,515
62,985
416,093
1,075,178
463,474
109,175
17,706
74,022
81,323
90,454
68,210
3,171
Value.
L.521,100
23,944
8,793
7,764
46,508
83,115
29,328
267,315
825,843
822,796
400,354
135,538
63,965
278,889
246,080
1,639,122
815,999
406,818
205,411
76,083
157,317
87,933
95,544
136,815
75,528
21,475
1,083,321
8,550,459
VOL. XIX.
4 D
578
RUSSIA.
Statistic?. A Statement of the Quantities and Value of Merchandise im- A Statement of the Value of Merchandise imported into and Statist;
ported into Russia from Countries in Asia during the year
1835.
Description.
Sugar and candy cwt.
Tea lbs.
Fruits value
Cotton, raw lbs.
Ditto, yarn lbs.
Silk, raw lbs.
Leather  pieces
Cotton manufactures value
Silk ditto value
Woollen ditto value
Cattle ..value
Furs value
Miscellaneous   value
Total value.
Quantities.
5,039
7,173,396
559,768
1,269,468
177,372
92,638
Value.
L.
15,951
302,366
12,743
12,508
67,044
48,336
6,934
253,306
38,291
12,687
137,746
58,341
61,937
1,028,190
A Statement of the Quantities and Value of Merchandise ex¬
ported from Russia to Countries in Asia during the year
1835.
Description.
Grain value
Iron cwts.
Ditto pieces
Copper cwts.
Russia leather cwts.
Ditto pieces
Hides, tanned value
Ditto, raw cwts.
Ditto, ditto pieces
Colours value
Manufactures, cotton value
Ditto, ditto, in tran-1
sit value j
Ditto, linen value
Ditto, silk value
Cloth, Russian yards
Ditto, ditto pieces
Ditto, foreign pieces
Ditto, ditto yards
Ditto, ditto, in transit yards
Ditto, Polish, in transit....yards
Hardware value
Horses number
Furs value
Ditto in transit value
Coral value
Ditto in transit value
Miscellaneous value
Ditto in transit value
Quantities.
Value.
126,6161
2,549 J
1,688
7,092 \
180,522 J
379 )
19,058 /
Total value 
Total value in transit.
670,740 1
1,421 J
221
3,238 J
79
160,456
5,658
Grand total.
L.
31,892
54,345
6,396
55,699
33,948
3,033
17,656
194,968
10,714
13,335
6,624
96,690
827
11
20,428
22,908
3,898
105,542
4,118
1,398
3,083
120,225
5,947
769,481
44,304
813,785
exported from Russia, distinguishing the Trade with each
Country, in the year 11535.
Countries.
Value of
Imports.
-a
E5
<s
3
W
'Sweden and Norway.
Prussia  
Denmark.  
The Sound 
Hanse Towns 
Holland 
Great Britain 
France 
Spain and Portugal..
Italy 
Austria 
Turkey 
America 
f Other countries 
"Turkey, Asiatic 
Persia 
Khiva 
Kirghise 
Bukharia 
Tashkent 
Kokhaut 
China 
. Other countries 
L.
183,602
411,952
66,260
Total.
1,155,633
313,087
3,122,025
631,660
201,796
205,167
507,061
594,314
1,159,623
11,281
44,714
293,169
30,590
175,250
105,675
41,154
15,800
320,573
1,092
9,551,478
Value of
Exports.
L.
154,630
492,328
238,651
78,679
268,518
449,202
3,950,335
362,289
142,126
150,440
479,174
1,004,814
570,078
209,195
37,423
100,595
17,719
182,072
47,309
36,222
324,9461
67,314
9,364,059
A Statement of the Value of Gold and Silver imported into and
exported from Russia in each year from 1824 to 1834; and
of the total Quantities and Value of Gold and Platina extract¬
ed from the Ural Mines, and coined, in the same period, exhi¬
biting the apparent Increase in the Circulation of the Empire.
Years.
1824
1825
1826
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
1832
1833
1834
Total...
Value of Gold and Silver.
Imported.
L.
274,510
506,395
213,432
600,962
659,244
1,606,496
2,122,600
1,965,819
1,887,081
2,278,512
873,953
Exported.
12,989.889
L.
209,669
70,865
159,598
157,985
113,916
127,327
151,044
198,891
189,004
359,753
378,279
2,116,339
Difference L. 10,873,550
Gold extracted from the Ural mines, and coin¬
ed, in the above years; quantity, lbs.
117,564; value  7,143,499
Platina extracted from the Ural mines, and
coined, in the above years ; quantity, lbs.
28,125; value  393,737
Total apparent increase of circulation L.18,410,786
j.L r^ie tr^e with China being one exclusively of barter, the exports ought to balance the imports, which is not the case here. The
ditierence, however, is not very material; and we preserve the table as given in the Parliamentary Papers.
RUSSIA.
Sji sties. The foregoing tables have been obtained from parlia-
—^ mentary papers. In the last one, no mention is made of
the silver and copper mines of the Urals, which, however,
are less important than those of gold and platina. The quan¬
tities which they produce have already been stated. In
J832, the latest year for which we have complete returns,
the number of vessels which arrived in the different ports
of Russia was as follows :—
579
Di rent
rai: or
CVy.
Ciiifens.
Ports on the Baltic Sea 3601
Ditto on the White Sea  472
Ditto on the Black Sea 1446
Ditto on the Caspian Sea  201
Total 5720
It may be mentioned, that there is little difference be¬
tween the commercial returns of 1834 and those of 1835.
Still, taking a series of years, Russia will be found to be
steadily and widely extending her commercial relations.
The receipts of the custom-house in 1835 amounted to
46,763,444 roubles, and in 1836 to 48,968,790 roubles, or
L.2,142,384, which is an increase of 2,205,346 roubles in
one year. By far the most important of the commercial
relations of Russia are those which she has with Great Bri¬
tain. The interests of the two greatest empires in the world
are thus pretty closely united ; and there appears to us to
be little cause for dreading aggressive hostility on the part
of a power which draws half its custom-house revenue from
British imports, and sends to Britain one half of all the raw
produce which it can raise for exportation. After all, the
commerce of Russia is not one third of that of France, and
not one seventh of that of Great Britain.
The nobles in Russia, though distinguished by the several
titles of prince, count, or baron, are all upon an equal foot¬
ing, and enjoy equal privileges. Their persons and lands
are freed from taxation; they are exempted from the re¬
cruiting ballot; and they are not subject to bodily penalties.
These exemptions are, however, more apparent than real;
for though their lands and persons are not taxable, yet a
capitation tax, at the will of the government, may be im¬
posed on their slaves, who form the most valuable part of
their possessions. Though not in person compelled to serve
in the army, yet they are bound to furnish from their slaves
a number of recruits, in proportion to the demands of the
service. In some of the more recently-acquired provinces,
such as Livonia, Esthonia, and in Poland, the nobles have,
or rather exercise, other privileges, extending even to the
power of life and death, over their vassals; but these powers
arise from custom and general acquiescence much more than
from the existing law. The classes of the nobility are very
numerous, being fourteen in all; but, singularly enough,
some of them have no members. Thus, of the eleventh
and thirteenth none are alive. Although titles are heredi¬
tary, there is no rank except what the emperor confers.
Most of the public employments are filled by the nobles ;
but no one whatever is eligible to such appointments un¬
less he belongs to one of the fourteen classes of rank into
which the civil and military services, and the clergy, are cor¬
respondingly arranged. A fixed term of service, and a
prescribed form of examination, are undergone previously
to acquiring rank. The right of conferring nobility rests
with the emperor, and, as with us, it is hereditary.
The clergy are exempt from taxation, and from corporal
punishment; which privileges are extended to each eldest
son, who must, however, though his father is excused, take
the risk of being called upon for military service.
The citizens form the second grand division of the Rus¬
sian nation. Every inhabitant of a town, who is neither
noble, nor the property of another, is a citizen. The not¬
ables constitute the highest class amongst them, and pos¬
sess privileges similar to those of the nobles. Next to these
come the merchants of the three guilds. The first or high- Statistics,
est guild corresponds with the eighth class of rank, and en-
joys most of the immunities of the notables. In fact, who¬
ever has belonged ten years to the first guild, or twenty to
the second, without incurring any visitation of the law, be¬
comes a notable. For an account of the merchants of these
guilds, see the article Petersburg.
The next class is that of the peasants, or free inhabitants Peasants,
of the country. In this rank are included, first, the an¬
cient race of proprietors, who cultivate their own lands, but
do not enjoy the right of possessing slaves; second, the Tar¬
tars, the Baschkirs, and several other races, less numerous, to
the south of Siberia, who are all proprietors of the lands they
cultivate; and, third, the peasants of Finland. Since the ac¬
quisition of New Finland, the privileges enjoyed by the pea¬
sants of that country under the Swedish government have
been continued and confirmed to them, and the same rights
granted to those of Old Finland, where all are now either
proprietors or renters. There is a considerable number of
rent peasants, who, by paying an annual sum to their pro¬
prietors, purchase the right of carrying on trade or business
on their own account. Some of these have been known to
amass considerable property; but they still remain slaves.
In the fourth are included the colonists, consisting of foreign
families of agriculturists, who are proprietors of the lands
they cultivate, and whose number is about 65,000. The
fifth embraces the military colonists. These are soldiers,
who, after having served a prescribed period, have had land
given to them, and a capital sufficient to cultivate it, in the
southern provinces. And, lastly, the free cultivators, who
enjoy immunity from taxes, on condition of keeping post-
horses for the public service, which they furnish at a charge
regulated by government.
The class next below these is that of the serfs. They Serfs,
are chiefly peasants on the crown-lands, or of the province
of Livonia. The first of these, the crown-peasants, amount
to about 12,000,000, some of whom labour in the fields, and
the others in the mines and manufactories. The lot of this
class seems to be placed on the confines between liberty
and slavery. They may rise to the rank of citizens, they
may acquire property, they may enjoy the protection of the
laws, and, under some restrictions, may quit their residences
to obtain employment for a limited time; but they are liable
to be hired to the service of the mines, or to be sold. The
peasants of Livonia, amounting to about 560,000, were
slaves until the year 1804, when they first obtained the
rights of serfs. They are now subject to some peculiar
claims; but those claims are fixed, and they cannot be re¬
moved from the soil without their own consent.
The last and most numerous class is that of the slaves. Slaves.
These amounted in 1782 to 6,678,000 males, and at pre¬
sent are estimated to include 23,000,000 persons. They
are in law considered as things, not as persons; they are
attached to the soil, and incapable of possessing any pro¬
perty in land; they may be bought, sold, or exchanged,
with little more restrictions than are enacted in dealing for
cattle; and they have no other protection against their
masters than what is created by a regard to their pecuniary
interest. They belong to the nobles, or to such civil or
military officers as have acquired the right of possessing
them. They are divided into agricultural, mining, manu¬
facturing, or domestic slaves, and have their condition only
improved when drawn for military service.
“ A Russian proprietor,” says a recent traveller, “ reckons
the value of his property, not by the annual income of his
estate, but by the number of souls, that is, of male peasants
upon it. An estate is said to be worth so many souls in¬
stead of so many roubles per annum. 1 he footing on which
the agricultural serf practically stands towards his master,
is in most respects that of a small tenant; the principal
difference being, that he cannot change his employment or
580
RUSSIA.
Statistics, move from home without his master’s leave, which is some-
x~,“—v—^ times obtained for a certain annual sum, called obrok, in lieu
of service. As a general rule, he has a house and a portion
of land, for which he pays rent in labour instead of money.
He works three days in the week for his master, and has
the remainder of his time at his own disposal. A day’s la¬
bour of a man includes that of his w ife and his horse wdien
requisite. These peasants, who are for the most part in a
state of the grossest ignorance, are perfect predestinarians,
or fatalists ; and this doctrine serves as an excuse on all oc¬
casions for their habitual improvidence and want of fore¬
thought. Yet, though ignorant, superstitious, and a slave,
the serf seems in general happy and contented, and bears
about him no signs of oppression ; his desires are few and
easily satisfied; though his fare is coarse and poor, he sel¬
dom suffers from cold or hunger, and he is naturally gay,
good-humoured, and light-hearted.” The situation of do¬
mestic servants is much worse than that of the peasant,
whose great dread is the conscription, and a serious evil it
Employ- is when it visits him. The peasant cannot legally be sold
merit of or transferred from one master to another, excepting with
the popu- fhg wli0le of his family ; but this law is often broken or
ration. evaded. “ There are few landed proprietors who do not
carry on a manufactory of some kind or other. The riches
of the Russian gentleman lie in the labour of his serfs,
which it is his study to turn to good account; and he is
the more urged to this, since the law which compels the
peasant to work for him, requires him to maintain the pea¬
sant ; if the latter is found begging, the former is liable to
a fine. He is therefore a master who must always keep a
certain number of workmen, whether they are useful to
him or not ;,and as every kind of agricultural and out-doors
employment is at a stand during the winter, he naturally
turns to the establishment of a manufactory as a means of
employing Isis peasants, and as a source of profit to himself.
In some cases the manufactory is at work only during the
winter, and the people are employed in the summer in ag¬
riculture. The alternate employment of the same man in
the field and in the factory, which would be attempted in
most countries with little success, is here rendered practi¬
cable and easy by the versatile genius of the Russian pea¬
sant, one of whose leading national characteristics is a ge¬
neral capability of turning his hand to any kind of work
which he may be required to undertake.” Not only are the
Russian nobles manufacturers, but they carry on the busi¬
ness in every branch ; and from the privileges which they
enjoy, they have great advantages over the other classes
who are not allowed to possess serfs. In almost every house
some art is carried on, useful or ornamental; and women
are employed in spinning, weaving, knitting, carpet-making,
and the like. Mr Bremner informs us that seven shillings
and sixpence a week is the general pay of a labourer in the
field, and that the best hands in the manufactories can only
earn nine shillings and sixpence a week. Hence no people
in Europe are so plainly or coarsely fed as the Russians.
Their daily fare consists of pickled cucumbers, cabbages,
and mushrooms, with a piece of black bread. Fish and
butcher-meat are great rarities amongst the poor ; they live
upon the wretched articles which we have specified.
Religion. The established religion of Russia is that of the Greek
Church, to which the great bulk of the population belongs,
although all others are tolerated, no civil or political disabi¬
lities attaching to those who profess other creeds. In re¬
gard to the doctrines of this church, it may be briefly stated,
that they differ in several essential particulars from those
of the Roman Catholics, although there is a general accord¬
ance. The first of these particulars is, that it holds the
necessity of complete submersion of the whole body at bap¬
tism ; the second, that w'hilst it admits the doctrine of tran-
substantiation in regard to the eucharist, it affirms that the
•bread must be leavened and the wine mixed with water,
and they allow both elements to be distributed to every Statistics,
communicant, even to .children before they have any cor- 's—■v*-'
rect idea of sin ; and a third important distinction relates
to the marriage of the clergy, all secular or parish priests
being bound to marry. The Greek Church further differs
from the Roman Catholic by rejecting purgatory, predesti¬
nation, works of supererogation, indulgences, and dispensa¬
tions. Catechising and preaching are scarcely practised ;
and mass forms the chief part of the public worship. No in¬
strumental music is allowed, but vocal music is much cul¬
tivated. Fast days are numerous, and they are kept with
great strictness. In addition to the Wednesday and Fri¬
day of every week, there are four principal fasts in the
year, and several festivals which are celebrated with east¬
ern pomp and splendour. This church rejects all round or
solid images of the Saviour, or of saints, as idolatrous ; but
pictures, mosaics, bas-reliefs, in short, whatever is repre¬
sented on a flat surface, they do not consider as violations of
the law which says, “ Thou shalt not make unto thee any
graven image.” The state of religion amongst the lower
orders is in general deplorable. The most important parts
of public worship are, first, to pronounce distinctly and flu¬
ently the two words Gospodi pomilui, which mean, “ God
be mercifulsecondly, to make the sign of the cross on
the breast a countless number of times ; and, thirdly, to bow
the head to the ground repeatedly. The common people
have a firm belief in good and bad angels. Evil spirits are
the tempters and betrayers of men, and they believe that
the sign of the cross, which they are very fond of making,
will not only drive them away, but avert every kind of mis¬
fortune. There are comparatively few sectarians in Russia.
The following is as near an approximation as can be arriv¬
ed at, of the religious diversities of the Russian empire.
Members of the Russo-Greek Church 45,000,000
Dissenters from the church, called Razkolniks, )
or Heretics  J
Roman Catholics, including the united Greeks I
and the united Armenians J
Armenians not united 
Members of the Confession of Augsburg (Pro- )
testants /
Members of the Reformed Church 
Moravians 10,000, and Menncnites 6000 
Mahommedans 
Jews 
Worshippers of the Grand Lama   
Indians, devotees of Fetichism 
Idolaters 
350,000
3,500,000
250,000
2,000,000
54,000
16,000
2,500,000
600,000
300,000
600,000
170,000
Me
tak
The whole spirituality of the Greek Church is divided Greek
into priests belonging to some religious order, and secular Church,
priests. For the management of church affairs there are
at present thirty-six eparchies of three different classes,
only four being of the highest class, those of St Petersburg,
Moscow, Novgorod, and Kief. There are nine metropo¬
litans, thirteen archbishops, and twenty-nine bishops. All
aspiring to these dignities mwst be members of some mo¬
nastery, and unmarried. By a statement published a short
time since, the number of monasteries throughout the em¬
pire would appear to be 350, with 5330 monks. There
are ninety-eight nunneries, containing 4162 nuns; all of
them belong to the strict order of St Basil. There are
483 cathedrals, and 28,200 parish churches (of which 853
are situated in Bessarabia), with 218,418 ecclesiastics of the
orthodox Greek ritual, and 7311 ecclesiastics of the united
Greek ritual. The Russian clergy may be divided into
three classes; those who are in full orders, including “ pro-
topapi,” or inferior priests, and “ papi,” or common priests;
those who are only in what may be called half orders, such
as deacons and readers, wffio are not allowed to administer
the sacrament; and those who have received no ordination
RUSSIA.
581
Ca ,)lic
Cli i ::h.
Prr
antlmd
Lu
dies, at all, such as choristers and sacristans, who, strictly speak-
ing, do not belong to the clerical order, but merely dis¬
charge the duties of attendants.
It has been justly remarked, that the members of the re¬
ligious fraternities are here of more importance, compared
with the other clergy, than in the west of Europe, since
from them alone are the highest functionaries of the church
selected. They are divided into ecclesiastical functiona¬
ries of the highest class, such as metropolitans, archbishops,
and bishops ; heads of religious bodies, such as archiman¬
drites (abbots), and igumen (priors); and monks. Who¬
ever aims at the honour of being a bishop, &c. must of ne¬
cessity become a monk. On account of their higher learn¬
ing and more correct life, the monks are held in much
greater estimation than the secular clergy. They live a
life of abstinence and strict self-denial. Many of them are
men of profound learning and undoubted piety ; but it is
to be feared that the greater bulk of the lower orders of
ecclesiastics are among the most degraded that ever assum¬
ed the priestly habit in Europe. Many of them are as ig¬
norant as the boors with -whom they associate, drinking,
playing, and going to market with them like unsophisticated
serfs. The general state of morals in the Greek Church,
compared with those of Protestants in Russia, may be
inferred from the tables of births in St Petersburg, pub¬
lished by the holy synod. From these it appears, that out
of 8663 births, the number which took place in the year
1834, in families of the Greek Church not fewer than 1589
were illegitimate ; whilst in the Protestant congregations,
of 1031 infants who were baptized, only seventy-six were
illegitimate.1
The Catholic Church comprehends eighteen different or¬
ders, who possess 113 cloisters, in which there are 2200
monks. They support sixteen circuit and thirty-one pa¬
rochial schools, at which 3012 scholars receive instruction.
There are 666 nuns, belonging to ten different orders, and
inhabiting fifty-two nunneries. They support thirty-three fe¬
male schools, fifteen hospitals for the sick, and twelve poor-
houses for the aged and infirm. These educational and
benevolent institutions are attached to the cloisters. The
Catholic secular priesthood, comprising about two thousand
individuals, superintend a number of such establishments.
There are in all thirteen seminaries of a higher order, 201
parochial schools, with 7688 pupils, and 566 poor-houses,
with 4449 inmates. This enumeration is exclusive of Po¬
land, in which, in 1830, there were 1917 clergymen, 309
chapels of ease, 2369 secular priests, 156 monasteries with
1783 monks, and twrenty-nine nunneries with 354 nuns.
At the head of the clergy were one archbishop, eight bishops,
w ith a chapter of 276 dignitaries, canons, and the like. The
collective number of Catholic ecclesiastics in Russia and
Poland is estimated at 10,772.
The Protestants, consisting of Lutherans and some other
sects, are divided into two synods and eight consistories,
“'to which belong 865 places of devotion. Each of the con¬
sistories has a bishop as its president. The Razkolniks or
Apostates, that is, dissenters from the Greek Church, do
not compose a distinct ecclesiastical body, but exist in se¬
parate congregations, independently of one another, and
each having some distinctive shade of difference from all
the rest. They have a consecrated clergy, but of course
no common synod or consistory. Another sect, called the
Duchoborzy, differing still more widely from the Greek
Church than the former, have taken refuge in the steppes
beyond the Don, where they still profess their creed, but
without the aid of either churches or a priesthood.
st-
The Mahommedans have 4785 mosques in Russia, of Statistics,
which 2466 are head mosques. They have colleges, mul- v——'
lahs, and muftis, wrho regulate the religious affairs of the Mahom-
sect. medans.
The worshippers of the Grand Lama have their prin- Worsliip-
cipal religious establishment at Darsan, in the province ofPerso^tiie
Udinsk. They have a numerous priesthood, who are saidframl
to be very successful in making converts amongst the wan¬
dering tribes.
I he principal institution for the dissemination of the Bible so-
Holy Scriptures amongst the various tribes of the empire, cieties-
in their native languages, is established at St Petersburg,
and is in connection wdth the British and Foreign Bible
Society of London. It consists of fifty-eight sections and
289 auxiliary societies, situated in Moscow, Jaroslav, Dor-
pat, Mittau, Revel, Riga, Orenburg, Tobolsk, Irkutsk, and
other places. From the period of its institution in 1813
until June 1823, it had issued 184,851 complete Bibles,
315,928 New Testaments, and 204,052 Old Testaments,
in forty-one different languages and dialects. Its further
usefulness was greatly promoted by an arrangement made
in 1826, by which the sale of Bibles was for the future per¬
mitted. There is always a large supply of Bibles at Mos¬
cow, where those condemned to exile in Siberia may have
a copy, if they desire one, as they pass through this city on
their way to their place of banishment. It is well known
that all the exiles, in whatever part of the country they may
have received sentence, must take Moscow in their route
to Siberia.
As early as the eleventh century, public schools w ere Education,
founded at several places in Russia; but Peter the Great,
to whom Russia is indebted for her civilization and present
standing, was the first to plan a regular system of public
education. Elementary schools were established through¬
out the country; a naval and engineering school at St
Petersburg ; mathematical and navigation schools at Mos¬
cow' and other places ; ecclesiastical schools in the bishop¬
rics ; and Latin and Greek schools were also founded in
different towns of the empire. Shortly after the demise of
Peter, the St Petersburg Academy of Sciences was opened;
but the military schools were those which throve best un¬
der the Empresses Anne and Elizabeth.2 This last sove¬
reign, however, founded in 1755 an university at Moscow,
and two years afterwards an academy of the fine arts at
St Petersburg. Inferior public schools w-ere not regularly
organized until the year 1786, under the reign of the Em¬
press Catherine II. Boarding schools wrere established by
her authority in all the different governments of the em¬
pire. But a more important measure was the institution
of a central authority, intrusted with the care of dissemi¬
nating education. This organization underwent a com¬
plete reform under the Emperor Alexander, w ho substitut¬
ed, for the special commission of the former reign, a minis¬
ter of public instruction wdth more extensive powers. This
sovereign re-organized the university of Wilna, and found¬
ed those of Dorpat, St Petersburg, Kazan, and Kharkov.
He also established a gymnasium in the capital of every
government, and district schools in every district. But on
the accession of Nicholas the system underwent a total
change. A few immaterial forms were preserved, but the
spirit had departed. His object was to render the system of
instruction religious, monarchical, and national; but as the
two first terms are evidently auxiliaries of the last, we must
fuse the whole into two words, strictly national, a term of
profound import, as we shall presently see. Until the year
1835, all the civil schools of the empire throughout the se-
1 Bremner’s Excursions in the Interior of Russia, vol. ii. p. 133.
2 Prt'cis du Systtme, des Progi\s, 't de VEtat de rInstruction Publique en Itussie, redigtj d'nqircs des documents ojjidds. Par Alexandre ile
Krusenstern, Chambellan de S. M. PEmpereur de liussie. Warsaw, 1837, in 8vo.
582
RUSSIA.
Statistics, veral circuits were dependent, in relation to superintendence
' and administration, upon the universities situated in each
of these circuits. By the ukase of the 25th of June 1835,
they are placed under the ministry of public instruction, re¬
presented in the different circuits by sub-delegates called
curators, by which education is placed under the direct
and immediate control of government. The different
branches of the administration also take special cognizance
of the schools analogous to them. Thus, the military schools
are presided over by the war-office, the ecclesiastical schools
by the holy synod, and so on of the others. The whole
system is divided into four distinct parts: I. The ministry
of public instruction; II. Military schools: III. Ecclesias¬
tical schools: and, IV. Special and other schools.
I. Ministry of Public Instruction. This department
comprehends, 1. Education in public schools; 2. Educa¬
tion in private institutions ; 3. Domestic education ; 4.
Establishments destined for forming professors and masters;
5. The Academy of Sciences, the Russian Academy, the
other learned societies, the censorship, public libraries, mu¬
seums, and collections of every description. The public
schools are thus discriminated into, 1. Parish schools, in¬
tended for the lower orders, and allowed to teach only the
catechism, reading, writing, and the first four rules of arith¬
metic ; 2. District schools, having three classes intended
for the children of shopkeepers, and restricted in their
course of instruction to the catechism, caligraphy, drawing,
the first rudiments of grammar, arithmetic, geometry, geo¬
graphy, and history ; 3. Gymnasiums distributed by go¬
vernment, divided into seven classes, authorized to em¬
brace more elevated studies, but only accessible to the chil¬
dren of the nobility; 4. Universities of three faculties,
those of philosophy, of jurisprudence, and of medicine (the Statistics,,
university of Dorpat has a fourth, the faculty of theology),“y*-
and of which the courses last five years. The following is
a table of the state of the schools in 1835 throughout the
ten circuits of the Russian empire, exclusive of Poland,
which has a separate administration. It may be mention¬
ed, that another university has recently been established at
Vladimir, in Volhynia; so that, including the university of
Warsaw, there will be nine institutions of this description
throughout the Russian empire.
Number of
j Univer¬
sities .
1. Circuit of St Petersburg...
2. ... Moscow 
3. ... Kharkov 
4. .. Kazan 
5. ... Dorpat 
6. ... White Russia...
7. ... Kief. 
8. ... Odessa 
9. ... Caucasus 
10. ... Siberia 
Total.
Gymna¬
siums.
8
10
7
10
4
13
7
5
1
2
67
Infant
Schools.
571
914
209
187
248
239
82
59
15
39
Pupils.
11,911
16,259
11,446
8,459
8,826
11,530
6,790
4,647
1,285
2,043
2563 83,196
According to an official report lately issued by the mi¬
nister of public instruction, the number of pupils amount¬
ed in 1837 to 95,560. The progi’ess which the universities
have made, and also their present condition, will be seen
from the following table.
St Petersburg.
Moscow 
Kharkov  
Kazan 
Dorpat 
Kief. 
Total.
49
27
15
37
135
82
40
193
128
450
Professor8 ! Pupils.
and Masters. r
Professors p ;,
and Masters. r p lS-
38
59
43
34
39
51
820
337
118
365
213
1691
Professors
and Masters.
Pupils.
64
120
56
89
68
61
285
419
342
252
567
120
458
Libraries. Zoology.
Vols. MSS. Specimens.
21,854
50,7 i 2
31,435
29,874
60.473
44.474
1985
9,100
33,266
6,462
4,306
2,949
14,790 |
Medals.
293
6,289
19,957
8,843
19,760
Botany.
Specimens.
6,000
17,627
11,510
1,776
12,594
5,329
Mineralogy.
Specimens.
7,837
3,800
14,139
11,590
19,288
The number of schools under the minister of public in¬
struction has likewise increased ; and, viewing the general
table of the march of education in Russia, there appears to
be a progressive increase of the number of pupils. But, ex¬
amined in detail, some parts of the empire exhibit a strik¬
ing falling off. This is especially the case in some of the
provinces formerly Polish, where schools were suppressed
as a measure of policy.
The minister of public instruction has another import¬
ant duty besides those mentioned. He exercises a jealous
scrutiny of education in private and in boarding schools, as
well as domestic education ; no one being permitted to fol¬
low the profession of a teacher unless he has at least un¬
dergone an examination at one of the universities. Pri¬
vate institutions of instruction are usually conducted by fo¬
reigners, who, lest they should propagate forbidden truths,
are placed under the inspection of the local authorities, and
cannot make use of any books but those appointed by go¬
vernment. Other means are taken to shackle these pri¬
vate schools, and deter foreigners from settling in Russia
as teachers of the people. But private or domestic tuition
even by natives is discouraged. No father has the power
of selecting the instructors of his children at his own plea¬
sure ; he must take them from amongst the individuals
licensed by government, or furnished with an authority
which gives them the character of public functionaries. No
Russian subject is permitted to be educated in a foreign
country under eighteen years of age ; and even after that
age it is the emperor alone who can grant the necessary
permission. In 1829 there was founded at St Petersburg
what is called an Upper Teacher’s Institution, a sort of
normal school, its object being the preparation of tutors
for the gymnasia and lyceums of the empire. It stands
next in order after the universities, and the number of pu¬
pils in 1835 was 146.
II. Military Schools. These institutions especially en-Military
gage the solicitude of government; they multiply with school:,
amazing rapidity, and absorb far too much of the funds al¬
lotted to national education. The numerous establishments
of this class have been arranged under the categories of, 1.
Schools placed under the direction of his Imperial High¬
ness the Grand Duke Michael; 2. Schools under the direc¬
tion of the navy board; and, 3. Military schools, especially
reserved for soldiers’ children, and which are under the con¬
trol of the minister of war. The first are pretty widely
distributed throughout the empire; the second class, de¬
signated navy, battalion of pilots, and instruction for work¬
men, are established only at St Petersburg, Cronstadt, M-
colaief, and Sebastopol; and the third are planted in the
military colonies. Their actual condition in 1835 was,
RUSSIA.
: sties.
583
Pupils.
Annual Budget.
Roubles.
Schools under the first head... 8,733 6,255,000
Ditto under the second do  2,224  632,194
Ditto under the third do 169,024 1,800,000
Total 179,981 8,687,194
Of these, 179,500 are supported by government.
III. Ecclesiastical Schools* 1 here are numerous esta¬
blishments of this nature in Russia, which, as relates to
their management, are divided into two heads. The first
comprehends the schools of the Greek Church, under the
control of the holy synod, and directed by a special com¬
mission; the second, the ecclesiastical schools belonging
to other forms of worship, which schools are under the su¬
perintendence of the minister of the interior. All these
schools are divided into three circuits or departments, viz.
those of St Petersburg, Moscow, and Kief. Each district
has a superior school, called the ecclesiastical academy;
with a certain number of intermediary schools or semina¬
ries, for the most part established in the chief provincial
towns, and of inferior schools, divided into district and pa¬
rochial ones. 1 hese establishments are exclusively reserved
for the children of the clergy, an arrangement exactly of a
piece with the system practised in the common schools. In
1835 the ecclesiastical institutions stood thus : 
Schools. Pupils.
Greek Church 384 58,586
United or pure Greek Church  23  1,274
Roman Catholic Church 275  7,073
Catholic Armenian Church  5  137
Gregorian Armenian Church  14  319
Total 701 67,389
Of this number of pupils, 41,586 pay their own expenses,
10,517 receive pecuniary aid from government, and 15,408
are educated wholly at the expense of the state.
I\. Various Schools. Tire numerous establishments
which are comprehended under this head are classified ac¬
cording to the different ministers, or members of the impe¬
rial family, who especially superintend them. 1. Under the
minister of finance. These consist of mining schools, dis¬
tributed into inferior, middle, and superior seminaries, where
the art of mining is taught. They are situated at St Pe¬
tersburg, and in the principal manufacturing and mining
districts. 1 hey are organized on the same vicious prin¬
ciple as the others, being confined to the children of miners,
as if talents for particular arts were hereditary in families.
The total number of pupils in the mining schools is 4613,
who are allowed for their support by government 647,911
roubles annually. Private individuals support similar esta¬
blishments, at which there may be a thousand pupils more.
There are ten other various kinds of schools under the mi¬
nister of finance. The Practical Institution of Technology
was founded in 1828, and intended to form master manu¬
facturers. Two mercantile-marine schools, for forming
pilots, were both established in 1829 at St Petersburg and
Kherson. There are, besides, the Forest Institute, the
Academy of Commerce at Moscow, the Agricultural School
at Gorygoretsk, schools of land-surveying and design at
Tchernigov, and two schools for forest sciences, all as yet
in their infancy. They are attended by 608 pupils, which,
ed to those attending the mine-schools, makes the num- Statistics.
her ot pupils in the schools of this class amount to 6221.'' v 
The annual budget is 1,032,191 roubles. 2. Schools un¬
der the minister of the interior. These are schools of me¬
dicine, surgery, and pharmacy, all independent of the uni¬
versity faculties ; rural schools for the cultivation of the
vine, and lor agriculture in general; schools for the sons
of persons employed in subaltern situations in public of¬
fices, who are supported by the state on condition of serv¬
ing it eight years ; and schools for orphans and poor chil-
dien. ihe establishments under the minister of the inte¬
rior contain 13,340 pupils, of whom 10,500 are in the hos-
pitals. 3. Under the minister of the emperor’s household
are the Moscow Academy of the Fine Arts, Moscow School
of Architecture, the Theatrical School of St Petersburg,
and the Court School of Singers.1 These contain in all
only about 345 pupils. 4. The minister of appanages has
under him some schools of agriculture, and primary schools
tor the peasants, but containing only 1070 pupils. 5. Un¬
der the general direction of roads and communications is
a school of civil engineers and conductors, containing 665
pupils. 6. Under the minister of justice are a school'of ju¬
risprudence, and another of land-surveying, to train youth
for the exclusive service of government. "These two'esta¬
blishments contain 350 pupils. 7. Under the foreign of¬
fice is an oriental institution for qualifying individuals to act
as diplomatic interpreters in the Asiatic tongues. 8. Institu¬
tions under the reigning empress, comprehending the found¬
ling hospitals of Moscow and St Petersburg, the boarding-
schools for young ladies at St Petersburg, Moscow, and
Odessa, which contain 52,912 pupils. The empress has fur¬
ther under her control several patriotic establishments, most¬
ly appropriated to the education of children of indigent or
invalid officers. In all they contain 1122 pupils. There
are also a number of benevolent institutions, such as houses
of industry, establishments for the deaf and dumb, the blind,
and others. 9. Ihe Archduchess Helena superintends a
number of educational institutions, established in different
provincial towns, and managed by the local authorities.
10. There remain to be added to the above a number of
schools which are supported without any assistance from
government. All the foregoing derive considerable pecu¬
niary aid from that source. There are four German schools
at St Petersburg, and 750 in the German colonies, having
in all 35,746. In the same provinces are 561 Tartar schools,
w ith 14,000 pupils ; and there are two Jewish schools, with
500 pupils. At Orusk, Cossack and Asiatic schools have
been instituted. The latter are intended to supply inter¬
preters to all the frontier line of Siberia.
The following is M. de Krusenstern’s estimate of the es¬
tablishments of education throughout the Russian empire :
Pupils. Money supplied
r by Orovernment.
. . . Roubles.
Ihe ministry of public instruction 85,707 7,450,000
Military schools 179,981 8,687,194
Ecclesiastical schools  67,024 3,000,000
Divers schools 127,864 9,596,947
Total 460,576 28,734,141
This upon a population of 48,000,000, exclusively of the
Asiatic population, gives about one pupil for every 104
Travellers have remarked, that the Russians possess a singular aptitude for music; and Reicha, a very eminent musician, par-
icularly notices the admirable accuracy with which the vocal music is performed in the churches, without the aid of any instru-
mental accompaniment. But in Russia the music of the church, the theatre, the concert-room, and the chamber, has been chiefly in-
ebted for its progress to Italian and German musicians, though the native music and musical instruments of Russia are sufficiently in¬
teresting to deserve much more consideration than has hitherto been bestowed upon them. The occurrence of popular airs in Finland
in the unusual measure of | is vouched by continental writers. In the interior of Russia, there appear to be many native airs of an
uncommon character in respect of melody and tonality. The celebrated Russian horn-music, though very remarkable in its kind,
584 II U S
statistics, of the inhabitants. He estimates the number of children
receiving a home education at 597,424 individuals, which
would give to Russia one pupil enjoying education for every
iifty of the inhabitants. According to M. Ouvaroff’s last
report, this proportion had in 1837 become one in forty-
five. The data upon which both the minister and Krusen-
stern make their calculations are very problematical. We
greatly doubt if the proportion is so high as it is here given.
Mr Bremner states' that “ popular education is advancing
but slowly ; for in many of the governments of the inte¬
rior, out of every four or five hundred of the population,
there is not more than one young person attending school.
The educational schemes of the government have hitherto
been unsuccessful in the provinces, because the people,
being ignorant of the value of instruction, seldom think of
sending their children to school. In the large cities, how¬
ever, public seminaries are most successfully conducted and
numerously attended.” With regard to the provinces, con¬
sidering the character both of the country and oi the pea¬
santry, we think that there may be some truth in Mr Brem-
ner’s statement; but it cannot be of very extensive appli¬
cation, the discrepancy being so great between it and those
of the individuals mentioned.
Spence and Independently of the institutions occupied directly in the
learned so- education of youth, Russia has further her academies of
eieties. science, her learned societies, her public libraries, and her
museums. The number of scientific establishments in St
Petersburg is very great; and the merits of the Imperial
Academy of Sciences, in relation to its mathematical, astro¬
nomical, mineralogical, and geographical labours, are incon¬
testable. The universities of Moscow and Dorpat are also
highly celebrated. The institution last named would appear
to be the most prosperous of all the universities in Russia,
many of its professors, such as Struve the astronomer, Par¬
rot the traveller, and others, being men of great eminence
in the scientific world. Of the Russian libraries, that of St
Petersburg is the richest and most considerable, contain¬
ing 413,000 volumes. After it rank the Hermitage Library,
consisting of 100,000 volumes ; the library of the Academy
of Sciences, 90,000 volumes; and those belonging to the
universities of Dorpat, Moscow, Kief, Kazan, Kharkov, and
St Petersburg, each being highly respectable, as will be
seen from a table already given. In 1837, the total amount
of books in the public libraries of Russia amounted to
858,635 volumes. It ought to be mentioned, however, that
about two thirds of the scientific and literary treasure of
Prussia have been plundered from unhappy Poland. The num¬
ber of literary and scientific institutions throughout the em¬
pire, including several purely philanthropic associations, may
be estimated at fifty, of which twenty belong to St Peters¬
burg alone.
Poor-laws* In Russia proper, the owners of estates are under obliga¬
tions to provide their peasantry with the means of support,
and in times of distress to relieve them. On the estates
belonging to the crown, a methodical system of parochial
relief is established, each parish being compelled to supply
its destitute poor, in poor-houses, with fuel, food, and cloth¬
ing. In Courland, Esthonia, and Livonia, a similar com¬
pulsory system is established, the landowners and farmers
contributing in proportion to their occupations or rental,
and the overseers being elected by the rate-payers. Public
begging is forbidden, and vagrants set to work by the over¬
seers. Even in Siberia the authorities are under legal ob¬
ligation to prevent any individual of the people committed
S I A.
to their charge from suffering want, or remaining without Statistics.
assistance when in distress. In the Russo-Polish provinces v—^
a similar system prevails as in Russia proper.
The productions of the Russian press are no index to Literature ft
the national cultivation. Amongst the great body of theandthe
people there is little or no taste for literature. It is only Press-
amongst the higher classes that any thing like a reading pub¬
lic is to be found ; so that it may well be believed native
authors, or translators of foreign literature, have little en¬
couragement held out to them, at least of a public nature.
It redounds, howev.er, to the credit of the late sovereigns of
Russia, and the more wealthy of the nobles, that they have
done much to foster Russian literature, by the munificent fa¬
vours which they have bestowed on native writers. But that
ready market, a large and intelligent reading community, is
alone calculated to draw forth to any great extent the talents
and the genius of native writers, and to promote the inte¬
rests of literature. Thus, although many eminent men have
appeared in Russia as authors, such as Lomonoscoff, Mura-
vieff, Karamzin, Pouschkin (a celebrated poet, who perished
in a duel in the flower of his age, February 1837), and some
others, its literature is yet in an infant or imitative state.
The greater number of the books that are published are
translations from the German and French, and their circu¬
lation is limited. Karamzin’s History of Russia, the most
popular work ever published in that country, and said to be
the one most widely circulated, sold only to the extent of
1500 copies in two editions. In the Russian empire are
published eighty papers and minor periodicals, and about
twelve scientific and literary journals. Of course, nothing
like the liberty of the press is known in Russia. Indeed
there cannot be said to exist a press at all in the common
acceptation of the term, as the newspapers are published by
the government, and no periodical literature of a political
character exists in the Russian language. In 1837, the print¬
ing establishments in the empire were 171, of which ninety-
four were maintained by government, and seventy-seven by-
private persons. There were seventy-four lithographic es¬
tablishments, nine of which were supported by government.
A strict censorship of the press has been instituted, and its
jealous vigilance is particularly directed to English news¬
papers, all but the Morning Post being absolutely prohibit¬
ed from entering the capital. The censorships of the press
are conducted according to the precepts of a new regulation,
which is due to the solicitude of the Emperor Nicholas, and
was issued in 1828. In university towns it is intrusted to
committees, and everywhere else committed to censors ap- W
pointed ad hoc. The censorship of works relating to religion
rests with the ecclesiastical authorities. Every book hostile
to the creed of the Greek church, to monarchical or autocra¬
tical authority, to decency, to morality, to the honour of in¬
dividuals, is prohibited. The first duty of the censors in ex¬
amining a book, is “ to consider what is the object that the
author has proposed to himself.” These rules apply alike to
national and to foreign works. Literary property is a vested
interest during the life of the author, and for twenty-five
years after his death. Literary piracy is punished by a fine
equivalent to double the cost of an edition of twelve hundred
copies. In 1835, seven hundred and eight works were print¬
ed in Russia, and three thousand foreign volumes were im¬
ported. Mr Bremner informs us, that in spite of all restric¬
tions, “ Russian literature is advancing with great rapidity.
Under this head two languages are to be distinguished. Russian
1. The Russian language, originally the dialect of the Sclavi, la^uagc.
must be considered as of foreign introduction, and as the result of great musical aptitude, and of most careful and labonous t £•
About the middle of the eighteenth century, J. A. Maresch, a Bohemian, and a very skilful horn-player, who was setUed at S et
burg, invented there the famous Russian horn-music. For a brief account of it, see the Appendix to Graham s Essay on ^lu^c. rich’s
position; and for minute details regarding the notation and the mode of performance oi this kind ot music, consult J.
work, Entstehung, Fort gang und jetzige Beschaffenheit der Russischen Jagdmuiiik, published at St Petersburg m 79 •
1 Excursions in the Interior of Russia, in two vols. 8vo, 1839.
RUSSIA.
St ■ sties, who founded the empire. It underwent various changes
s-| r"^ along with the empire itself, the Scandinavian, Mongolian,
Tartar, and German, also the Polish and French languages,
being all by degrees incorporated with it to a greater or
less extent. This improveirfent is continually advancing by
means of the national literature. 2. The Sclavonian lan¬
guage, or that of the Sclavonian Bible. It was fixed by the
translation of the Holy Scriptures, and so settled that it has
since experienced but few alterations. From the combina¬
tion of these two a mixed language arose, which was used in
sermons, rhetorical prose, and the higher species of poetry.
The following extract presents a concise view of the way
in which the Russian language began to assume its present
form. “ From the thirteenth to the fourteenth century,”
says the celebrated Karamsin, “ our language generally be¬
came more pure and more correct. Our scrupulous authors
gave up the use of the Russian language, as yet too rude,
in order to attach themselves more strongly to that which
had been employed in composing the books of our church,
namely, the ancient Servian, in which our Bible is written.
They followed its rules, not only in the declensions and con¬
jugations, but even in the pronunciation and orthography ;
nevertheless, as may be seen in Nestor, the force of habit
made them often recur to their natural idioms, a circum¬
stance which has introduced into our literature a mixture
consecrated by antiquity, and so deeply rooted amongst us,
that often in the same book, and in the same page, we write
zldto and zoloto (gold), glad and golod (hunger), mladost
and molodost (youth). The time had not yet arrived for
giving to the Russian language that energy, that flexibility,
that grace and delicacy, which in the days of peace and pros¬
perity are coupled with the rapid progress of the intellec¬
tual faculties, with richness of ideas, and variety of know¬
ledge, as well as with the formation of taste and the sense
of the beautiful. We see, however, that our ancestors en¬
deavoured to express their thoughts with more distinctness ;
that they sought to soften the still too rude sound of words,
and to give less stiffness to their style. In short, putting
1 aside all national pride, we may say that though, compared
with other Europeans, the Russians might appear very ig¬
norant, they were nevertheless far from having lost all the
fruits of civilization ; they proved how much force it has to
resist the rudest assaults of barbarism.”1 The study of the
Russian language is extremely difficult; and from the fact
of its not yet being in a state which would entitle it to be
called fixed, it is an arduous study, even for the natives,
farter The accounts of the Russian character in the works of
oftj itus-ti-,ose have resided or travelled in the country, are ex¬
tremely conflicting. He who impartially weighs the evi¬
dence of Coxe, Tooke, Clarke, Porter, Wilson, Cochrane,
Holman, Londonderry, Bremner, and others, will arrive at
the conclusion, which might have been suspected before
the investigation began, that whilst there are not a few
dark stains on the national character, many of them are at¬
tributable to the peculiar political system under which the
people live, to their general ignorance hitherto, and to the
low character and unclerical behaviour of the secular clergy;
and that under a proper system of government, instruction,
and religious discipline, the Russians would not be far be¬
hind some of their continental neighbours who hold a much
higher place in the scale of civilization and morals. The
opinion which generally prevails in this country regarding
the Russians as a people does them injustice. If, as Dr
Lyall asserts, they are “ insinuating and cunning, deceitful
and perfidious, sensual and immoral,” it must not be forgot¬
ten, that any natural tendency to these vices not only re¬
mains unchecked by proper secular and religious instruc¬
tion, but is fostered, as in a hot-bed, by a state of slavery,
585
or semi-vassalage, which is little better. Amongst all the Statistics,
nations of Europe, in Russia alone is one half of the popu- -'v——'
lation a marketable commodity, or something not very far
removed from it. But we question much if the natural
bias to the crimes and vices mentioned by Dr Lyall and
others be very strong. From circumstances, how ever, they
have received a powerful development; and from the state¬
ments of more recent travellers, it would seem that they
are gradually becoming less conspicuous. They are fond
of novelties, amusements, and gambling, particularly of card-
playing. I hey are extremely partial to singing, and their
talents for imitation and the acquisition of languages are
universally allowed to be remarkable. With regard to the
former, Dr Clarke observes, “ their surprising powers of
imitation exceed all that has been hitherto known.”
The foregoing observations apply to the bulk of the com¬
munity. With regard to the Russian nobles, it may be
briefly stated, that the style of living of the wealthy greatly
resembles that of the higher ranks in other parts of Europe.
With the exception of a few traits of a national cast, there
is little distinction between the majority of the Russian no¬
bility and those wffio move in the polite circles in Paris or
in London. French and German are spoken with as much
facility as the Russian language. French is the court lan¬
guage, and in spite of the invasion of 1812, and the loss of
Moscow, the manners and literature of France are held in
universal esteem. The wealthy nobles expend enormous
sums on their entertainments, and many a goodly estate is
mortgaged to gratify this passion for display.
The national dress of Russia consists of a long coat reach- Dress, &c.
ing to the calves of the legs, with numerous tucks at the
bottom of the waist; a waistcoat of coloured linen, having
the neck bare ; and thin boots and shoes of the bark of the
linden tree. In winter a sheep-skin pelisse is substituted
for the coat. The dress of the higher ranks is now formed
studiously on the European model, though no other part of
Europe can rival the gorgeous robes worn by the nobles
and bishops on public occasions, or the profusion of dia¬
monds which emblazon their persons. The national amuse¬
ments are chiefly those afforded by the ice. A favourite
diversion is the ice-hill, or mountain, as the Russians call
it, on whose sides are formed steep inclined planes, down
which the adventurer throws himself, seated on a machine,
which he guides with surprising skill. Swinging is another
Russian diversion; to which may be added the common
ones of dancing, and of a national music, which, with the
songs and ballads to which it is sung, is very plaintive and
pleasing.
There are ten orders of knighthood or of merit in this Miscella-
empire, three of which v/ere established by Peter the Great, neons,
the parent of Russian civilization. They are both of a civil
and military description ; and many of them are divided in¬
to several classes, some having five, others three and four.
But the indiscriminate manner in which these marks of dis¬
tinction are bestowed greatly lessens their value. Even
private soldiers have frequently half a dozen bits of ribbon
strung in a line across the breast, and common policemen
are sometimes bedecked in the same manner. A general
officer in the Russian service is usually covered with or¬
ders of one kind or another. It is a fact worthy of remark,
that the calendar has not yet been reformed in Russia.
The reason assigned by the Russians for thus remaining
twelve days in arrear of all other nations, is partly the fear
which the emperor has of any serious innovations giving
offence to his nobles, and partly the unwillingness of the
clergy to accede to any change which would so materially
disarrange the present order of their numerous feasts or
saints’ days. Without the sanction of the priesthood, such
1 Histoirc de VEmpire de llussie, par M Karamsin, traduite par MM. Si Thomas et Jauffret, tome v. Paris, 1819-1826.
VOL. XIX. ^ E
586
RUSSIA.
Statistics, an important reform could not be completely carried into
effect.
Lakes.
Asiatic Russia.
Russia in Asia comprehends the whole northern portion
of it, extending from latitude 38° 40' to 78° north, and
from longitude 37° 14' to 190° 22' east from Greenwich.
It is bounded on the west by European Russia and the
Black Sea; on the south by Asiatic Turkey, Persia, the
Caspian and Aral Seas, the territories of the iurkomans
and Kirghises,1 and China; on the east by the Pacific Ocean
and Behring’s Straits ; and the Frozen Ocean extends along
the whole of its northern limits. Its greatest extent from
west to east is about 4142 miles, and its greatest breadth
from north to south is about 1933 miles. This vast domi¬
nion is calculated to be spread over twenty-seven ninetieths
of the land of the globe.
General The Ural Mountains, already described, run along the
aspect. western limits of Asiatic Russia. On the south-west ex¬
tends the Caucasus, and on the west the Altai range. 1 he
eastern division of the Russian territory, from the river
Yenisei or lenessi, has on its southern and eastern parts
vast mountain ranges; and on its interior there are several
chains that run to the Arctic Ocean in gigantic masses. 4 his
portion of Siberia is covered with woods, large lakes, or ex¬
tensive and elevated plains, and terminates towards the
shores of the Frozen Ocean, in vast fields of eternal ice.
The western division, with the exception of the mountain
ranges mentioned, taken as a whole, may be described as a
vast level plain, partially watered, but by its climate and
soil ill adapted for the increase or the comfort of human
beings.
Rivers. The rivers of Asiatic Russia that empty themselves into
the Arctic Sea are amongst the most considerable of the
ancient world. The most remarkable of these are, 1st, the
Obe, whose course is 2170 miles in length, during which it
receives the great rivers the Tom, the Kek, the Irtysh, the
Tyda, and all their tributary streams. 2d, The Yenisei,
which has a course of 3115 miles, with fewer sinuosities
than are usually observed in other great rivers. It receives
the waters of fourteen large streams, and all their tributary
collections. 3d, The Piasana, whose course is 300 miles.
4th, The Taimurskoe, a short stream issuing from a lake of
the same name. 5th, The Khatanga, which empties itself
into the Bay of Khatangaskoi, on the Frozen Ocean. 6th,
The Anabara, an arctic stream. 7th, The Olenk, whose
waters only become considerable after entering the arctic
circle. 8th, The Lena, one of the largest of the Asiatic
Russian rivers. It rises in the Baikal Mountains, to the
north of China, in latitude 52° 30', and empties itself in¬
to the ocean in latitude 70° 40', and longitude 164° 26',
after receiving the waters of fourteen large rivers and their
numerous tributary streams. 9th, The Omoloi ; 10th, the
Jana; 11th, the Indigirka; 12th, the Alazeja; 13th, the
Kolyma; 14th, the Tchauna; and, 15th, the Amgonia. The
streams whose courses have been traced to fall into the sea
of Kamtschatka, between Asia and America, are the Ana¬
dyr, the Katirka, the Kamtschatka, the Penshena, the Tilcha,
the Ischiga, the Tauna, the Okhota, the Uda, the Argun,
and the Shilka. The rivers which descend from the Asia¬
tic side into the Black Sea and Caspian have already been
noticed.
The lakes in Russian Asia are very numerous, and some
of them very extensive. One of the largest is the Baikal, in
Siberia, between latitude 52° and 55°, and longitude 104°
26' and 109° 56', extending over 11,180 square miles. Its
water is clear and bright, and the depth varies from eighteen Statistics,
to five hundred feet. It is covered with ice from the mid-v-“"v^
die of December till April. The river Angara, which runs
to the Yenisei, issues from it. It contains a great number
of rocky islands, the largest of which is called Olchon. The
lakes next in extent are the Tchani and the Piasenskoe,
both in the government of Tomsk. Every province has
one or more lakes, several of which are of salt water, and
on whose banks a natural crystallization prepares culinary
salt for the use of the inhabitants.
There are several plains or steppes of great extent in Steppes,
Asiatic Russia, the most remarkable being the Kirghis
Steppe, between the Irtysh and Orenburg boundary line.
It is a very dry and barren district, with some lakes whose
water is saline. The few rivers have copious streams in
the spring from the melted snows, but in summer become
dried up. There is also the Steppe of Bolschei; of Jettish,
to the eastward of the Ural; of Ischim, on both sides of the
river of that name, between Tobol and the Irtysh; and the
Baraba or Barbinska, between the Irtysh and the Ob or
Obe. It is about two hundred miles in breadth, and its
surface is by no means dry and arid, as is commonly thought,
but, on the contrary, rather suffers from an abundance of
water, being chiefly covered with large and small lakes and
extensive swamps, and also traversed by several small rivers,
which partly fall into the Om, an eastern tributary of the
Irtysh, and partly into the Irtysh and Obe. Some portions
of it present a perfect level, like the ocean in a calm;
others are slightly undulating, and covered with grass, some
birch, and poplar. Some lakes are salt, and occasionally
the surface of the ground is covered with saline efflores¬
cence. In this steppe a peculiar disease is prevalent, called
the Siberian plague. To these may be added the Arctic
Plain, between the 67th degree of latitude and the Frozen
Ocean, whose whole surface is little more than morasses,
mixed with rocks, and bound up by frost between ten and
eleven months in the year. These extensive plains are
sometimes passed by the wandering tribes, who find sub¬
sistence on the less sterile spots which are to be met with
on the banks of the rivers that bound them, ihe south¬
ern districts, however, possess a great deal of land equally
adapted for tillage and for pasture. The forests abound
with game; and the rivers are well stocked with fish.
The climate differs little from that of European Russia. Climate
The principal productions are wheat, rye, barley, oats, andan^F^
buck-wheat, which grows wild in the middle of Siberia. uc
The return is small, but the crops have increased with the
introduction of more improved methods of cultivating the
soil. The southern territory along the upper part of the
Irtysh, as well as along the Tobol, the Izet, and others of
its tributaries, which are covered with luxuriant pastures,
might be made to yield very rich crops, if the inhabitants
would change their taste for a pastoral life, and till the
ground. For some time past indeed the Kirghises have
shown indications of commencing agriculture, especially the
poorer classes, who cultivate, upon the borders of the lakes
and rivers, fields of corn, rye, barley, and millet. But not¬
withstanding the general neglect of agriculture, the pro¬
duce is in some parts extremely plentiful. Immense crops
are raised without the aid of manure, so that living is very
cheap. In many parts the goats and sheep, and in some
the oxen, furnish food for the inhabitants; whilst in others
they derive subsistence from the fish with which the seas,
lakes, and rivers abound. The rearing of sheep for wool
is a branch of industry lately introduced into Siberia, and
is likely to thrive.
[jiitiei’5'
'
> This part of the Russian frontier, known by the name of “ the line of the Cossacks of Siberia,” traverses the extensive plains which
separate Ural from Altai. The direction of this line, from the redoubts of Siberia to the village of Finalka, situated at the toot
Altai, is in length 1707 versts, and is marked by four towns, eleven tortresses, fifteen fortified advanced costs, and eighty-four rtd
RUSSIA.
S sties
Mini
The territory which stretches along the Asiatic frontier
deserves particular mention, as the most favoured district of
Siberia. This vast space is chiefly inhabited by Cossacks,
colonised warriors, divided into several regiments ; and al¬
though other colonists, as peasants, shopkeepers, Sec. have
established themselves there, the population does not at
present exceed 45,000. The Cossacks are privileged to
trade with the Kirghises, without paying the taxes of either
of the three guilds ; in their military capacity they mount
guard in turn at the different posts ; their leisure time is
employed in the rearing of cattle, gardening, hunting, and
fishing. The territory they occupy is for the most part
very fertile, especially between the forty-ninth and fifty-
first degrees of latitude, where the soil spontaneously pro¬
duces fruit-trees, melons, tobacco, &c.; whilst in the most
eastern part, the solitary but picturesque and fruitful val¬
leys of Altai, i^ch in every description of odoriferous flowers
and aromatic herbs, enable the inhabitants to rear innume¬
rable swarms of bees, and to furnish the greatest part of Si¬
berian honey. Several manufactories, especially that of
leather, have been established in the towns; but trade is
yet in its infancy, and scarcely developed. Its progress
and improvement will doubtless hereafter enhance the va¬
lue of the natural productions of these regions, amongst
which must be reckoned the lakes of salt water so nume¬
rous in the steppes. Important as they are in relation to
trade and commerce, these lakes likewise present to the na¬
turalist a series of interesting phenomena. Their waters
hold so great a quantity of salt in solution, that the action
of the summer heat is of itself sufficient to convert it into
crystals, which, carried towards the banks by the action of
the waves, form there shoals of salt of an immense extent.
Magazines have been formed upon the borders of Lake Ko-
riak, the only one situated on the right bank of the Irtysh,
and the salt therein preserved generally amounts to several
millions of poods. Large quantities of this article are an¬
nually carried across the Irtysh to Tobolsk. But how¬
ever rich this lake may be, it is less so than three others,
the Karashack, the Kalkaman, and the Djemantons, si¬
tuated in the steppes on the right bank of the Irtysh.
Each of these basins is from twenty to twentv-five versts
in circumference; and the action of the solar rays produces
in them, during the summer season, crystals of salt so nu¬
merous, that by mutual contact they at length form thick
and solid arches, which, like winter ice, cover the surface
of the lakes. These masses are frequently nine inches
thick ; the action of the air whitens the upper layers; the
lower ones preserve a bluish tint, which in some places as¬
sumes a beautiful violet hue ; and the solidity of these crys¬
tal fields is such that horses, chariots, and even camels, pass
over them with the greatest safety. Ten other lakes are
also found between the Irtysh and Redoubt of Siberia.
The mines of Russian Asia are by far more productive
than those of any other portion of the empire, as from them
is extracted the whole of the gold, silver, platina, and lead,
nine tenths of the copper, and eleven twelfths of the iron
which is brought into use. Zinc, arsenic, and bismuth, to¬
gether with precious stones, are also found. These mines
are situated in the Uralian and Altaian ranges of moun¬
tains. It is in those parts of these chains which face Sibe¬
ria, that is, the eastern slope of the Ural, and the northern
declivities of the Altai, with its secondary branches, that are
found the veins of precious metal. The best account of
these mines is that contained in a recent book of travels by
Gustav Rose.1 “ The sand containing small particles of
gold occurs along the eastern declivity of the Uralian range,
in numerous places north of 56° north latitude, and extends
587
beyond 60° north latitude. It occurs in the western decli- Statistics.
vdy likewise, but only in a few places, and contains less ' v--—"
' n *ie Siberian side of the range, the sand from
which the gold is extracted contains about one and a half
or two solotmk of gold in a pood, or from to ;
™at which contains less is at present not worked.” But Mr
Rose says that even sand containing only 7 > of gold can
still be washed with profit. “ The expenses in washing sand
containing between and ^ of gold amount com¬
monly to two fifths ot its net produce. Sometimes sand is
found of winch i and even ^ is gold. A small quan¬
tity oi silver is always mixed with the gold ; it amounts to
between two and eleven parts in one hundred. Near the
Altai Mountains, likewise, gold sand has been discovered in
some places, and they have begun working it. The first
establishment for working this sand in the Ural was made
in 1814, at Beresowsk, near Ikaterineburg, and since that
time they have been increasing in number and extent.
Last year (1836) the produce of all the Russian mines gave
27,885 marcs of gold, of which more than two thirds were
derived from the washing of the sand.” The platina mines
are situated on the western declivity of the Ural, about the
parallel of 5/° 40' north. They are six in number, and lie
at a short distance from one another. “ In the most north¬
ern, called Sukhowissimokoi, the discovery of the sand
containing platina was made in 1825, and at the other places
it was found soon afterwards. The proportion of platina
is much larger than that of gold, as it amounts on an aver¬
age to of the whole mass. Sometimes pieces are found
weighing some ounces, and even half a pound and upwards.
A small quantity of gold is united with platina. In 1834
platina was discovered in layers of serpentine. The pro¬
duce of platina in 1836 amounted to 8270 marcs.”2
The field opened for researches is so vast, that years of
methodical and persevering examination have not yet been
sufficient to explore all the valleys and summits of these
immense chains, a vast extent not having yet been visited
by the officers of the Mining Board. The examination of
these parts, as yet almost unknown, is pursued with the
greatest regularity. The two chains, the Ural and the Al¬
tai, are divided into several mining districts. In each of
them the officers to whom is confided the direction of the
works, send out every summer detachments of discovery,
wdiose duty it is to examine in detail the mountains assign¬
ed to them, the point at which the expedition stopped the
preceding year being generally that of departure for the
new one. We have already stated the quantities of metal
which these mines produce annually. With regard to the
diamonds, Mr Rose states that only small stones are found,
their number up to July 1833 amounting only to thirty-
three.
The manufactures are few and unimportant, with the ex- ManUfkC-
ception of spirits and leather, which are made to a consi- tures and
derable extent at Tobolsk, and the towns in the neighbour-commerce,
hood. There are here 114 tanneries, besides a number of
establishments for soap-boiling and the melting of tallow.
Cotton and woollen are begun to be manufactured into
coarse stuffs in one or two parts. The breweries, but es¬
pecially the distilleries, are more numerous than any other
manufacturing, objects. Making corn-spirits is a royal mo¬
nopoly, but in some of the Asiatic cities it is let to farm by
the government. The chief commerce is internal, between
the several provinces whose productions are most different
from each other. Trade is carried on to a great extent at
Tobolsk, the capital of the country. With the exception of
the clergy and persons employed in the service of govern¬
ment, almost all are engaged in it, exchanging the produce
1 Beise nach dem Ural, dem Altai, und dem Kaspischen Meere, von Augustav Rose, vol. i. Berlin, 1837.
2 Journal of the Royal Geographical Society, vol. vii. p. 399.
588
RUSSIA.
Statistic?, of European Russia, corn, meal, andiron, tools and utensils,
v—'' for the skins, cattle, caviare, fish salted and fresh, and game
brought to them from the interior by the Ostiaks or Tar¬
tars. Every year the merchants of Tobolsk, Tumene, and
the other towns, send boats laden with flour up the Irtysh
and the Obe to Berezoif, and the other small towns situated
farther to the north; and these boats return freighted with
fish. The clerks and agents belonging to these merchants,
and who are established in the small towns upon the banks
of the Obe, purchase of the Ostiaks valuable furs, which, to¬
gether with soap, tallow, and leather, they afterwards export,
partly to the fair of Niznei-Novgorod, and partly to the Kirg-
hises of the steppes, who pay them in horses, cattle, and
cotton stuffs, purchased by themselves of the Bukharians;
the remaining produce ot the government of Tobolsk is
exported by the way of Kiakhta into China, whence are
brought in exchange silks and tea. Kiakhta is the solitary
point of commercial intercourse between the two great em¬
pires of Russia and China. Almost all the principal houses
in Russia have an agent at Kiakhta; while the Chinese
traffickers consist chiefly of temporary visiters without their
families. The Russians here receive the staples of China,
for which they give the productions of their own country
in return. The nature and extent of the commerce of
Kiakhta will be seen from the following statement.
Exportation of Russian Merchandise in 1835.
Roubles.
Skins to the amount of. 2,229,377
Leather  742,481
Linen  203,115
Cottons  933,876
Cloths 718,221 archines   1,799,691
Corn, iron, steel, copper, glass, and other articles..!,446,148
Polish cloths, 206,301 archines    466,950
Transit merchandises  545,731
Total 7,427,369
Importation of Chinese Merchandises during the same year.
Roubles.
Tea, 199,233 poods, to the amount of. 6,909,149
Silks  208,599
Cottons  122,726
Drugs, &c  186,895
Total 7,427,369
Or L.324,947.
In 1825 the total exports amounted to 5,501,815 roubles,
or L.239,697, so that in ten years there has been an in¬
crease in the commercial intercourse between Russia and
China to the extent of nearly two millions roubles. The
Russians chiefly transport by water the merchandise which
they send in summer, or oftener in spring, from Kiakhta to
Europe.1
Another great commercial line is that which branches
from Irkutsk down the Lena, into the heart of the frozen
regions and the shores of the Arctic Ocean. Yakoutsk, situ¬
ated about eight hundred miles down the Lena, is the em¬
porium where the furs and other products of these desolate
regions are collected. They are brought from the remotest
extremities of the land which borders Behring’s Straits,
from Kamtschatka, and from the American territory, as
well as from the northern wastes. A considerable propor¬
tion consists of the tribute which is paid to government;
and the wandering traffickers exchange tobacco, spirits, cut¬
lery, beads, and toys, for the remainder.
Asiatic Russia, like the European portion of the empire,
is divided into governments or provinces, which are further Statisti*
partitioned into circles, all being under the same species oP—
civil government which we have described as characteris- Goveri>"
ing the rest of the empire. The names of the govern-ments‘
ments of Siberia, with the number of the inhabitants, are
as follow.
Yenisei  193,486
Irkutsk  505,118
Tobolsk.  662,650
Tomsk  394,136
Province of Omsk  72,545
Total 1,827,935
There can be little doubt that in this census, which has
been recently taken, the wandering tribes have been mere¬
ly estimated, and that it is only an approximation to the
truth. The population consists of two very distinct por¬
tions, the foreign rulers and the native tribes. The Rus¬
sian inhabitants consist chiefly of the unfortunate persons
who have been banished to these remote regions for va¬
rious crimes, more especially those of a political nature.
A basis was formed by the Swedish officers who fell into
the hands of Peter the Great on “ sad Pultawa’s day,” and
a regular succession of recruits has subsequently been fur¬
nished by the empire itself. Amongst those who have been
thus expatriated by a jealous and absolute government, were
of course many individuals belonging to the higher ranks of
society, men of polished manners and accomplished minds,
so that at Tobolsk, where they were chiefly stationed, there
is a far higher degree of refinement and intelligence to be
found than might have been expected in a settlement of
convicts. This great capital of Western Siberia has to a con¬
siderable extent acquired the polish of a European city. In
1835 it contained 15,379 inhabitants, two ecclesiastical
schools, about twenty churches, and a monastery. The low¬
est class of exiles are condemned to the mines, where, being
closely watched, and with hard work and harder fare, they
drag out a miserable existence. A class whose offences are
of a milder character are distributed amongst the distilleries.
A third class receive grants of land, for which a trifle is
paid to government. The individuals composing this class
are formed into villages, under the superintendence of a
strict police. The native races have been enumerated in
our general statement of the various tribes who inhabit the
Russian empire. Siberia is under the same system of na¬
tional education as European Russia, and has its schools,
gymnasia, and other institutions of the kind. Public in¬
struction is making some progress at Tobolsk, notwithstand¬
ing the many obvious difficulties which obstruct it. There
are in this government eleven ecclesiastical schools, with
thirty-four masters, and 686 pupils.
Transcaucasian Provinces.
The Transcaucasian territory of Russia is a vast tract of
country situated between the Black and Caspian Seas, and
bounded by Turkey and Persia on the south. It has been
entirely incorporated with the empire since the commence¬
ment of this century. Relations had been established with
Georgia a long time previously, but it was not till 1801
that it was declared a Russian province. The district of
Elizabethpol was seized in 1803; Imeretia in 1805; Per¬
sia ceded the Khanats of Sheki, Shirvan, Karabagh, Talish,
Bacoo, Cooba, and Derbend, in 1813; the treaty of lurk-
manschay, concluded with Persia in 1828, gave to Russia
the Armenian provinces of Erivan, Nanhischevan, and Or-
dubat, and fixed as its frontier the course of the Araxes;
and, lastly, by the treaty of Adrianople Turkey surrendered
1 Tour in the North of Europe, vol. ii. p. 215.
RUSSIA.
589
fijristics. to her great enemy the pashalik of Akhalzik. These acqui-
''fy——'' sitions altogether comprehend a superficies of 154,000 square
versts, which is about twice the size of England without
Wales. The whole is considered an integral part of the em¬
pire, and as such is administered by Russian authorities. But
besides these provinces, Russia claims a protectorate over
Mingrelia, Abassa or Abhasia, the Lesghian tribes, and se¬
veral principalities of Daghestan. Some of these coun¬
tries are entirely under Russian influence; but in Abhasia,
even according to Russian writers, it is merely nominal.
The following statistical table is from a work composed and
published in St Petersburg in 1836 by supreme authority.
Houses.
Male In¬
habitants.
1. Grusia or Georgia proper contains 
2. The military district of nominal pro¬
vinces 
3. Military district of Daghestan 
4. Pashalik of Akhalzik, and the Arme- ’
nian provinces 
5. Imeretia    
C. The province of Djuree and Belakani..,
?otal.
63,801
71,565
19,971
36,771
21,787
13,389
227,284 I 726,177
225,395
202,951
68,121
102,016
81,014
46,680
Small as this territory is compared with the vast extent
of Russia, it is of no trifling importance to her in a com¬
mercial, financial, and political point of view. Rs geogra¬
phical position appears to us the happiest possible for such
a power, prosecuting gigantic schemes of commercial in¬
tercourse or territorial aggrandisement. Climate, soil, na¬
tural capabilities, situation, and political relations, all prove
that, whatever it has cost Russia to acquire and maintain her
Transcaucasian dominions, their value, which as yet is only
developed to a small extent, justifies her policy. A commis¬
sion was appointed in 1828 to draw up a statistical account
of these provinces, the labours of which body terminated in
1835. The following is a brief abstract of the results of
their investigations, derived from the official sources.
1. Silk. The cultivation of midberry trees is in a very
backward state, although the tax levied upon them was
abolished in 1830. The whole annual export does not ex¬
ceed 15,530 poods.
2. Cotton. The natural capabilities of the country offer
a possibility of increasing the production of this valuable
commodity to an immense extent; but its cultivation has
greatly decreased since the district where it is chiefly raised
passed from the hands of Persia to those of Russia. The
whole export amounts annually only to 36,000 poods, of very
inferior quality.
3. Wine. The vine is indigenous to these regions, and
presents a great variety of kinds. The vineyards are nu¬
merous and rich, the country being well adapted for the cul¬
tivation of the plant. There are produced annually about
3,888,000 vedros of wine, and 140,000 vedros of brandy.
1 he district of Telav alone furnishes to this quota 2,000,000
vedros of wine, and 140 vedros of brandy. Imeretia is
not included in this estimate. This quantity of wine and
brandy is entirely absorbed by the internal consumption,
which is immense. The production of wine of various kinds
and most excellent quality might be prosecuted to an ex¬
tent which might render Russia independent of foreign im¬
portations of the article.
4. Rice. The cultivation of this plant has not improved
since the establishment of the Russians in the country.
There is an annual produce, however, of about 130,000
chetwerts.
5. Saffron. The province of Bacoo alone produces yearly
1000 poods of saffron, which shows to what an extent this
valuable branch of agricultural industry might be carried.
The article has hitherto been very ill prepared, but efforts Statistics,
are making to improve the management of it.
6. Madder. This article is produced in great quantities
at Derbend, and other places along the shores of the Cas¬
pian Sea.
/. Cochineal. The Armenian or southern parts of the
Transcaucasian provinces produce a kind of cochineal,
which is said to yield a dye equal to that of Mexico. The
Russian government is doing every thing in her power to
extend this new and profitable branch of productive in¬
dustry.
8. Live Stock. Extensive herds might be reared in these
provinces, which afford great facilities for their maintenance.
Great numbers of sheep and cattle are indeed raised, but
the wool ol the one is bad, and the breed of the other is
inferior. But there can be little doubt that Merino sheep
will be successfully introduced into this quarter. There is
a fine race of horses, and an abundance of camels, asses,
mules, and swine.
The natural capabilities of these provinces are very great,
affording facilities for the production of the most valuable
commodities, which are exclusively furnished by southern
climates. These have only been developed to a partial ex¬
tent ; but the Russian government is displaying such laud¬
able zeal to encourage such branches of industry as are pe¬
culiarly adapted for the various districts of her vast posses¬
sions, that by and by she will be independent of what are
called colonial goods, silk, cotton, and the like. The pro¬
vinces, however, are greatly depressed by a system of most
vexatious and unequally levied imposts. These have not
been laid on by Russia; they owe their origin to the rapa¬
city of the various petty tyrants who formerly ruled the dif¬
ferent parts of this region. Free commerce was permitted
to the provinces in 1821, and they soon began to reap great
advantages from this liberal system. But it was abolished
in 1832, probably because the additional revenue which ac¬
crued from it was not a sufficient compensation for such an
interference with the general system of Russian policy.
This is not the place to enter into the great and import¬
ant question relative to the influence which Russia is likely
to exercise over the East, by thus firmly establishing her do¬
minion beyond the Caucasus. Although the maintenance
of the provinces costs her yearly L.16,0o0, the revenue be¬
ing about L.216,000 and the expenditure about L.232,000,
yet, by placing the resources of the country under proper
management, the former might be increased to a vast ex¬
tent. But this is of comparatively little moment compared
with two other objects of her far-sighted policy, which will
be promoted by rendering the Caucasian isthmus a com¬
mercial country, securely incorporated with the rest of the
empire. These are the creation of a manufacturing indus¬
try, which will make her independent of other countries,
particularly of England, and the establishment of her power
in Asia, whence great advantages are not unreasonably ex¬
pected. Now these provinces will at once supply the raw
material necessary for manufactures, and at the same time
open a market for them in the east. It is true, that the
Caucasian Mountains almost totally sever this limb from the
great body of the empire, the passes of Mozdac being dif¬
ficult, and the country at the same time infested with pre¬
datory hordes. But there are other and much more eligi¬
ble means of communication, viz. the Caspian Sea on the
east, and the Black Sea on the west. Over the former
Russia reigns paramount, no other vessels of war but her
own being allowed to navigate its waters. Into this vast re¬
servoir the Volga, which is the great artery of Russia, pours
its waters, collected during a navigable course of two thou¬
sand miles, through some of the most fertile regions of the
empire, and, including its tributaries, those most distinguished
for manufacturing industry, which is the main object. There
is also a communication between this noble stream and the
590
R U S
R U S
Russooa Baltic Sea. Thus, then, there is an easy transport of goods
I! insured from the remotest governments of the empire to
Rust. tjie QaSpjan gea> anci thence to the Transcaucasian territory.
^ v ~~~ There is also on the other side a communication by the
Black Sea, but it does not present so many advantages as
that by the Caspian. Our space, however, will not allow
us to pursue the subject further.
Islands in the Polar and Eastern Oceans.
In the Polar Ocean are the groups of New Siberia and
of the Bear’s Island. The first consists of four large and
many smaller islands. They are covered with snow during
the greater part of the year; their surface is generally
rocky, and on some of them there are marks of volcanoes.
They are chiefly remarkable for the bones and teeth of the
mammoth, rhinoceros, buffalo, and other animals, which are
found upon and beneath the surface of the ground. It was
the search for this ivory which originally induced the Rus¬
sians to visit these islands; and their first expedition for
exploring them was equipped in 1820. These islands do not
appear to be inhabited, though traces of human beings have
been occasionally discovered by the Russians engaged in
the fisheries. The Bear’s Island group consists of six small
islands, with several kinds of plants and shrubs on them, but
no trees, although their shores are found to be covered with
large drift-wood. The southernmost point of these islands
is in latitude 69° 5', and they extend to latitude 76° 20'.
Their longitude is between 154° and 183° 50' east from
Greenwich.
In the Eastern Ocean the islands are thus classed:
1 st) The islands of Gevosbewy and Nelken, in Behring’s
Straits, in latitude 65° 4', with about 400 people.
2d, St Lawrence, latitude 63° 40', and longitude 190° 26',
and three smaller islands on the south-east of it.
2d, St Mathew’s, in latitude 60°, in the Sea of Kamts-
chatka, consisting of three islands, one of which was named
by some early British navigators Pinnacle Island.
Ath, The Prebelow Islands, in latitude 57°. Two of them
have been named St Paul and St George. The former is
about twenty-eight miles long and twenty broad, and both
are well stocked with animals whose furs are valuable.
bth, The Aleutian Islands. This is a chain of islands
extending from the peninsula of Kamtschatka to the Ame¬
rican peninsula of Alaschka, between 51° and 55° 10' north
latitude, and 107° and 197° east longitude. (See Aleutian
Islands.)
&h, The Kurile Islands. This chain extends from north
latitude43° 48' to 50° 56', and from longitude 145° 5'to 156°
30' east. They are evidently of volcanic origin. In some
of them good water is found, but others are utterly desti¬
tute of it. The few inhabitants are of Japanese origin.
Many of these islands have hitherto obtained no European
names; but nineteen of the most considerable have been
named by the Russians.
American Russia. Rustic,
Russian America comprehends the north-west angle of the
North American continent, as far as the 141st degree of
longitude west from London, with a narrow stripe of coast
reaching as far south as 551° of north latitude. It occu¬
pies a surface of about 500,000 square miles, of which the
useful soil forms but a very small proportion. Thick fogs
continually brood over these shores. Some parts of the
country, bristling with mountains of difficult access, pre¬
sent at every step impenetrable forests and extensive mo¬
rasses ; others, wholly without vegetation, offer to the eye
nothing but sterile rocks. In short, the nature of the
climate, and that of the soil itself, equally oppose prodi¬
gious obstacles to agriculture. The Russians have there¬
fore been obliged to imitate the aborigines, in renouncing
all attempts to form permanent establishments in the in¬
terior, and in fixing their abode upon the borders of the
sea; it being there only that the chase, fishing, and trade,
could furnish them with the means of subsistence.
The Russians who inhabit this remote part of the em¬
pire consist either of officers in the imperial navy or civil
employes, who again quit these shores after a service of five
years; or else of mechanics and workmen sent by the Ame¬
rican Company. These latter, whose engagement is for
seven years, also return home upon that term having ex¬
pired ; and even during the time of their sojourn in the co¬
lonies their names still remain upon the registers of their
district, and the class to which they originally belonged.
Exempted only from the conscription, they still continue
to pay taxes; in short, the place of their birth is still re¬
garded as their legal abode. The aborigines of the conti¬
nent, with the exception of three tribes, are exempted
from taxes ; but they show a great reluctance to come under
the restraints of civilization. On several of the numerous
islands, as well as along the shores of the mainland, the
Russian Company have hunting and fishing stations. I he
otter chase is the chief occupation in summer, together with
the pursuit of aquatic birds and sea-calves. In winter, snares
are laid for the white foxes; and dogs regularly trained for
the purpose track the zizel to its subterranean abodes.
Novo Arkhangelsk or New Archangel, situated in lati¬
tude 57° 3' and longitude 135° 20', is the head establish¬
ment. It has a fortress with a small garrison and forty
pieces of cannon. Hospitals and schools are established at
the company’s expense, which also takes upon itself the
maintenance of the orphans and children of those among
the tribes whose family is numerous. In these schools the
children are taught reading, writing, arithmetic, and the
precepts of religion. The priests attached to the churches
of these colonies occasionally traverse the remotest regions,
for the purpose of making converts ; but, as may well be
believed, their success is not in proportion to their zeal.
On the 1st of January 1836 there were in American Rus¬
sia 711 Russians, 1110 Creoles, 9101 Aleutians, and 99
Kuriles, being 11,021 inhabitants in the various settlements.
(r. r. r.)
RUSSOOA, a village of Thibet, on the northern face of
the Himalaya Mountains, which marks the frontier of the
Nepaul dominions in this direction. Long. 85. 40. E. Lat.
28. 3. N.
RUSSOOLPOOR, a town of Hindustan, belonging to
the nabob of Oude, in the province of Allahabad, forty miles
north-west from the city and fortress of Allahabad. Long.
81. 25. E. Lat. 25. 57. N.
RUST, the calx or oxide of a metal, iron, for instance,
formed by exposure to the air, or by corroding and dissolv¬
ing its superficial parts by some menstruum. Water is
the great instrument or agent in producing rust; and hence
oils and other fatty bodies secure metals from rust, water
being no menstruum for oil, and therefore not able to make
its way through it. Almost all metals are liable to rust.
The rust of iron is not merely an oxide of that metal;
it contains, besides, a portion of carbonate.
RUSTIC, in Architecture, implies a manner of building
in imitation of nature, rather than according to the rules oi
art.
Rustic Gods, or dii rustici, in Antiquity, were the gods
of the country, or those who presided over agriculture.
Varro invokes the twelve dii consentes, as the principal
amongst the rustic gods, viz. Jupiter, Tellus, the Sun,
Moon, Ceres, Bacchus, Rubigus, Flora, Minerva, Venus,
Lympha, and Good Luck. Besides these twelve arch-
RUT
ic rustic gods, there were an infinity of lesser ones ; as Pales,
rk Vertumnus, Tutelina, Fulgor, Sterculius, Mellona, Jugati-
er- nus’ Collinus, Vallonia, Terminus, Sylvanus, and Priapus.
M. " Struvius adds the Satyrs, Fauns, Sileni, Nymphs, and even
\—^ 1 ritons, and gives the empire over all the rustic gods to
the god Pan.
Rustic Work, is where the stones in the face, &c. of a
building, instead oi being smooth, are hatched, or picked
with the point of a hammer.
RUSTRE, in Heraldry, a bearing of a diamond shape,
pierced through in the middle with a round hole.
RUTH, a canonical book of the Old Testament, being
a kind of appendage to the book of Judges, and an intro¬
duction to those of Samuel, and having its title from the
person whose story is there principally related. In this story
are observable the ancient rights of kindred and redemp¬
tion ; and the manner of buying the inheritance of the de¬
ceased, with other particulars ot great note and antiquity.
The canonicalness of this book was never disputed; but
the learned are not agreed about the epoch of the history
which it relates. Ruth the Moabitess is found in the ge¬
nealogy of our Saviour. (Matt. i. 5.) *
RUIHERGLEN, or by contraction Ruglen, the head
burgh of the nether ward of Lanarkshire, in Scotland, is
situated about two miles south-east of Glasgow, and nine
west of Hamilton. Few towns in Scotland can lay claim to
greater antiquity than Rutherglen. It was erected into a
royal burgh by King David I. about the year 1126.
The territory under the jurisdiction of the burgh was
extensive, and the inhabitants enjoyed many distinguished
privileges, which were, however, gradually wrested from
them by political influence in favour of Glasgow, which in
latter times rose into consequence by trade and manufac¬
tures. I he ancient dimensions of the place are now un¬
known ; but in the fields and gardens towards the east, the
foundations of houses are occasionally discovered.
About a hundred and fifty yards to the south of the main
street is a kind of lane, known by the name of Dins-dykes.
This piace has acquired an opprobrious celebrity, from the
j circumstance which befell the unfortunate Queen Mary when
her forces were routed at the battle of Langside. Her ma¬
jesty, who, during the battle, stood on a rising ground about
a mile from Rutherglen, no sooner saw her army defeated,
than she took her precipitate flight to the south. Dins-
dykes unluckily lay in her way. Two rustics, who were at
that instant cutting grass hard by, seeing her majesty flying
in haste, rudely attempted to intercept her, and threatened
to cut her in pieces with their scythes if she presumed to
pioceed a step further. Neither beauty nor royalty would
have secured her escape, had not some of her followers come
to her relief.
Adjoining to a lane called the Hack-row stood the castle
of Rutherglen, originally built at a period coeval, it is re¬
ported, with the foundation of the town. This ancient for¬
tress underwent several sieges during the unhappy wars in
the days of King Robert Bruce, and it remained a place of
strength until the battle of Langside; soon after which it
was destroyed by order of the regent, to revenge himself on
the Hamilton family, in whose custody it then was. The
foundations of the buildings are now erased, and the site
converted into dwelling-houses and gardens.
Rutherglen, in conjunction with Renfrew, Dumbarton,
Kilmarnock, and Port-Glasgow, sends a member to the Bri¬
tish parliament. The fairs of this town are generally well
attended, and have long been famous for a great show of
horses, of the Lanarkshire breed, which are esteemed the
best draught-horses in Britain. The inhabitants of this
borough still retain some customs of a very remote antiqui-
ty. One ot these is the making of Rutherglen sour cakes.
I he operation is attended with some peculiar rites, which
lead us to conclude that the practice is of Pagan origin. In
RUT
591
1821 the population of Rutherglen was about 1800, and
including the parish it was 4610; in 1831 that of the town
and parish was 5503.
a Dorough and market town of the county of
Denbigh, within the parish of Ruabon. It was formerly
sunounded with walls, which are dilapidated; but it now
consists of only one long street. It has still a corporation,
consisting of two aldermen ; and has markets, which are held
an^ Saturdays. The population amounted in
f° inJ,811 t0 1292’ in 1821 to 1294, and in
to 6-61b. ihe apparent increase on the last census
arises from the parish of Llanfurog being then, but not be¬
fore, included in that of the town.
RUTLAMGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the Mahratta
territories, and province of Malwah, forty-seven miles north-
north-west from Oojain. Long. 75. 26. E. Lat. 28. 46. N.
RUTLANDSHIRE, an English county, nearly in the
centre of the kingdom, and the smallest of all the divisions
so denominated. It is bounded by Lincolnshire on the
east and north-east, by Leicestershire on the north-west
and west, and by Northamptonshire on the south. Its
length from north to south is sixteen, and its breadth from
east to west is twelve miles. The square contents are
149 square statute miles, or 95,360 acres. It is divided
into five hundreds, and contains two market-towns, Upping¬
ham and Okeham, and forty-nine parishes ; being a greater
number, in proportion to its extent, than any other county
in the kingdom.
It gives only one title at present, that of duke, to the
family of Manners; two former peerages, that of Ferrars
of Okeham, and Noel of Exton, being extinct. Only two
members are returned to the House of Commons from the
county, and none from either of the towns. In judicial af¬
fairs it is on the midland circuit of the judges; and in ec¬
clesiastical matters it has formed, since the year 1541, a
portion of the bishopric of Peterborough.
Ihe appearance of this small county is pleasing to the
traveller. It is much diversified by ranges of moderate
hills running from east to west, in some parts well timber¬
ed. Between these ranges of hills, the valleys, of about
half a mile in breadth, are luxuriant and verdant. The
principal vale, called Catmose, is in the centre of the county,
having to the north a tract of table-land overlooking the
well-wooded plains of Leicester, Lincoln, and Nottingham¬
shire. The eastern part is more diversified; the southern
division of it consisting of a beautiful valley, stretching to¬
wards Northamptonshire, and the western, bordering on
Leicestershire, being abundantly wooded.
The soil on the eastern and south-eastern parts is chiefly
shallow, resting upon a basis of limestone, composed of clays
and loams. The other parts consist principally of a tena¬
cious but fertile loam; but the vale of Catmose enjoys a
most fertile soil of good clay, or red loam, or a grateful
mixture of both these earths. A peculiarity of the soil is
a redness, which generally prevails, and which tinges all the
waters of the country.
Mr Parkinson, surveyor for the Board of Agriculture, esti¬
mates the land of the county in the following manner, viz.
pasture land, 34,861 acres; arable land, 42,536; wastes,
30; woods, 2815 ; meadows, 9356 ; commons, 693; plan¬
tations, 65; lakes and ponds, 44 acres.
The woods of this county were, far more extensive in
former ages than they are at present. The ancient forest
of Leafield, and the chase of Beaumont, though now under
the plough, once occupied a great portion of the surface.
The climate is generally accounted peculiarly soft and
healthy ; and the elevation is of that medium kind which
equally exempts it from the pernicious effects of moist ex¬
halations and cold mountain fogs.
The agriculture, though it has partaken of some modern
improvements, is not, upon the whole, conducted in the
Ruthin
Rutland¬
shire.
592
R U Y
R U Y
Ruysch.
Rutnagiri best manner. In some parts, the reprobated system of two
corn crops succeeding a fallow' is still continued. In other
, parts, after a fallow, barley is sown with clover; the clover is
mowed in two years, or sometimes fed the second year, and
then, after one ploughing, the land is sown with w'heat. In
some cases, on the lighter lands, the four-course system of
turnips, barley, clover, and wheat, is followed. The wheat
of Rutlandshire is highly valued for seed, and is much in re¬
quest in even very distant counties. Nearly two thirds of
the land are tithe free, and in all the late enclosures, provi¬
sions to that end have been inserted in the acts of parlia¬
ment for effecting them. The cows of Rutlandshire are
remarkable for the richness of their milk, though they yield
but a small quantity. The rich cheese commonly known
as Stilton is chiefly made in the dairies of this county. As
many oxen are brought from the more northern countries,
and fattened in Rutlandshire, as are bred within it, the
annual number of each being from 2700 to 3000. The sheep
are more numerous in proportion than horned cattle. Mr
Parkinson calculated them to be about 80,000 ; consisting
of old and new Leicesters, of Southdowns, and a few Lin-
colnshires. It has been remarked, that though the quality
of the wool has increased in fineness, the diminution in the
weight of the fleeces has of late years more than counter¬
balanced that advantage.
The small rivulets that water this district run into the
two rivers, the Guash, or Wash, which passes through it,
or the Walland, which forms its southern boundary. The
latter river is navigable only to Stamford, on the confines of
Rutlandshire ; but is useful in opening a communication
with the ocean. A canal has been constructed from Oke-
ham to Melton-Mowbray, by which a supply of coals has
been drawn from the mines of Leicestershire.
Rutlandshire is neither a manufacturing nor a mineral
district, but depends exclusively on its agriculture. By the
returns of 1801 the inhabitants were 16,356, viz. 7978 males,
and 8378 females; in 1811 the numbers were 16,380, viz.
7931 males, and 8449 females; in 1821 they were 18,487
to the Hague, and marrying in 1661, dedicated his whole
time to the study of his profession. In 1665 he published
a treatise entitled Dilucidatio Valvularum de variis Lym-
phaticis et Lacteis, which raised his reputation so high that v
he was chosen professor of anatomy at Amsterdam. This
honour he accepted with the more pleasure, because his
situation at Amsterdam would have given him easy access
to every requisite help for cultivating anatomy and natural
history. After he settled in Amsterdam, he was perpetual¬
ly engaged in dissecting, and in examining with the most
inquisitive eye, the various parts of the human body. He
improved the science of anatomy by new discoveries; and,
in particular, he found out a way to preserve dead bodies
many years from putrefaction. His anatomical collection
was curious and valuable. He had a series of foetuses of
all sizes, from the length of the little finger to that of a new¬
born infant. He had also bodies of full-grown persons of
all ages, and a vast number of animals of almost every spe¬
cies on the globe, besides a great many other natural curi¬
osities. Peter the Great of Russia, in his tour through
Holland in the year 1698, visited Ruysch, and was so
charmed with his conversation, that he passed whole days
with him ; and when the hour of departure came, he left
him with regret. He set so high a value on Ruysch’s cabi¬
net of curiosities, that when he returned to Holland in 1717,
he purchased it for thirty thousand florins, and sent it to
St Petersburg.
In 1685 he was made professor of medicine, an office
which he discharged w ith great ability. In 1728 he got
his thigh-bone broken by a fall in his chamber. I he year
before this misfortune happened, he had been deprived of
his son Henry, a youth of talents, and well skilled in ana¬
tomy and botany, wrho had been created a doctor of physic,
and was supposed to have assisted his father in his discove¬
ries and publications. Ruysch’s family now consisted only
of his youngest daughter. This lady had been early inspir¬
ed with a passion for anatomy, the favourite science of her
father and brother, and had studied it with success. She
viz. 9223 males, and 9264 females ; and in 1831 the num- w'as therefore wTell qualified to assist her father in forming
bers were 19,385, viz. 9721 males, and 9664 females. Of a second collection of curiosities in natural history andana-
these there were 2299 families chiefly employed in agricul- tomy, which he began to make after the emperor of Russia^
ture; 1102 families chiefly employed in trade, manufactures, had purchased the first. Ruysch is said to have been of
and handicraft; and 790 not comprised in any of these classes, so healthy a constitution, that though he lived to the age
RUTNAGIRI, a town of Hindustan, in the territories of of ninety-three, yet during that long period he did not la¬
the Nagpoor Mahrattas, and province of Bejapoor, on the east hour above a month under the infirmities of disease. From
coast of the Concan district. Long. 78. 3. E. Lat. 17. 1. N. the time he broke his thigh he was indeed disabled from
RUTTUNPORE, a town of Hindustan, the capital of a walking without a support; yet he retained his vigour both
small district of the same name, in the province of Gund- of body and mind without any sensible alteration, until m
wana, and district of Choteesgur, of which it is the capital.
It is only a straggling village of about a thousand huts, many
of which are uninhabited. It is situated in a remarkably
productive and fertile country compared with the rest of
the province, which is desolate and barren. This place is
said to have been in possession of a family of Rajpoot Hin¬
dus from time immemorial. Their last independent chief,
1731 his strength at once deserted him. He died on the
22d of February the same year. His anatomical works are
printed in four vols. 4to.
The style of his writings is simple and concise, but some¬
times inaccurate. Instruction, and not ostentation, seems
to be his only aim. In anatomy he undoubtedly made many
discoveries ; but from not being sufficiently conversant with
Sindar Sing, was, after a severe contest, subdued by Rago
gee Bounsla, the founder of the Nagpoor dynasty. It was
here that a number of French troops, who were endeavour¬
ing to effect a retreat from Bahar through the country into
the Deccan, halted, when they were entertained for a few
days by Bombajee, the Mahratta sovereign, and at the end of
that time treacherously murdered. The travelling distance
from Calcutta by Chuta Nagpoor is 493 miles, from Nag¬
poor 220 miles, from Delhi 633, from Poonah 706 miles.
Long. 82. 35. E. Lat. 22. 16, N.  ,  y, ,
RUYSCH, Frederick, one of the most eminent ana- fleer, was born at Flushing, a town of Zealand, in tne ye
tomists of which Holland can boast, was born at the Hague 1607. He entered on a seafaring life when he was on >
in 1638. After making great progress at home, he repair- eleven years old, and was first a cabin-boy. Whilst ne a
ed to Leyden, and there prosecuted the study of anatomy vanced successively to the rank of mate, master, and captain,
and botany. He next studied at Franeker, where he ob- he acquitted himself with ability and honour in all these em
tained the degree of doctor of physic. He then returned ployments. He repulsed the Irish, who attempted to a
Ruysse.
kde
Ruyter.
the writings of other anatomists, he published as discoveries
what had been known before. The Academy of Sciences
at Paris in 1727 elected him an honorary member, in place
of Sir Isaac Newton, who had lately deceased. He was
also a member of the Roval Society of London.
RUYSSELEDE, a town of Belgium, in the province of
West Flanders and circle of Bruges. It contains 5400 in¬
habitants, who are employed in making linen and some
wmollen goods. ' f
RUYTER, Michael Adrian, a distinguished naval of-
Y'Y-'-
I
R Y C
S acotta Dublin out of the hands of the English; he made eight
! H voyages to the West Indies, and ten to Brazil; he was then
roor-- promoted to the rank of rear-admiral, and sent to assist the
Portuguese against the Spaniards. When the enemy came
in sight, he advanced boldly to meet them, and gave such
unquestionable proofs of valour as drew from the Portuguese
monarch the warmest applause. His gallantry was still
more conspicuous before Salee, a town of Barbary. With
a single vessel he sailed through the roads of that place, in
defiance of five Algerine corsairs who came to attack him.
In 1653 a squadron of seventy vessels was despatched
against the English, under the command of Admiral Van
Tromp. Ruyter, who accompanied the admiral in this expe¬
dition, seconded him with great skill and bravery in the three
battles which the English so gloriously won. He was after¬
wards stationed in the Mediterranean, where he captured
several Turkish vessels. In 1659 he received a commission
to join the king of Denmark in his war with the Swedes ;
and he not only maintained his former reputation, but even
raised it higher. As a reward of his services, the king of
Denmark ennobled him and gave him a pension. In 1661
he run ashore a vessel belonging to Tunis, released forty
Christian slaves, made a treaty with the Tunisians, and re¬
duced the Algerine corsairs to submission. His country,
as a testimony of her gratitude for such illustrious services,
raised him to the rank of vice-admiral and commander in
chief. To the latter dignity, the highest that could be con¬
ferred upon him, he was well entitled by the signal victory
which he obtained over the combined fleets of France and
Spain. This battle was fought in 1672, about the time of
the conquest of Holland. The battle was maintained be¬
tween the English and Dutch with the obstinate bravery of
nations which were accustomed to dispute the empire of
L the ocean. Ruyter having thus made himself master of the
sea, conducted a fleet of Indiamen safely into the Texel;
thus defending and‘enriching his country, whilst it had be¬
come the prey of hostile invaders. The next year he had
three engagements with the fleets of France and England,
in which, if possible, his bravery was stiil more distinguish¬
ed than ever. D’Estrees, the French vice-admiral, wrote
to Colbert, “ I would purchase with my life the glory
of De Ruyter.” But he did not long enjoy the triumphs
which he had so honourably won. In an engagement with
the French fleet off the coast of Sicily, he was defeated
and received a mortal wound, which in a few days put an
end to his life. His corpse was carried to Amsterdam, and
a magnificent monument to his memory was there erected
by the command of the states-geheral. The Spanish coun¬
cil had bestowed on him the title of duke, and transmitted
a patent investing him with that dignity ; but he died be¬
fore it arrived. When Louis XIV. was congratulated upon
De Ruyter’s death, he replied, “ Every one must be sorry
at the death of so great a man.”
RYACOTTA, a town and celebrated fortress of the
south of India, added to the Baramuhl district by the Mar¬
quis Cornwallis, in virtue of a treaty he concluded with Tip-
poo. The fort is very strong by nature, and it has been fur¬
ther fortified by art, as this place is the chief key to Karna-
ta. The air is so temperate here, from the elevation of the
ground, that even in the hot season the thermometer scarcely
ever rises higher than 82° of Fahrenheit. Ryacotta was be¬
sieged in 1791 by Major Gowdie ; and though it was of such
strength, yet the garrison were intimidated by the spirited
attacks of the besiegers, and surrendered, though amply sup¬
plied with guns, ammunition, and provision for its defence.
It is ninety-eight miles east by north from Seringapatam.
Long. 78. 1. E. Lat. 12. 33. N."
RYAGUDD, a town of Hindustan, possessed by indepen¬
dent zemindars, in the province of Orissa. It is sixty miles
north-west from Cicacole. Long. 83. 27. E. Lat. 19. 1. N.
RYCHQOR, a town of Hindustan, in the nizam’s ter-
VOL. XIX.
R Y M 593
ritories, and the province of Bejapoor. It is the capital of a
district of the same name, and is 130 miles south-west from
Hyderabad. It is an irregularly-built town, being an old
tort with some new works. It is commanded by a hill, and
by some rising grounds near it. Long. 77. 17. E. Lat. 15.
59. N. I he district extends along the north bank of the
I oombuddra river, between the 15th and 16th degrees of
north latitude.
RYDE, a hamlet within the parish of Newchurch, in the
Isle ot Wight. It has become a place of some importance,
from having of late years been the resort of numerous fami¬
lies for the purpose of sea-bathing. It is opposite to Ports¬
mouth, and from its vicinity to Spithead has some trade in
supplying fresh stock and vegetables to the ships of war.
It is finely situated, and the bathing is good. The popula¬
tion in 1801 amounted to 2039, in 1811 to 2847, in 1821
to 3945, and in 1831 to 4928.
RYDROOG, a town and district of Hindustan, in the
Balaghaut ceded territories. The town is 170 miles north by
east from Seringapatam. Long. 77. 2. E. Lat. 14. 49 N.
The district is situated principally between the 14th and
15th degrees of north latitude. The Hoggry is the chief ri¬
ver, and the principal towns are Rydroog and Mulkamarroor.
This district was ceded to the Company in 1800, and a
pension allowed to the polygar’s family, to whom it belonged.
RYE, a borough and seaport of the county of Sussex, in
the hundred of Gostrow and rape of Hastings, 63 miles from
London. It is a member of the Cinque Ports, but of a la¬
ter date than the others. The harbour has been nearly
choked up, partly by the recession of the sea, though it has
been recently somewhat improved by a new cut. It was
once fortified, but is ill built. It has a corporation, and
returned two members to the House of Commons till 1832,
since which it elects but one; and its corporation, by the late
law, consists of four aldermen and twelve councillors, but no
justice of the peace. It has markets, which are held on Wed¬
nesday and Friday. The population in 1801 amounted to
2187, in 1811 to 2681, in 1821 to 3599, and in 1831 to 3715.
RYEPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Gundwana, and district of Choteesgur. This town, from its
population and commerce, may be ranked amongst the first
in the Choteesgur district. It contains 3000 huts, and has a
stone fort on the north-east side of the town. It is sixty-nine
miles from Ruttunpoor. Long. 82. 26. E. Lat. 21. 17. N.
RYLST, a city of Russia, in the government of Kursk,
and the capital of a circle of the same name. It is built at
the junction of the river Ryla with the Gem, and contains
four stone and fourteen wooden churches, 840 houses, with
6300 inhabitants, who have considerable trade. It is 847
miles from St Petersburg. Long. 35. 3. E. Lat. 51. 35. N.
RYMER, Thomas, the author of that well-known and
important work the Fcedera, was born in the north of Eng¬
land, and educated at the grammar-school of Northallerton.
He was admitted a scholar at Cambridge, then became a
member of Gray’s Inn, and at length was appointed histo¬
riographer to King William in place of Mr Shadwell. He
wrote a View of the Tragedies of the last Age, and after¬
wards published a tragedy named Edgar. For a critic he
was certainly not well qualified, for he wanted candour ;
nor is his judgment much to be relied on, who could con¬
demn Shakspeare with such rigid severity. His tragedy
will show that his talents for poetry were by no means
equal to those whose poems he has publicly censured. But
though he has no title to the appellation of poet or critic,
as an antiquarian and historian his memory will long be
preserved. His Fcedera, which is a collection of all public
documents of the kings of England with foreign princes, is
esteemed one of our most authentic and valuable records,
and is oftener referred to by the best English historians
than any other book in the language. It was published at
London in the beginning of the eighteenth century, iq se-
594 S A A
llynabad venteen volumes folio. Three volumes more were added
II by Sanderson after Rymer’s death. The whole were re-
Saarbruck. printed at the Hague in ten vols., 1739. They were abridg-
ed by Rapin in French, and inserted in Le Clerc’s Biblio-
theque, a translation of which was made by Stephen What¬
ley, and printed in four vols. 8vo, 1731. Rymer died on
the 14th of December 1713, and was buried in the parish
church of St Clement Danes. Some specimens of his poe¬
try are preserved in the first volume of Mr NichoTs Select
Collection of Miscellaneous Poems, 1780.
RYNABAD, a small village of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Bengal, and district of Jessore. For a long time
rumours were circulated that extensive ruins existed in the
Sunderbunds, and particularly in the vicinity of Rynabad.
But though repeated investigations have been made, none
have been discovered.
RYOTS, in the policy of Hindustan, the name by which
the renters of land are distinguished. They hold their
possessions by a lease, which may be considered as perpe¬
tual, and at a rate fixed by ancient surveys and valuations.
This arrangement has been so long established, and accords
so well with the ideas of the natives concerning the dis-
S A A
tinction of castes, and the functions allotted to each, that it ftyswick
has been invariably maintained in all the provinces subject II
either to Mahommedans or Europeans; and to both it
serves as the basis on which their whole system of finance
is founded. Respecting the precise mode, however, in
which the ryots held their possessions, there are many dif¬
ferent opinions, for which we refer to Robertson’s Histori¬
cal Disquisition concerning India.
RYSWICK, a village of the province of Holland, in the
circle of the Hague, and near that city, which is pleasantly
situated, and contains some good country-houses and plea¬
sure-gardens, and 1820 inhabitants. Near to it is the pa¬
lace of Niewmburg, where was signed the general treaty of
peace in 1697, which bears this name.
RZESZOW, a city of the Austrian province of Gallicia,
and the capital of a circle which extends over 1782 square
miles. It comprehends four cities, thirteen market-towns,
and three hundred and thirty-three villages, with 251,500
inhabitants. The city stands on the river Wisloch, and
contains 388 houses, with 4850 inhabitants. It has some
trade in making linen and woollen goods, and some gold¬
smiths’ work.
S.
Sor s, the eighteenth letter and fourteenth consonant
5 of our alphabet. The sound of it is formed by
driving the breath through a narrow passage between the
palate and the tongue elevated near it, together with a mo¬
tion of the lower jaw and teeth towards the upper, the lips
being a little way open, with such a configuration of every
part of the mouth and larynx as renders the voice some¬
what sibilous and hissing. Its sound, however, varies;
being strong in some words, as this, thus, and soft in words
which have a final e, as muse, wise. It is generally doubled
at the end of words, by which they become hard and harsh,
as in kiss, loss. In some words it is silent, as isle, island,
viscount.
In abbreviation, S.-stands for societas or socius ; as R. S. S.
for regice societatis socius, fellow of the royal society. In
medicinal prescriptions, S. A. signifies secundum artem, ac¬
cording to the rules of art. And in the notes of the ancients,
S. stands for Sextus ; S. P. for Spurius ; S. C. for senatus
consultum ; S. P. Q. R. for senatus populusque Romanus ;
S. S. S. for stratum superstratum, one layer above another
alternately; S. V. B. E. E. Q. V. for si vales bene est, ego
quoque valeo, a form used in Cicero’s time in the beginning
of letters. Used as a numeral, S. anciently denoted seven ;
in the Italian music, S. signifies solo ; and in books of navi¬
gation, S. stands for south, S.E. for south-east, S. W. for
south-west, S. S. E. for south-south-east, S. S. W. for south-
south-west, &c.
SAADE, a town of the mountainous district of Yemen,
in Arabia, and the most important in the district. It is the
residence of an imam or chief, whose power is limited, and
his territories small; and he is often so hard pressed by his
highland neighbours that he finds it difficult to maintain his
ground. He imposes a duty on all goods passing from Ye¬
men into the interior of Arabia, and from this source his
revenue chiefly arises. It is 368 miles north-north-east of
Mocha.
SAARBRUCK, a city of the Prussian government of
Treves, the capital of a circle of the same name, and 215
square miles in extent. It stands on the river Saar, over
which is a bridge connecting it with the large suburb of St
John’s. It is old and strongly built, and the suburb con¬
tains 1070 houses, with 6740 inhabitants, who carry on
some iron-works, and have barges navigating the river,
which is navigable up to the bridge.
SAAR-LOUIS, a city of the Prussian government ot
Treves, and the capital of a circle of the same name, of 189
square miles in extent. It is situated on the river Saar,
and celebrated for the strength of its fortifications, which
were constructed by Vauban, under Louis XIV. It is wel
and regularly built, and contains three churches, 550 houses,
and 5800 inhabitants, who are employed in iron-works,
chiefly in making weapons. Long. 6. 43. E. Lat. 49.14. N.
SAASA, a village of Palestine, in the district which is said,
on the authority of tradition, to have been the burial-place
of Nimrod. It is forty miles north-west of Sarchad.
SAATZ, a city of the Austrian kingdom of Bohemia,
the capital of a circle of the same name, which extends oyer
921 square miles, and contains 126,500 inhabitants. The
river Eger runs by the town. It has a collegiate church, a
gyhmasium, and 640 houses, with 4180 inhabitants. Long-
14. 10. E. Lat. 50. 18. 35. N.
SAAVEDRA, Michael de Cervantes, a celebrated
Spanish writer, and the inimitable author of Don Quixote,
was born at Madrid in the year 1541. From his infancy
he was very fond of books ; but he applied himself who y
to books of entertainment, such as novels and poetry ot all
kinds, especially Spanish and Italian authors. From Spam
he went to Italy, either to serve Cardinal Aquaviva, to
whom he was chamberlain at Rome, or else to follow the pro¬
fession of a soldier, as he did for some years under the vic¬
torious banners of Marco Antonio Colonna. He was pre¬
sent at the battle of Lepanto, in the year 1571 ; in whicti
he either lost his left hand by the shot of an harquebus, or
had it so maimed that he lost the use of it. After this ne
SAB
na?an
, ands
was taken by the Moors, and carried to Algiers, where he
continued a captive five years and a half. Then he re¬
turned to Spain, and applied himself to the writing of come¬
dies and tragedies ; and he composed several, all of which
were well received by the public, and acted with great ap¬
plause. In the year 1584 he published his Galatea, a no¬
vel in six books, which he presented to Ascanio Colonna, a
man of high rank in the church, as the first fruits of his
wit. But the work which has done him the greatest ho¬
nour, and will immortalize his name, is the history of Don
Quixote, the first part of which was printed at Madrid in
the year 1605. This is a satire upon books of knight-
errantry, and the principal if not the sole end of it was to
destroy the reputation of those books which had so infatu¬
ated the greater part of mankind, and especially those of
the Spanish nation. This work was universally read; and
the most eminent painters, tapestry-workers, engravers,
and sculptors, have been employed in representing the his¬
tory of Don Quixote. Cervantes, even in his lifetime, ob¬
tained the glory of having his work receive a royal appro¬
bation. As Philip III. was standing in a balcony of his pa¬
lace at Madrid, viewing the country, he observed a student
on the banks of the river Manzanares reading in a book,
and from time to time breaking off, and beating his fore¬
head with extraordinary tokens of pleasure and delight;
upon which the king remarked to those about him, “ That
scholar is either mad or is reading Don Quixote.” The latter
proved to be the case. But virtus laudatur et alget. Not¬
withstanding the vast applause his book everywhere met
with, he had not interest enough to procure a small pen¬
sion, for he could scarcely keep himself from starving. In
the year 1615 he published a second part; to which he
was partly moved by the presumption of some scribbler,
who had the year before published a continuation of this
work. He wrote also several novels, and amongst the rest
the Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda. He had em¬
ployed many years in writing this novel, and finished it
just before his death ; for he did not live to see it published.
His sickness was of such a nature that he himself was able
to be, and actually was, his own historian. At the end of
the preface to the Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda, he
represents himself on horseback upon the road, and a stu¬
dent, who had overtaken him, engaged in conversation with
him. “ And happening to talk of my illness,” says he,
“ the student soon let me know my doom, by saying it wras
a dropsy I had got; the thirst attending which, all the
water of the ocean, though it were not salt, would not
suffice to quench. Therefore Senor Cervantes, says he,
you must drink nothing at all, but do not forget to eat;
for this alone will recover you without any other physic. I
have been told the same by others, answered I; but I can
no more forbear tippling, than if I were born to do nothing
else. My life is drawing to an end ; and from the daily
journal of my pulse, I shall have finished my course by
next Sunday at the farthest. But adieu, my merry friends
all, for I am going to die ; and I hope to see you ere long
in the other world, as happy as heart can wish.” His dropsy
increased, and at last proved fatal to him ; yet he continued
to say and to write bon mots. He received the last sacra¬
ment on the 18th of April 1616 ; yet the day after, he wrote
a dedication of the Troubles of Persiles and Sigismunda to
the Conde de Lemos. The particular day of his death is
not known.
SABAGAN Islands, a group of small islands in the
Red Sea. Long. 41. 54. E. Lat. 14. 55. N.
SABAZIA, in Greek antiquity, were nocturnal myste¬
ries in honour of Jupiter Sabazius. All the initiated had
a golden serpent put in at their breasts, and taken out at
the lower part of their garments, in memory of Jupiter’s
ravishing Proserpina in the form of a serpent. There were
also other feasts and sacrifices distinguished by this appel-
SAB 595
lation, in honour of Mithras, the deity of the Persians, and Snbbata-
ot Bacchus, who was thus denominated by the Sabians, a f*ar,s
people of Thrace. ||
SABBATARIANS, or Seventh-Day Baptists, a sect.Sahba^->
of Anabaptists, so called because they observed the Jewish or
Saturday-Sabbath, from a persuasion that it was never abro-
gated in the New Testament by the institution of any other.
SABBATH, in the Hebrew language, signifies rest. The Definition,
seventh day was denominated the Sabbath, or day of rest,
because in it God rested from all his works which he had
created. From that time the seventh day seems to have
been set apart for religious services; and, in consequence
of a particular injunction, it was afterwards observed by the
Hebrews as a holiday. They were commanded to set it
apart for sacred purposes in honour of the creation, and
likewise in memorial of their own redemption from Egyp¬
tian bondage.
The importance of the institution may be gathered from Importance
the different law’s respecting it. When the ten command- of the insti-
ments were published from Mount Sinai in tremendous tution» and
pomp, the law of the Sabbath held a place in what is com- ear4 cere*
monly called the first table ; and by subsequent statutesm0mes'
the violation of it was to be punished with death. Six days
were allowed for the use and service of man ; but the se¬
venth day God reserved to himself, and appointed it to be
observed as a stated time for holy offices, and to be spent
in the duties of piety and devotion. On this day the mi¬
nisters of the temple entered upon their week ; and those
who had attended on the temple service the preceding week
went out at the same time. New loaves of shew-bread were
placed upon the golden table, and the old ones were taken
away. Two lambs were offered for a burnt-offering, to¬
gether with a certain proportion of fine flour, mingled with
oil, for a bread-offering, and wine for a libation. The Sab¬
bath, like all other festivals, was celebrated from evening
to evening. It began at six in the evening on Friday, and
ended at the same time the next day.
Concerning the time at which the Sabbath was first in-Time of its
stituted, different opinions have been held. Some have institution,
maintained, that the sanctification of the seventh day, men¬
tioned in Genesis ii., is only there spoken of as bia vgoXe^/v,
or by anticipation; and is to be understood of the Sabbath
afterwards enjoined the children of Israel at the commence¬
ment of the Mosaic dispensation. But without entering
into a particular examination of all the arguments produced
in support of this opinion, a few observations, it is presum¬
ed, will be sufficient to show that it rests upon no solid foun¬
dation.
It cannot easily be supposed that the inspired penman
would have mentioned the sanctification of the seventh
day amongst the primeval transactions, if such sanctifica¬
tion had not taken place until 2500 years afterwards. Wri¬
ters, ambitious of that artificial elegance which the rules of
criticism have established, often bring together in their
narrative events which were themselves far distant, for the
sake of giving form to their discourse ; but Moses appears
to have despised all such flimsy refinements, and to have
constructed his narrative in conformity to the series of
events.
From the accounts we have of the religious service prac-Religious
tised in the patriarchal age, it appears that, immediately service in
after the fall, w’hen Adam was restored to favour through a the patri-
Mediator, a stated form of public worship was instituted,archal aSe-
which man was required to observe, in testimony, not only
of his dependence on the Creator, but also of his faith and
hope in the promise made to our first parents, and seen by
them afar off. Of an institution, then, so grand and im¬
portant, no circumstance would be omitted that is neces¬
sary to preserve it, or that contributes to render the ob¬
servance of it regular and solemn.
That determined times are necessary for the due celebra-
596
Sabbath.
Necessity
of stated
days for
the per¬
formance.
SABBAT H.
Objections
to the ear¬
ly institu¬
tion of the
Sabbath
considered.
tion of divine service, cannot be denied. Such is the con¬
stitution of man, that he must have particular times set
apart for particular services. He is doomed to toil and la¬
bour, to earn his bread with the sweat of his brow ; and is
capable of performing religious duties only in such a manner
as is consistent with his situation in the world. If stated
times for religious solemnities had not been enjoined, the
consequence would have been, that such solemnities would
have been altogether neglected; for experience shows, that
if mankind were left at liberty when and how often they
should perform religious offices, these offices would not be
performed at all. It is the observation of holy times that
preserves the practice of holy services; and without tne
frequent and regular returns of hallowed days, man would
quickly forget the duty which he owes to God, and in a short
time no vestige of religion woidd be found in the world.
Among the ordinances which God vouchsafed his ancient
people, we find that the pious observation of holidays was
particularly insisted upon ; and the Sabbath was enjoined
to be kept holy, in the most solemn manner, and under the
severest penalties. Can it then be supposed that He would
suffer mankind, from the creation of the world to the era
of Moses, to remain without an institution so expedient in
itself, and as well fitted to answer the end proposed by it
under the one dispensation, as ever it could be under the
other ? No. We have every imaginable reason to con¬
clude, that when religious services were enjoined, religious
times were appointed also; for the one necessarily implies
the other. ...
It is not an objection to the early institution of the
Sabbath that there is no mention of it in the patriarchal
age. It would have swelled the Bible to a most enormous^
size had the sacred historian given a particular account of
all the transactions of those times ; and, besides, it would
have answered no end. When Moses wrote the book of
Genesis, it was unnecessary to relate minutely transactions
and institutions already well known by tradition. Accord¬
ingly we see that his narrative is everywhere very concise,
and calculated only to preserve the memory of the most im¬
portant facts. However, if we take a view of the church-
service of the patriarchal age, we shall find that what is
called the legal dispensation, at least the liturgic part of it,
was no new system, but a collection of institutions observed
from the beginning, and republished in form by Moses. The
Scriptures inform us that Cain and Abel offered sacrifices ;
and the account which is given of the acceptance of the
one, and the rejection of the other, evidently shows that
stated laws respecting the service had then taken place.
“ In process of time,” at the end of the days, “ Abel brought
an offering.” Here was priest, altar, matter of sacrifice, ap¬
pointed time, motive to sacrifice, and atonement made, and
accepted. The distinction of animals into clean and un¬
clean before the Flood, and Noah’s sacrifice immediately after
his deliverance, without any new direction, is an unanswer¬
able proof of the same truth. It is testified of Abraham,
by God himself, that he kept his charge, his commandments,
his statutes, and his laws. These expressions comprehend
the various branches into which the law given at Sinai was
divided. They contain the moral precepts, affirmative and
negative, the matter of religious service, a body of laws to
direct obedience, and to which man was to conform his con¬
duct in every part of duty. Agreeably to this, we find that
sacrifices were offered, altars and places of worship conse¬
crated, and the Sabbath also mentioned as a well-known
solemnity, before the promulgation of the law. It is ex¬
pressly taken notice of at the fall of manna ; and the inci¬
dental manner in which it is then mentioned is a convin
cing proof that the Israelites were no strangers to the insti¬
tution. For had it been a new one, it must have been en- Sabbath,
joined in a positive and particular manner, and the nature
of it must have been laid open and explained, otherwise the
term would have conveyed no meaning.
The division of time into weeks, or periods of seven days, Argument
which obtained so early and almost universally, is a strong frorn the
. ,• .•   .1 _ •  igeneraldi
indication that one day in seven was always distinguished
in a particular manner. WeeA,1 and seven days, are in scrip-tjme jnt0
ture language synonymous terms. God commanded Noah, weeks,
seven days before he entered the ark, to introduce into it
all sorts of living creatures. When the waters of the Flood
began to abate, Noah sent forth a dove, which, finding no
rest for the sole of her foot, returned to him. After seven
days he sent forth the dove a second time, and again she
returned to the ark. At the expiration of other seven days
he let go the dove a third time ; and a week is spoken of
(Gen. xxix.) as a well-known period of time.
This septenary division of time has, from the earliest
ages, been uniformly observed over all the eastern world.
The Israelites, Assyrians, Egyptians, Indians, Arabians, and
Persians, have always made use of a week, consisting of
seven days. Many vain attempts have been made to ac¬
count for this uniformity; but a practice so general and
prevalent could never have taken place had not the sep¬
tenary distribution of time been instituted from the begin¬
ning, and handed down by tradition.
From the same source also must the ancient heathens
have derived their notions of the sacredness of the seventh
day. That they had such notions of it is evident from se¬
veral passages of the Greek poets qiloted by Aristobulus, a
learned Jew, by Clement of Alexandria, and Eusebius.
Izpw Yi/Aao.
Again :
The seventh, the sacred day.
’ESdo/^r/.T-/i S’ hrurcc x.u.rtiXvhv, iz(>ov ri/AUg.
Afterwards came the seventh, the sacred day.
W), ntu rto nriXtro nu.'iTa..
On the seventh day all things were completed.
'E.^apa.rn Sva< nnXrurfiZva Tuvra nruxTcci.
All things were made perfect on the seventh day.
That they likewise held the number seven in very high
estimation, has been shown by a learned, though sometimes
fanciful author,2 with such evidence as to enforce convic¬
tion. The Pythagoreans call it the venerable number,
ffsC-/cyxm; dg/os, worthy of veneration, and held it to be
perfect and most proper to religion. They denominated it
fortune, and also styled it voice, sound, muse, because, no
doubt, seven distinct notes comprehend the whole scale of
music, beyond which neither voice nor instrument can go,
but must return from the seventh, and begin again anew.
They likewise designed it nKsapogos, leading to the end.
Seven, in the Hebrew language, is expressed by a word
that primarily signifies fulness, completion, sufficiency, and
is applied to a week, or seven days, because that was the
full time employed in the work of creation; to the Sabbath,
because on it all things were completed; and to an oath,
because it is sufficient to put an end to all strife. This
opening of the Hebrew root will enable us to come at the
meaning of those expressions of the heathens, and also let
us see whence they derived their ideas and modes of speak¬
ing, and that the knowledge of the transactions at the crea¬
tion, though much perverted, was never entirely lost by
them.
It has been supposed by some, that the heathens borrow¬
ed the notion of the sacredness of the seventh day from the
Jews. But this opinion will not readily be admitted, when
it is considered that the Jews were held in the greatest con-
33W, seven.
9 Holloway’s Originals, vol. ii. p. 60.
St *: man-
ne|>!
will the
ail' it
Je ob-
sei 1 the
safcith.
SABBATH.
tempt by the surrounding nations, who derided them no
less for their sabbaths than for their circumcision. All sorts
of writers ridiculed them on this account. Seneca charged
them with spending the seventh part of their time in sloth,
d acitus said, that not only the seventh day, but also the
seventh year, was unprofitably wasted. Juvenal brings
forward the same charge ; and Persius upbraided them with
their recutita sabbata. Plutarch said that they kept it in
honour of Bacchus; Tacitus affirmed that it was in ho¬
nour of Saturn ; but the most abominable assertion of all is
that of Apion, who said that they observed the Sabbath in
memory of their being cured on that day of a shameful
disease, called by the Egyptians sabbo.
Some, perceiving the force of this objection, have con¬
tended that time was divided into weeks of seven days,
that each of the planetary gods, the Sun, Moon, Mercury,
Venus, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn, who were the Dii ma-
jorum gentium, might have a day appropriated to his ser¬
vice. But if such was the origin ot weeks, how came the
great and ancient goddess Tellus to be omitted ? She w^as
worshipped by the early idolaters as well as the other planets,
and must surely have been deemed by them as worthy of
a particular day set apart to her honour as the planet Sa¬
turn, who was long undiscovered, afterwards seen but oc¬
casionally, and at all times considered as of malign aspect.
Others have supposed, that as the year was divided into
lunar months of something more than twenty-eight days, it
was natural to divide the months into quarters from the
different phases of the moon, which wmidd produce as many
weeks of seven days. But this supposition is less tenable than
the former. The phases of the moon are not so precisely
marked at the quarters as to attract to them any particular
notice; nor are the quarterly appearances of one month
commonly like those of another. We cannot, therefore,
conceive what should have induced the earliest observers
of the phases of the moon to divide the month into four
parts rather than into three, or five, or seven. Had the
ancient week consisted of fourteen days, it might have been
inferred, with some degree of plausibility, that its length
was regulated by the phases of the moon, because the shape
of that luminary, at the end of the second quarter, is very
precisely marked; but there is nothing which, in the pre¬
sent hypothesis, could have everywhere led mankind to
make their weeks consist of seven days. This division of
time, therefore, can be accounted for only by admitting the
primeval institution of the Sabbath, as related by Moses in
the book of Genesis. That institution was absolutely ne¬
cessary to preserve among men a sense of religion ; and it
was renewed to the Jews at the giving of the law, and its
observance enforced by the severest penalties. It was ac¬
cordingly observed by them with more or less strictness in
every part of their commonwealth ; and there is none of the
institutions of their divine lawgiver which, in their present
state of dispersion, they more highly honour. They re¬
gard it, indeed, with a superstitious reverence, call it their
spouse, their delight, and speak of it in the most magnifi¬
cent terms. They have often varied in their opinions of
the manner in which it ought to be kept. In the time of
the Maccabees, they carried their respect for the sabbath
so very high, that they would not on that day defend them¬
selves from the attacks of their enemies. But afterwards
they did not scruple to stand upon their necessary defence,
although they would do nothing to prevent the enemy from
carrying on their operations. When our Saviour was on
earth, it was no sin to loose a beast from the stall and lead
him to water; and if he had chanced to fall into a ditch,
they pulled him out. But now it is absolutely unlawful to
give a creature in that situation any other assistance than
that of food; and if they lead an animal to water, they must
take care not to let the bridle or halter hang loose, other¬
wise they are transgressors.
597
As the law enjoins rest on that day from all servile em- Sabbath,
ployments, in order to comply with the injunction, they v'——'
undertake no kind of work on Friday but such as can easily Mode °f
be accomplished before evening. In the afternoon they °+bservinS
put into proper places the meat that they have prepared to tbenlocfem
eat the day following. They afterwards set out a table co-Jews
vered with a clean cloth, and place bread upon it, which
they also cover with another cloth; and during the sabbath
the table is never moved out of its place. About an hour
before sunset, the women light the sabbath lamps, which
hang m the places where they eat. They then stretch forth
their hands to the light, and pronounce the following bene¬
diction. “ Blessed be thou, O God, king of the world, who
hast enjoined us, that are sanctified by thy commandments,
to light the sabbath lamp.” These lamps are two or more
in number, according to the size of the chamber in which
they are suspended, and continue to burn during the greater
part of the night. In order to begin the sabbath well, they
wash their hands and faces, trim their hair, and pair their
nails, beginning at the fourth finger, then going to the
second, then the fifth, then the third, and ending with the
thumb. If a Jew casts the parings of his nails to the
ground, he is rascah, that is, a wicked man; for Satan
has great power over those parings of nails; and it seems
they are of great use to the wizards, who know how to em¬
ploy them in their enchantments. If he buries them in the
earth, he is tzedic, that is, a just man ; if he burns them in
the fire, he is chesid, that is, worthy of honour, or an holy
man. When they have performed these preparatory cere¬
monies, they repair to the synagogue, and enter upon their
devotions. As soon as prayers begin, the departed souls
spring out of the purgatorial flames, and have liberty to cool
themselves in water while the sabbath lasts, for which reason
the Jews prolong the continuance of it as much as they can;
and the rabbin have strictly commanded them not to ex¬
haust all the water on the sabbath day, lest those miserable
souls should by these means be deprived of the refreshing
element. When they have ended their prayers, they return
home, and salute one another, by wishing a good sabbath.
They then sit down to table. The master of the family
takes a cup full of wine, and lifting up his hand, says,
“ Blessed be thou, O God our Lord, king of the world,
who hast created the fruit of the vine. Blessed be thou,
O God our Lord, king of the world, who hast sanctified us
by thy commandments, and given us thy holy sabbath;
and of thy good will and pleasure hast left it to us an in¬
heritance, the memorial of thy works of creation. For it
is the beginning of the congregation of saints, and the me¬
morial of the coming out of Egypt. And thou hast also
chosen us from all other people, and sanctified us, and with
love and pleasure hast left thy holy sabbath an inheritance.
Blessed be thou, O God, who sanctifiest the sabbath.” Af¬
ter this benediction is ended, he drinks, and gives the cup
to all who are present. He then removes the cloth, and
taking bread, says, “ Blessed be thou, O God our Lord,
king of the world, who bringest bread out of the earth.”
Then he breaks off a bit, and eats, and also gives a piece
of it to every one of the company.
On the morning of the sabbath, the Jews do not rise so
early as they do at other times, thinking, the greater plea¬
sure they take on that day, the more devoutly they keep it.
When they come into the synagogue, they pray as usual,
only the devotions are somewhat longer, being intermingled
with psalmody, in honour of the sabbath. The pentateuch
is then produced, and seven sections of it are read in order
by seven persons chosen for the purpose. Several lessons
are likewise read out of the prophets, which have some
relation to what was read out of the law. After morning
prayers, they return to their houses, and eat the second
sabbath-meal, showing every token of joy, in honour of the
festival. But if one has seen any thing ominous in his
598
SABBATH.
Prohibi¬
tions ob¬
served.
Sabbath, sleep ; if he has dreamed that he burned the book of the
—' law, that a beam has come out of the walls of his house,
or that his teeth have fallen out; then he fasts until very
late at night, for all such dreams are bad ones. In the
afternoon they go again to the synagogue, and perform the
evening service, adding to the ordinary prayers some les¬
sons that respect the sabbath. When the devotional duties
are ended, they return home, and light a candle resembling
a torch, and again sit down to eat. They remain eating
until near six," and then the master of the family takes a
cup, and pouring wine into it, rehearses some benedictions;
after which he pours a little of the wine upon the ground,
and says, “ Blessed be thou, O Lord, King of the world,
who hast created the fruit of the vine.” Then holding
the cup in his left hand, with the right he takes a box oi
sweet spices, and says, “ Blessed be thou, O Lord God,
who hast created various kinds of sweet spices. He sme s
the spices, and holds them out to the rest, that they may
do the same. He then takes the cup in his right hand,
and going to the candle views the left very narrowly, and
pronounces a blessing. With the cup in the left hand, he
examines the right in the same manner. Again, holding
the cup in his right hand, he rehearses another benedic¬
tion, and at the same time pours some of the wine on the
around. After this he drinks a little of it, and then hands
ft about to the rest of the family, who finish what remains.
In this manner the sabbath is ended by the Jews, and they
may return to their ordinary employments. I hose who
meet pay their compliments, by wishing one another a
happy week.
The rabbin have reckoned up thirty-nine primary pro¬
hibitions, which ought to be observed on the sabbatical fes¬
tival ; but their circumstances and dependents, which are
also obligatory, are almost innumerable. The thirty-nine
articles are, not to till the ground, to sow, to reap, to make
hay, to bind up sheaves of corn, to thrash, to winnow, to
grind, to sift meal, to knead the dough, to bake, to shear,
to whiten, to comb or card wool, to spin, to twine or twist,
to warp, to dye, to tie, to untie, to sew, to tear or pull in
nieces, to build, to pull down, to beat with a hammer, to
hunt or fish, to kill a beast, to flay it, to dress it, to scrape
the skin, to tan it, to cut leather, to write, to scratch out,
to rule paper for writing, to kindle a fire, to extinguish it, to
carry a thing from place to place, and to expose any thing to
sale. These are the primary prohibitions, and each ot them
lias its proper consequences, which amount to an incredible
number ; and the Jews themselves say, that if they could
keep but two sabbaths as they ought, they would soon be
belivered out of all their troubles. .
If a Jew on a journey is overtaken by the sabbath in a
wood or on the highway, no matter where, nor under what
circumstances, he sits down, he will not stir out of the spot.
If he falls down in the dirt, he lies there; he will not rise
up. A fresh wound must not be bound up on the sabbath
day. A plaster that had been formerly applied to a sore
may remain on it; but if it falls off, it must not be put on
anew. The lame may use a staff, but the blind must not.
These particulars, and a great many more of the same na¬
ture, are observed by the Jews in the strictest mannei.
But if any one wishes to know more of the practice of that
race, he may consult Buxtorf’s Judaica Synagoga
x. xi.), where he will find a complete detail of their cus¬
toms and ceremonies on the sabbath, and likewise see the
primary prohibitions branched out into their respective cir-
cumstances.
Institution As the seventh day was observed by the Jewish church,
of Sunday, jn memory of the rest of God after the works of creation,
or ^ie , and their own deliverance from Pharaohs tyranny ; so the
Lords day. first day of the week has always been observed by the
Christian church, in memory of the resurrection of Jesus
Christ, by which he completed the work of man s redemp¬
tion upon earth, and rescued him from the dominion of him Sabbath.'
who has the power of death. v~'
This day was denominated by the primitive Christians
the Lord’s day. It was also sometimes called Sunday,
which was the name given to it by the heathens, who de¬
dicated it to the sun. And, indeed, although it was origi¬
nally called Sunday by the heathens, yet it may very pro¬
perly retain that name among the Christians, because it is
dedicated to the honour of the true light, which lighteth
every man that cometh into the world; of Him who is
styled by the prophet the Sun of righteousness, and who on
this day arose from the dead. But although it was, in the
primitive times, indifferently called the Lord’s day or Sun¬
day, yet it was never denominated the sabbath; a name
constantly appropriated to Saturday, or the seventh day,
both by sacred and ecclesiastical writers.
Of the change from the seventh to the first day of the The men-
week, or even of the institution of the Lord’s day festival, tion of it in
there is no account in the New Testament. However, it“e few
uicic nw ... -— Testamput
may be fairly inferred from it, that the first day of the week.
^ ~{'nr* rmVilir* wfirfihin.
k accidental.
was, in the apostolic age, a stated time for public worship.
On this day the apostles were assembled, when the Holy
Ghost came down so visibly upon them to qualify them for
the conversion of the world. On this day we find St Paul
preaching at Troas, when the disciples came to break bread;
and the directions which the same apostle gives to the Co¬
rinthians concerning their contributions for the relief of
their suffering brethren, plainly allude to their religious as¬
semblies on the first day of the week.
Thus it would appear from several passages in the New
Testament, that the religious observation of the first day of
the week is of apostolical appointment; and may indeed be
very reasonably supposed to be amongst those directions
and instructions which our blessed Lord himself gave to
his disciples during the forty days between his resurrection
and ascension, in which he conversed with them, and spoke
of the things pertaining to the kingdom of God. Still, how¬
ever, it must be owned that those passages, although the
plainest that occur, are not sufficient to prove the apostoli¬
cal institution of the Lord’s day, or even the actual obser¬
vation of it. In order, therefore, to place the matter be¬
yond all controversy, recourse must be had to ecclesiastical
16 Fr^m the consentient evidence and uniform practice oflt never_
the primitive church, and also from the attestation of Pliny, tobe
we find that the first day of the week was observed in theofdivine
earliest ages as a holiday or festival, in honour of the resur-orjgin.
rection of Christ. Now there are but two sources whence
the custom could possibly have arisen. It must have been
instituted either by human or divine authority. But by
human authority it was not instituted ; for there was no ge¬
neral council in those early times, and without the decree
of a general council it was impossible that any ecclesiasti¬
cal institution could have been universally established at
It remains, therefore, that it must have been msti-
JlitffSS
jilted iii
kfrimi-
uiimeSi
once. At lemaiiio, * 
tuted by divine authority; and that it really w as s ,
further appear from the following considerations. It is cer¬
tain that the apostles travelled over the greatest part ot the
world, and planted churches in the remotest parts ot it.
It is certain also that they were all led by the same spirit;
and their desire was, that unity and uniformity should be
observed in all the churches which they had founded. It
is not therefore surprising that, in the primitive times, the
same doctrine, the same worship, the same rites and cus¬
toms, should prevail all over the Christian world; nay, t
would have been unaccountable had the case been othe
wise. For this reason we may conclude that every custom,
universally observed in the early ages of the Christian
church, and not instituted by a general council, was ot or
t ksta.1
it*
tb
4 Nit
glAs the Load’s day is sanctified, that is, set apart, to Chris-
SAB
S oath, tians for the worship and service of God, their Creator, Re-
' deemer, and Sanctifier, a little consideration will easily dis¬
cover how it ought to be observed. Although a day sepa¬
rated from worldly business, yet it is in no sense a day of
idleness, but a season appropriated to the works of salvation
and labours of charity.
Ho it was In the primitive times this holy day was observed in the
ob; red in most solemn manner. From the monuments of those early
therimi- ages we learn, that it was spent in a due and constant at-
tiv -mes. tendance on all the offices of divine worship. On it they
held their religious assemblies, in which the writings of the
apostles and prophets were read to the people, and the doc¬
trines of Christianity further pressed upon them by the ex¬
hortations of the clergy. Solemn prayers and praises were
offered up to God, and hymns sung in honour of Christ;
the Lord’s supper was constantly celebrated; and collections
were made for the maintenance of the clergy and the relief
of the poor. On this day they abstained as much as they
could from bodily labour. They looked upon it as a day
of joy and gladness ; and therefore all fasting on it was pro¬
hibited, even during the season of Lent, their great annual
fast. Such was the zeal of those times, that nothing, no
not the severest persecutions, hindered them from celebrat¬
ing the holy offices on this day. They were often beset and
betrayed, and as often slaughtered in consequence of cruel
edicts from emperors, those very emperors for whose hap¬
piness and prosperity they always offered up their fervent
prayers. For this cause, when they could not meet in the
day-time, they assembled in the morning before it was light;
and when sick, in exile, or in prison, nothing troubled them
more than that they could not attend the service of the
church. No trivial pretences were then admitted for any
one’s absence from public worship ; for severe censures were
passed upon all who were absent without some urgent ne¬
cessity. When the empire became Christian, Constantine
and his successors made laws for the more solemn observa¬
tion of the Lord’s day. They prohibited all prosecutions
and pleadings, and other juridical matters, to be transacted
on it, and also all unnecessary labour; not that it was looked
upon as a Jewish sabbath, but because these things were
considered as inconsistent with the duties of the festival.
But although the primitive Christians did not indulge
themselves in the practice of unnecessary labour or trifling
amusements, yet they did not wholly abstain from wrorking,
if great necessity required it. The council of Laodicea
enjoined that men should abstain from work on the Lord’s
day if possible ; but if any were found to Judaize, they were
to be censured as great transgressors. So circumspect were
the primitive Christians about their conduct on this festi¬
val, that on the one hand they avoided all things which
tended to profane it, whilst on the other they censured all
those who insisted that it should be observed with Phari¬
saical rigour and devotion.
Advii-a. ? The primary duty of the Lord’s day is public worship.
‘iK f a*" nature an<^ design of the Christian religion sufficiently
c er. s^°'vs ^le necessity and importance of assembling for the
vatic :,f it. duties of devotion. The whole scope of Christianity is to
bring us to an union with God, which cannot be obtained
or preserved without frequent communications with him;
and the reasons which show religious intercourse to be the
indispensable duty of Christians in a private capacity, will
bind it with equal or more force on them considered as a
community.
The advantages of public worship, when duly performed,
are many and great. There are two, however, which de¬
serve to be considered in a particular manner. It gives
Christians an opportunity of openly professing their faith,
and testifying their obedience to their Redeemer in the
wisest and best manner; and in an age when infidelity has
arisen to an alarming height, when the Son of God is cru¬
cified afresh, and put to open shame, every man, who has
SAB 599
any regard for religion, will cheerfully embrace all oppor- Sabbath-
tumties of declaring his abhorrence of the vicious courses Breaking
pursued by those apostates. He will lay hold with pleasure o JJ
on every occasion to testify that he is neither afraid nor - a°mUb'
ashamed to confess the truth; and will think it his indis¬
pensable duty openly to disavow the sins of others, that he
may not incur the guilt of partaking of them.
Public worship preserves in the minds of men a sense
of religion, without which society cannot exist. Nothing
can keep a body of men together, and unite them in pro¬
moting the public good, but such principles of action as may
reach and govern the heart. But these can be derived only
from a sense of religious duties, w'hich can never be so strong¬
ly impressed upon the mind as by a constant attendance
upon public worship. Nothing can be more weak than to
neglect the public worship of God, under the pretence that
we can employ ourselves as acceptably to our Maker at
home in our closets. Both kinds of worship are indeed ne¬
cessary ; but one debt cannot be paid by the discharge of
a,nother. By public worship every man professes his be¬
lief in that God whom he adores, and appeals to Him for
his sincerity, of which his neighbour cannot judge. By this
appeal he endears himself more or less to others. It creates
confidence ; and it roots in the heart benevolence, and all
other Christian virtues, which produce, in common life, the
fruits of mutual love and general peace.
Sabbath-Breaking, or profanation of the Lord’s day, is
punishable by law. For besides the notorious indecency
and scandal of permitting any secular business to be pub¬
licly transacted on that day, in a country professing Chris¬
tianity, and the corruption of morals which usually follows
its profanation, the keeping one day in seven holy, as a
time of relaxation and refreshment, as well as for public
worship, is of admirable service to a state, considered mere¬
ly as a civil institution. It humanizes, by the help of con¬
versation and society, the manners of the lower classes,
which would otherwise degenerate into a sordid ferocity and
selfishness of spirit; it enables the industrious workman to
pursue his occupation in the ensuing week with health and
cheerfulness ; it imprints on the minds of the people that
sense of their duty to God which is so necessary to make
them good citizens, but which yet would be worn out and
defaced by an unremitted continuance of labour, without
any stated times of recalling them to the worship of their
Maker.
SABBEA, a town of Yemen, in Arabia, in the moun¬
tainous district of Khaulan, eight miles north-east of Abu
Arish.
SABEIA, a small island in the Red Sea. Lat. 18. 22. N.
SABELLIANS, a sect of Christians of the third century,
that embraced the opinions of Sabellius, a philosopher of
Egypt, who openly taught that there is but one person in
the Godhead. The Sabellians maintained, that the Word
and the Holy Spirit are only virtues, emanations, or func¬
tions of the Deity, and held, that he who is in heaven is the
Father of all things; that he descended into the virgin, be¬
came a child, and was born of her as a son ; and that having
accomplished the mystery of our salvation, he diffused him¬
self on the apostles in tongues of fire, and was then deno¬
minated the Holy Ghost. This they explained by com¬
paring God to the sun, the illuminative virtue or quality of
which wras the Word, and its warming virtue the Holy
Spirit. The Word, they taught, was darted, like a divine
ray, to accomplish the work of redemption ; and that being
re-ascended to heaven, the influences of the Father were
communicated after a like manner to the apostles.
SABIANS, an early sect of worshippers of the sun, moon,
and stars. See Polytheism.
SABIN US, George, a celebrated Latin poet, born in
the electorate of Brandenburg in 1508. His poem Res Gestce
Ccesarum Germanorwn spread his reputation all over Ger-
600
SAC
SAC
Sabionetta many, and procured him the patronage of all the princes
II who had any regard for polite literature. He was made pro-
Saccbarum.pessor 0f the belles lettres at Frankfort on the Oder, rector
 ' of the new academy of Kdnigsberg, and counsellor to the
elector of Brandenburg. He married two wives, the first
of whom was the eldest daughter of Melancthon, and died
in 1560. His poems are well known, and have often been
printed.
SABIONETTA, a city of the province of Mantua, in
Austrian Lombardy, with a citadel, four churches, and 6320
inhabitants. Long. 10. 24. 45. E. Lat. 44. 59. 47. N.
SABLE, or Sable Animal, in Zoology, a creature of the
weasel-kind, called by authors mustela zibellina. See Mam-
MAIAA.
Sable, Cape, the most southerly province of Nova Scotia,
in North America. Long. 65. 34. W. Lat. 43. 24. N.
Sable, in Heraldry, signifies black, and is borrowed from
the French, as are most terms in this science. In engrav¬
ing it is expressed by both horizontal and perpendicular
lines crossing each other. Sable of itself signifies constancy,
learning, and grief; and ancient heralds will have it, that
when it is compounded with
Or, ‘
Sackville.
Arg.
Gul.
Azu.
Ver.
Pur.
o
e
J
' Honour.
Fame.
Respect.
Application.
Comfort.
L Austerity.
SABLES D’OLONNE, Les, an arrondissement of the
department of Vendee, in France. It extends over seven
hundred and thirty-two and a half square miles, and com¬
prehends eleven cantons, divided into seventy-nine com¬
munes, with 98,508 inhabitants in 1836. The capital is
the city of the same name, situated at the termination of a
sandy plain on the sea-shore, and only connected by a strip
of land with the continent. It has a small harbour fit for
vessels of not more than a hundred and fifty tons. It consists
of four long parallel streets, with 4778 inhabitants, who carry
on the fisheries, and deal in corn, cattle, and salt, which last
is made by the sun on the marshes. Long. 1. 53. 3. W. Lat.
46. 29. 50. N.
SAB ON, an island in the Eastern Seas, at the southern
entrance of the Straits of Malacca, of a triangular form. It is
separated from Sumatra by a navigable channel, the Straits
of Sabon, and is twenty-four miles in circumference. Long.
103. 21. E. Lat. 0. 24. N.
SABOU, or Saivu, probably the same island as Savo,
near Timor, to which the reader is referred.
SABRAO, an island in the Eastern Seas, separated from
the island of Flores by the Straits of Flores. It is forty miles
in length by eighteen in average breadth.
SABRE, a kind of sword or scimitar, with a very broad
and heavy blade, thick at the back, and a little falcated or
crooked towards the point. It is the ordinary weapon worn
by the Turks, who are very expert in the use of it.
‘ SA BULAGH, a town and district of Persia, in Azer-
bijan, situated on the lake Urumea, thirty miles from Ma-
raga.
SAC./EA, a feast which the ancient Babylonians and
other orientals held annually in honour of the deity Anaitis.
The Sacsea were in the East what the Saturnalia were at
Rome, namely, a feast for the slaves. One of the ceremo¬
nies was to choose a prisoner condemned to death, and to
allow him all the pleasures and gratifications he could wish,
before he was carried to execution.
SACCHARUM, Sugar, or the Sugar- Cane. This plant
is a native of Africa, the East Indies, and Brazil; whence
it was introduced into our West India islands soon after they
were settled. The sugar-cane is the glory and the pride of
those islands. It amply rewards the industrious planter, en¬
riches the British merchant, gives bread to thousands of ma¬
nufacturers and seamen, and brings an immense revenue to Saccharo.
the crown. See Sugar. meter
SACCHAROMETER, an instrument for ascertaining
the value of worts, and the strength of different kinds of.
malt liquor. The name signifies a measure of sweetness.
SACHEVEREL, Dr Henry, a famous Tory clergyman
in the reign of Queen Anne, who distinguished himself by
indecent and scurrilous sermons and writings against the
dissenters and revolution principles. He owed his conse¬
quence, however, to being indiscreetly prosecuted by the
House of Lords for his assize-sermon at Derby, and his fifth
of November sermon at St Paul’s in 1709, in which he as¬
serted the doctrine of non-resistance to government in its
utmost extent, and reflected severely on the act of tolera¬
tion. The high and low church parties were very violent
at that time; and the trial of Sacheverel inflamed the high-
church party to dangerous riots and excesses. He was,
however, suspended for three years, and his sermons were
burned by the common hangman. The Tories being in
administration when Sacheverel’s suspension expired, he
was freed with every circumstance of honour and public re¬
joicing ; was ordered to preach before the Commons on the
29th of May; had the thanks of the house for his discourse;
and obtained the valuable rectory of St Andrews, Holbom.
He died in 1724.
SACK, a wine used by our ancestors, which some have
taken to be Rhenish and some Canary wine. Venner, in
his Via Recta ad Vitam Longam, printed in 1628, says
that sack is “ completely not in the third degree, and that
some affect to drink sack with sugar and some without; and
upon no other ground, as I think, but as it is best pleasing
to their palate.” He goes on to say, “ that sack, taken by
itself, is very hot and very penetrative ; being taken with
sugar, the heat is both somewhat allayed, and the penetra¬
tive quality thereof also retarded.” He adds further, that
Rhenish declines after a twelvemonth, but sack and the
other stronger wines are best after they are two or three
years old. It appears to be highly probable that sack was
not a sweet wine, from its being taken with sugar ;• and that
it did not receive its name from having a saccharine fla¬
vour, but from its being originally stored in sacks or bo-
rachios. It does not appear to have been a French wine,
but a strong wine, the production of a hot climate. Pio-
bablv it was what is called dry mountain, or some Spanish
wine of that kind. This conjecture is the more plausible,
as Howell, in his French and English Dictionary, printed
in the year 1650, translates sack by the words “ vin dEs-
pagne, vin sec.” . . .. ,
SACKBUT, a musical instrument of the wind kind,
being a sort of trumpet, though different from the common
trumpet both in form and size. It is fit to play a bass, and
is contrived to be drawn out or shortened, according to the
tone required, whether grave or acute. The Italians call it
trombone, and the Latins tuba ductilis. „
SACKVILLE, Thomas, Lord Buckhurst and Earl ot
Dorset, a statesman and poet, the son of Richard Sackville
of Buckhurst, in the parish of Withian, in Sussex, was born
in the year 1536. He was sent to Hart Hall, m Oxford,
in the latter end of the reign of Edward VI. whence he re¬
moved to Cambridge, where he took a degree of master ot
arts, and thence to the Inner Temple. He now apphe
himself to the study of the law, and was called to the bar.
We are tcld that he commenced poet whilst at the univer¬
sities, and that these his juvenile productions were muc
admired, though none of them have been preserved, w
the fourth and fifth years of Queen Mary we find him a
member of the House of Commons, about which time,
1557, he wrote a poetical piece, entitled the Induction,
or the Mirror of Magistrates. This last was meant to com¬
prehend all the unfortunate great from the beginning of ou
history ; but the design being dropped, it was inserted
taiienf
SAC
SAC
601
S mile the body of the work. The Mirror of Magistrates is form- turns sum etfacturus quicquid mandabitur ab imperatori- Sacramen.
si inent ed Up°n a dramatic Plan>in whlch the Persons are introduced busjuxta vires. The word was adopted by the writers of tarians.
^ speaking. The Induction is written much in the style of the Latin church, and employed, perhaps with no greatv   
Spencer, who, with some probability, is supposed to have propriety, to denote those ordinances of religion by which
Christians came under an obligation, equally sacred with
imitated this author.
In the year 1561, his tragedy of Gorboduc was acted be¬
fore Queen Elizabeth by the gentlemen of the Inner Temple.
This was the first tolerable tragedy in our language. The
Companion to the Playhouse tells us that the first three
acts were written by Mr Thomas Norton. Sir Philip Sid¬
ney, in his Apology for Poetry, says, “ it is full of stately
speeches and well-sounding phrases, climbing to the height
of Seneca in his style.” Rymer speaks highly in its com¬
mendation. Mr Spence, at the instigation of Pope, repub¬
lished it in 1736, with a pompous preface. It is said to be
our first dramatic piece written in verse. In the first par¬
liament of this reign Mr Sackville was member for Sussex,
and for Buckinghamshire in the second. In the mean time
he made the tour of France and Italy, and in 1566 was im¬
prisoned at Rome, when he was informed of his father’s death,
by which he became possessed of a very considerable for¬
tune. Having now obtained his liberty, he returned to
England, and being first knighted, was created Lord Buck-
hurst. In 1570 he was sent as ambassador to France. In
1586 he was one of the commissioners appointed to try the
unfortunate Mary queen of Scots, and was the messenger
employed to report the confirmation of her sentence, as well
as to see it executed. The year following he went as ambas-
that of an oath, to observe their part of the covenant of
grace, and in which they had the assurance of Christ that
he would fulfil his part of the same covenant.
Of sacraments, in this sense of the word, Protestant
churches admit but of two ; and it is not easy to conceive
how a greater number can be made out from Scripture, if
the definition of a sacrament be just which is given by the
church of England. By that church the meaning of the
word sacrament is declared to be “ an outward and visible
sign of an inward and spiritual grace given unto us, or¬
dained by Christ himself as a means whereby we receive
the same, and a pledge to assure us thereof.” According
to this definition, baptism and the Lord’s Supper are cer¬
tainly sacraments; for each consists of an outward and vi¬
sible sign of what is believed to be an inward and spiritual
grace; both were ordained by Christ himself; and by the
reception of each does the Christian come under a solemn
obligation to be true to his divine master, according to the
terms of the covenant of grace. The Catholics, however,
add to this number confirmation, penance, extreme unction,
ordination, and marriage, holding in all seven sacraments ;
but two of those rites not being peculiar to the Christian
church, cannot possibly be Christian sacraments, in contra-
sador to the states-general, in consequence of their com- distinction to the sacraments or obligations into which men
plaint against the Earl of Leicester, who, disliking his im¬
partiality, prevailed on the queen to recall him, and confine
him to his house. In this state of confinement he conti¬
nued about ten months, when Leicester dying, he was re¬
stored to favour, and in 1580 was installed knight of the
garter. But the most incontrovertible proof of the queen’s
partiality for Lord Buckhurst appeared in the year 1591,
when she caused him to be elected chancellor in the uni¬
versity of Oxford, in opposition to her favourite Essex. In
1598, on the death of the treasurer Burghley, Lord Buck¬
hurst succeeded him, and by virtue of his office became in
effect prime minister ; and when, in 1601, the earls of Es¬
sex and Southampton were brought to trial, he sat as lord
high steward on that awful occasion. On the accession of
James I. he w7as graciously received, had the office of lord
high treasurer confirmed to him for life, and was created
Earl of Dorset. He continued high in favour w ith the king
till the day of his death, which happened suddenly on the
19th day of April 1608; in the council-chamber at White¬
hall. He was interred with great solemnity in Westminster
Abbey.
Sackville, Charles, Earl of Dorset, a celebrated wit and
poet, descended from the foregoing, was born in 1637. He
was, like Villiers, Rochester, and Sedley, one of the liber¬
tines of King Charles’s court, and sometimes indulged him¬
self in inexcusable excesses. He openly discountenanced
the violent measures of James II., and engaged early for
the prince of Orange, by whom he was made lord cham¬
berlain of the household, and taken into the privy council.
He died in 1706, and left several poetical pieces, which,
though not considerable enough to make a volume by them¬
selves, may be found amongst the wmrks of the minor poets,
published in 1749.
SACMARA, a considerable river of Asiatic Russia, in
the government of Orenburg. It has its rise in the Ural
Mountains, and, flowing southwards, falls into the river of
the same name. Its banks are thinly inhabited, though
they are rich in mines of copper.
SACRAMENT is derived from the Latin word sacra-
mentum, which signifies an oath, particularly the oath taken
by soldiers to be true to their country and their general. The
words of this oath, according to Polybius, were, obtevipera-
vol. xix.
of all religions enter. Marriage was instituted from the be¬
ginning, when God made man male and female, and com¬
manded them to be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the
earth ; and penance, as far as it is of the same import with
repentance, has a place in all religions which teach that God
is merciful and men fallible. The external severities im¬
posed upon penitents by the church of Rome may indeed
be in some respects peculiar to the discipline of that church,
though the penances of the Hindus are certainly as rigid;
but none of these severities were ordained by Christ him¬
self as the pledge of an inward and spiritual grace ; nor do
they, like baptism and the Lord’s Supper, bring men un¬
der obligations which are supposed to be analogous to the
meaning of the word sacramentum. Confirmation has a
better title to the appellation of a sacrament than any of
the other five rites of that name, though it certainly was not
considered as such by the earliest writers of the Christian
church, nor does it appear to have been ordained by Christ
himself. Ordination is by many churches considered as a
very important rite ; but as it is not administered to all
men, nor has any particular form appropriated to it in the
New Testament, it cannot be considered as a Christian sa¬
crament conferring grace generally necessary to salvation.
It is rather a form of authorizing certain persons to perform
certain offices, which respect not themselves, but the whole
church ; and extreme unction is a rite which took its rise
from the miraculous ptmers of the primitive church vainly
claimed by the succeeding clergy. These considerations
seem to have some weight with the Catholic clergy them¬
selves ; for they call the eucharist, by way of eminence,
the holy sacrament. Thus to expose the holy sacrament,
is to lay the consecrated host on the altar to be adored.
The procession of the holy sacrament is that in which this
host is carried about the church, or about a town.
Congregation of the Holy Sacrament, a religious estab¬
lishment formed in France, whose founder was Autherius,
bishop of Bethlehem, and which, in 1644, received an or¬
der from Urban VIII. to have always a number of eccle¬
siastics ready to exercise their ministry among pagan na¬
tions, wherever the pope, or the congregation de propagan¬
da fide, should appoint.
SACRAMENTARIANS, a general name given to all
4 G
602
SAC
SAC
Sacramen- sucli as have published or held erroneous doctrines of the
tary sacrament of the Lord’s Supper. The term is chiefly ap-
II. plied among Roman Catholics, by way of reproach to the
Sacrifice^ Lutherans, Calvinists, and other Protestants.
SACRAMENTARY, an ancient Catholic church-book,
which contains all the prayers and ceremonies practised at
the celebration of the sacraments. It was written by Pope
Gelasius, and afterwards revised, corrected, and abridged,
by St Gregory.
SACRED, something holy, or that is solemnly ottered
and consecrated to God, with benedictions, unctions, and
the like. Kings, prelates, and priests, are reckoned sacred
persons ; abbots are only blessed. I he deaconhood, sub-
deaconhood, and priesthood, are all sacred orders, and are
said to impress an indelible character. The custom ot con¬
secrating kings with holy oil is derived, says Gutlingius,
from the Hebrews, amongst whom, he agrees with Grotius,
it was never used but to kings who had not an evident right
by succession. He adds, that the Christian emperors never
used it before Justin the younger.
Sacred is also applied to things belonging to God and
the church. Church-lands and ornaments are held sacred.
The sacred college is that of the cardinals.
Sacred Majesty is applied to the emperor, and to the
king of England.
SACRIFICE, an offering made to God on an altar, by
means of a regular minister, as an acknowledgment of his
power, and a payment of homage. Sacrifices, though the
term is sometimes used for all the offerings made to God,
or in any way devoted to his service and honour, differ
from mere oblations in this, that in a saciifice there is a real
destruction or change of the thing offered; whereas an ob¬
lation is only a simple offering or gift, without any such
change at all. Thus, all sorts of tithes and first fruits,
and whatever of men’s worldly, substance is conseciated to
God, for the support of his worship and the maintenance
of his ministers, are offerings or oblations ; and these, un-
der the Jewish law, were either of living creatures or other
things; but sacrifices, in the more peculiar sense of the
term, were either wholly or in part consumed by fire.
They have by divines been divided into bloody and un¬
bloody. Bloody sacrifices were made of living creatures;
unbloody, of the fruits of the earth. They have also been
divided into expiatory, impetratory, and eucharistical. The
first kind were offered to obtain of God forgiveness of sins;
the second to procure some favour; and the third to ex¬
press thankfulness for favours already received. Under
one or other of these heads may all sacrifices be arranged ;
though we are told that the Egyptians had six hundred and
sixty-six different kinds, a number surpassing all credibility.
Concerning the origin of sacrifices very various opinions
have been held. By many, the Phoenicians are supposed
to have been the authors of them, though Porphyry attri¬
butes their invention to the Egyptians; and Ovid imagines,
from the import of the terms victim and hostia, that no
bloody sacrifices were offered until wars prevailed in the
worldj and nations obtained victories over their enemies.
These are mere hypotheses, contradicted by the most au¬
thentic records of antiquity, and entitled to no regard.
By modern deists, sacrifices are said to have had their ori¬
gin in superstition, which operates much in the same way in
every country. It is therefore weak, according to these men,
to derive this practice from any particular people, since the
same mode of reasoning would lead various nations, without
any intercourse with each other, to entertain the same opi¬
nions respecting the nature of their gods, and the proper
means of appeasing their anger. Men of gross conceptions
imagine their deities to be, like themselves, covetous and
cruel. They are accustomed to appease an injured neigh- Sacrifice,
hour by a composition in money; and they endeavour to
compound in the same manner with their gods, by rich
offerings to their temples and to their priests. The most
valuable property of a simple people is their cattle. These
offered in sacrifice are supposed to be fed upon by the di¬
vinity, and are actually fed upon by his priests. If a crime
is committed which requires the punishment of death, it is
accounted perfectly fair to appease the deity by offering one
life for another; because, by savages, punishment is consi¬
dered as a debt, for which a man may compound in the
best way that he can, and which one man may pay for
another. Hence, it is said, arose the absurd riotions of
imputed guilt and vicarious atonement. Among the Egyp¬
tians a white bull was chosen as an expiatory sacrifice to
their god Apis. After being killed at the altar, his head
was cut off and cast into the river, with the following exe¬
cration : “ May all the evils impending over those who per¬
form this sacrifice, or over the Egyptians in general, be avert¬
ed on this head.”1
Had sacrifice never prevailed in the world but among
such gross idolaters as worshipped departed heroes, who
were supposed to retain in their state of deification all the
passions and appetites of their mortal state, this account of
the origin of that mode of worship would have been to us
perfectly satisfactory. We readily admit that such mean
notions of their gods may have actually led far distant
tribes, who could not derive any thing from each other
through the channel of tradition, to imagine that beings of
human passions and appetites might be appeased or bribed
by costly offerings. But we know, from the most incon¬
trovertible authority, that sacrifices of the three kinds that
we have mentioned were in use among people who wor¬
shipped the true God, and who must have had very correct
notions of his attributes. Now we think it impossible that
such notions could have led any man to fancy that the tak¬
ing away of the life of a harmless animal, or the burning of
a cake or other fruits of the earth in the fire, would be ac¬
ceptable to a Being self-existent, omnipotent, and omni¬
scient, who can neither be injured by the crimes of his
creatures, nor receive any accession of happiness from a
thousand worlds.
Sensible of the force of such reasoning as this, some per¬
sons of great name, who admit the authenticity of the Jew¬
ish and Christian Scriptures, and firmly rely on the atone¬
ment made by Christ, are yet unwilling to allow that sa¬
crifices were originally instituted by God. Ot this way oi
thinking were St Chrysostom, Spencer, Grotius, and War-
burton, as were likewise tjie Jews Maimonides, R. Levi,
Ben Gerson, and Abarbanel. The greater part of these
writers maintain that sacrifices were at first a human in¬
stitution ; and that God, in order to prevent their being of¬
fered to idols, introduced them into his service, though he
did not approve of them as good in themselves, or as pro¬
per rites of worship. That the infinitely wise and good
God should introduce into his service improper rites ot
worship, appears to us so extremely improbable, that we
cannot but wonder how such an opinion should ever have
found its way into the minds of such men as those who
held it. Warburton’s theory of sacrifice is much more plau¬
sible, and worthy of particular examination.
According to this ingenious prelate, sacrifices had then
origin in the sentiments of the human heart, and in the an¬
cient mode of conversing by action in aid of words. Gra¬
titude to God for benefits received is natural to the mind
of man, as well as his bounden duty. “ This duty, says
the bishop,2 “ was in the most early times discharged in ex¬
pressive actions, the least equivocal of which was the of-
IriSce. '
rT*
1 Herodotus, lib. ii.
2 Divine Legation of Moses demonstrated, b. ix. c. ii.
SACRIFICE.
ifice. ferer’s bringing the first fruits of pasturage or agriculture
'to that sequestered place where the Deity used to be more
solemnly invoked, at the stated times of public worship ;
and there presenting them in homage, with a demeanour
which spoke to this purpose: ‘ I do hereby acknowledge
thee, O my God, to be the author and giver of all good;
and do now, with humble gratitude, return my warmest
thanks for these thy blessings particularly bestowed upon
me.’ ” Things thus devoted became thenceforth sacred ;
and to prevent their desecration, the readiest way was to
send them to the table of the priest, or to consume them
in the fire of the altar. Such, in the opinion of our au¬
thor, was the origin of eucharistical sacrifices. Impetra-
tory or precative sacrifices had, he thinks, the same origin,
and were contrived to express by action an invocation for
the continuance of God’s favour. “ Expiatory sacrifices,”
says the same learned prelate, “ were in their own nature
as intelligible, and in practice as rational, as either of the
other twro. Here, instead of presenting the first fruits of
agriculture and pasturage, in corn, wine, oil, and wool, as
in the eucharistical, or a portion of wdiat was to be sown or
otherwise propagated, as in the impetratory, some chosen
animal, precious to the repenting criminal who deprecates,
or supposed to be obnoxious to the Deity who is to be ap¬
peased, was offered up and slain at the altar, in an action
which, in all languages, when translated into words, speaks
to this purpose : ‘ I confess my transgressions at thy foot¬
stool, O my God, and with the deepest contrition implore
thy pardon, confessing that I deserve death for those my
offences.’ The latter part of the confession was more for¬
cibly expressed by the action of striking the devoted ani¬
mal, and depriving it of life ; which, when put into words,
concluded in this manner : ‘ And I own that I myself de¬
serve the death which I now inflict on this animal.’ ”
This system of sacrifice, w hich 'his lordship thinks so well
supported by the most early movements of simple nature,
we admit to be ingenious, but by no means satisfactory.
That mankind in the earlier ages of the world were accus¬
tomed to supply the deficiencies of their language by ex¬
pressive gesticulations, we are not inclined to controvert.
The custom prevails among savage nations, or nations half
civilized, at the present day. His lordship, however, is of
opinion, and w7e heartily agree with him, that our first pa¬
rents were instructed by God to make articulate sounds sig¬
nificant of ideas, notions, and things, and not left to fabri¬
cate a language for themselves. That this heaven-taught
language could at first be copious, no man will suppose, who
thinks of the paucity of ideas which those who spoke it had
to express ; but when we consider its origin, w7e cannot en¬
tertain a doubt but that it was precise and perspicuous, and
admirably adapted to all the real purposes of life. Among
these purposes must surely be included the worship of God
as the most important of all. Every sentiment therefore
which enters into worship, gratitude, invocation, confession,
and deprecation, the progenitors of mankind were undoubt¬
edly taught to clothe in words the most significant and une¬
quivocal ; but we know from Moses, whose divine legation
the bishop surely admitted, that Cain and Abel, the eldest
children of our first parents, worshipped God by the rites
of sacrifice ; and can w7e suppose that this practice occurred
to them from their having so far forgotten the language
taught them by their father, as to be under the necessity of
denoting by action wdiat they could not express by words ?
If this supposition be admitted, it will force upon us another
still more extravagant. Even Adam himself must, in that
case, have become dumb in consequence of his fall; for it
is not conceivable, that as long as he was able to utter arti¬
culate sounds, and affix a meaning to them, he would cease,
in the presence of his family, to confess his sins, implore
‘brgiveness, and express his gratitude to God for all his
mercies.
603
Ihe author, as if aware of some such objection as this, Sacrifice,
contends, that if sacrifices had arisen from any other source
than the light of reason, the Scripture would not have been
sdent concerning that source; “ especially since we find
Moses carefully recording what God immediately, and not
nature, taught to Adam and his family.” “ Had the ori¬
ginal of sacrifice,” says he, “ been prescribed and directly
commanded by the Deity, the sacred historian could never
have omitted the express mention of that circumstance.
The two capital observances in the Jewish ritual were the
Sabbath and sacrifices. lo impress the highest reverence
and veneration on the Sabbath, he is careful to record its
divine original; and can we suppose that had sacrifices had
the same original, he would have neglected to establish this
truth at the time that he recorded the other, since it is of
equal use and of equal importance ? I should have said, in¬
deed, of much greater; for the multifarious sacrifices of the
law had not only a reference to the forfeiture of Adam, but
likewise prefigured our redemption by Jesus Christ.”
But all this reasoning was foreseen, and completely an¬
swered, before his lordship gave it to the public. It is pro¬
bable, that though the distinction of weeks was well known
over all the eastern world, the Hebrews, during their resi¬
dence in Egypt, were very negligent in their observance of
the Sabbath. To enforce a religious observance of that
sacred day, it became necessary to inform them of the time
and occasion of its first institution, that they might keep it
holy in memory of the creation; but, in a country like
Egypt, the people were in danger of holding sacrifices rather
in too high than too low veneration, so that there was not
the same necessity for mentioning explicitly the early in¬
stitution of them. It was sufficient that they knew the di¬
vine institution of their own sacrifices, and the purposes for
which they were offered. Besides this, there is reason to
believe, that, in order to guard the Hebrews from the in¬
fections of the heathen, the rite of sacrificing was loaded
with many additional ceremonies at its second institution
under Moses. It might, therefore, be improper to relate its
original simplicity to a rebellious people, who would think
themselves ill used by any additional burdens of trouble or
expense, however really necessary to their happiness. Bi¬
shop Warburton sees clearly the necessity of concealing
from the Jews the spiritual and refined nature of the Chris¬
tian dispensation, lest such a backsliding people should,
from the contemplation of it, have held in contempt their own
economy. This, he thinks, is the reason why the prophets,
speaking of the reign of the Messiah, borrow their images
from the Mosaic dispensation, that the people living under
that dispensation might not despise it from perceiving its
end ; and we think the reason will hold equally good for
their lawgiver concealing from them the simplicity of the
first sacrifices, let they should be tempted to murmur at
their own multifarious ritual.
But his lordship thinks that sacrifices had their origin
from the light of natural reason. We should be glad to
know what light natural reason can throw upon such a sub¬
ject. That ignorant pagans, adoring as gods departed he¬
roes, who still retained their sensual appetites, might natu¬
rally think of appeasing such beings with the fat of fed
beasts, and the perfumes of the altar, we have already ad¬
mitted ; but that Cain and Abel, who knew that the God
whom they adored has neither body, parts, nor passions; that
he created and sustains the universe ; and that from his very
nature he must will the happiness of all his creatures, should
be led by the light of natural reason to think of appeasing
him, or obtaining favours from him, by putting to death harm¬
less animals, is a position which no arguments of his lordship
can ever compel us to admit. That Abel’s sacrifice was in
deed accepted, we know; but it was not accepted because it
proceeded from the movements of the human mind, and the
deficiency of the original language, but because it was oflered
604
SACRIFICE.
Sacrific e, through faith. The light of natural reason, however, does
''■"■'■‘v ' not generate faith, but science; and when it fails of that,
its offspring is absurdity. “ Faith is the substance of things
hoped for, the evidence of things not seen,” and comes not
by reasoning, but by hearing. What things then were they
of which Abel had heard, for which he hoped, and in the
faith of which he offered sacrifice? Undoubtedly it was a
restoration to that immortality which was forfeited by the
transgression of his parents. Of such redemption an ob¬
scure intimation had been given to Adam, in the promise
that the seed of the woman should bruise the head of the
serpent; and it was doubtless to impress upon his mind in
more striking colours the manner in which this was to be
done, that bloody sacrifices were first instituted. As long
as the import of such rites was thus understood, they con¬
stituted a perfectly rational worship, as they showed the
people that the wages of sin is death ; but when men sunk
into idolatry, and lost all hopes of a resurrection from the
dead, the slaughtering of animals to appease their deities
was a practice grossly superstitious. It rested in itself with¬
out pointing to any further end, and the grovelling worship¬
pers believed that by their sacrifices they purchased the fa¬
vour of their deities. When once this notion was enter¬
tained, human sacrifices were soon introduced ; for it natu¬
rally occurred to those who offered them, that what they
most valued themselves, would be most acceptable to their
offended gods. By the Jewish law, these abominable offer¬
ings were strictly forbidden, and the whole ritual of sacri¬
fice restored to its original purity, though not simplicity.
All Christian churches, the Socinian, if it can be called
a church, not excepted, for a long period of time agreed in
believing that the Jewish sacrifices served, amongst other
\ises, for types of the death of Christ, and the Christian wor¬
ship. In this belief all sober Christians agree still; whilst
many are of opinion that they were likewise federal rites,
as they certainly were considered by the ancient Romans.1
Of the various kinds of Jewish sacrifices, and the sub¬
ordinate ends for which they were offered, a full account is
given in the books of Moses. When an Israelite offered a
loaf or a cake, the priest broke it in two parts, and, setting
aside that half which he reserved for himself, broke the
other into crumbs, poured oil, wine, incense, and salt upon
it, and spread the whole upon the fire of the altar. It these
offerings were accompanied with the sacrifice of an animal,
they were thrown upon the victim to be consumed along
with it. If the offerings were of the ears of new corn, they
were parched at the fire, rubbed in the hand, and then of¬
fered to the priest in a vessel, over which he poured oil,
incense, wine, and salt, and then burned it upon the altar,
having: first taken as much of it as of right belonged to him¬
self.
The principal sacrifices amongst the Hebrews consisted of
bullocks, sheep, and goats ; but doves and turtles were ac¬
cepted from those who were not able to bring the other.
These beasts wrere to be perfect, and without blemish. I he
rites of sacrificing were various, all of which are minutely
described in the books of Moses.
The manner of sacrificing amongst the Greeks and Ro¬
mans was the following. In the choice of the victim, they
took care that it was without blemish or imperfection ; its
tail was not to be too small at the end, the tongue not black,
nor the ears cleft; and that the bull was one that had never
been yoked. The victim being pitched upon, they gilt his
forehead and horns, especially if a bull, heifer, or cow. The
head they also adorned with a garland of flowers, a woollen
infula or holy fillet, whence hung two rows of chaplets with
twisted ribands ; and on the middle of the body a kind of
stole, pretty large, hung down on each side. The lesser
victims were only adorned with garlands and bundles of Sacrifk
flowers, together with white tufts or wreaths.
The victims thus prepared were brought before the altar,
the lesser being driven to the place, and the greater led by
an halter; when, if they made any struggle, or refused to
go, the resistance was taken for an ill omen, and the sacri¬
fice frequently set aside. The victim thus brought was
carefully examined, to see that there was no defect in it;
then the priest, clad in his sacerdotal habit, and accompa¬
nied with the sacrificers and other attendants, and being
washed and purified according to the ceremonies prescrib¬
ed, turned to the right hand, and went round the altar,
sprinkling it with meal and holy water, and also besprink¬
ling those who were present. Then the crier proclaimed
with a loud voice, Who is here ? To which the people re¬
plied, Many and good. The priest then having exhorted
the people to join with him, by saying, Let us pray, con¬
fessed his own unworthiness, acknowledging that he had
been guilty of different sins, for which he begged pardon of
the gods, hoping that they would be pleased to grant his
requests, accept the oblations offered them, and send them
all health and happiness ; and to this general form he added
petitions for such particular favours as were then desired.
Prayers being ended, the priest took a cup of wine, and
having tasted it himself, caused his attendants to do the like,
and then poured forth the remainder between the horns of
the victim. Then the priest or the crier, or sometimes the
most honourable person in the company, killed the beast,
by knocking it .down, or cutting its throat. If the sacrifice
was in honour of the celestial gods, the throat was turned
upwards towards heaven ; but if they sacrificed to the he¬
roes or infernal gods, the victim was killed with its throat
towards the ground. If by accident the beast escaped the
stroke, leaped after it, or expired with pain and difficulty,
it was thought to be unacceptable to the gods. The beast
being killed, the priest inspected its entrails, and made pre¬
dictions from them. They then poured wine, together with
frankincense, into the fire, to increase the flame, and laid
the sacrifice upon the altar, which in the primitive times
was burned whole to the gods, and thence called an holo¬
caust ; but in after times only part of the victim was con¬
sumed in the fire, and the remainder reserved for the sacri¬
ficers ; the thighs, and sometimes the entrails, being burned
to their honour, the company feasted upon the rest. Du¬
ring the sacrifice, the priest, and the person who gave the
sacrifice, jointly prayed, laying their hand upon the altai.
Sometimes they played upon musical instruments in the
time of the sacrifice, and on some occasions they danced
round the altar, singing sacred hymns in honour of the god.
Human Sacrifices, an abominable practice, about the
origin of which different opinions have been formed.
The true account seems to be that which we have given
in the preceding article. When men had gone so far as to
indulge the fancy of bribing their gods by sacrifice, it was
natural for them to think of enhancing the value of so cheap
an atonement by the cost and rarity of the offering; and,
oppressed with their malady, they never rested till they had
got that which they conceived to be the most precious of
all, a human sacrifice. “ It was customary,” says Sancho-
niathon, “ in ancient times, in great and public calamities,
before things became incurable, for princes and magistrates
to offer up in sacrifice to the avenging daemons the dearest
of their offspring.”2 Sanchoniathon wrote of Phoenicia;
but the practice prevailed in every nation under heaven ot
which we have received any ancient account. The Egyp¬
tians had it in the early part ot their monarchy. The Eye-
tans likewise had it, and retained it for a long time. The
nations of Arabia did the same. The people of Dumah, in
A
1 7'it. Liv. lib. xxi. cap. xlv.
2 Eusebius, Prccp. Evang. lib. iv.
SACRIFICE.
•rifice. particular, sacrificed every year a child, and buried it un-
' derneath an altar, which they made use of instead of an
idol; for they did not admit of images. The Persians bu¬
ried people alive. Amestris, the wife of Xerxes, entombed
twelve persons quick under ground for the good of her soul.
It would be endless to enumerate every city, or every pro¬
vince, where these dire practices obtained." The Cyprians,
the Rhodians, the Phoceans, the lonians, those of Chios,
Lesbos, Tenedos, all had human sacrifices. The natives
of the Tauric Chersonese offered up to Diana every stranger
whom chance threw upon their coast. Hence arose that
just expostulation in Euripides upon the inconsistency of
the proceeding. Iphigenia wonders, as the goddess de¬
lighted in the blood of men, that every villain and mur¬
derer should be privileged to escape, nay, to be driven from
the threshold of the temple ; whereas, if an honest and vir¬
tuous man chanced to stray thither* he only was seized up¬
on and put to death. The Pelasgians, in a time of scar¬
city, vowed the tenth of all that should be born to them
for a sacrifice, in order to procure plenty. Aristomenes the
Messenian slew three hundred noble Laeedaemonians, among
whom was Theopompus the king of Sparta, at the altar of
Jupiter at Ithome. Without doubt the Lacedaemonians
did not fail to make ample returns ; for they were a severe
and revengeful people, and offered similar victims to Mars.
Their festival of the Diamastigosis is well known, when the
Spartan boys were whipped in the sight of their parents with
such severity before the altar of Diana Orthia, that they
often expired under the torture. Phylarchus, as quoted by
Porphyry, affirms that of old every Grecian state made it a
rule, before they marched towards an enemy, to solicit a
blessing on their undertakings by human victims.
The Romans were accustomed to the like sacrifices.
They both devoted themselves to the infernal gods, and
they constrained others to submit to the same horrid doom.
Hence we read in Titus Livius, that, in the consulate of
iEmilius Paulus and Terentius Varro, two Gauls, a man
and a woman, and two in like manner of Greece, were bu¬
ried alive at Rome in the ox-market, where was a place
under ground walled round to receive them, and which
had before been made use of for such cruel purposes. He
says it was a sacrifice not properly Roman, that is, not ori¬
ginally of Roman institution ; yet it was frequently prac¬
tised there, and that too by public authority. Phitarch
makes mention of a similar instance a few years before, in
the consulship of Flaminius and Furius. There is reason to
think that all the principal captives who graced the triumphs
of the Romans were, at the close of that cruel pageantry,
put to death at the altar of Jupiter Capitolinus. Caius Ma¬
rius offered up his own daughter for a victim to the Dii
Averrunci, to procure success in a battle against the Cim-
bri, as we are informed by Dorotheus, quoted by Clemens.
It is likewise attested by Plutarch, who says that her name
was Calpurnia. Marius was a man of a sour and bloody
disposition, and had probably heard of such sacrifices being
offered in the enemy’s camp, among whom they were very
common, or he might have beheld them exhibited at a dis¬
tance, and therefore murdered what was nearest, and should
have been dearest to him, to counteract their fearful spells,
and outdo them in their wicked machinery. Cicero, mak¬
ing mention of this custom being common in Gaul, adds,
that it prevailed among that people even at the time he was
speaking; whence we may be led to infer that it was then
discontinued among the Romans. And we are told by
Pliny, that it had then, and not very long before, been dis¬
couraged. For there was a law enacted, when Lentulus and
Crassus were consuls, so late as the 657th year of Rome,
that there should be no more human sacrifices ; for till that
time those horrid rites had been celebrated in broad day,
without any mask or control, which, had we not the best
evidence for the fact, would appear scarcely credible. And
605
however they may have been discontinued for a time, we Sacrifice,
find that they were again renewed, though they became v'-'-''
not so public nor so general. For not very long after this,
it rs reported ol Augustus Cmsar, when Perugia surrender¬
ed, in the time of the second triumvirate, that besides mul¬
titudes executed in a military manner, he offered up, upon
the ides ol March, three hundred chosen persons, both of
the equestrian a,nd the senatorial order, at an altar dedicated
to the manes ol his uncle Julius. Even at Rome itself this
custom was revived; and Porphyry assures us, that in his
time a man was every year sacrificed at the shrine of Ju¬
piter Latialis. Heliogabalus offered similar victims to the
Syrian deity which he introduced among the Romans. Thq
same is said of Aurelian.
The Gauls and the Germans were so devoted to this
shocking custom, that no business of any moment was trans¬
acted among them without being prefaced with the blood of
men. I hey were offered up to various gods ; but particu¬
larly to Hesus, Taranis, and Thautates. These deities are
mentioned by Lucan, where he enumerates the various na¬
tions who followed the fortunes of Caesar.
ihe altars ol these gods were far removed from the com¬
mon resort of men, being generally situated in the depth of
woods, that the gloom might add to the horror of the ope¬
ration, and give a reverence to the place and proceeding.
The persons devoted were led thither by the Druids, who
presided at the solemnity, and performed the cruel offices of
the sacrifice. Tacitus takes notice of the cruelty of the
Hermunduri, in a war with the Catti, in which they had
greatly the advantage, and at the close of which they made
one general sacrifice of all that was taken in battle. The
poor remains of the legion under Vcirus suffered in some
degree the same fate. There were many places destined
for this purpose all over Gaul and Germany ; but especially
in the mighty woods of Arduenna, and the great Hercynian
Forest, a wild that extended above thirty days’ journey in
length. The places set apart for this solemnity were held
in the utmost reverence, and only approached at particular
seasons. Lucan mentions a grove of this sort near Massi-
lia, which even the Roman soldiers were afraid to violate,
although commanded by Caesar. It was one of those set
apart for the sacrifices of the country.
Claudian compliments Stilicho, that, among other ad¬
vantages accruing to the Roman armies through his conduct,
they could now venture into the awful forest of Hercynia,
and follow the chase in those so much dreaded woods, and
otherwise make use of them.
These practices prevailed among all the people of the
north, of whatever denomination. The Massagetae, the
Scythians, the Getes, the Sai’matians, all the various nations
upon the Baltic, particularly the Suevi and Scandinavians,
held it as a fixed principle, that their happiness and secu¬
rity could not be obtained but at the expense of the lives
of others. Their chief gods were Thor and Woden, whom
they thought they could never sufficiently glut with blood.
They had many very celebrated places of worship, espe¬
cially in the island Rugen near the mouth of the Oder, and
in Zeeland ; some, too, which were very famous among the
Semnones and Naharvalli. But the most reverenced of all,
and the most frequented, was at Upsal; where there was
every year a grand celebrity, which continued for nine days.
During this term they sacrificed animals of all sorts. But
the most acceptable victims, and the most numerous, were
men. Of these sacrifices none were esteemed so auspici¬
ous and salutary as a sacrifice of the prince of the country.
When the lot fell for the king to die, it was received with
universal acclamations and every expression of joy; as it
once happened in the time of a famine, when they cast lots,
and it fell to King Domalder to be the people’s victim. And
he was accordingly put to death. Olaus Tretelger, another
prince, was burned alive to Woden. They did not spare
606
SACRIFICE.
Sacrifice, their own children. Harald the son of Gunild, the first oj
" v -1 that name, slew two of his children to obtain a storm of
wind. “ He did not hesitate ” says Verstegan, “ to sacrifice
two of his sons unto his idols, to the end he might obtain
of them such a tempest at sea as should break and disperse
the shipping of Harald king of Denmark.” Saxo-Grammati-
cus mentions a similar fact. He calls the king Haquin ; and
speaks of the persons put to death as two very hopeful young
princes. Another king slew nine sons to prolong his own
life, in hopes, perhaps, that what they were abridged of
would in a great measure be added to himself. Such in¬
stances, however, occur not often ; but the common victims
were without end. Adam Bremensis, speaking of the aw¬
ful grove at Upsal, where these horrid rites were celebrated,
says that there was not a single tree but what wa.s reve¬
renced, as if it w'ere gifted with some portion of divinity ;
and all this because they were stained with gore, and foul
with human putrefaction. The same is observed by Scheif-
fer in his account of this place.
The manner in which the victims were slaughtered was
different in different places. Some of the Gaulish nations
chined them with a stroke of an axe. The Celtse placed
the man who was to be offered for a sacrifice upon a block
or an altar, with his breast upwards, and with a sword
struck him forcibly across the sternum ; then tumbling him
to the ground, from his agonies and convulsions, as well as
from the effusion of blood, they formed a judgment of future
events. The Cimbri ripped open the bowels, and from
them they pretended to divine. In Norway they beat men’s
brains out with an ox-yoke. The same operation was per¬
formed in Iceland, by dashing them out against an altar of
stone. In many places they transfixed them with arrows.
After they were dead, they suspended them upon trees, and
left them to putrefy. One of the writers above quoted
mentions, that in his time seventy carcasses of this sort were
found in a wood of the Suevi. Dithmar of Mersburg, an
author of nearly the same age, speaks of a place called Le-
dur in Zeeland, where there were every year ninety-nine
persons sacrificed to the god Swantowite. During these
bloody festivals a general joy prevailed, and banquets w ere
most rovally served. I hey fed, caroused, and gave a loose
to indulgence, which at other times was not permitted.
They imagined that there was something mysterious in the
number nine ; for which reason these feasts were in some
places celebrated every ninth year, in others every ninth
month, and continued for nine days. When all was ended,
they washed the image of the deity in a pool, and then dis¬
missed the assembly. Their servants were numerous, who
attended during the term of their feasting, and partook of
the banquet. At the close of all, they were smothered in
the same pool, or otherwise made away with. On this Ta¬
citus remarks, how great an awe this circumstance must ne¬
cessarily infuse into those who were not admitted to these
mysteries.
These accounts are handed down from a variety of au¬
thors in different ages, many of whom -were natives of the
countries which they describe, and to which they seem
strongly attached. They would not therefore have brought^
so foul an imputation on the part of the world in favour of
which they were each writing, nor could there be that con¬
currence of testimony, wTere not tne history in general true.
The sacrifices of which we have been treating, if we ex¬
cept some few instances, consisted of persons doomed by
the chance of war, or assigned by7 lot, to be offered. But
among the nations of Canaan the victims were peculiarly
chosen. Their own children, and whatever was nearest
and dearest to them, were deemed the most worthy offering
to their god. The Carthaginians, who were a colony from
Tyre, carried with them the religion of their mother-coun¬
try, and instituted the same worship in the parts where they
settled. It consisted in the adoration of several deities, but
particularly of Kronus, to whom they offered human sacri- Sacrifice,
fices, and especially the blood of children. If the parents
were not at hand to make an immediate offer, the magis¬
trates did not fail to make choice of what was most fair and
promising, that the god might not be defrauded of his due.
Upon a check being received in Sicily, and some other
alarming circumstances happening, Hamilcar, without any
hesitation, laid hold of a boy, and offered him on the spot to
Kronus; and at the same time he drowned a number of
priests, to appease the deity of the sea. 1 he Carthaginians
another time, upon a defeat of their army by Agathocles,
imputed their miscarriages to the anger of this god, whose
services had been neglected. Touched with this, and see¬
ing the enemy at their gates, they seized at once three hun¬
dred children of the prime nobility, and offered them in
public for a sacrifice. Three hundred more, being persons
who were somehow obnoxious, yielded themselves volun¬
tarily, and were put to death with the others. 1 he neglect
of which they accused themselves consisted in sacrificing
children purchased of parents among the poorer sort, who
reared them for the» purpose, and not selecting the most
promising and the most honourable, as had been the cus¬
tom of old. In short, there were particular children brought
up for the altar, as sheep are fattened for the shambles; and
they w7ere bought and butchered in the same manner. But
this indiscriminate way of proceeding was thought to have
given offence. It is remarkable, that the Egyptians looked
out for the most specious and handsome person to be sacri¬
ficed. The Albanians pitched upon the best man of the
community, and made him pay for the wickedness of the
rest. The Carthaginians chose what they thought the
most excellent and at the same time the most dear to them;
which made the lot fall heavy upon their children. This
is taken notice of by Silius Italicus in his fourth book.
Kronus, to whom these sacrifices were exhibited, was an
oriental deity, the god of light and fire ; and therefore al-
wavs worshipped with some reference to that element.
the Greeks, we find, called the deity to whom these of¬
ferings were made Agraulos ; and feigned that she was a
woman, the daughter of Cecrops. But how came Cecrops
to have any connection with Cyprus ? Agraulos is a cor¬
ruption and transposition of the original name (which should
have been rendered Uk El Aur, or Uk El Aurus) ; but has,
like many other oriental titles and names, been stiangely
sophisticated, and is here changed to Agraulos. It was in
reality the god of light, who was always worshipped with
fire. * This deity was" the Moloch of the Tyrians and Ca-
naanites, and the Melech of the East; that is, the great and
principal god, the god of light, of whom fire was esteemed
a symbol, and at whose shrine, instead of viler victims, they
offered the blood of men.
Such wTas the Kronus of the Greeks and the Moloch of
the Phoenicians. And nothing can appear more shocking
than the sacrifices of the Tyrians and Carthaginians, which
they performed to this idol. In all emergencies of state,
and times of general calamity, they devoted what was most
necessary and valuable to them as an offering to the gods,
and particularly to Moloch. But besides these undeter¬
mined times of bloodshed, they had particular and prescribed
seasons every year, when children were chosen out of the
most noble and reputable families, as before mentioned. It
a person had an only child, it was the more liable to be put
to death, as being esteemed more acceptable to the deity,
and more efficacious for the general good. I hose who v/erc
sacrificed to Kronus wrere thrown into the arms of a molten
idol, which stood in the midst of a large fire, and was red
with heat. The arms of it were stretched out, with the
hands turned upwards, as it were to receive them; yet
sloping downwards, so that they dropped from thence into a
glowing furnace below. To other gods they were other-
wise slaughtered, and, as it implied, by the very lan s. o
SAC
Sa
V'T
ege. their parents. What can be more horrid to the imagina-
1L'J tion, than to suppose a father leading the dearest of all his
sons to such an infernal shrine; or a mother the most en¬
gaging and affectionate of her daughters, just rising to ma¬
turity, to be slaughtered at the altar of Ashtaroth or Baal?
Justin describes this unnatural custom very pathetically:
Quippe homines, ut victimas, immolabant; et impuberes
(cjUcC sctas hostium misericordiam provocat) aris admovebant,
pacem sanguine eorum exposcentes, pro quorum vita Dii ro-
gari maxime solent. Such was their blind zeal, that this was
continually practised ; and so much of natural affection still
left unextinguished, as to render the scene ten times more
shocking, from the tenderness which they seemed to ex¬
press. They embraced their children with great fondness,
and encouraged them in the gentlest terms, that they might
not be appalled at the sight of the hellish process, begging
of them to submit with cheerfulness to this fearful opera¬
tion. If there was any appearance of a tear rising, or a
cry unawares escaping, the mother smothered it with her
kisses, that there might not be any show of backwardness
or constraint, but the whole might be a free-will offering.
These cruel endearments being over, they stabbed them to
the heart, or otherwise opened the sluices of life; and with
the blood warm as it ran, besmeared the altar and the grim
visage of the idol. These were the customs which the Is¬
raelites learned of the people of Canaan, and for which they
are upbraided by the Psalmist. “ They did not destroy the
nations, concerning whom the Lord commanded them; but
were mingled among the heathen, and learned their works ;
yea, they sacrificed their sons and their daughters unto de-
viis, and shed innocent blood, even the blood of their sons
and of their daughters, whom they sacrificed unto the idols
of Canaan ; and the land was polluted with blood. Thus
were they defiled with their own works, and went a-wrhoring
with their own inventions.”
These cruel rites, which were practised in so many nations,
made Plutarch debate with himself, “ Whether it would not
have been better for the Galatae, or for the Scythians, to
have had no tradition or conception of any superior being,
than to have formed to themselves notions of gods who de¬
lighted in the blood of men ; of gods who esteemed human
victims the most acceptable and perfect sacrifice ? Would it
not, says he, “ have been more eligible for the Carthaginians
to have had the atheist Critias, or Diagoras, their lawgiver,
at the commencement of their polity, and to have been
taught that there was neither god nor demon, than to have
sacrificed, in the manner they were wont, to the god which
they adored ?” In this they acted, not as the person did
whom Empedocles describes in some poetry, where he ex¬
poses this unnatural custom. The sire there, with many
idle vows, offers up unwittingly his son for a sacrifice ; but
the youth was so changed in feature and in figure that his
father did not know him. These people used knowingly
and wilfully to go through this bloody work, and slaughter
their own offspring. Even they who were childless would
not be exempted from this cursed tribute; but purchased
children of the poorer sort, and put them to death with as
little remorse as one would kill a lamb or a chicken. The
mother who sacrificed her child stood by, without any seem¬
ing sense of what she was losing, and without uttering a
groan. If a sigh did by chance escape, she lost all the ho¬
nour which she proposed to herself in the offering, and the
child was notwithstanding slain. All the time of this cere¬
mony, whilst the children were murdering, there was a noise
of clarions and tabors sounding before the idol, that the cries
and shrieks of the victims might not be heard. “ Tell me
now,” says Plutarch, “ if the monsters of old, the Typhons
and the giants, were to expel the gods, and to rule the world
m their stead, could they require a service more horrid than
these infernal rites and sacrifices ?”
SACRILEGE, Sacrilegium, the crime of profaning sa-
S A D 607
cred things, or things devoted to God ; or of alienating to Sacristan
laymen, for common purposes, what was given to religious !l
persons and pious uses. Sadducees*
^ a r h aI5^urch-officer, otherwise called sexton. *
b Lit b 1 Y, in Ecclesiastical History, an apartment in a
church where the sacred utensils were kept.
SADDUCEES were a famous sect among the ancient
Jews, and consisted of persons of great quality and opulence.
Respecting their origin there are various accounts and va¬
rious opinions. Epiphanius, and after him many other wri-
teis, contend that they took their rise from Dositheus, a
sectary of bamaria, and derived their name from the He¬
brew word pf*, just or justice, from the great justice and
equity which they showed in all their actions ; a derivation
which neither suits the word Sadducee nor the general cha¬
racter of the sect. I hey are thought by some, too, to have
been Samaritans. But this is by no means probable, as
they always attended the worship and sacrifices at Jerusa¬
lem, and never at Gerizim.
In the Jewish Talmud, we are told that the Sadducees
derived their name from Sadoc, and that the sect arose
about 260 years before Christ, in the time of Antigonus of
Socho, president of the Sanhedrim at Jerusalem, and teacher
of the law in the principal divinity school of that city. An¬
tigonus had often in his lectures, it seems, taught his scho¬
lars that they ought not to serve God as slaves do their
masters, from the hopes of a reward, but merely out of filial
love for his own sake; and from this Sadoc and Baithus
inferred that there were no rewards at all after this life.
I hey therefore separated from their master, and taught
that there was no resurrection nor future state. This new
doctrine quickly spread, and gave rise to the sect of Sad¬
ducees, which in many respects resembled the Epicureans.
Dr Prideaux thinks that the Sadducees were at first no
more than what the Caraites are now ; that is, they would
not receive the traditions of the elders, but acknowledged
the written word only ; and the Pharisees being great pro¬
moters of those traditions, these two sects hence became
directly opposite to each other.
Afterwards the Sadducees imbibed other doctrines, which
rendered them a sect truly impious. They denied the re¬
surrection of the dead, and the existence of angels, and the
spirits or souls of men departed. They held that there is no
spiritual being but God only ; and that as to man, this world
is his all. They did not deny but that we had reasonable
souls ; but they maintained that this soul was mortal, and, by
a necessary consequence, they denied the rewards and pun¬
ishments of another life. They pretended also, that what is
said of the existence of angels and of a future resurrection
is nothing but illusions. St Epiphanius, and after him St
Augustin, have advanced, that the Sadducees denied the
Holy Ghost. But neither Josephus nor the evangelists ac¬
cuse them of any error like this. It has been also imputed
to them, that they thought God corporeal, and that they
received none of the prophecies.
It is difficult to apprehend how they could deny the be¬
ing of angels, and yet receive the books of Moses, where
such frequent mention is made of angels and of their ap¬
pearances. Grotius and Le Clerc observe, that it is very
likely they looked upon angels, not as particular beings, sub¬
sisting of themselves, but as powers, emanations, or quali¬
ties, inseparable from the Deity, as the sunbeams are inse¬
parable from the sun. Or, perhaps, they held angels not to
be spiritual, but mortal, just as they thought that substance
to be which animates us and thinks in us. The ancients
do not tell us how they solved this difficulty, that might be
urged against them from so many passages of the Penta¬
teuch, where mention is made of angels.
As the Sadducees acknowledged neither punishments nor
recompenses in another life, so they were inexorable in
chastising the wicked. They observed the law themselves,
608
S A D
Sadducees. and caused it to be observed with the utmost rigour by
' others. They admitted none of the traditions, explications,
or modifications, of the Pharisees ; they kept to the text of
the law7, and maintained that only what was written was to
be observed.
The Sadducees are accused of rejecting all the books of
Scripture except those of Moses ; and to support this opi¬
nion, it is observed, that our Saviour makes use of no Scrip¬
ture against them, but passages taken out of the Penta¬
teuch. But Scaliger produces good proofs to vindicate
them from this reproach. He observes, that they did not
appear in Israel till after the number of the holy books was
fixed ; and that if they had been to choose out of the ca¬
nonical Scriptures, the Pentateuch was less favourable to
them than any other book, since it often makes mention of
angels and their apparition. Besides, the Sadducees were
present in the temple, and at other religious assemblies,
where the books of the prophets were read indifferently, as
well as those of Moses. They were in the chief employments
of the nation ; many of them even were priests. Would the
Jews have suffered in these employments persons that re¬
jected the greater part of their Scriptures ? Menasse ben-
Israel says expressly, that they did not indeed reject the
prophets, but that they explained them in a sense very dif¬
ferent from that of the other Jews.
Josephus assures us that they denied destiny or fate ; al¬
leging that these were only sounds void of sense, and that
all the good or evil that happens to us is in consequence of
the good or evil side we have taken, by the free choice of
our will. They said, also, that God was far removed from
doing or knowing evil, and that man w7as the absolute mas¬
ter of his own actions. This was roundly to deny a provi¬
dence ; and upon this footing I know7 not, says Calmet, what
could be the religion of the Sadducees, or what influence
they could ascribe to God in things here below. Howrever,
it is certain that they were not only7 tolerated among the
Jew7s, but that they were admitted to the high priesthood
itself. John Hircanus, high priest of the nation, separated
himself in a signal manner from the sect of the Pharisees,
and wjent over to that of Sadoc. It is said, also, that he
gave strict command to all the Jews, on pain of death, to
receive the maxims of this sect. Aristobulus, and Alexan¬
der Jannseus, son of Hircanus, continued to favour the fead-
ducees; and Maimonides assures us, that under the reign
of Alexander Jannaeus, they had in possession all the of¬
fices of the Sanhedrim, there only remaining of the party
of the Pharisees Simon the son of Secra. Caiaphas, who
condemned Jesus Christ to death, was a Sadducee; as w7as
also Ananus the younger, who put to death St James the
brother of our Lord. At this day the Jew7s hold as here¬
tics the small number of Sadducees which are to be found
among them.1
The sect of the Sadducees was much reduced by the de¬
struction of Jerusalem, and by the dispersion of the Jews ;
but it afterwards revived. At the beginning of the third
century it was so formidable in Egypt, that Ammonim,
Origen’s master, when he saw them propagate their opi¬
nions in that country, thought himself obliged to write
against them, or rather against the Jews, who tolerated the
Sadducees, though they denied the fundamental points of
their religion. The Emperor Justinian mentions the Sad¬
ducees in one of his novels; banishes them out of all places
of his dominions ; and condemns them to the severest pun¬
ishments, as people that maintained atheistical and im¬
pious tenets, denying the resurrection and the last judg¬
ment. Annus, or A nanus, a disciple of Juda, son of Nach¬
man, a famous rabbi of the eighth century, declared him-
S A D
self, as it is said, in favour of the Sadducees, and streAu- Sadie-
ously protected them against their adversaries. They had
also a celebrated defender in the twelfth century, in the
person of Alpharagius, a Spanish rabbi. This doctor wrote
against the Pharisees, the declared enemies of the Saddu¬
cees, and maintained by his public writings, that the pu¬
rity of Judaism was only to be found among the Saddu¬
cees ; that the traditions avowed by the Pharisees were
useless; and that the ceremonies, which they had multi¬
plied without end, were an insupportable yoke. The rabbi
Abraham ben David Italleri replied to Alpharagius, and
supported the sect of the Pharisees by two great arguments;
that of their universality, and that of their antiquity. He
proved their antiquity by a continued succession from Adam
down to the year 1167 ; and their universality, because the
Pharisees are spread all the world over, and are found in
all the synagogues. There are still Sadducees in Africa
and in several other places. They deny the immortality
of the soul and the resurrection of the body ; but they are
rarely found, at least there are but few who declare them¬
selves friendly to these opinions.
SADLER, John, descended from an ancient family in
Shropshire, was born in 1615, and educated at Cambridge,
where he became eminent for his great knowledge in the
oriental languages. He removed to Lincoln’s Inn, where
he made great progress in the study of the law; and in
1644 he was admitted one of the masters in chancery, as
also one of the two masters of requests. In 1649 he was
Chosen town-clerk of London, and the same year he pub¬
lished his Rights of the Kingdom. He was greatly esteem¬
ed by Oliver Cromwell, by whose special warrant he was
continued a master in chancery, when their number was re¬
duced to six. By his interest it was that the Jews obtain¬
ed the privilege of building for themselves a synagogue in
London. In 1658 he was made member of parliament for
Yarmouth, and next year was appointed first commissioner
under the great seal with Mr Taylor, Mr Whitelocke, and
others, for the probate of wills. In 1660 he published his
Olbia ; and soon after the Restoration he lost all his em¬
ployments. In the fire of London in 1666 he was a great
sufferer, which obliged him to retire to his seat of M arm-
well in Dorsetshire, where he lived in a private manner un¬
til 1674, when he died.
Sadler, Michael Thomas, wras born at Snelstone, a vil¬
lage in Derbyshire, in January 1780. He was descended,
on the father’s side, from Sir Ralph Sadler, one of Queen
Elizabeth’s ministers; and his mother’s family had been
French refugees at the revocation of the edict of Nantes.
He was educated principally at home, his father having in¬
tended him for one of the learned professions ; but, when
about eighteen years old, he was induced to join his bro¬
ther in business at Leeds, where he continued until called
into public life by the ministerial proposal of the Catholic
Relief Bill. On a vacancy occurring for the borough of
Newark, in March 1829, Mr Sadler, being invited to be¬
come a candidate, immediately complied, and triumphantly
carried his election, though opposed by Mr Sergeant M ilde,
one of the most able and energetic members of the bar. Mr
Sadler distinguished himself by a long and eloquent speech
delivered against the Roman Catholic claims on the 17th of
the same month; and during the continuance of the discus¬
sion he was the great champion of the Protestant cause.^ At
the general election of 1830, he was again chosen for New¬
ark, and in 1831 he took his seat for Aldborough in York¬
shire. At the first general election under the Reform Bill,
Aldborough having been disfranchised, he became a can¬
didate for the new borough of Leeds; but, though highly
1 See upon this matter Menasse ben-Israel de Resurrectione Mortuorum; Basnage’s History of the Jews; and Calmet s Dissertation upon
the Sects of the Jews, before the Commentary of St Mark.
ido
II
liras.
S A 13
esteemed by a large number of his townsmen, his reputa¬
tion as an anti-reformer preponderated over his less equivo-
, cal merits, and he lost his election.
In his public career Mr Sadler was generally associated
with the old constitutional lories. We have already men¬
tioned his strenuous opposition to the Roman Catholic Re¬
lief Bill. To the policy of free trade he was also most de¬
cidedly hostile ; nor was he less unfriendly to the settlement
of the currency question, which he considered should have
been effected upon a more equitable adjustment. Mr Sad¬
ler was likewise very hostile to the Reform Bill, to which he
recorded his objections in a speech when seconding Gene¬
ral Gascoigne’s motion, the effect of carrying which was the
dissolution of parliament. For Ireland he always expressed
the deepest interest, and twice introduced a poor-law bill
for that country into parliament. During the last session he
sat in parliament, he was almost constantly occupied in pro¬
secuting the bill he had brought before the legislature for
the protection of children employed in the manufactories,
and which is familiarly called the Ten Hours Bill. This-
measure was referred to a select committee, of which Mr
Sadler was appointed chairman; and it is believed that the
fatigue and responsibility thus imposed on him, of collecting
the mass of evidence contained in the report, laid the foun¬
dation of his long and fatal illoess. Neither, after all, were
his efforts successful in passing this measure.
Mr Sadler was some years a member of the Royal So¬
ciety, and author of several works, the most important of
which are, 1. Ireland, its Evils, and their Remedies; and,
2. An Essay on the Law of Population, in tw o volumes, writ¬
ten principally to controvert the opinions of Mr Malthus.
A third volume, intended to complete this treatise, the au¬
thor was engaged upon at the time of his death, which
took place at New Lodge, near Belfast, on the 29th of July
1835. Mr Sadler’s disease appears to have been an in¬
curable affection of the heart, brought on by severe study
and intense anxiety. At the time of his death, he w'as the
leading partner of the firm of Sadler, Fenton, and Company,
of Belfast. (a.) i
SADO, an island of Japan, about ninety miles in circum¬
ference, on the northern coast of the island of Niphon, in
a large bay. Long. 138. 54. E. Lat. 37. 40. N. •'
SADOC, a famous Jewish rabbi, and founder of the sect
of the Sadducees.
SADOLET, James, a learned cardinal, was born at Mo¬
dena in 1477. Leo X. made him and Peter Bembo his se¬
cretaries, an office for which they were both well qualified;
and Sadolet was soon afterwards made bishop of Carpen-
tras, near Avignon. He was made a cardinal in 1536 by
Paul III.; employed in several negotiations and embassies;
and died in 1547, not without the suspicion of poison, for
corresponding too familiarly with the Protestants, and tes-
tifying too much regard for some of their doctors. His
works, which are all in Latin, were collected in 1607 at
Mentz, in one volume 8vo. All his contemporaries spoke
of him in the highest terms.
SADRAS, a town of Southern India, in the Carnatic, on
the sea-coast. It was formerly a small village, which was
purchased by the Dutch about the middle of the seven¬
teenth century; and under their protection it grew up into
a populous place, the seat of a flourishing manufacture of
ginghams of a superior quality. It was surrounded by them
with a brick wall fifteen feet in height, and close to the
sea. The fort was seized by the French general Lally in
the year 1759, while the French w'ere besieging Madras,
though the Dutch were neutral in the war. It was after¬
wards restored to Holland, and was finally taken possession
of by the British in 1795. The town has now fallen into
a state of decay. At a short distance are some hills, on
which are situated seven Hindu temples, held in great es¬
timation. Long. 80. 16. E. Lat. 12. 27. N.
VOL. XIX.
SAG
609
Safad
SAT AD, or Saphet, a village of Palestine, in an ele¬
vated situation, which overlooks the western coast of the
Lake of 1 iberias, and w as of some consideration in the time , ^againg-
of the crusades; but in 1759, being destroyed by an earth-
quake, and since regarded with an evil eye by the Turks, it
has now dwindled into a poor village. Pococke found in it
the ruins of a very strong old castle, which appeared to have
commanded the whole surrounding district, which takes its
name from the place. It is sixty-five miles south-west from
Damascus.
SAFFRON is formed of the stigmata of the crocus offi¬
cinalis, dried upon a kiln, and pressed together into caket.
There are two kinds of saffron, the English and Spanish;
but the latter is by far the most esteemed. Saffron is
principally cultivated in Cambridgeshire. This drug has
been reckoned a very elegant and useful aromatic. Besides
the virtues it has in common with other substances of the
same class, it has been accounted one of the highest cordial.
SAFFRON-WALDEN, a town in the hundred of Ut-
tlesford, in the county of Essex, forty-two miles from Lon¬
don. It has a good market for corn, which is held on Satur¬
day. It is a borough, whose charter was granted by Edward
VI., and is governed by a mayor and aldermen ; but it does
not return a member to the House of Commons. The
chief trade is preparing malt for the great breweries in Lon¬
don. I he church is a fine Gothic building of great extent,
and adorned by the monuments of many eminent persons
who have been buried in it. Adjoining to the town is the
magnificent house of Audley End, belonging to Lord How¬
ard of Malden. The town has the benefit of water-com¬
munication with London. The population amounted in
1801 to 3181, in 1811 to 3403, in 1821 to 4154, and in
1831 to 4762.
SAFFY, Saffee, Safi, Azafi, or Asfee, is a seaport
tow n of Morocco, capital of the province of Abda. It is si¬
tuated between two hills, and at the foot of a steep and
high mountain, a part of Atlas. Its position renders it ex¬
tremely hot, and in winter very disagreeable, as the waters
from the neighbouring mountains, occasioned by the rains,
discharge themselves through the main street into the
ocean, deluging the lower apartments of the houses. The
walls of Saffy are extremely thick and high. It is a very
ancient town, and was the chief seat of European com¬
merce till the monopolizing predilections of the Emperor
Sidi Mahommed transferred it to Mogadore. The road¬
stead is safe in summer; but in winter, when the winds
blow from the south or south-west, vessels are obliged to
run to sea, sometimes more than once whilst taking in
their cargoes. The surrounding country abounds in corn,
and two falls of rain a year are sufficient to bring the crops
to maturity. There are many sanctuaries in the environs,
on which account the Jews are obliged to enter the tow n
barefooted, taking off their sandals when they approach these
consecrated places ; and if riding, they must descend from
their mules and enter the town on foot. There is here a
neat palace, and a fort stands at a little distance north of
the town. Saffy is still supposed to retain a population of
12,000. Long. 9. 5. W. Lat. 32. 20. N.
SAFIA, a small river of Arabia, which falls into the Red
Sea two miles north of Tor.
SAFRA, a town of Hedjaz, in Arabia, forty miles south-
south-wrest of Medina.
SAGAING, a town in the Burmese dominions, situated
on the Irrawaddy, opposite to Ava, the capital. It is a large,
straggling place, where the houses are of a mean description,
and thinly scattered among groves of fruit-trees, with tem¬
ples and monasteries innumerable. A considerable portion
of the inhabitants are Cassay captives or their descendants.
On the river face it has a brick-wall, which extends for
about half a mile ; it is not above ten feet in height, but
has a parapet and embrasures. To each flank of the brick-
4 H
610
Sagan
SAG
wall there is a stockade of a paltry description. " Inland it
is quite defenceless. The town extends along the Irra¬
waddy about a mile and a half, but its breadth is inconsi¬
derable. Over the site of the town and its environs are
innumerable temples, many of them ruinous and old, and
also modern.
SAGAN, in scripture history, the suffragan or deputy of
the Jewish high priest. According to some writers, he
was only employed to officiate for him when he was ren¬
dered incapable of attending the service through sickness
or legal uncleanness on the day of expiation ; or, according
to others, he was destined to assist the high priest in the
care of the affairs of the temple and the service of the priests.
Sagan, a city of Prussian Silesia, in the government of
Liegnitz, the capital of a circle of its own name, which ex¬
tends over 484 square miles, and contains 41,600 inhabi¬
tants. It stands on the river Bober, and is strongly forti¬
fied. It was a principality, but has been mediatized ; and
it still retains a fine palace of the prince, besides 540 houses,
with 4920 inhabitants. It contains manufactures of linen,
lace, paper, glass-ware, and hosiery, and carries on a consi¬
derable trade in corn and in corn-spirits.
SAGANAK, a town of Independent Tartary, situated
on the Sihon or Jaxartes. It was taken by Ghengis Khan,
and the greater part of the inhabitants put to death.
SAGANEER, a Rajpoot town of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Ajmeer, and district of Jyenagur, eight miles south¬
east from the city of Jyenagur. Long. '/5. 50. E. Lat. 26.
49. N. This is also the name of a town of the province
of Gundwana, belonging to the rajah of Nagpoor. Long.
79. 18. E. Lat. 21. 34. N.
SAGARA Nacken Bay, a bay on the east coast of the
island of Java. Long. 109. 21. E. Lat. 8. 15. S.
SAGARAWIDA Bay, on the south coast of the island
of Java. Long. 113. E. Lat. 8. 15. S.
SAGE, Alain Rene, an ingenious French romance-
writer, was born at Ruys, in Bretagne, in the year 1667.
He had a fine flow of imagination, was a complete master
of the French and Spanish languages, and wrote several
admired romances in imitation of the Spanish authors.
These were, 1. The Bachelor of Salamanca, two vols. 12mo;
2. New Adventures of Don Quixote, two vols. 12rno; 3. 1 he
Devil on Two Sticks, two vols. 12mo; and, 4. Gil Bias, four
vols. 12mo. He produced also some comedies, and other
humorous pieces. This ingenious author died in the yeai
1747, in the vicinity of Paris.
Sage, John, so justly admired by all who knew him for
his classical learning and reasoning powers, was born in
1652, in the parish of Creich and county of Fife, where his
ancestors had lived for seven generations with great respect,
though with little property. His father was a captain in
Lord Duffus’s regiment, and fought for his king and country
when Monk stormed Dundee on the 30th of August 1651.
The issue of the civil wars, and the loyalty of Captain
Sage, left him nothing to bestow upon his son but a liberal
education and his own principles of piety and virtue. In
those days the Latin language was taught in the parochial
schools of Scotland with great ability and at a trifling ex¬
pense ; and after young Sage had acquired a competent
knowledge of that language at one of those useful semi¬
naries, his father, without receiving from an ungrateful
court any recompense for what he had lost in the cause of
royalty, was still able to send him to the university of St
Andrews. Having remained in college the usual number
of terms or sessions, and performed the exercises required
by the statutes, he was admitted to the degree of master of
arts, the highest honour which it appears he ever received
from any university.
During his residence in St Andrews he studied the Greek
and Roman authors with great diligence, and was likewise
instructed in logic, metaphysics, and such other branches
SAG
of philosophy as then obtained in the schools. When Mr J
Sage had taken his master’s degree, the narrowness of his
fortune compelled him to accept of the first literary em¬
ployment which was offered to him; and that happened to
be nothing better than the office of schoolmaster in the
parish of Bingry in Fifeshire, whence he was soon removed
to Tippermuir, in the county of Perth. In these humble
stations, though he wanted many of the necessaries and al¬
most all the comforts of life, he prosecuted his studies with
great success ; but in doing so, he unhappily imbibed the
seeds of several diseases, which afflicted him through life,
and, notwithstanding the native vigour of his constitution,
impaired his health and shortened his days. From the mi¬
serable drudgery of a parish-schoolmaster he was relieved
by Mr Drummond of Cultmalundie, who invited him to
superintend the education of his sons, whom he accompa¬
nied first to the public school at Perth, and afterwards to the
university of St Andrews. This was still an employment
by no means adequate to his merit, but it was not wholly
without advantages. At Perth, he gained the friendship
and esteem of Dr Rose, afterwards bishop of Edinburgh,
and at St Andrews that of every man capable of properly
estimating genius and learning.
The education of his pupils terminated in -684, when
he was left with no determinate object of pursuit. In this
moment of indecision, his friend Dr Rose, who had been
promoted from the parsonage of Perth to the professorship
of divinity in the university which he was leaving, recom¬
mended him so effectually to his uncle, then archbishop of
Glasgow, that he was by that prelate admitted into orders,
and presented to one of the churches in the city. He was
then about thirty-four years of age, and had studied the
Scriptures with great assiduity ; he was no stranger to ec¬
clesiastical history, or the apologies and other writings of
the ancient fathers, and had examined with great accuracy
the modern controversies, especially those between the
Romish and Reformed churches. A man so far advanced
in life, and so thoroughly accomplished as a scholar, would
naturally be looked up to by the greater part of the clergy
as soon as he became one of their body. This was in fact
the case. Mr Sage was, immediately on his admission
into orders, appointed clerk to the synod or presbytery of
Glasgow; an office of great trust and respectability, to which
we know nothing similar in the church of England. Dur¬
ing the establishment of episcopacy in Scotland, the autho¬
rity of the bishops, though they possessed the sole power
of ordination, was very limited in the government of the
church. They did every thing with the consent of the
presbyters over whom they presided. Diocesan synods were
held at stated times for purposes of the same kind with those
which employ the meetings of presbyteries at present; and
the only prerogative which the bishop seems to have enjoy¬
ed was to be permanent president, with a negative voice
over the deliberations of the assembly. The acts of each
synod, and sometimes the charge delivered by the bishop
at the opening of it, were registered in a book kept by the
clerk, who was always one of the most eminent of the dio¬
cesan clergy.
Mr Sage continued in this office, discharging in Glasgow
all the duties of a clergyman, in such a manner as endear¬
ed him to his flock, and gained him the esteem even of
those who were dissenters from the establishment. Many
of his brethren were trimmers in ecclesiastical as well as in
civil politics. They had been republicans and presbyteri-
ans in the days of the covenant; and, with that ferocious
zeal which too often characterizes interested converts, had
concurred in the severities which, during the reign of
Charles II. were exercised against the party whom they
had forsaken at the Restoration. When that party again
raised its head during the reign of James, and every thing
indicated an approaching change of the establishment, those
SAG
iiage. whose zeal for the church had so lately incited them to per-
-v-^secute the dissenters, suddenly became all gentleness and
condescension, and advanced towards the presbyterians as
to their old friends.
The conduct of Mr Sage was the reverse of this. He
was an episcopalian and a royalist from conviction; and in
all his discourses, public and private, he laboured to instil
into the minds of others the principles which to himself ap¬
peared to have their foundation in truth. To persecution
he was at all times an enemy, wdiilst he never tamely be¬
trayed through fear what he thought it his duty to main¬
tain. The consequence was, that in the end of the year
1688, he was treated by the rabble, which in the western
counties of Scotland rose against the established church,
with greater lenity than his more complying brethren.
Mr Sage retired to the metropolis, and carried with him
the synodical book, which was afterwards demanded by the
presbytery of Glasgow, but not recovered till, on the death
of a nephew of Dr Rose, the last established bishop of
Edinburgh, it was found in his possession, and restored
to the presbytery to which it belonged. Mr Sage had
detained it and given it to his friend, in the fond hope that
episcopacy would soon be re-established in Scotland; and
it was doubtless with a view to contribute what he could
to the realizing of that hope, that, immediately on his be¬
ing obliged to leave Glasgow, he commenced as a polemical
writer. At Edinburgh he preached for a time, till, re¬
fusing to take the oaths of allegiance wThen required by
the government, he was obliged to retire. Returning to
Edinburgh in 1695, he was observed, and obliged to ab¬
scond. Yet he returned in 1696, when his friend Sir Wil¬
liam Bruce was imprisoned as a suspected person.
After a time Mr Sage found a safe retreat with the Coun¬
tess of Callendar, who employed him to instruct her family
as chaplain, and her sons as tutor. These occupations did
not wholly engage his active mind; for he employed his
pen in defending his order or in exposing his oppressors.
When the Countess of Callendar had no longer sons to in¬
struct, Sage accepted the invitation of Sir John Stewart of
Grandtully, who wanted the help of a chaplain and the
conversation of a scholar. With Sir John he continued
till the decency of his manners and the extensiveness of
his learning recommended him to a higher station ; and, on
the 25th of January 1705, he was consecrated a bishop by
Paterson the archbishop of Glasgow, Rose the bishop of
Edinburgh, and Douglas the bishop of Dumblane. But this
promotion did not prevent him from falling into sickness in
November 1706. After lingering for many months in Scot¬
land, he tried the effect of the waters of Bath in 1709, with¬
out success. At Bath and at London he remained twelve
months, recognised by the great and caressed by the learn¬
ed. Yet though he was invited to stay, he returned in 1710
to his native country, and died at Edinburgh on the 7th of
June 1711.
His works are, 1st, Two Letters concerning the Persecu¬
tion of the Episcopal Clergy in Scotland, London, 1689 ; 2.
An Account of the late Establishment of Presbyterian Go¬
vernment by the Parliament of Scotland in 1690, London,
1693 ; 3. The Fundamental Charter of Presbytery, London,
1695; 4. The Principles of the Cyprianick Age writh regard
to Episcopal Power and Jurisdiction, London, 1695; 5. A
Vindication of the Principles of the Cyprianick Age, Lon¬
don, 1701; 6. Some Remarks on the Letter from a Gentle¬
man in the City to a Minister in the Country, on Mr David
Williamson’s Sermon before the General Assembly, Edin¬
burgh, 1703; 7. A Brief Examination of some Things in
Mr Meldrum’s Sermon, preached on the 16th of May 1703,
against a Toleration to those of the Episcopal Persuasion,
Edinburgh, 1703 ; 8. The Reasonableness of a Toleration
of those of the Episcopal Persuasion inquired into purely on
Church Principles, Edinburgh, 1704; 9. The Life of Ga-
S A G 611
win Douglas, in 1710; and 10. An Introduction to Drum- Saghalien
mond s History of the Five Jameses, Edinburgh, 1711. li
SAGHALIEN, a large island or peninsula, situated at Sag°r'
the eastern extremity of Asia, immediately to the north 0f
the large island of Jesso or Matsmai. It is called also Oku
Jesso, or Upper Jesso, and by the natives Tchoka. It is
separated from the continent by a narrow channel called
the channel of I artary; and it is not certainly known
w hether this channel extends along the whole western coast
and forms Saghalien into an island, or whether it is con¬
nected ^with 1 artary by an isthmus, thus making it a penin¬
sula. The channel was entered by Perouse with the idea
of determining this question; but he was obliged, by ad¬
verse winds and other circumstances, to quit it before ex¬
amining its whole extent. The inhabitants assured him
that it was an island separated from the continent only by
a narrow strait. The people of Tartary, on the other hand,
asserted that it was a peninsula connected with the conti¬
nent by a narrow isthmus of sand, and covered with marine
plants. In confirmation of the latter theory, Perouse ob¬
served the depth of the water constantly to diminish, with¬
out any current being felt; and he concluded that it was a
strait, though so obstructed by sand and sea-weed as to be
scarcely passable. Broughton, who penetrated twenty miles
farther, and Krusenstern, observed that in the strait to the
north of the river Saghalien the water is rendered almost
fresh by the influx of the stream. The territory of Sagha¬
lien is mountainous, especially towards the centre. In the
lower parts are wooded valleys and hills, and behind lofty
mountains covered with snow; towards the south the coun¬
try becomes more level, and exhibits only hills of sand.
Krusenstern, who sailed along the eastern coast, remarked
that it was nearly destitute of inhabitants. The southern
and western coasts are occupied by rude tribes, of whose
dispositions, however, Perouse gives a favourable account.
They are chiefly employed in hunting and in fishing. The
north-east coast, opposite to the mouth of the Saghalien, is
occupied by a colony of Mantchou Tartars. The Japanese
had formed a colony in the Bay of Anivva, at the southern
extremity of the island; but it has been destroyed by the
Russians, who, it is supposed, intend to form establishments
for themselves in those countries.
SAGITTA, in Astronomy, the Arrow, a constellation of
the northern hemisphere, near the Eagle, and one of the
forty-eight old asterisms. According to the fabulous ideas
of the Greeks, this constellation owes its origin to one of
the arrows of Hercules, with which he killed the eagle or
vulture that gnawed the liver of Prometheus. In the cata¬
logues of Ptolemy, Tycho, and Hevelius, the stars of this
constellation are only five in number, while Flamsteed made
them amount to eighteen.
Sagitta, in Geometry, a term used by some writers for
the absciss of a curve.
Sagitta, in Trigonometry, the same as the versed sine
of an arch, being so denominated because it is like a dart
or arrow, standing on the chord of the arch.
SAGITTA RIA, an island in the Southern Pacific Ocean,
discovered by Quiros in 1606, and supposed to be the same
as Otaheite.
SAGITTARIUS, in Astronomy, the name of one of the
tw elve signs of the zodiac.
SAGO, a nutritive substance brought from the East In¬
dies, and of considerable use in diet as a restorative. It is
produced from a species of palm-tree (Cycas Circinalis,
Linn.), grooving spontaneously in the East Indies without
any culture.
SAGOR, or Ganga Sagob, an island belonging to the
province of Bengal, situated at the entrance and eastern
side of the Hooghly, or Bhagurutty river, which here sepa¬
rates it from another island formed by the numerous out¬
lets of the Ganges. It is eight miles in length by four
612 S A H
Sagres in breadth, and is detached from the mainland by a creek,
II the north end of which is dry at low water. The spring-
Sahara. rjse }iere to the height of four fathoms. This station
\_--v -u- ^ountj more ilea]thy for ships than those farther up the
Hooghly. This is owing to the great expansion of the river,
in consequence of which, ships have the advantage of lying
at a greater distance from the shore, and of enjoying a re¬
freshing circulation of sea-air; and they also escape the
offensive exhalations from the mud banks at Culpee and
Diamond Harbour.
Sagor island has been from time immemorial a cele¬
brated place of pilgrimage among the Hindus, being si¬
tuated at the junction of the Bhagurutty river, or most
sacred branch of the Ganges, with the ocean. Many of
the pilgrims formerly made voluntary sacrifices of them¬
selves, and sometimes of their children, to the sacred sharks
and alligators inhabiting the surrounding waters. But in
1812 the practice was abolished under the administration of
the Marquis Wellesley. The jungles of this island swarm
with tigers of the largest and most ferocious sort. Ihe
island is not inhabited ; but the Brahmins repair at the ap¬
pointed season to the temple, and are followed by pilgrims.
Its south point is in long. 88. 20. E. and lat. 21. 34. N.
SAGRES, a town of Portugal, in the province of Algarve,
and in the corregimiento of Lagos. It is situated on a
steep and rocky tongue of land which projects into a deep
bay near to Cape St Vincent. It has a good roadstead, w ith
a safe anchorage, and it is defended by a fort, but is chiefly
inhabited by fishermen. It is celebrated as having been
the favourite residence of the children of one of their princes,
Henry the Sailor.
SAGUM, in Roman antiquity, a military habit, open from
top to bottom, and usually fastened on the right shoulder
with a buckle or clasp. It was not different in shape from
the chlamys of the Greeks, and the paludamentum of the
generals. The only difference between them was, that the
paludamentum was made of a richer stuff, and was general¬
ly of a purole colour, and both longer and fuller than the
sagum.
SAGUNTUM. See Murviedro.
S AH AB AD, a Rajpoot town of Hindustan, in the province
of Ajmeer, tributary to the Mahrattas. It is eighty-five miles
east by north from Kotah. Long. 77. 10. E. Lat. 25. 26. N.
SAHARA, or the Great Desert, an immense tract of
territory in Northern and Central Africa, the most desolate
and terrible on the face of the globe. It is bounded on the
north by the Barbary States; on the south by Soudan, or the
countries watered by the upper course of the Niger, and by
the Lower Senegal; and on the east it commences near the
left bank of the Nile, and stretches westward to the shores
of the North Atlantic Ocean, being nearly the whole breadth
of Africa. Its actual extent may be stated as from the
fifteenth to the thirtieth parallels of north latitude, and from
the thirtieth of east to the fifteenth of west longitude. Its
length is thus about three thousand miles, and its breadth
is in some parts above a thousand miles. It is by many
degrees the largest desert to be found in any part of the
world, and it occupies about one fifth of the surface of
this part of the globe. Sahara seems to be a table-land
little raised above the level of the sea, covered with mov¬
ing sands, and here and there containing some rocky heights,
and valleys, or oases, w here the water collects and nourishes
thorny shrubs, ferns, and grass. From the defective culti¬
vation of the surrounding countries, and the influence of
the prevailing winds, the desert has always been gaining
ground, so that in the east some of the Egyptian monuments
of antiquity, which at the time of their erection were no
doubt unencumbered by the sand, even at their bases, are
now covered with it. In the south, likewise, it has en¬
croached on the banks of the Niger and the Senegal; and on
the north and north-west the southern provinces of Morocco
S A H
, s
have been partly usurped by it, so that the streams descend- Sahara
ing from the Atlas Mountains are either drunk up, or have v-'' ; 'r''-
their courses diverted so as to be rendered comparatively
useless; while in the west it has, in some parts, extend¬
ed a hundred miles into the sea, forming immense sand¬
banks, destructive to the formation of landing-places. The
mountains along the Atlantic Ocean are in no continued
chain, but rise up in isolated peaks, and through the open
spaces between them the sand is drifted by the winds. To¬
wards the interior they again lose themselves in a plain co¬
vered with white and sharp pebbles. From being frequently
shifted by winds, the sand extends over the vast plain in a
billowy or undulating manner, like the sea when agitated.
In its nature it is quartzy and calcareous. The solid fixed
rocks which occasionally rise above this mobile surface
are sometimes extensive enough to form tracts of country.
In the eastern part of the Sahara, the rocks are principally
secondary, and nr the most part limestone, sandstone, gyp¬
sum, and rock-salt, which occasionally appear to be tra¬
versed by trap-rocks. At Tegazza, and some other places,
a sal-gem, whiter than the purest marble, lies in extensive
strata under a bed of rock. Golberry informs us5 that on
its southern margin he found masses of native iron. 1 he
waters of the lakes which here and there occur in the desert
are in some instances impregnated with carbonate of soda,
in others with muriate of soda or common salt, forming the
natron and salt lakes of travellers. The rocks on the sea-
coast of the Sahara, and the islands that lie along it, are
said to be principally composed of igneous rock, and chiefly
basalt.
The principal production of Sahara is mineral salt, which,
in many places, covers the surface in white glittering crys¬
tals, so that at a distance they appear to be rugged fields of
snow or ice. This salt constitutes the staple article of the
trade of Soudan, and Timbuctoo is indebted to this product
of the waste for its existence as well as its prosperity.
The most remarkable feature of this desolate ocean of
sand consists in the oases or verdant islands which, at dis¬
tant and dreary intervals, agreeably break its appaling uni-*
formity. These are formed by springs, which, fed by dis¬
tant mountains, burst forth amidst the desert solitudes, and,
diffusing a partial verdure and fertility, form a strikingly
beautiful contrast with the surrounding desolation. They
are embellished with flowering shrubs of peculiar beauty. An
aromatic plant resembling thyme, the same which bears the
grains of zahara, acacias and other thorny shrubs, nettles,
and brambles, constitute the ordinary vegetation of these
places. Whole tracts are covered with forests of acacia,
from which rich gums distil their odours; and groves of the
date and lotus also occur, but more rarely. The fruits and
berries which they yield constitute the food of whole tribes
of men, while the verdure affords a support for animals chief¬
ly of the antelope species. But lions, panthers, and serpents
of enormous size, sometimes augment the horrors of these
frightful solitudes. Ravens and other birds of prey are
likewise often seen hovering over the track of the caravan,
ready to dispute w ith the Moorish dogs for the carcasses of
those who have perished in the desert. These oases are
frequented by numerous flocks of ostriches, w'hich feed on
snails, lizards, and some coarse plants. For a great part
of the year the dry and heated air has the appearance of a
reddish vapour, and the horizon looks like the fire of a se¬
ries of volcanoes. The rain, which descends from July to
October or November, does not extend its precarious and
momentary blessing to all the districts. In some of them
rain does not fall for years together, on which occasions the
springs also dry up, and a frightful want of water ensues,
which drives men and animals to despair. 1 he air during
the day is oppressively hot, without a cloud to mitigate the
glowing sunshine; and during the night it is disproportion-
ally cool. The natural magic of the Fata Morgana, here
S A H
j hara. often exhibited to the eye of the parched traveller, is pro-
v-r—^ vokingly deceptive. Sometimes he sees in the distance
what appears almost beyond question to be a sheet of water
glittering in the sunbeams. He hastens forward, in hopes
of soon allaying his thirst at the welcome lake; but his
efforts to reach it are as vain as those of the child to clasp
the rainbow. Still his fainting steps pursue, for still the
imaginary lake lies before him as lovely and alluring, but
as distant, as ever.
It is of course only on the borders of the Sahara that
oases on a great scale occur. In the eastern part they are
extensive enough to form small kingdoms, generally de¬
pendent on some more powerful neighbour. In other
parts, particularly the western, they consist merely of one
or more detached villages, serving as emporia for the trade
carried on by the caravans. And sometimes, especially as
we penetrate into the interior of the desert, the oases are
merely springs which nourish too scanty a vegetation to
admit of inhabitants settling there, but affording supplies
of water to the caravans, whose route is determined by the
situation of these fountains. Dreary and encompassed with
dangers as such abodes must be, every spot on which inhabi¬
tants can subsist is occupied; and notwithstanding the perils
and sufferings of such travelling, regular journeys are per¬
formed across the whole breadth of this desolate region,
from Morocco on the north to Timbuctoo on the south.
The only animal fitted for traversing these solitudes as a
beast of burden is the camel, which with equal truth and
beauty has been designated the ship of the desert. By
its patience of hunger and fatigue, by the provision which
has been made for its carrying a large supply of water, and
by the structure of its hoof, so formed as to glide smoothly
over the level sand, it seems expressly designed by nature
as a means of communication across these immense wastes.
The merchandise which they convey is firmly secured on
their backs by means of creels and otherwise ; and for the
sake of mutual aid and defence, as well as to relieve the te¬
dium of the route, they proceed in large bodies, occasion¬
ally amounting to the number of two thousand. The trade
is carried on by merchants inured from their infancy to
the hardships which attend such journeys. Their food con¬
sists of the milk of the camel, with barley-meal or Indian
corn, and a few dates, although the more opulent carry dried
flesh and coffee. Water is conveyed in goat-skins, covered
with tar for the purpose of preventing evaporation. The
caravans, or akkabahs, as the Moors call them, do not pro¬
ceed in a straight line to their journey’s end, but turn in va¬
rious directions according to the position of the different
oases. At each of these the travellers rest and refresh them¬
selves for a day or two, and take in supplies of water. Two
great evils are encountered in crossing the desert. The
first and most terrible is, when from a peculiarly dry season
one or more of the springs happens to fail; and the second
is the burning wrind, called the samoom, shoom, or simoom.
Less than half a century ago a caravan consisting of two
thousand persons and eighteen hundred camels, not finding
water at the usual places, perished utterly, both men and
animals. The vehemence of the wind, which is more like
the breath of a furnace than the natural commotion of the
atmosphere, raises and rolls before it the waves of red sand,
causing the desert so much to resemble a stormy sea, that
the Arabs have given it the name of “ Bahar billa-maia,” or
waterless sea.
Major Denham relates an instance of the terrible effects of
the simoom. “ The overpowering effect of a sudden sand-
wind, when nearly at the close of the desert, often destroys a
whole kafila, already weakened w ith fatigue. The spot was
pointed out to us, strewed with bones and dried carcasses,
where, the year before, fifty sheep, two camels, and two men,
perished from thirst and fatigue, when within eight hours’
march of the well which we were anxiously looking for.”
S A H 613
Captain Lyon thus describes the appearance of these dead. Saharun-
bodies: “ We observed many skeletons of animals which had Pore-
died of fatigue on the desert, and occasionally the grave of
some human being. All these bodies were so dried by the
extreme heat of the sun, that putrefaction did not appear
to have taken place after death. In recently dead animals
I could not perceive the slightest offensive smell ; and in
those long dead, the skin, with the hair on it, remained un¬
broken and perfect, although so brittle as to break with a
slight blow. The sand-winds never cause these carcasses
to change their places, as in a short time a slight mound is
formed round them, and they become stationary.” The
fact here noticed of the preservation of the dead bodies in
the sand has been observed in other parts of the world,
for instance in South America. It appears that the heat of
the sun rapidly exhales the natural juices, which prevents
the usual process of putrefaction from going on, and thus
the carcass is parched into something resembling the well-
known mummy of Egypt.
The merchants possess some knowledge of the heavenly
bodies, and direct their course by the polar star, often pre¬
ferring to travel during the clear nights of these climates
rather than brave the scorching heat of a tropical sun. This
nocturnal travelling, however, has its inconveniences, so that
the most part of the journey is performed during the day.
The camel-drivers sing as they go along; and as they ap¬
proach houses, or when the camels seem in danger of drop¬
ping down with fatigue, their songs acquire additional spirit
and expression, which is said to have the intended effect
upon the animals. At four o’clock in the afternoon they
pitch their tents and join in prayer. Supper follows this
act of devotion, after which they sit down in a circle and
converse or recite stories until sleep closes their eyes, and
the perils of the desert are forgotten in its unconscious¬
ness.
The coast of Sahara contains some harbours and road¬
steads. Those of Rio-do-Ouro and of St Cyprian are form¬
ed by large creeks, resembling the mouths of rivers. The
Gulf of Ardum, and the Portendic Road, have often been
visited by Europeans. On the same line are Cape Boja-
dore and Cape Blanco, which latter is supposed to mark
the limit of the discoveries of the Carthaginians. At Ho-
den, Tisheet or Tegazza, and Taudeny, in the western re¬
gion of Sahara, are extensive mines of rock-salt, an article
which is wanting in the populous regions of Central Africa,
and is consequently in great demand in those quarters. One
of the principal depots of salt is Walet, which, by this ar¬
ticle, is rendered a place second in importance only to Tim¬
buctoo. Aroun, also, in the very centre of the desert, has
become a place of some importance, containing three thou¬
sand inhabitants, chiefly by this trade and the passage of
caravans. In the heart of Sahara, between Gadamis and
Timbuctoo, is the district of Suat or Tuat, inhabited by a
mixture of Arabs and Tuaricks, in no respect superior to the
rest of the desert tribes. Aghably and Ain-el-Salah, their
chief towns, are frequented as caravan stations, (r. R. R.)
SAHARUNPORE, an extensive and valuable district
of Hindustan, in the province of Delhi, situated principally
between the rivers Jumna and Ganges, and about the thirty-
first degree of northern latitude. It is bounded on the
north by the Sewalic Mountains, and the province of Se-
rinagur. The soil is fertile, and being well watered by in¬
numerable streams from the hills, produces all kinds of
grain, sugar, indigo, cotton, and tobacco. It has a fine and
temperate climate for the greater part of the year; but dur¬
ing the months of April and May the hot winds blow with
great violence, while some of the winter months are exces¬
sively cold. This district, though it is placed between the
Ganges and the Jumna, which here run parallel at the dis¬
tance of about fifty-five miles, is not subject to the periodi¬
cal inundation which prevails in Bengal and the southern
614
S A I
Sahlaydun provinces. The country is flat to the bottom ot the hills,
.11 which rise abruptly, being the northern boundary of the
Saida. - • * • • ’ ^ ^  
** imAVs** j 7 — O . ^ ,
immense valley through which the Ganges flows in its pro¬
gress to the sea. The whole district was, about the middle of
the last century, made over to Nijeeb Khan, an Afghan chief,
who brought it into a high state of cultivation, and was suc¬
ceeded by his son, Zabita Khan, who, dying in 1785, was
succeeded by his son Ghoolam Kadir, a cruel tyrant. He
rebelled against the unfortunate emperor Shah Alum, and
put out his eyes, and tortured and starved to death many
of the royal family; in retaliation for which he was himsell
put to death by the Mahratta chief Mahdajee Sindia, who
took possession of the district. In 1803, this country, with
all the other Mahratta possessions between the Ganges and
the Jumna, was acquired by the British government, and
in 1804 was separated into two divisions, the northern and
the southern, and placed under the superintendence ol a
civil establishment of a judge, collector, &c. and has since
been divided into two collectorships. From the death of
Aurungzebe, until its acquisition by the British in 1803, it
was one continued scene of intestine commotion. The ca¬
pital is of the same name, and is an open town, a hundred
and five miles north by east from Delhi. Long. 77. 23. E.
Lat. 30. 15. N.
SAHLAYDUN, a town of the Birman empire, in the
province of Pegu, and situated on the Irrawaddy river. It
carries on a considerable trade in teak-timber with Ran¬
goon, and has also a land-communication with the sea-
coast of Arracan. Long. 94. 40. E. Lat. 18. 35. N.
SAHWOTTY, a town of the Birman empire, situated on
the western bank of the Irrawaddy. Long. 94. 50. E. Lat.
19.41. N. ' .
SAIBGUNGE, a town of Hindustan, in the province ot
Bengal and district of Rungpore. Long. 88. 48. E. Lat.
26. 15. N.
SAIDA, or Seida, a seaport of Syria, celebrated as one
of the most ancient Phoenician cities, and supposed to be
built on the site of the ancient Sidon. In sacred writ it is
often mentioned along with Tyre, and always as a flourish¬
ing commercial city. It was occupied by the French dur¬
ing the middle ages, who repaired and strengthened the
fortifications. Although decayed from its ancient splen¬
dour, it is still of importance as the port of Damascus. It
is situated in a plain extending only two miles inward from
the sea, when it rises into steep mountains, barren and un¬
productive ; and hence its prosperity must always have been
derived from commerce. The town extends six hundred
paces along the sea. It is, like all Turkish towns, dirty, ill
built, and filled with ruins. It formerly had a magnificent
harbour, composed of vast moles stretching out into the sea,
but it is now entirely destroyed. The huge stones of which
it was built may be still seen, some twelve feet long by
eleven broad, and five deep. It is said to be the work of
Louis IX. but contains on the top work of an older date.
The harbour is said to have been ruined by Feckerdine,
emir of the Druses, when he established an independent
power with a view of preventing the grand seignior from
effecting a landing with a maritime force. On the opposite
side of the town is a modern fort, consisting merely of a
large tower, but incapable of resisting any serious attack.
The road is formed by a shoal running opposite the castle,
and leaving a space between, where vessels may ride, though
not in perfect safety. The surrounding country is laid out
in gardens and orchards, which appear very beautiful at a
distance. It carries on a considerable trade, and is the
emporium, not only ot Damascus, but of the surrounding
country. The exports consist of corn, silk, raw and spun
cotton, the last article forming the principal trade of the
inhabitants. It is now included in the pashalik of Damas¬
cus. The population is from 7000 to 8000. Long. 35.
14. E. Lat. 33. 25. N.
S A I
SAIL, in Navigation, an assemblage of several breadths
of canvass, sewed together by the lists, and edged round with
cord, fastened to the yards of a ship, to make it drive be¬
fore the wind.
The edges of the cloths or pieces of which a sail is
composed, are generally sewed together with a double seam ;
and the whole is skirted round at the edges with a cord,
called the bolt-rope. Although the form of sails is extreme¬
ly different, they are all nevertheless triangular or quadri¬
lateral figures; or, in other words, their surfaces are con¬
tained either between three or four sides.
The former of these are sometimes spread by a yard, as
lateen-sails, and otherwise by a stay, as stay-sails, or by a
mast, as shoulder-of-mutton sails; in all which cases the
foremost leech or edge is attached to the said yard, mast,
or stay, throughout its whole length. The latter, or those
which are four-sided, are either extended by yards, as the
principal yards of a ship; or by yards and booms, as the
studding-sails, drivers, ring-tails, and all those sails which
are set occasionally; or by gaffs and booms, as the main¬
sails of sloops and brigantines. See Ship and Ship-build¬
ing.
Sail is also a name applied to any vessel seen at a dis¬
tance under sail, and is equivalent to ship.
To set Sail, is to unfurl and expand the sails upon their
respective yards and stays, in order to begin the action ot
sailing. _ _ .
To make Sail, is to spread an additional quantity of sail,
so as to increase the ship’s velocity.
To shorten Sail, is to reduce or take in part of the sails,
with an intention to diminish the ship’s velocity.
To strike Sail, is to lower it suddenly. I his is parti¬
cularly used in saluting or doing homage to a superior force,
or to one whom the law’ of nations acknowledges as superior
in certain regions. Thus all foreign vessels strike to a
British man-of-war in the British seas.
SAILING, the movement by which a vessel is wafted
along the surface of the water, by the action of the wind
upon her sails.
When a ship changes her state of rest into that of mo¬
tion, as in advancing out of a harbour, or from her station
at anchor, she acquires motion very gradually, as a body
which arrives not at a certain velocity till after an infinite
repetition of the action of its weight.
The first impression of the wind greatly affects the velo¬
city, because the resistance of the water might destroy it;
since the velocity being but small at first, the resistance
of the w’ater which depends upon it will be very feeble.
But as the ship increases her motion, the force of the wind
on the sails will be diminished ; and, on the contrary, the
resistance of the water on the bow will accumulate in pro¬
portion to the velocity with which the vessel advances.
Thus the repetition of the degrees of force, which the ac¬
tion of the sail adds to the morion of the ship, is perpetu¬
ally decreasing; while the new degrees added to the ef¬
fort of resistance on the bow are always augmenting. I he
velocity is then accelerated in proportion as the quantity
added is greater than that which is subtracted; but when
the two powers become equal, when the impression of the
wind on the sails has lost so much of its force as only to
act in proportion to the opposite impulse of resistance on
the bow, the ship will then acquire no additional velocity,
but continue to sail with a constant uniform motion. The
great weight of the ship may indeed prevent her from ac¬
quiring the greatest velocity ; but when she has attained it,
she will advance by her own intrinsic motion, without gain¬
ing any new degree of velocity, or lessening what she has
acquired. She moves then by her own proper force in vacuo,
without being afterwards subject either to the effort ot the
wind on the sails, or to the resistance of the water on tlie
bow. If at any time the impulsion of the water on the bow
Sail
.11
Sailing;
S A I
should destroy any part of the velocity, the effort of the
' wind on the sails will revive it, so that the motion will con¬
tinue the same. It must, however, be observed, that this
state will only subsist when these two powers act upon each
other in direct opposition, otherwise they will mutually de¬
stroy one another. The whole theory of working ships de¬
pends on this counter action, and the perfect equality which
should subsist between the effort of the wind and the im¬
pulsion of the water.
The effect of sailing is produced by a judicious arrange¬
ment of the sails to the direction of the wind. Accordingly
the various modes of sailing are derived from the different
degrees and situations of the wind with regard to the course
of the vessel. See Seamanship.
Sailing also implies a particular mode of navigation,
which is formed on the principles and regulated by the
laws of trigonometry. Hence we say, Plain Sailing, Mer¬
cator’s, Middle-latitude, Parallel, and Great-circle Sailing.
SAINT means a person eminent for piety and virtue,
and is generally applied to the apostles and other holy per¬
sons mentioned in Scripture. But the Roman Catholics
give it an application much more extensive. The canoni¬
zation of saints, they tell us, is the enrolment of any per¬
son in the canon or catalogue of those who are called saints ;
or it is a judgment and sentence of the church, by which
it is declared that a deceased person was eminent for sanc¬
tity during his lifetime, and especially towards the end of
it, and that consequently he must now be in glory with
God, and deserves to be honoured by the church on earth
with that veneration which she is wnnt to pay to the bless¬
ed in heaven.
The discipline with regard to this matter has varied. It
would seem that in the first ages every bishop in his own
diocese was wont to declare what persons were to be ho¬
noured as saints by his people. Hence St Cyprian, about
the middle of the third century, requires that he be inform¬
ed of those who should die in prison for the faith, that so he
might make mention of them in the holy sacrifice with the
martyrs, and might honour them afterwards on the anniver¬
sary day of their happy deal'll. This veneration continued
sometimes to be confined to one country; but sometimes
it extended to distant provinces, and even became univer¬
sal all over the church. It was thus that St Laurence, St
Ambrose, St Augustin, St Basil, and many others, appear
to have been canonized by custom and universal persuasion.
In those ages none were reckoned saints but the apostles,
the martyrs, and very eminent confessors, whose sanctity
was everywhere notorious. Afterwards it appears that
canonizations wTere wont to be performed in provincial sy¬
nods, under the direction of the metropolitan. It was thus
that St Isidore of Seville was canonized in the seventh cen¬
tury, by the eighth council of Toledo, fourteen years after
his death. This manner of canonization continued occa¬
sionally down to the twelfth century. The last instance of
a saint canonized in this way, is that of St Walter, abbot
of Pontoise, who was declared a saint by the archbishop of
Rouen in the year 1153. In the twelfth century, in order
to prevent mistakes in so delicate a matter, Pope Alexander
III. judged it proper to reserve this declaration to the Holy
See of Rome exclusively; and decreed that no one should
for the future be honoured by the church as a saint with¬
out the express approbation of the pope.
Several authors have written on canonization, particu¬
larly Prosper Lambertini, afterwards pope under the name
of Benedict XIV., who had held the office of Promoter of
the Faith for many years. He published on it a large work
in several volumes, in folio, of which there is an abridgment
m French. In this learned performance there is a full his¬
tory of the canonization of saints in general, and of all the
particular processes of that kind that are on record.
St Andrews. See Andrews, St.
S A I
vr J^1NT0N^0’ one of the Cape de Verd islands. See
V erd Cape, Islands of.
St Barbes Isle, a small island in the Eastern Seas, si¬
tuated under the equinoctial line. It is about three miles
in circumference. Long. 107. 40. E.
St Bernardino, straits that separate the islands of Lu¬
zon and Samar, in the Philippines.
St George, one of the Azores. See Azores.
St Iago, one of the Cape de Verd islands. See Verd
Cape, Islands of.
St Michaels, one of the Azores. See Azores.
St Nicholas, one of the Cape de Verd islands. See
Verd Cape, Islands of.
St Peter and St Paul, a seaport village of Asia, on
the south-eastern coast of Kamtschatka, in the bay of Awat-
ska, which, though small, is described by Captain Kino- as
most commodious. Long. 158. 43. E. Lat. 54. N. &
^ St Servan, a city of France, in the department of the
Ille-Vilaine, and arrondissement of St Malo. It stands on
the bay of St Malo, wdiere the river Ranee falls into it,
and is separated from the city of that name by an arm of it.
It has an enclosed harbour and a good roadstead, in which
ships of the line can ride in security. It is only fortified
towards the sea. There is an establishment for building
ships, where some frigates have been constructed. It has
manufactories of sail-cloth, ropes, and ship-biscuits, and,
in the year 1836, contained 9975 inhabitants, who depend
mostly on the shipping.
St Sever, an arrondissement of the department of the
Landes, in France, containing 170,746 hectares, equal to
600|- square miles in extent. It is divided into eight can¬
tons, and these into 114 communes, with 90,500 inhabi¬
tants in 1836. The capital is the city of the same name
situated on the left bank of the river Adour, and contains
5863 inhabitants. Long. 0. 55. W. Lat. 43. 45. N.
St Thome, a town of the south of India, in the pro¬
vince of the Carnatic, situated close to the sea-side, which
here forms a small bay. It stands in a fine plain abound¬
ing in cocoa-nut trees, which retain their verdure through¬
out the year. Except the church, it is now nearly a heap
of ruins, inhabited chiefly by Indians, Portuguese, and Hindu
weavers, who consist of Hindus, Mahommedans, and Roman
Catholic Christians, the latter being a mixture of the Por¬
tuguese and natives, and of a very dark complexion. This
town arose on the ruins of the ancient Hindu city of Ma-
liapurum, which the Portuguese took possession of about
the year 1545, and made it the capital of all their settle¬
ments on the Coromandel coast. They changed the name
to St Thome, in honour of the apostle. In 1672 it w7as
taken by the French, who in 1674 were compelled to sur¬
render it to the Dutch, who gave it up to the king of Gol-
conda. In 1749 it was taken by a British fleet under Ad¬
miral Boscawen; and in the Carnatic wars between the
British and the French it was occupied by the Madras pre¬
sidency, under whose authority it has ever since remained.
Long. 80. 22. E. Lat. 13. 1. N.
St Tropes, a city of France, in the department of the
Var and the arrondissement of Draguignan. It is a seaport
on the bay of Grimaud, in a fruitful district, has a haven de¬
fended by a castle, is well built, and enjoys a great trade in
cork and in ship-building, and a considerable tunny fishing.
In 1836 it contained 3736 inhabitants. Long. 6. 33. 25. E.
Lat. 43. 16. 8. N.
SAINTES, an arrondissement of the department of the
Lower Charente, in France. It is 536 square miles in ex¬
tent, and comprehends eight cantons, divided into 109 com¬
munes, with 104,871 inhabitants in 1836. The capital is
the city of the same name situated at the foot of a hill on
the navigable river Charente. It is an ill-built place, but,
with the suburb, contains 1800 houses, with 9559 inhabi¬
tants, carrying on some woollen manufactories, and consi-
615
St Anto¬
nio
Saintes.
616
SAL
Saintes.Desderable distilleries of brandy and spirits of wine.
II it are some Roman antiquities, especially the remains of an
Salamanca. am phi theatre, an aqueduct, and a triumphal arch. Long. 0.
43. 58. W. Lat. 45. 44. 43. N.
Saintes, Des, a group of small islands in the West In¬
dies, adjacent to Guadaloupe, of which government they
form a part.
SAIPOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the province ot
Gundwana, possessed by independent zemindars. It is si-
tuated on the north-west side of the Rhair river, fifteen miles
from the southern frontier of the Rhotas district, in Bahar.
Long. 82. 50. E. Lat. 24. 2. N.
SAJENE, a Russian measure of length, equal to about
seven English feet. .
SAKERTOL, a town and fortress of Hindustan, in the
province of Delhi, and district of Saharunpore. It was taken
by the Mahrattas in 1772. It is situated on the western
bank of the Ganges. Long. 77. 0. E. Lat. 29. 25. A. _
SAKKAR, a district of Hindustan, in the province ot Be-
iapoor, belonging to the nizam, and situated about the seven¬
teenth degree of north latitude. It is well watered, being
situated between the rivers Beemah and Krishna, and is ex¬
tremely fertile. To the north of the Beemah it is somewhat
hilly. The principal towns are Nusseritabad and Sakkar ;
and the latter is the capital. It is situated on the north side
of the Beemah river, sixty-five miles east from the city ot
Bejapoor. Long. 76. 38. E. Lat. 17. 4. N.
SAL si Puedes, is the name of some islands in the
Gulf of California. They lie in the interior of the gulf,
and form a chain, leaving only some very narrow channels,
of difficult entrance for vessels. They are of various sizes,
the largest bearing the names of Las Animas, San Lorenzo,
San Estevan, dnd San Augustin.
SALA, a city of Italy, in the province of Principato Ci-
tra, of the kingdom of Naples, situated on a small river of
the same name. It is an inland place, situated on an elevated
spot, and has a castle, five parish churches, and 6100 inhabi¬
tants. Another place of the same name in Italy is in the
duchy of Parma, being situated on the river Baganza. It
was the favourite residence of the last duchess, and now be-
longs to her successor, who keeps on the land belonging to
it a large flock of merino sheep, with the view of extending
that race throughout the country. There is another place
in Sicily of the name, in the intendancy of Trapani, which is
described as containing 9800 inhabitants, but ill built and
disgustingly filthy.
SALAD, or Sallad, a dish of eatable herbs, seasoned
with salt, oil, and vinegar. Menage derives the word from
the Latin salata, from sal, salt; but others from salcedo.
Ducange derives it from salgama, which is used in Ausonius
and Columella in the same sense. Some add mustard, hard
eggs, and sugar. The principal salad herbs, and those which
ordinarily make the basis of our English salads, ai e lettuce,
celery, endive, cresses, radish, and rape.
SALADIN, a famous sultan of Egypt, equally renown¬
ed as a warrior and a legislator. He supported himself by
his valour, and the influence of his amiable character, against
the united efforts of the chief Christian potentates of Eu¬
rope, who carried on wars against him, under the appella¬
tion of Holy Wars. . „ . . ,
SALAIBSKOIE, a fortress of Asiatic Russia, situated
at the confluence of the small river Salaiba with the Bia,
and surrounded with immense forests.
SALAMANCA, one of the departments into which the
kingdom or province of Leon, in Spain, is divided. If
tuated between lat. 40° and 41° 38' north. The rivei Dueio
forms its limit to the north and north-west, except where it
comes in contact with Portugal. Estremadura is on its south¬
ern side, and the province of Segovia to the eastward, it
extends over 471 square leagues, and its population amounts
to 272,982 souls. It generally consists of an open country
SAL
with extensive plains, and for the most part destitute ofSakmam
trees. The soil is more fruitful than its appearance wouldw
suggest. It yields excellent corn, and in moist summers
the harvests are abundant; but it is subject to that want
which the greater part of Spain feels from the scarcity of
water; for although there are several rivers in the depart¬
ment, the influence of their moisture extends but a small
distance from their banks. The principal of these rivers is
the Duero, into which the Alba, the Tormes, and the Ague-
da run, whilst the Alagon, taking a southern course, runs
into the Tagus. From the nature of the soil through which
these rivers pass, they have worn very deep channels,
and therefore cannot be used for the purposes of irriga¬
tion, without a portion of labour and expenditure which
the inhabitants are neither willing nor able to bestow upon
them. Though generally the department is destitute of
wood, yet in some parts there are extensive forests of ever¬
green oak trees, without any brushwood under them ; and
the oaks themselves are without those spreading branches
and lofty tops with which our forests exhibit these trees.
They are, however, of considerable benefit to the inhabi¬
tants by their copious produce of acorns, on which large
droves of pigs are fed. The peasants who attend to these
animals precede the drove, and proceeding from tree to tree,
beat them with a kind of flail, causing the acorns to fall, which
the swine most greedily devour. T-hey thus proceed daily
from tree to tree till the food they supply is exhausted. The
hams of the pigs fattened in this way are most highly es¬
teemed. In this department large flocks of the merino kind
of sheep are fed; and many of the stationary kind are bred
here, whose wool is of a very inferior degree of fineness. In
the early part of the late war the plains of Salamanca were
very favourable to the operations of the trench armies, who
being superior in cavalry, could act on them w’ith the most
powerful effect. The cattle of this province are reckoned to
be 9363 horses, 6163 mules, 22,002 asses, 107,800 oxen,
103,401 goats, and 107,200 pigs. Of fruits it yields 9500
fanegas of chestnuts, 502,000 of nuts, and 12,000 of raisins.
Salamanca, a city of Spain, head of the department of
the same name, in the province or kingdom of Leon. It is
situated on the river Tormes, over which there is a bridge
standing, the piers of which were built by the Romans, and
there remain twelve of the arches constructed by them,
and thirteen of more recent date, probably erected since
the expulsion of the Moors. At a short distance Salamanca
has a most imposing effect. Its lofty towers and cupolas,
the magnificent Gothic cathedral, the numerous convents
and colleges, and the lengthened bridge which leads to
them, present a landscape of the first order.
The immediate vicinity of the city is fruitful, being on a
plain surrounded by mountains of no great elevation, though
the Sierra de Guadarrama is visible in the distance, tower¬
ing above them. It is well supplied from its fields with
wine, corn, fruits, and edible vegetables. It grows some flax
and oil, but procures a part of the latter from Estremadura
and Andalusia.
The principal fame of Salamanca has arisen from its uni¬
versity, which is one of the largest establishments for edu¬
cation in Spain, if not in Europe. The professors are not
generally distinguished for their learning or activity, and
principally exercise their faculties in keeping the minds of
the pupils down to that level of inquiry and pursuit which
is best calculated to secure their attachment to the exist¬
ing civil and religious institutions of their country. Every
inquiry which may have a tendency to lead them from t is
beaten track is most carefully checked ; and even books oi
science, if composed by foreigners, are viewed with a sus¬
picion that there may be in them some latent heretical
tenets. Under such restraints, it is not wonderful that the
orthodoxy of the university of Salamanca is unimpeached.
The spirit of loyalty was, in fact, so great, that at the com-
SAL
ilame mencement of the invasion a regiment was formed from
il the students, which was soon disciplined and effective, but
^ the whole of which was almost destroyed at the fatal battle
of Medellin.
No establishment of the kind in Spain enjoys revenues
equal to this university, and none under proper regulations
could be more beneficial to this or any country ; but science
and knowledge are so checked by-the tendency towards
the preservation of the religion of the state, and the appre¬
hension that knowledge may give a bias contrary to the in¬
terests of the church, that a vast deal of time, which might
be usefully employed, is devoted, both by pupils a«d tu¬
tors, to a course of studies which, to say the least, neither
tends to enlarge the boundaries of knowledge nor to strength¬
en the minds of the students. Besides the candidates for
holy orders, great numbers of the sons of good families from
all parts of Spain are sent to this seminary to pass a few
years; and hence the number of the members of the uni¬
versity has at some periods amounted to more than four
thousand. The regular inhabitants of the city, exclusive
of the university, amount to 13,500 persons.
The cathedral is a fine object of the Gothic kind, though
of no earlier erection than the reign of Charles I. of Spain,
in the beginning of the sixteenth century ; and as at that pe¬
riod Gothic architecture was on the decline in Spain, it will
not bear very rigid criticism. It is, however, a magnificent
mass of building, and is adorned with paintings from the
pencil of Titian, Spagnoletti, and some other great masters.
The college formerly belonging to the order of Jesuits is a
very large pile of building, now occupied by regular canons.
The church, dedicated to St Mark, within it, has some of the
best productions of the Spanish painter Mengs, but being a
representation of the various parts of the life of Loyola, the
founder of the order of Jesuits, whatever merit they may
have as paintings, they have now none as historical pieces.
The principal square of Salamanca, in the centre of the
city, is a fine object. The buildings that surround it are
handsome and lofty, and supported by piazzas, under which
is the principal public walk for the inhabitants. It is situ¬
ated in latitude 41. 21. N.
SALAMEJ, a small island at the entrance of the Per¬
sian Gulf, near Cape Mussendoon. Long. 56. 48. E. Lat.
26. 20. N.
SALAMIS, an island of the Archipelago, situated in
long. 34. 0. E. and lat. 37. 32. N. It was famous in anti¬
quity for a battle fought there between the Greek and Per¬
sian fleets. In this engagement, which was one of the most
memorable actions we find recorded in history, the Gre¬
cians lost forty ships, and the Persians two hundred, be¬
sides a great many more which were taken, with all the men
and ammunition on board.
The island of Salamis is of a very irregular shape; it
was reckoned eight or ten miles in length, reaching westward
as far as the mountains called Keruta or The Horns. Pau-
sanias informs us that on one side of this island stood in his
time a temple of Diana, and on the other a trophy for a
victory obtained by Themistocles, together with the temple
of Cychreus, the site of which is now thought to be occu¬
pied by the church of St Nicholas.
The city of Salamis was demolished by the Athenians,
because in the war with Cassander it surrendered, from dis¬
affection, to the Macedonians. In the second century, when
it was visited by Pausanias, some ruins of the Agora or
market-place remained.
SALAYR Isle, an island in the Eastern Seas, situated
off the southern extremity of Celebes, about the sixth de¬
gree of south latitude. This island is about forty miles in
length by eight in average breadth; and there are many
smaller isles around it, two of which only are inhabited,
namely, Bonarutte and Calawe. It is mountainous and
woody, yet better cultivated and peopled than most of the
VOL. XIX.
SAL 617
eastern isles. The principal produce is millet, which is the Sale
chief subsistence of the natives, and cotton, which is raised ''
in a coarse manner. From this raw material coarse blue, ^lll0_‘,
and white stripped cloths are manufactured, for internal
consumption and for exportation. The inhabitants, accord¬
ing to the estimate of Captain Forrest, amount to about
60,000. They have good houses ; and the richer classes,
in travelling, are carried in bamboo chairs over the hills,
while horses are used in the level country. The island
was ceded by the Macassars, who had obtained possession
of it, to the king of Fernate, from whom it was taken by
the Dutch East India Company. The Dutch had a junior
resident here as merchant, who dwelt in a pallisadoed fort.
SALE is the exchange of a commodity for money ; bar¬
ter, or permutation, is the exchange of one commodity for
another.
SALEMI, a city of the island of Sicily, in the province
of Mazzara. It stands on a healthy spot on the summit of
a hill, which is the ancient Alicia or Halycus. It is sur¬
rounded with walls in a dilapidated state. It is on the de¬
cline, but still contains 9200 inhabitants, who are chiefly
employed in agriculture, especially in producing the best
oil, and in making excellent wire.
SALENGORE, a district in the Malay peninsula, ex¬
tending along the Straits of Malacca, and governed by a
Mahommedan chief, who bears the title of rajah. It is situat¬
ed at no great distance from Prince of Wales’ Island, in
which the trade of the place chiefly centres. Pepper, cloves,
wild nutmegs, wax, nutmeg-oil, rattans, dammer, wood, oil,
&c., are imported in the Buggess prows; and from a large
river near to Salengore great quantities of long rattans are
brought. The prince is the chief merchant, as in the other
Malay principalities, monopolizing all the trade. Ships lying
in the river are secure from pirates; but in the road it is
necessary to be on the alert against straggling prows, which
are always ready to take advantage of unguarded ships.
The Buggesses have still a small settlement here, and pro¬
fess the Mahommedan religion.
SALEP, in the Materia Medica, the dried root of a spe¬
cies of orchis. “ The restorative, mucilaginous, and de¬
mulcent qualities of the orchis root, render it of consider¬
able use in various diseases. In the sea-scurvy it power¬
fully obtunds the acrimony of the fluids, and at the same
time is easily assimilated into a mild and nutritious chyle.
In diarrhoeas and the dysentery it is highly serviceable, by
sheathing the internal coat of the intestines, by abating ir¬
ritation, and gently correcting putrefaction. In the symp¬
tomatic fever which arises from the absorption of pus from
ulcers in the lungs, from wounds, or from amputation, sa-
lep used plentifully is an admirable demulcent, and well
adapted to resist the dissolution of the crasis of the blood,
which is so evident in these cases. And by the same mu¬
cilaginous quality it is equally efficacious in the strangury
and dysury, especially in the latter when arising from a ve¬
nereal cause, because the discharge of urine is then attend¬
ed with the most exquisite pain, from the ulceration about
the neck of the bladder and through the course of the
urethra. I have found it also an useful aliment for pa¬
tients who labour under the stone or gravel.” (Dr Perci-
val’s Essays, Medical and Experimental.) The ancient che¬
mists appear to have entertained a very high opinion of the
orchis root, as appears from the Secreta Secretorum of Ray-
mund Lully, a work dated 1565.
SALERNO, a city of Italy, the capital of the Neapolitan
province Principato Citeriore. It stands on the sea-shore,
in the bay of that name, between mountains and the two
small rivers called Sele and Larino. It is surrounded with
walls, and defended by a castle. An archbishop is situated
here, with a fine cathedral, under which are the graves of
the ancient kings of Lombardy, as well as of Pope Gre¬
gory VII. It contains seventeen parish and nineteen con-
618
Salford
il
Salim.
SAL
ventual churches, a lyceum, which was formerly a univer¬
sity, and the remains of the celebrated medical school. The
houses, though old, are large and grand, and the inhabitants
are 10,650. A fair of the greatest trade in Italy was for¬
merly held here; but it has gradually fallen into decay of
late years, owing to the insecurity of the roadstead, where
ships must anchor, there being no harbour.
SALFORD, a township of the parish of Manchester,
and a kind of suburb to that place, being separated from
it only by a small bridge. It is chiefly inhabited by ope¬
ratives in the cotton trade. It was created a borough by
the law of 1832, for the purpose of returning one member
to the House of Commons. The population amounted in
1801 to 13,611, in 1811 to 19,114-, in 1821 to 25,772, and
in 1831 to 40,786.
SALIANT, in Fortification, denotes projecting. Ihere
are two kinds of angles; the one saliant, which have their
points outwards ; the other re-entering, which have their
points inwards. .
Saliant, Salient, or Saillant, in Heraldry, is applied
to a lion, or other beast, when its fore-legs are raised in a
leaping posture.
S ALIB ABO Isles, a group of islands in the Lastern Seas,
situated about the fourth degree of north latitude, and be¬
tween 126 and 127 of east longitude. The island of Sali-
babo is about fifteen miles in circumference, and is situated
to the southward of Tulour, from which it is divided by a
narrow strait, about one mile across. Ihe names of the
principal islands are Tulour or Kercolang, Salibabo, and
Kabruang. Salibabo contains twelve villages, the united
population of which amounts to 3000. All these islands
are well cultivated and populous, abounding in potatoes,
rice, goats, hogs, &c. The inhabitants are of the Malay
colour, with long hair; and have for arms lances, swords,
targets, and daggers. They manufacture a coarse kind of
cloth from the wild plantain tree. They are much oppres¬
sed by their chiefs, and sold as slaves for trifling offences.
They barter provisions with such ships as pass, for coarse
calicoes, red handkerchiefs, coarse cutlery, &c. There is a
good harbour on the east coast of the island of Salibabo.
SALIC or Salique Law {Lex Salica), an ancient and
fundamental law of the kingdom of France, usually sup¬
posed to have been made by Pharamond, or at least by
Clovis, in virtue of which males only are to inherit.
Some, as Postellus, would have it to have been called
Salic, as if Gallic, because peculiar to the Gauls. Mon-
tanus insists that it was so named because Pharamond was at
first called Salicus. Others will have it to be so named as
having been made for the Salic lands. These were noble fiefs
which the first kings used to bestow on the Sallians, that
is, the great lords of their salle or court, without any other
tenure than military service ; and for this reason such fiefs
were not to descend to women, as being by nature unfit
for such a tenure. Some, again, derive the origin of this
word from the Salians, a tribe of Franks that settled in
Gaul in the reign of Julian, who is said to have given them
lands upon condition of their personal service in war. He
even passed the conditions into a law, which the new con¬
querors acquiesced in, and called it salic, from the name of
their former countrymen.
SALII, in Roman antiquity, priests of Mars, of which
there were twelve, instituted by Numa, and wearing paint¬
ed, parti-coloured garments, and high bonnets, with a steel
cuirass on the breast. They were called salii, from saltare,
to dance; because, after assisting at sacrifices, they went
dancing about the streets, with bucklers in their left hand,
and a rod in their right, striking musically with their rods
on one another’s bucklers, and singing hymns in honour of
the gods.
SALIM, a river of Asiatic Russia, which falls into the
Obi, sixty miles from Sourgout.
S A L
SALINA, an island in the Mediterranean, belonging to Salina
the kingdom of the Two Sicilies. It is divided by a chan- ^ jl
nel three miles across from Lipari to the north-west of that ^
island. It is about fourteen miles in circuit. A valley be¬
tween two mountains, called Fossa Felice, is extremely
fertile, and produces a great revenue from the exportation
of grain, fruit, pulse, capers, salt, alum, and wine, the last
of which, known by the name Malvasia, is highly valued.
It is evidently of volcanic origin, having vestiges of ancient
craters and several thermal springs. It was known to the
ancients by the name of Didyme, or twins, from the two co¬
nical mountains, which are prominent objects when seen
from the sea. The population consists of 4000 persons.
The chief town is Amalfi, near to which is good anchorage.
Long. 14. 47. 35. E. Lat. of Amalfi church, 38. 35. 40. N.
SALINES, a city of France, in the department of the
Jura, and arrondissement of Poligny. It is situated in a
narrow valley on the river Furieuse, and is defended by
two forts. In it are some strong brine springs, from which
culinary salt is prepared; but much of the brine is con¬
ducted to Arp and Senans to be granulated. Near to it
some excellent wine is produced, as well as much honey
and bees-wax. In 1836 it contained 6554 inhabitants.
SALISBURY, or New Sarum, a city in the county of
Wilts, and in the hundred of Underditch. It is the shire
town of the county, where the assizes and the elections are
held, and where, but in the village of Fisherton adjoining,
is the county jail. It stands in a narrow valley, in which
the small rivers Willy and Nadder unite with the Avon.
These streams are, by means of small channels, conducted
through most parts of the city, forming clear running brooks
in several of the streets. By means of a canal the city
communicates with the sea through Southampton. Among
the public edifices for secular purposes, the most distin¬
guished is the council-house, erected about forty-five years
ago. It is a square building with a grand Doric portico,
which forms on one side the entrance to the law-courts,
and on the other to a large public room used for county
meetings and other purposes. But the public building
which most distinguishes this city is the magnificent ca¬
thedral, which is the most uniform structure, as well as
being the most perfect and original example, of all the edi¬
fices dedicated to the choral service of the Church of Eng¬
land. The erection of it at the commencement of the
reign of Henry III. marks a decided epoch in English ar¬
chitecture, the very beautiful pointed style having then
been brought to its utmost perfection. A very experienced
critic has given it as his opinion, that this very interesting
church, so remarkable in its design for purity, simplicity,
and grandeur, holds the same rank in English architecture
which the Parthenon bears in the Grecian.
This edifice was founded in the year 1220, the fifth year
of the reign of Henry HI., the see having been then le-
moved from Old Sarum, to which place it had been translat¬
ed from Sherborn, in Dorsetshire, in 706, w7hen the epis¬
copal jurisdiction of it extended over what have since be¬
come the dioceses of Salisbury, Bristol, Wells, and Exeter.
The extreme length of the cathedral outside from west to
east is 480 feet. The length of the grand transept from
south to north is 232 feet, and the extreme length of the
eastern transept is 172 feet.
, This church has an important advantage over many other
edifices of a similar character, in not being so closely sur¬
rounded by other buildings. It is easy of access, and it af¬
fords a most delightful view from almost every point. As
to outline and dimensions, a more splendid building can
scarcely be imagined; while the lofty proportions of the
spire, which rises to the height of four hundred feet, become
the more striking upon a near approach. 1 he spire is a most
interesting object from every part of the surrounding coun¬
try. A slight settlement was observed to have taken place
SAL
Saliva on the western sides of the tower, which on examination
II, was found in 1681 to be twenty-two inches out of the per-
, pendicular, but no variation has taken place since that time.
By a recent act of parliament the see of Salisbury has
been increased by the county of Dorset, which before was
within the diocese of Bristol, having been added to it.
The establishment of the church, besides the bishop, com¬
prises the dean, the precentor, the chancellor, three arch¬
deacons, the sub-dean, the sub-chanter, and forty-five pre¬
bendaries (six of whom being residentiary, are called canons),
four vicars, six singing men, eight choristers, and other in¬
ferior officers. The palace of the bishop and the houses of
the several dignitaries surround the cathedral, in what is
called the Close, being all encircled with an ancient and
lofty wall.
The civil government of the city was in a body corpo¬
rate, consisting of a mayor, high steward, recorder, deputy-
recorder, and twenty-four aldermen ; but by the late law
it has been divided into three wards, having six aldermen
and eighteen councillors, who elect the mayor. It has also
a recorder appointed by the crown. The city elects two
members to the House of Commons, and gives the title of
marquis to the family of Cecil. Salisbury was formerly ce¬
lebrated for its manufactories of cutlery, which have of late
years declined, in consequence of the powerful competition
,of Sheffield and Birmingham; but still some of the best
knives, scissors, and razors are made there, and some of the
.most beautiful and costly ornaments in steel. There was
till recently a considerable trade in making flannels, espe¬
cially one kind, almost wholly appropriated to the market
of Spain, from whence the goods were despatched to Buenos
Ayres and other parts of South America.
Salisbury being on the high road to Exeter and to Ply¬
mouth, is a great thoroughfare, and well provided with
good inns, carriages, and horses. It is well supplied with
provisions at moderate prices, and has good markets, which
are held on Tuesdays and Fridays. It has a great number
of charitable establishments, both for the purposes of edu¬
cation and for the solace of old age, or of infirmities of body
or mind. It contains three parish churches, and an appro¬
priate number of places of worship for the various sects of
dissenters. It is eighty-one miles from London, and ninety
from Exeter. The population appears at the decennial enu¬
merations to have amounted in 1801 to 7668, in 1811 to
8243, in 1821 to 8763, and in 1831 to 9876.
SALIVA is that fluid by which the mouth and tongue
are continually moistened in their natural state, and is sup¬
plied by glands which form it, and are called salivary glands.
SALIVATION, in Medicine, a promoting of the flux of
saliva by means of medicines, chiefly by mercury.
SALIX, the Willow. Willow trees have been fre¬
quently the theme of poetical description, both in ancient
and modern times. In Virgil, in Horace, and in Ovid, we
have many exquisite allusions to them and their several pro¬
perties. The Babylonica, Babylonian pendulous salix, com¬
monly called weeping willow, grows to a large size, having
numerous long, slender, pendulous branches, hanging down
loosely all round in a curious manner, and long, narrow,
spear-shaped, serrated, smooth leaves. This curious wil¬
low is a native of the East, and is retained in our hardy
plantations for ornament; it exhibits a most agreeable va¬
riety, particularly when disposed singly by the verges of
any piece of water, or in spacious openings of grass ground.
All the species of salix are of the tree kind, very hardy, re¬
markably fast growers, and several of them attaining a con¬
siderable stature when permitted to run up to standards.
They are mostly of the aquatic tribe, being generally the
most abundant and of most prosperous growth in watery si¬
tuations. They, however, will grow freely almost anywhere,
in any common soil and exposure ; but they spring consi¬
derably faster and stronger in low moist land, particularly
SAL
619
in marshy situations, by the verges of rivers, brooks, and Sal la watty
other waters, which places often lying waste, may be em- II
ployed to good advantage in plantations of willows for dif- ^Hustius.,
ferent purposes. '
S ALLA WATTY, one of the Papuan or Oriental Negro
Isles, separated from the island of Papua or New Guinea
by a narrow strait. It is thirty miles in length by twenty-
five in average breadth, and produces abundance of sago
of an excellent quality. It is situated about the 131st de¬
gree of east longitude.
SALLEE, an ancient and considerable town of Africa,
in the kingdom of Fez, with a harbour and several forts;
but the river, which formerly admitted large vessels, is now
choked up with sand. It was formerly the stronghold of
Moorish piracy, from which great depredations were com¬
mitted upon Europeans; and there may still be seen an
immense and dreary dungeon formed under ground for the
detention of the unfortunate captives. On the opposite
side of the river stands Rabat, or New Sallee, which is
chiefly frequented by Europeans, and where they once pos¬
sessed numerous factories; but the trade is now nearly an¬
nihilated. Long. 6. 40. W. Lat. 34. 3. N.
Sallee, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Gujerat,
situated on the north side of the Mahy river, and thirty-eight
miles east by north from Cambay. Long. 73. 20. E. Lat.
22. 27. N.
SALLEEOLAKIT, a small island in the Eastern Seas,
near the south-west coast of Mindanao. Long. 121. 25. E.
Lat. 6. 42. N.
SALLIAN, a city of Persia, situated on the Caspian, at
the mouth of the Kur. It is chiefly inhabited by Russians,
who carry on here an extensive fishery of sturgeon, which
abounds in the neighbouring seas. It is ninety miles south
of Schamachi.
SALLO, Denis de, a French writer, famous for being
the projector of a certain class of literary journals, was born
at Paris in 1626. He studied the law, and was admitted a
counsellor in the parliament of Paris in 1652. It was in
1664 that he formed the plan of the Journal des Savans ;
and the year following he began to publish it under the
name of Sieur de Heronville, which was that of his valet
de chambre. But he played the critic so severely, that au¬
thors, surprised at the novelty of such attacks, retorted so
powerfully, that M. de Sallo, unable to weather the storm,
after he had published his third journal, declined the un¬
dertaking, which he handed over to the Abbe Gallois, who,
without presuming to criticise, contented himself merely
with giving titles and making extracts. M. de Sallo died
in 1669.
SALLUNA, a town of Northern Hindustan, tributary
to the Ghoorkhali rajah of Nepaul. Long. 81. 37. E. Lat.
29. 2. N.
SALLUSTIUS, C. Crispus, a celebrated Latin historian,
was born of a plebeian family of Amiternum, a city of the
Sabines, b. c. 86, the same year that Marius died. We can
have no doubt that the cultivation of his mental powers
must have been carefully attended to, though this does not
seem to have prevented him from falling into all the extra¬
vagances and dissipation of a profligate age. His intrigue
with Fausta, daughter of Sulla, and wife of Milo, became
known to her husband, and was punished in a way which
made the two parties irreconcileable enemies. Sallust be¬
came quaestor at the age of twenty-seven, and tribune of
the people in the year b. c. 52. His profligacy, however,
became so notorious, that the censors, Appius Claudius and
I,. Piso, B. c. 50, found it necessary to remove him from the
senate, though his removal has been ascribed by others to
political reasons, as he was a warm supporter of Caesar. It is
supposed that he at this time wrote his account of the conspi¬
racy of Catiline. His absence from public affairs continued
only for a short time, as wre find him praetor, b. c. 47, when
69.0 SAL SAL
Salluzzo he accompanied Caesar to Africa; and after the battle of
II Thepsa, he was appointed to the province of Numidia, where
Salmasms. enr}ched himself by the most nefarious means. He re-
turned to Rome with immense wealth; and after the mur¬
der of Caesar abstained from taking any part in public af¬
fairs. He again devoted himself to a life of pleasure, and
constructed a magnificent palace on the Quirinal, in the
midst of gardens which were afterwards known as the Horti
Sallustiani. This palace was subsequently occupied by Ves-
pasian, Nerva, and many other emperors, and was destroy¬
ed by fire when Rome w7as plundered by Alaric. Accord¬
ing to Eusebius, Sallust was married to Terentia, vyife of
Cicero, and died b. c. 35, in the fifty-first year of his age,
being not less distinguished for his talents than for his pro¬
fligacy. Of his historical works the following remain : 1.
Bellum Catilinarium, a history of the conspiracy of Catiline,
b. c. 63, with a very beautiful introduction, in which he la¬
ments, with much apparent feeling, the corruption of the
age, and the profligacy of his contemporaries; 2. Bellum
Jugurthinum, a history of the wars carried on against Ju-
gurtha, king of Numidia, which he was probably induced
to write from his residence in that country; 3. Historia-
rum Libri Qninque, a work on the history of Rome, from the
consulship of M. A5milius Lepidus and Q. Lutatius Catulus,
b. c. 78, to that of M. /Emilius Lepidus and L. Volcatius
Tullns, b. c. 66, with an introduction on the manners and
government of Rome, and a short summary of the w ars of
Marius and Sulla. Of this work only a few fragments have
been preserved. Some other works, however, have come
down to us, which are ascribed to Sallust, though without
sufficient reason : 1. Duae Orationes de Republica Ordi-
nanda, addressed to Julius Caesar when he was proceeding
against Petreius and Afranius, in Spain ; and, 2. Declamatio
in Ciceronem, which is alluded to by Quintilian. Ihe cha¬
racter of Sallust as a historian stood high among the an¬
cients, who regarded him as the rival of Thucydides, and
in many points he was certainly the imitator of thatwviter.
Like Thucydides, he endeavours to give the causes of the
various events which he is narrating; and if he more fre¬
quently ascribes them to unworthy motives, we may readily
discover the reason of this in the corruption of the age in
which he lived. But they both show themselves profound
thinkers, and intimately acquainted with the springs of hu ¬
man action. The first edition of the works of Sallust was
published in Rome in 1470, and in Venice the same year;
but since that time a variety of editions have appeared.
The best is that of C. H. Frotscher, giving the notes and
emendations of Cortius, three vols. Lips. 1380, 8vo. C.
Sallustii Histor. iii. fragmenta e cod. Vatic, edita ab. An¬
gelo Maio, editio auctior et emendatior, curante J. Th.
Kreissig, Misen. 1830.
SALLUZZO, a city of the kingdom of Sardinia, in the
province of Turin, and the capital of the division of that
name. It stands on an elevation not far from the river Po.
It is surrounded with walls, is the see of a bishop, and has
a cathedral, several churches and monasteries, and 10,150
inhabitants, who carry on much trade in wine and in corn,
and make silk goods and ironmongery. Long. 16. 55. E.
Lat. 25. 3. N.
SALLY-PORTS, in Fortification, are those under¬
ground passages which lead from the inner to the outward
works ; such as from the higher flank to the lower, or to the
tenailles, or the communication from the middle of the cur-
fain to the ravelin.
SALMA SI US, Claudius, a French writer of uncom¬
mon abilities and erudition, descended from an ancient and
noble family, and born at or near Samur in the year 1596.
His mother, who was a Protestant, infused her notions of re¬
ligion into him, and he at length converted his father. He
settled at Leyden ; and in 1650 he paid a visit to Christina
queen of Sweden, who is reported to have shown him ex¬
traordinary marks of regard. Upon the violent death of Salo
Charles I. of England, he was prevailed on by the royal i
family, then in exile, to write a defence of that king; which v _a °"1(^
was answered by our Milton in 1651, in a work entitled
Defensio pro Populo Anglicano contra Claudii Salmasii
Fefensionem Regiam. This book was read over all Eu¬
rope, and conveyed such a proof of the writer’s abilities,
that he was respected even by those who hated his prin¬
ciples. Salmasius died in 1653 ; and some did not scruple
to say that Milton killed him by the acuteness of his reply.
His works are numerous, and of various kinds; but the
greatest monuments of his learning are, his Nota in Histo¬
ries Augustes Scriptores, and his Exercitationes Plinianes
in Solinum.
SALMO, the Salmon. See Ichthyology.
SALMON Fishery. See Fishery.
SALO, a market-town of Italy, in the Austrian king¬
dom of Venetian Lombardy, and in the delegation of Bres¬
cia. It is most delightfully situated on a bay in the lake of
Garda, and behind it rises the Alpine mountain Pennine.
It is the seat of a judicial tribunal, has three churches, an
orphan-house, a hospital, and many well-built houses, and
about 6500 inhabitants. The finest silk in Italy is produ¬
ced in the vicinity; and within the town there are manu¬
factories of hats, leather, glass, and linen threads.
SALO Bay, on the north coast of the island of Java.
Long. 112. 36. E. Lat. 6. 58. S.
SALOMBO, a cluster of small islands in the Eastern Seas.
Long. 113. 13. E. Lat. 5. 30. S.
SALON, a city of France, in the department of the
Mouths of the Rhone, and the arrondissement of Aix. It
stands partly on the side of a hill and partly on the plain
below, through which the canal of Craponne connects it
with the river Crau. In 1836 it contained 5987 inhabi¬
tants, who cultivate great numbers of olive trees, in ex¬
tracting the oil from which consists the chief occupation.
Salon was the birthplace of the celebrated astrologer Nos¬
tradamus. Long. 5. 5. E. Lat. 43. 40. N.
SALON A, a seaport town of Dalmatia, situated on a bay
of the Gulf of Venice. It was formerly a very considerable
place, and its ruins show that it was twelve miles in cir¬
cumference. In a valuable manuscript relation of Dalma¬
tia, written by the senator Giambattista Giustiniani, about
the middle of the sixteenth century, there is a sketch of
what existed at the time. “ The nobility, grandeur, and
magnificence of the city of Salona, may be imagined from
the vaults and arches of the wonderful theatre, which are
seen at this day; from the vast stones of the finest marble,
which lie scattered on and buried in the fields; from the
beautiful column of three pieces of marble, which is still
standing in the place where they say the arsenal was, to¬
wards the sea-shore; and from the many arches of surprising
beauty, supported by very high marble columns. The height
of the arches is a stone-throw, and above them there was
an aqueduct, which reached from Salona to Spalatro. There
are to be seen many ruins and vestiges of large palaces, and
many ancient epitaphs may be read on fine marble stones;
but the earth, which is increased, has buried the most an¬
cient stones and the most valuable things.” Long. 17. 29.
E. Lat. 24. 10. N.
SALONICA, a large city of Turkey in Europe, the ca¬
pital of a province of the same name, and anciently Ihessa-
lonica. It is situated on a bay formed by the two capes of *
the Great and Little Burnu. It is of a triangular shape, the
base of which is on the sea-shore. The walls of brick, on
a stone foundation, are of an unusual thickness, and defend¬
ed by bastions at the appropriate points. The appearance
of the city from without is magnificent, from the number
of minarets, cupolas, and lofty buildings; but the interior is
found with narrow and crooked streets, disgusting public
squares, and low, ill-built houses, resembling barracks; but
,!0p
SAL
oon still a considerable degree of cleanliness is observable eyery-
!( where. The quays are covered with sheds; and the nume-
„ rous buyers and sellers who are congregated near them, and
near the ships, present a striking picture of animation and
bustle, and seem to confirm what is asserted by the natives,
that Salonica is the first trading city of the Levant. The
inhabitants are calculated, for they are not ascertained, to
be between sixty and seventy thousand, of whom one half
are Turks, one quarter Greeks, one fifth Jews, and the re¬
mainder Flanks of all the several European nations, each
of which have resident consuls. The manufactures are ex¬
tensive, yielding cotton and silk goods, turkey leather, car¬
pets, tobacco, and snuff, and the small articles of gold, sil¬
ver, copper, steel, and iron ; these, and many raw materials,
such as raw silk, cotton, wool, corn, oil, honey, wax, with
opium and other drugs, form the exports. Although the
excellence and security of the haven naturally creates great
maritime commerce, yet that by land with Austria and Ger¬
many is very extensive, and at one period conveyed vast
quantities of colonial wares to great distances in the inte¬
rior of Europe, as long as Bonaparte’s continental system
was in force, and is still a valuable branch of the trade of
this city. This place has institutions for education, and es¬
pecially the Jews have an institution in which it is said there
are more than a hundred tutors and a thousand pupils. The
Greeks have several elementary schools, but none for the
higher branches of learning. There are few remains of
antiquity except the Hippodrome, which is of marble, and
highly ornamented with most valuable sculpture. There
is also a rotunda built in resemblance of that in Rome, and
the remains of two triumphal arches built by Augustus and
Constantine. In 1313 this city was ceded for a valuable
consideration by the Greek emperors to the Venetians, who
retained it ten years, and it fell under the Turks with Con¬
stantinople. Long. 22. 25. 25. E. Lat. 40. 40. N.
SALOON, a town of Hindustan, in the nabob’s terri¬
tories, in the province of Oude, sixty-five miles south-
south-east from Lucknow. Long. 81. 24. E. Lat. 26. 2. N.
SALOOR, a town of Hindustan, in the Northern Cir-
cars, fifty-three miles north-west from Vizagapatam. Long.
83. 19. E. Lat. 18. 26. N.
SALOP, or Shropshire, an inland county of England.
It is bounded on the north by Cheshire and the Welsh
counties of Flint and Denbigh ; on the west by the Welsh
counties of Denbigh, Montgomery, and Radnor; on the
south by Herefordshire and Worcestershire; and on the
east by Staffordshire. It is of an oblong figure, extending
from north to south, and contains a variety of projections
and indentations. Its greatest length is about forty-six,
and its greatest breadth thirty-seven miles. Its superficial
contents are 1341 square miles, or 854,240 statute acres.
This county is divided into fifteen districts or hundreds,
of which five are on the north-east side of the river Se¬
vern, three extend to both banks of that river, and the re¬
mainder are on its south-west side. The ecclesiastical di¬
visions of the county are into the diocese of Lichfield and
Coventry, extending over 114 churches ; of Hereford, over
127; of Worcester, over three; and of St Asaph, over twelve;
besides which there are six in the peculiar jurisdiction of
Bridgenorth, making in the whole 262 churches, of which
229 are parochial.
The population of this county at the four decennial pe¬
riods of enumeration has been found to be as follows : In
1801, 167,639; in 1811, 194,298; in 1821, 206,153; and
in 1831, 222,800.
I he occupiers of land employing labourers, were.... 3,832
Occupiers of land not employing labourers..  2,139
Labourers employed in agriculture 17,296
Ditto employed in manufactures   1,353
Ditto employed in retail trade or handicraft 14,461
Capitalists, bankers, &c  1,948
SAL
Labourers not agricultural... 11,585
Other males under twenty years of age  2 800
Males above twenty years of age ..56,474
Male servants    DiOO
Female servants    ll's?!
In the year 1831, the number of families chiefly employ¬
ed m agriculture was found to be 17,096 ; of those chiefly
employed in trade, manufactures, and handicraft, 16,210 ;
°f not comprised in the two preceding classes,
lo,121. ihe annual value of the real property of the coun¬
ty, as assessed in 1813, was L.1,037,988. The number of
houses in 1831 was thus estimated: Inhabited, 42,633 oc-
253ied ^ 46,267 families5 uninbabited, 1415; and building,
towns wh°se population exceeded 1500 persons in
1831 are,
Shrewsbury 21,297 Wenlock town, 3,481; but in
Hales Owen  9,765 the borough are included
Wellington  9,671 several parishes, of which
Ellesmere  6,540 Broseley contained 4,299,
Whitchurch  5,736 and Madeley 5,822, or in
Bndgenorth  5,298 the whole 17,435
Ludlow  5,253 Newport  2,745
Shiffnal  4,779 Bishop’s Castle  2,007
Oswestry  4,478 Wem  1,932
Drayton  3,882 Hodnel  1,767
Cleobury Mortimer... 1,716
The face of the county is very much diversified. On the
western side it has the wild appearance of the adjoining
principality of Wales. Throughout the rest of the county
the land is rather undulating, tolerably wooded, and with
many beautiful rivulets meandering along the different val¬
leys. The whole tract of country, from Wellington to the
termination of the county between Oswestry and Chirk,
exhibits the mild beauties of a fertile and cultivated district,
enclosed by well-formed hedges into fields, of dimensions
well calculated for advantageous husbandry, and ornament¬
ed with several domains of noblemen and gentlemen, which
present a most pleasing succession of pictures to the tra¬
veller.
That singular insulated mountain, the Wrekin, rising
from a plain to the height of eleven hundred feet, exhibits
its sugar-loaf form over the tops of the smaller elevations
in its vicinity, and increases the interest of the scenery. In
the southern division of the county, the Brown Clee Hill
and the Titterson Clee Hill rise to greater elevations than
the Wrekin, and produce much picturesque variety.
In a county of such extent the soil must be very varied.
On the eastern side, the valleys are flat and warm, and the
soil generally of a sandy nature. In the middle part, the
soil is most tenacious, and the bottoms of the wider valleys
have frequently a stiff but rich clay. On the most western
parts, the soil is very shallow, resting upon rocks of varied
descriptions; and is better calculated for sheep-pasture than
for producing grain. There are some moorlands, but en¬
closures and drainage have considerably diminished their
extent. A very great portion of the soil rests on a lime¬
stone subsoil; and almost the whole of the plains are easy
to work with light ploughs and two or three horses. The
easterly wind generally prevails in the spring, and the west¬
erly in autumn ; but the former is more remarkable for re¬
gularity than the latter. The whole of the county enjoys
a salubrious air; but on the hills, on the western side, the
cold of winter is most intensely felt.
The chief river is the Severn, which runs through the
whole extent of the county from north-west to south-east.
It is navigable at all seasons to the Bristol Channel down¬
wards, and in wet seasons upwards to Welshpool in Mont¬
gomeryshire. The navigation is, however, at all times im¬
peded by many obstructions. In dry weather, the fords
622
S A L
S A I,
Salop.
are only passable with difficulty, and in very wet weather
'the floods cover the banks, and extend so far over the level
land on both sides, that the barges capnot be drawn up,
from wanting a path on which the men who draw them can
securely walk. It is one of the singularities of this navi¬
gation, that men are employed instead of horses, as on
other rivers, to draw the vessels against the stream. Im¬
perfect as this navigation is, it is, however, the chief source
of the wealth of the county, as affording the means of con¬
veying to good markets the various heavy productions which
it yields. The fish found in the Severn, in its course through
Shropshire, are salmon, pike, flounders, grayling, and eels.
There are also some lampreys in the Shropshire part of the
Severn, but they are less abundant than in the lower pans
of the river. The principal tributary rivers are the Cam¬
let, the Vyrnwey, the Tern, the Clun, the Ony, and the
Teme. There are, besides, innumerable rivulets and streams,
which adorn and fertilize the country. The lakes of Shrop¬
shire, though neither numerous nor extensive, form a va¬
riety in its landscapes rarely to be seen in the midland coun¬
ties of England. Adjoining the town of Ellesmere is a
beautiful lake of a hundred and sixteen acres, with some
others smaller near it. On the western side of the county
is Marton Pool, of forty-five acres. On the north of the
Severn are Fennymere, Llynclyspool, and Ancot; and at
Shrawardine is a fine lake of forty acres. That side of the
county which most abounds in running streams has few or
no lakes. The canals of this county, if not equal in extent
to those in some others, yield to none in their constiuction,
or in the obstacles they have surmounted, or in the beneficial
consequences by which they have been followed. The first
canal was a private undertaking by a Mr Reynolds, completed
in the year 1788, for the conveyance of his ironstone and
coals. It was a short canal, but a descent of seventy-three
feet was conducted by a wrell-contrived inclined plane and
double railroad, by means of which the loaded boat passing
down drew up another with a load nearly equal to one
third of its own weight. This contrivance was found to be
applicable to similar purposes upon a larger scale, and was
speedily adopted by a company who, under the power of
an act of parliament, soon constructed the Shropshire Ca¬
nal, which passes through the most considerable iron and
coal works, till it reaches the Severn. The Ellesmere Canal
is a most important undertaking, as by it a communication
is opened between the Severn and all the great canals and
rivers in the north of England. Bristol and Liverpool are
thus become connected by inland navigation ; and the rivers
Severn, Dee, Mersey, Trent, and Humber, are united for
the purposes of conveyance. In districts where the inequa¬
lities of the surface would not admit of canals, iron railways
have been constructed, on which heavy goods are convey¬
ed, in appropriate waggons, with a great saving in the ex¬
pense of carriage.
There are few counties in which the agricultural busi¬
ness is, on the whole, better conducted than Shropshire.
The land is very well adapted for the turnip cultivation,
and the large flocks of sheep which are commonly fed on
that valuable root a great part of the year, supply abun¬
dance of manure for the due cultivation of the different
kinds of grain. The most prevailing breed of sheep are
the Southdown, but many of the New Leicesters are to be
seen, and in the hilly parts of the county are many of the
fine-woolled Welsh sheep. The meadows on the banks of
the Severn, and on the flat lands contiguous to the smaller
streams, afford pasturage for numerous cows, whose milk,
when converted into cheese, is commonly sold under the
denomination of Cheshire. The corn generally cultivated
is either wheat, barley, oats, or pease, and the crops on an
average equal in productiveness those of the best districts
of the kingdom. Hops are grown in small quantities upon
that part of the county which adjoins to Herefordshire.
Some small portions of land are appropriated to the growth Salop,
of hemp and flax. The cultivation of potatoes has been
very much extended of late years, and now furnishes a
large proportion of the aliment of the labouring part of the
population. The growth of hay, and the cultivation of ar¬
tificial grasses, are more neglected than any other branch
of rural economy. On the flat lands, the deposits from the
overflowing of the streams sufficiently enrich them with¬
out any artificial manure ; but from the embankments be¬
ing neglected, the hay produced on such situations is liable
to be much injured by the floods that frequently occur in
summer.
A great portion of the wealth of this county consists in
the mineral productions, which are most profusely found
beneath its surface. The chief of these are lead, iron, lime¬
stone, freestone, pipe-clay, and coals. The lead is procured
in considerable quantities, chiefly from the mines of the
Hope and Snailbeach. The matrix of the ore is crystal¬
lized quartz, sulphate and carbonate of barytes, and carbo¬
nate of lime. The iron ore is found contiguous to the coal,
and frequently close to it. This is especially the case about
Colebrook Dale, a division peculiarly rich in those mine¬
rals. This district is about eight miles long and two broad,
on the banks of the Severn, on the western side of the
Wrekin, and running parallel with it, from north-east to
south-west. The whole, but especially the southern part,
of the coal district, is considerably above the plain of Shrop¬
shire, so that at one part the height is five hundred feet
above the Severn. The works of the dale supply both
ore and coal, as well as limestone, in great quantities ; and
every part of the process, from digging the ore to the com¬
pletion of the manufacture, including the conversion of the
coal into coke, is performed on the spot. Arthur Young,
describing this part of the county, says, “ Colebrook Dale
is a winding glen, between two immense hills, which break
into various forms, being all thickly covered, and forming
most beautiful sheets of hanging woods. The noise of the
forges, mills, furnaces, &c., with all their vast machinery,
the flames bursting from the furnaces, with the burning
coal, and the smoke of the limekilns, are altogether horri¬
bly sublime.” A bridge of cast iron, the first, we believe,
constructed in this kingdom, thrown over the Severn, gives
to the whole scenery a most romantic appearance. Soon
after it was ascertained that iron might be made with coals
reduced to the state of coke, as well as from wood, the
operation of coking was begun here by Lord Dundonald,
with a view to obtain the fossil tar in the course of the pro¬
cess. This operation led to the discovery of that gas, ex¬
tracted from coal, whose brilliant light now serves to illu¬
minate so many of our streets and public buildings. In
this dale was discovered, in opening a coal-mine, a copious
spring of fossil tar. It yielded, at first, very plenteously, t
but the quantity diminished in a few years, and although it
still runs, its produce is but of small amount. Though the
iron-works in this dale were the first begun, on a large
scale, they are by no means confined to it; for in many
other parts of the county they are carried on to an extent
that is unequalled in any other country but Great Britain.
Besides the process of separating the iron from its ore,
and bringing it into the state of bar-iron and pig-iron, the
other steps in the application of that mineral to general
purposes are made within this county. The larger kind oi
iron goods, whether cast or wrought, are prepared, and
most of the iron bridges which have been erected in ditler-
ent parts of the kingdom have been formed here into sucn
a state as only to require to be put together in the p ace
where they were destined to be ultimately fixed, some
the largest establishments for making porcelain have been
formed here, especially that for iron-stone china in Loie
brook Dale, which has lowered the price of that beautilul
commoditv so as to bring it within the reach of a greatei
S A L
jp. number of consumers than could formerly afford it. Ma¬
nufactures of a coarser kind of earthenware, and of tobacco-
pipes, are carried on at Broseley and other places. The raw
materials of which these articles are formed are almost all
found near the spots where they are converted to these use¬
ful and profitable purposes. The preparation of iron for the
forge is in fact the principal manufacture of Shropshire ; at
Hales Owen, nearly five hundred males of twenty years of
age and upwards are so employed; and at Madeley half as
many. At Dowley and other places in its vicinity, many men
are employed in the blast-furnaces ; and at and near Shrews¬
bury seventy-four men are employed in iron-castings and at
forges, in preparing the weighty apparatus of powerful ma¬
chinery. Nails are largely made at Wellington. The finer
kinds of earthenware employ two hundred men at Broseley
and Madeley; carpeting employs ninety men at Bridgenorth;
glass is made at Wrockwordine ; flannels are made at Os¬
westry, Church Stretton, and Worthen. There is a small
manufacture of hair-seating carried on at Drayton. The
trade in Welsh flannels centres in a great degree in Shrews¬
bury. The merchants of that town repair to the markets of
Welshpool and Oswestry, and make their purchases of the
small country weavers, who bring their goods in an un¬
finished state ; and the pieces are rendered fit for the mar¬
kets to which they are destined by the Shrewsbury traders.
Shrewsbury, the county town of Shropshire, from its vi¬
cinity to Wales, in which the towns are few, and from its
distance from any other large town, has ever been consi¬
dered as a kind of provincial capital. It is situated on a
circular peninsula of considerable elevation, formed by the
curvatures of the Severn. It presents at every approach
a pleasing variety of views ; and the noble sweep of the
river, which seems to embrace it, heightens at every turn
the charm of the scenery. The exterior ranges of houses
command the rich and beautiful landscapes of the sur¬
rounding country. The stately spires of two venerable
churches, and the massive towers of the castle, give that
imposing grandeur to the whole which is commonly felt in
contemplating the works of antiquity. The walks between
the river and the town are finely shaded by an avenue of
lofty trees, and furnish an agreeable promenade to the in¬
habitants. The interior of the town by no means corre¬
sponds with its external beauty. The streets are intricate¬
ly dispersed, many of them steep and narrow, and all badly
paved. They exhibit a strange contrast of ancient and
modern buildings, and are as uncouth in their names as in
their appearance. This town, as well as many other parts of
the county, exhibits many interesting remains of antiquity.
Among these is the castle, placed on the narrow neck of
land by which the only entrance to the town can be gained
without passing a bridge. The remains consist of the keep,
a square building of a hundred feet, connected wdth two
towers ; the wralls of the inner court; and the great arch
of the interior gate. The keep is the most perfect of the
whole mass of building. The walls of this building are ten
feet in thickness, and its beams of very large dimensions.
It is stated to have been built by Roger de Montgomery
the Norman, as a feudal hold; but being forfeited to the
crown in the reign of Henry I., was used as a royal fortress
in subsequent periods, to check the incursions of the less
civilized Welsh. The remains of the abbey, erected by
the same founder as the castle, rewards the lover of anti¬
quities for the inspection of them. The most perfect re¬
mains of this edifice is an octagonal structure six feet in
diameter, usually called the Stone Pulpit, standing upon a
portion of the ruined wrall. It is crowned by an obtuse dome
of stone-work at about eight feet from the base, supported
on six narrow-pointed arches rising on pillars. The ancient
church of St Chad, which fell down in 1788, presents an
interesting group of ruins. That of St Mary, founded by
Edgar, as well as St Alkmunds, founded by Queen Elfleda,
SAL 623
daughter of Offa king of Mercia, have received such alter- Salopar
ations in more recent periods that they exhibit the archi- II
tectural taste of several successive ages. The charitable ^set*e- _
institutions of Shrewsbury, consisting of hospitals, infirmary,
schools, and other establishments, rather exceed the pro¬
portion to be found in other places of equal population, and
do much credit to the liberality of the natives.
Our limits do not admit of lengthened descriptions of
the numerous remains of ancient architecture which are
still existing in this county. The most remarkable are
Haugmond Abbey, about four miles from Shrewsbury; the
walls of Wroxeter, of British and Roman construction; the
Abbey of Buildwas, founded in 1135 by Roger bishop of
Chester, for monks of the Cistercian order ; the Monastery
of Wenlock, founded in 680, destroyed by the Danes, and
afterwards re-established; the Roman camp, called the
Walls, at Quatford ; the castle of Ludlow, celebrated for its
splendour in the reigns of Henry VIII. and of Elizabeth,
during the latter period the residence of the Sidneys, and
in the reign of Charles I. immortalized as the place where
Milton composed some of his works; Wannington Castle,
near Oswestry, a house of strength before the Norman con¬
quest ; Lilleshall Abbey, near Newport, with one of the
most highly adorned Norman arches in the kingdom ; and
Boscobel House, with the oak in the grounds near it which
served as a shelter to Charles II. when, after the battle of
Worcester, he was closely pursued by the victorious party.
By the parliamentary reform bill, this county has been
formed into two separate divisions, distinguished as the
northern and southern, each of which is empowered to elect
two members to the House of Commons. The polling
places for the northern division are Shrewsbury, Oswestry,
Whitchurch, and Wellington; and for the southern division,
Church Stretton, Bridgenorth, Ludlow, Bishop’s Castle, and
Wenlock. By the same law, the borough of Bishop’s Castle
has been disfranchised. The borough of Shrewsbury, as be¬
fore, returns two members, as well as Ludlow, Bridgenorth,
and Wenlock.
The titles of peers derived from the county are, Earl of
Shrewsbury, and Barons Hill and Forrester, and the Irish
title of Earl of Ludlow. As there are fewer titles derived
from this county, so the seats of peers are much fewer than
in any other of the same extent. The most remarkable
residences of noblemen and gentlemen are the following :
Walcot Hall, Earl Powis; Hardwicke, Lord Hill; Ross
Hall and Willey Park, Lord Forrester; Apley Park, Tho¬
mas Whitmore, M. P.; Dudmaston, William Whitmore ;
Pitchford, Honourable C. C. C. Jenkinson, M. P.; Hod-
nett, the late Mr Heber; Hawkstone, Sir Richard Hill,
Bart., M. P.; Kinlet Hall, W. C. Childe, Esq. M. P.; Stan¬
ley Hall, Sir T. TjTwhit Jones, Bart.; Altingham, Lord
Berwick ; Manor House, Lord Stafford ; Pradoe, Honour¬
able Thomas Kenyon ; Pentrepant Hall, Honourable F.
West; Orlaton Hall, William Cludde, Esq.; Downton Cas¬
tle, Richard Payne Knight, Esq.; Oakley Park, Honourable
Robert Clive ; Plowden Hall, Edward Plowden, Esq.; Aud-
lim, Lady Cotton.
SALOPAR, a town of the island of Ceylon, belonging
to the British, eighteen miles north-north-west of Irinco-
malee.
SALPINX, tzt.viyZ,, the name of an ancient Greek
trumpet.
SALSETTE, an island on the western coast of Hindus¬
tan, in the province of Aurungabad, about eighteen miles
in length by fourteen in average breadth. It was formerly
separated from Bombay by a narrow strait about two hundred
yards across, opposite to the fort of I annah, across which, in
1805, a causeway was carried, which, although it is said to
have had a prejudicial effect on the harbour, has been of
much advantage to the island. The soil is well adapted
for the cultivation of sugar, cotton, hemp, indigo, and the
624 SAL
Salt, like; but it has been hitherto kept in a state of nature, and
almost wholly covered with jungle, for the purpose of sup¬
plying Bombay with wood, charcoal, and sea-salt, of which
there is a considerable manufactory in this island. It is
more unhealthy than Bombay, the jungle being thicker and
more shut in. In its present uncultivated state, it scarcely
produces the hundredth part of what it might supply. Not¬
withstanding its present desolate state, Salsette contains
numerous mythological antiquities, and the remains of re¬
servoirs with flights of steps round them, and the ruins of
temples, which indicate that it was formerly in a greater
state of prosperity, and had a more numerous population.
Among the most remarkable curiosities, are the caverns at
Kennere, which are very extraordinary excavations. The
largest resembles that at Carli, but is not equal to it in
size and elegance. It contains two gigantic figures of Boodh,
nearly twenty feet in height, and each filling one side of the
vestibule. They are exactly alike, and in complete preser¬
vation, the Portuguese having adopted them and painted
them red, and converted the temple into a Christian church.
The manufacture of salt is carried on at the sea-shore,
where extensive enclosures are levelled and divided into
partitions of about twenty feet square, which are filled by
the overflowing of the sea, and contain six or eight inches
of water. The moisture is exhaled by the heat of the sun
before the next tide, and the salt is gathered from the bot¬
tom of the enclosure. The first account we have of this
island is dated in 1330, and was written by a friar named
Oderic. It was taken possession of by the Portuguese in
the sixteenth century, and from them by the Mahrattas in
1750. In 1773, during a rupture wdth that nation, the
Company’s troops obtained possession of it; and it was for¬
mally ceded by the Mahrattas, at the treaty of Poorbun-
der, in 1776, and subsequently confirmed at the peace of
1782-83, when all the small islands in the gulf formed by
Bombay and Salsette wrere also ceded.
SALT, one of the great divisions of natural bodies. The
characteristic marks of salt have usually been reckoned its
power of affecting the organs of taste, and its being soluble
in water. But this will not distinguish salt from quicklime,
which also affects the sense of taste, and dissolves in w'ater;
yet quicklime has been universally reckoned an earth, and
not a salt. The only distinguishing property of salts, there¬
fore, is their crystallization in water. But this does not
belong to all salts ; for the nitrous and marine acids, though
allowed on all hands to be salts, are yet incapable of crys¬
tallization, at least by any method hitherto known. Several
of the imperfect neutral salts, such as combinations of the
nitrous, muriatic, and vegetable acids, with some kinds of
earths, also crystallize with very great difficulty. However,
by the addition of spirit of wine, or some other substances
w'hich absorb part of the water, and keeping the liquor in a
warm place, all of them may be reduced to crystals of one
kind or other. Salt, therefore, may be defined a sub¬
stance affecting the organs of taste, soluble in water, and
capable of crystallization, either by itself or in conjunction
with some other body; and, universally, every salt capable
of being reduced into a solid fornris also capable of crys¬
tallization •per se. Thus the class of saline bodies ’ will be
sufficiently distinguished from all others; for quicklime,
though soluble in water, cannot be crystallized without ad¬
dition either of fixed air or of some other acid; yet it is
most commonly found in a solid state. The precious stones,
though supposed to be formed by crystallization, are never¬
theless distinguished from salts by their insipidity and inso¬
lubility in water.
But acids and alkalis, and combinations of both, wffien in a
concrete form, are salts, and of the purest form. Hence we
conclude, that the bodies to which the name of salts more pro¬
perly belongs are the concretions of those substances, which
are accordingly called acid salts, alkaline salts, and neutral
SAL
ij
salts. These last are combinations of acid and alkaline salts, Salt. M >,
in such proportion as to render the compounds neither sourv-*-
nor alkaline to the taste. This proportional combination is
called saturation. Thus common kitchen salt is a neutral
salt, composed of muriatic acid and soda combined together
to the point of saturation. The appellation of neutral salts
is also extended to denote all those combinations of acids,
and any other substance with which they can unite, so as
to lose, wholly or in a great measure, their acid properties.
But although this general definition of salts is commonly
received, yet there are many writers, especially mineralo¬
gists, who confine the denomination of salts in the manner
we first mentioned, viz. to those substances only which,
besides the general properties of salts, have the power of
crystallizing, that is, of arranging their particles so as to form
regularly-shaped bodies, called crystals, when the water su¬
perfluous to their concrete existence has been evaporated.
Common Salt, or Sea-Salt, the name of that salt ex¬
tracted from the waters of the ocean, which is used in great¬
er quantities for preserving provisions, and other domestic
purposes.
It is a perfect neutral salt, composed of marine or mu¬
riatic acid, saturated with mineral alkali. It has a saline
but agreeable flavour. It requires about four times its
weight of cold water to be dissolved, and nearly the same
quantity of boiling water, according to Macquer; but ac¬
cording to Kirwan, it only requires 2-5 its weight of water
to be dissolved in the temperature of sixty degrees of Fah¬
renheit. This salt always contains some part formed with
a calcareous base ; and, in order to have it pure, it must be
dissolved in distilled water. Then a solution of mineral
alkali is to be poured into it until no white precipitation ap¬
pears ; and by filtrating and evaporating the solution, a pure
common salt is produced. Its figure is perfectly cubic, and
those hollow pyramids, as well as the parallelepipeds formed
sometimes in its crystallization, consist all of a quantity of
small cubes, disposed in those forms. Its decrepitation on
the fire, which has been reckoned by some as a character¬
istic of this salt, although the vitriolated tartar, nitrous lead,
and other salts, have the same property, is owing chiefly to
the water, and perhaps also to the air of its crystallization.
Its specific gravity is 2,120 according to Kirwan. The
acid of tartar precipitates nothing from it. One hundred
parts of common salt contain thirty-three of real acid, fifty
of mineral alkali, and seventeen of wrater. It is commonly
found in salt water and salt springs, in the proportion of
even thirty-six per cent. It is found also in coals, and in
beds of gypsum. This salt is unalterable by fire, though
it fuses and becomes more opaque. Nevertheless a violent
fire, with the free access of air, causes it to evaporate in
white flowrers, which adhere to the neighbouring bodies. It
is only decomposed, as Macquer affirms, by the sulphuric
and nitric acids, and also by the boracic or sedative salt.
But although nitre is very easily decomposed by arsenic*
this neutral marine salt is nowise decomposed by it. Ac¬
cording to Monge, the fixed vegetable alkali, wffien caustic,
decomposes all this marine salt. It preserves from corrup¬
tion almost all sorts of animal food much better for use than
any other salt, as it does so without destroying their taste
and qualities ; but when applied in too small a quantity, it
then promotes putrefaction.
Of this most useful commodity there are ample stores
on land as well as in the ocean. There are few countries
indeed which do not afford vast quantities of rock or fossil
salt. Mines of it have long been discovered and wrought
in England, Spain, Italy, Germany, Hungary, Poland, and
other countries of Europe. In several parts of the world
there are huge mountains which wholly consist of fossil salt.
Of this kind are two mountains in Russia, near Astracan;
several in the kingdoms of Tunis and Algiers, in Africa;
some also in Asia; and the whole island of Ormus, in the
SALT.
Persian Gulf, almost entirely consists of fossil salt. The new
world is likewise stored with treasures of this useful mine¬
ral, as well as with all other kinds of subterranean produc¬
tions. Moreover, the sea affords such abundance of com¬
mon salt, that all mankind might thence be supplied with
quantities sufficient for their occasions. There are also
innumerable springs, ponds, lakes, and rivers, impregnated
with common salt, from which the inhabitants of many coun¬
tries are plentifully supplied. In some countries which are
remote from the sea, and have little commerce, and which
are not blessed with mines of salt or salt-waters, the ne¬
cessities of the inhabitants have forced them to invent a
method of extracting common salt from the ashes of vege¬
tables. The muriatic salt of vegetables was described by
Dr Grew under the title of lixiviated marine salt. Leeu-
wenhoeck obtained cubical crystals of this salt from a lixi¬
vium of soda or kelp, and also from a solution of the lixivial
salt of cdTcluus benedictus / of which he gave an account in a
letter to the Royal Society, published in their Transactions.
1 he muriatic salt which Mr Boyle extracted from san-
diver, and supposed to be produced from the materials used
in making glass, was doubtless separated from the kelp made
use of in that process. Kunckel also informs us, that he
took an alkaline salt, and after calcining it with a moderate
fire, dissolved it in pure water, and placing the solution in
a cool cellar, obtained from it many crystals of a neutral
.salt. He supposes that the alkaline salt was by the process
converted into this neutral salt. But it is more reasonable
to believe that the alkaline salt which he applied was not
pure, but mixed with the muriatic salt of vegetables, which
by this process was only separated from it.
Naturalists, observing the great variety of forms under
which this salt appears, have thought fit to rank the several
kinds of it under certain general classes; distinguishing it
most usually into rock or fossil salt, sea-salt, and brine or
fountain salt. I o these classes others might be added, parti¬
cularly those muriatic salts which are found in vegetable and
animal substances. I hese several kinds of common salt often
differ from each other in their outward form and appearance,
or in such accidental properties as they derive from the
heterogeneous substances with which they are mixed. But
when perfectly pure, they have all the same qualities; so
that chemists have not been able to discover any essential
difference between them. For this reason we shall distin¬
guish common salt after a different manner, into the three
following kinds, viz. into rock or native salt, bay-salt, and
white salt. By rock or native salt is understood all salt dug
out of the earth, which has not undergone any artificial pre¬
paration. Under the title of bay-salt may be ranked all kinds
of common salt extracted from the water in which it is dis¬
solved, by means of the sun’s heat, and the operation of the
air, whether the water from which it is extracted be sea-water
or natural brine drawn from wells and springs, or salt water
stagnating in ponds and lakes. Under the title of white or
boiled salt may be included all kinds of common salt ex¬
tracted by coction from the water in which it is dissolved.
The first of these kinds of salt is, in several countries,
found so pure that it serves for most domestic uses, with¬
out any previous preparation, triture excepted; for, of all
natural salts, rock-salt is the most abundantly furnished by
nature in various parts of the world, being found in large
niasses occupying vast tracts of land.
The English fossil salt is unfit for the uses of the kitchen,
until by solution and coction it is freed from several impu¬
rities, and reduced into white salt. The British white salt
also is net so proper as several kinds of bay-salt for curing
fish and such meats as are intended for nautical provisions,
nr for exportation into hot countries. For these purposes,
therefore, we are obliged, either wholly or in part, to use
bay-salt, which is purchased in France, Spain, and other
foreign countries.
VOL. XIX.
However, it does not appear that there is any other thin"
requisite in the formation of bay-salt than to evaporate the
sea-water with an exceedingly gentle heat; and it is even
very probable, that our common sea-salt, by a second solu¬
tion and crystallization, might attain the requisite degree of
purity. Without entering into any particular detail of the
processes used tor the preparation of bay-salt in different
parts of the world, we shall content ourselves with giving
abnef account of the best methods of preparing common
At some convenient place near the sea-shore is erected
the saltern. This is a long, low building, consisting of two
parts; one of which is called the fore-house, and the other
the pan-house or boiling-house. The fore-house serves to
receive the fuel and cover the workmen, and in the boil-
ing-house are placed the furnace, and pan in which the salt
is made. Sometimes they have two pans, one at each end
of the saltern ; and the part appropriated for the fuel and
workmen is in the middle.
I he furnace opens into the fore-house by two mouths,
beneath each of which is a mouth to the ash-pits. To the
mouths of the furnace, doors are fitted; and over them a
wall is carried up to the roof, which divides the fore-house
from the boiling-house, and prevents the dust of the coal
and the ashes and smoke of the furnace from falling into
the salt-pan. The fore-house communicates with the boil-
ing-house by a door placed in the wall which divides them.
The body of the furnace consists of two chambers, divid¬
ed from each other by a brick partition called the mid¬
feather, which from a broad base terminates in a narrow
edge near the top of the furnace, and, by means of short
pillars of cast iron erected upon it, supports the bottom of
the salt-pan. It also fills up a considerable part of the fur¬
nace, which otherwise would be too large, and would con¬
sume more coals than, by the help of this contrivance, are
required. To each chamber of the furnace is fitted a grate,
through which the ashes fall into the ash-pits. The grates
are made of long bars of iron, supported underneath by
strong cross bars of the same metal. They are not con¬
tinued to the farthest part of the furnace, it being unneces¬
sary to throw in the fuel so far. For the flame is driven
from the fire on the grate to the farthest part of the furnace,
and thence passes, together with the smoke, through two
flues into the chimney; and thus the bottom of the salt¬
pan is everywhere equally heated.
The salt-pans are made of an oblong form, flat at the
bottom, with the sides erected at right angles. The length
of some of these pans is fifteen feet, the breadth twelve feet,
and the depth sixteen inches; but at different works they
are of different dimensions. They are commonly made of
plates of iron, joined together with nails, and the joints are
filled with a strong cement. Within the pan five- or six
strong beams of iron are fixed to its opposite sides, at equal
distances, parallel to each other and to the bottom of the
pan, from which they are distant about eight inches. From
the beams hang down strong iron hooks, which are linked to
other hooks or clasps of iron firmly nailed to the bottom of the
pan ; and thus the bottom of the pan is supported, and pre¬
vented from bending down or changing its figure. The
plates most commonly used are of malleable iron, about four
feet and a half long, a foot broad, and the third of an inch in
thickness. The Scotch commonly prefer smaller plates four¬
teen or fifteen inches square. Several make the sides of the
pan, where they are not exposed to the fire, of lead; those
parts, when made of iron, being found to consume fast in
rust from the steam of the pan. Some have used plates of
cast iron five or six feet square, and an inch in thickness;
but they are very subject to break when unequally heated,
and shaken, as they frequently are, by the violent boiling
of the liquor. The cement most commonly used to fill the
joints is plaster made of lime.
4 K
625
Salt.
626
Salt.
SALT.
The pan, thus formed, is placed over the furnace, being
"supported at the four corners by brick-work, but along
the middle, and at the sides and ends, by round pillars of
cast iron called taplins, which are placed at three feet dis¬
tance from each other, being about eight inches in height,
and at the top, where smallest, four inches in diameter.
By means of these pillars the heat of the fire penetrates
equally to all parts of the bottom of the pan, its four corners
only excepted. Care is also taken to prevent the smoke
of the furnace from passing into the boiling-house, by bricks
and strong cement, which are closely applied to every part
of the salt-pan. In some places, besides the common salt¬
pans here described, they have a preparing pan placed be-
tween two salt-pans, in tliQ middle part of the building,
which in other works is the fore-house. The sea-water be¬
ing received into this preparing pan, is there heated and in
part evaporated by the flame and heat conveyed under it
through flues from the two furnaces of the salt-pans. And
the hot water, as occasion requires, is conveyed through
troughs from the preparing pan into the salt-pans. \ arious
other contrivances have been invented to lessen the expense
of fuel, and several patents have been obtained for that pro¬
pose ; but the salt-boilers have found the old methods the
most convenient.
Between the sides of the pan and walls of the boiling-
house there runs a walk five or six feet broad, where the
workmen stand when they draw the salt, or have any other
business in the boiling-house. The same walk is continued
at the end of the pan, next to the chimney ; but the pan is
placed close to the wall at the end adjoining to the fore-
The roof of the boiling-house is covered with boards
iastened with nails of wood, iron nails quickly mouldering
into rust. In the roofs are several openings, to convey ofl
the watery vapours; and on each side of it a window or
two, which the workmen open when they look into the pan
whilst it is boiling.
Not far distant from the saltern, on the sea-shore, be¬
tween full sea and low-water marks, they also make a little
pond in the rocks, or with stones on the sand, which they
call their sump. From this pond they lay a pipe, through
which, when the tide is in, the sea-water runs into a well
adjoining to the saltern; and from this well it is pumped
into troughs, by which it is conveyed into the ship or cis¬
tern, where it is stored up until they have occasion to use it.
The cistern is built close to the saltern, and may be pla¬
ced most conveniently between the two boiling-houses, on
the back of the fore-house; it is made either of wood or of
brick and clay. It sometimes wants a cover, but ought to
be covered with a shed, that the salt water contained there¬
in may not be weakened by rains, nor mixed with soot and
other impurities. It should be placed so high that the
water may conveniently run out of it, through a trough, in¬
to the salt-pans.
Besides the buildings already mentioned, several others
are required; as storehouses for the salt, cisterns for the
bittern, an office for his majesty s salt-officers, and a dwell¬
ing-house for the salt-boilers.
All things being thus prepared, and the sea-water hav¬
ing stood in the cistern till the mud and the sand are settled
to the bottom, it is drawn off into the salt-pan. And at
the four corners of the salt-pan, where the flame does not
touch its bottom, are placed four small lead pans, called
scratch-pans, which, for a salt-pan of the size above men
tioned, are usually about a foot and a half long, a foot
broad, and three inches deep, and have a bow 01 ch cular
handle of iron, by which they may be drawn out with a
hook when the liquor in the pan is boiling.
The salt-pan being filled w ith sea-water, a strong fiie of
pit-coal is lighted in the furnace; and then, for a pan which
contains about four hundred gallons, the salt-boiler takes
the whites of three eggs, and incorporates them well with
two or three gallons of sea-water, which he pours into the
salt-pan whilst the water contained therein is only luke¬
warm, and immediately stirs it about with a rake, that the
whites of the eggs may everywhere be equally mixed with
the salt water.
Instead of whites of eggs, at many salterns, as at most of
those near Newcastle, they use blood from the butchers,
either of sheep or black cattle, to clarify the sea-water; and
at many of the Scotch salterns they do not give themselves
the trouble of clarifying it. As the water grows hot, the
whites of eggs separate from it a black frothy scum, which
rises to the surface of the water, and covers it all over. As
soon as the pan begins to boil, this scum is all risen, and it
is then time to skim it off.
The most convenient instruments for this purpose are
skimmers of thin ash boards, six or eight inches broad, and
so long that they may reach above half way over the salt¬
pan. These skimmers have handles fitted to them; and
the salt-boiler and his assistant, each holding one of them
on the opposite sides of the pan, apply them so to each other
that they overlap in the middle, and beginning at one end
of the pan, carry them gently forward together, along the
surface of the boiling liquor, to the other end; and thus,
without breaking the scum, they collect it all to one end ot
the pan, whence they easily take it out.
After the water is skimmed, it appears perfectly clear,
and transparent; and they continue boiling it briskly till
so much of the fresh or aqueous part is evaporated, that
what remains in the pan is a strong brine almost fully sa¬
turated with salt, so that small saline crystals begin to form
on its surface ; and this operation, in a pan filled fifteen
inches deep with water, is usually performed in five hours.
The pan is then filled up a second time with clear sea¬
water drawn from the cistern; and about the time when
it is half filled, the scratch-pans are taken out, and being
emptied of the scratch found in them, are again placed in
the corners of the salt-pan. The scratch taken out of these
pans is a fine white calcareous earth found in the form of
powder, which separates from the sea-water during its coc-
tion, before the salt begins to form into grains. This sub¬
tile powder is violently agitated by the boiling liquor, until
it is driven to the corners of the pan, where the motion of
the liquor being more gentle, it subsides into the scratch-
pans placed there to receive it; in them it remains undis¬
turbed, and thus the greatest part of it is separated from the
brine.
After the pan has again been filled up with sea-water,
three whites of eggs are mixed with the liquor, by which it
is clarified a second time, in the manner before described;
and it is afterwards boiled down to a strong brine as at
first, which second boiling may take up about four horn’s.
The pan is then filled up a third time with clear sea-water;
and after that a fourth time, the liquor being each time cla¬
rified and boiled down to a strong brine, as before related,
and the scratch-pans being taken out and emptied every
time that the pan is filled up. Then, at the fourth boil¬
ing, as soon as the crystals begin to form on the surface of
the brine, they slacken the fire, and only suffer the brine
to simmer, or boil very gently. In this heat they constant¬
ly endeavour to keep it all the time that the salt corns or
granulates, which may be nine or ten hours. The salt is
said to granulate when its minute crystals cohere togethei
into little masses or gains, which sink down in the brine,
and lie at the bottom of the salt-pan.
When most of the liquor is evaporated, and the salt thus
lies in the pan almost dry on its surface, it is then time jo
draw it out. This part of the process is performed by raK-
ing the salt to one side of the pan into a long heap, where
it drains a while from the brine, and is then filled out into
barrows or other proper vessels, and carried into the store-.
Salt. tl*
'I 1
; t
a
SAL
house, and delivered into the custody of his majesty’s offi-
cers. And in this manner the whole process is performed
in twenty-four hours, the salt being usually drawn every
morning.
In the storehouse the salt is put hot into drabs, which
are partitions like stalls for horses, lined on three sides and
at the bottom with boards, and having a sliding-board on
the foreside to put in or draw out as occasion requires. The
bottoms are made shelving, being highest behind, and gra¬
dually inclining forwards, by which means the saline liquor,
which remains mixed with the salt, easily drains from it;
and the salt, in three or four days, becomes sufficiently dry,
and is then taken out of the drabs, and laid up in large heaps,
where it is ready for sale.
The saline liquor which drains from the salt is not a
pure brine of common salt, but has a sharp and bitter
taste, and is therefore called bittern. This liquor, at some
works, is saved for particular uses, and at others is thrown
away. A considerable quantity of this bittern is left at
the bottom of the pan after the process is finished; and as
it contains much salt, it is suffered to remain in the pan
when it is filled up with sea-water. But at each process
this liquor becomes sharper and more bitter, and also in¬
creases in quantity. Thus, after the third or fourth pro¬
cess is finished, they are obliged to take it out of the pan,
otherwise it mixes in such quantities with the salt as to
give it a bitter taste, disposes it to grow soft and run in the
open air, and renders it unfit for domestic uses.
; After each process there also adheres to the bottom and
sides of the pan a white stony crust, of the same calcareous
substance with that before collected from the boiling li¬
quor. This the operators call stone-scratch, distinguishing
the other found in the lead pans by the name of powder-
scratch. Once in eight or ten days they separate the stone-
scratch from their pans with iron picks, and in several places
find it a quarter of an inch in thickness. If this stony crust be
suffered to adhere to the pan much longer, it grows so thick
that the pan is burned by the fire, and quickly wears away.
The consumption of salt in this country is immense.
Neckar estimated the consumption, in those provinces of
France which had purchased an exemption from the ga-
belle, at 19± lbs. English for each individual. But we be¬
lieve that the people in this country may be estimated a
little higher, or at 22 lbs.; and, on this supposition, taking
the population at 16,500,000, the entire consumption will
amount to 363,000,000 lbs. or 161,000 tons. Exclusively
of this immense home consumption, we annually export
about 10,000,000 bushels, which, at 56 lbs. a bushel, are
equivalent to 250,000 tons. The cheapness of this impor¬
tant necessary of life is therefore not less remarkable than
its diffusion.
In this country duties upon salt were imposed in the
reign of William III. In the year 1798, they amounted to
five shillings a bushel, but were subsequently increased to
fifteen shillings, or about forty times the cost of the salt. So
exorbitant a duty was productive of the w-orst effects, and
by its magnitude, as well as by the regulations allowing
salt duty-free to the fisheries, occasioned a great deal of
smuggling. For this reason, the opinion of the public and
the House of Commons having been strongly expressed
against the tax, it was finally repealed in the year 1823.
(M‘Culloch’s Commercial Dictionary, art. Salt.)
Salt Springs. Of these there are great numbers in
different parts of the world, which undoubtedly have their
origin from some of the large collections of fossil salt men¬
tioned under the article Common Salt.
Salt, Valley of, in Syria. It is a lake in winter; but
m summer the moisture is evaporated by the heat of the
sun, when the salt is left in beds of about half an inch thick,
and is afterwards purified for use. It is about eighteen miles
to the east of Aleppo.
SAL
627
Salt ash
• a rnarket-tOwn of the county of Cornwall,
m the Hundred of East, and a part of the parish of St I!
Stephen. It is 220 miles from London, on the banks of the Sal£ldor.
nver I amar, three miles above Plymouth, with which place
it is connected by the Crimble Ferry. It is a corporate
town, with a charter granting jurisdiction on the river Tamar.
It returned two members to parliament before 1832. It
has a market, which is held on Saturday. The population
amounted in 1801 to 1150, in 1811 to 1478, in 1821 to
1548, and in 1831 to 1637.
SALTCOATS, a seaport town in Ayrshire, on the Frith
of Clyde, thirty miles distant from Glasgow. At the end
of the seventeenth century it consisted only of four houses;
but it is now a place of considerable trade, and exports large
quantities of coals, which are procured from the extensive
coal-fields in the neighbourhood. There are some hundreds
of looms in the town employed in weaving for the Glasgow
and Paisley manufacturers; and ship-building has been car¬
ried on successfully for some years. In 1821 the population
of the town and parish was 3413, and in 1831 it was 3544.
SALTPETRE, or Nitre {nitrate of potash), a com¬
pound of nitric acid and potash. It is generally obtained
in the iorm of six-sided prismatic crystals, terminated by
six-sided pyramids, joined by their bases. Its specific gra¬
vity is 1‘933. See Chemistry.
It is used in the various arts, and is the principal ingre¬
dient in the manufacture of gunpowder. See Gunpowder.
SAL TSKAMMER, a circle in the Austrian province of
the Lpper Ens, extending over 330 square miles, and con¬
taining three market-towns and seventy-two villages, with
15,600 inhabitants. It is a most picturesque district, five
sixths of the surface being covered with Alpine mountains,
and watered by the romantic river Traun, issuing from the
beautiful lake of that name, which was a favourite retreat
of the late Sir Humphry Davy to enjoy fishing. The capital
is the town of Ischl, where a large quantity of salt is refined.
SALVADOR, St, or Bahia, a large and important pro¬
vince of Brazil, extending from the Belmonte, in latitude
15° 25' south, to the Rio Real, which divides it from Se-
regipe d’el Rey, in latitude 11° 38' south. The river St
hrancisco sepai’ates it from Pernambuco on the west and
north-west, while on the south-west it touches on Minas
Geraes. It is divided into three comarcas, Bahia, Ilheos,
and Jacobina; the former two comprising the coast, and the
latter the western part of the province. The eastern is di¬
vided from the western portion by a chain of mountains of
considerable elevation, from the eastern side of which pro¬
ceed the numerous streams flowing into the prolific district
of Reconcave, or forming the rivers of Ilheos. A consi¬
derable portion of Jacobina is occupied with cattle-plains,
which are not susceptible of cultivation. It was formerly
rich in gold, and, according to Cazal, it still produces that
metal, and also silver, copper, iron, saltpetre, and crystals.
This comarca comprehends the country on which the Rio
St Francisco enters when it leaves the province in which it
originates. The inhabitants are scattered everywhere over
its surface, and occupy themselves chiefly in breeding cattle.
“ The regular winter or wet season,” says Southey, “extends
only some thirty leagues from the coast; and what rain falls
in the interior comes only in thunder-showers, which are
of course irregular, in no part frequent, and occur seldomer
in the northern part of the province than in the south. Af¬
ter rain, the ground is presently covered with rich verdure,
and the cattle fatten; but when drought succeeds to this
season of abundance, they are reduced to browse upon such
shrubs as resist the burning sun. The streams fail, and if
the tanks which the thunder-showers had filled are also
dried, a dreadful mortality ensues. Because of the frequency
of this evil, the province cannot depend upon its own pas¬
tures, but looks to Goyaz and Piauhy for a regular supply.”
Jacobina, the capital of the comarca, is still a town of some
628
SAL
SAL
Salvador, importance, although the mines have ceased to be produc-
St- tive, and its smelting-house is broken up. It is situated
' y—near the left bank of the southern branch of the Ilapicuru,
three miles below a lake which communicates with the
river. Its inhabitants cultivate wheat, which is not found
farther north, and the fruits as well as the pulse and grain
of Portugal flourish in this elevated district. They export
in particular large quantities of quince marmalade. There
are some other towns in the comarca, but few ol any ma¬
terial importance. Rio de Contas, a town situated about a
hundred and thirty miles south of Jacobina, lies on the high
road from Bahia to Goyaz. It owed its origin to its gold
mines, which were discovered in 1718. But these have
failed, and the inhabitants have betaken themselves to the
more advantageous occupation of agriculture. Fifty miles
west-south-west of Contas is Villa Nova do Principe, for¬
merly called Caytete, the inhabitants of which are employ¬
ed in raising cotton and breeding cattle.
The comarca of the Ilheos begins at Belmonte, and ex¬
tends northward to the river Jiquirica. The Rio Pardo,
which, according to Prince Maximilian, is the limit between
the province of Porto Seguro and this comarca, rises in
Serro Frio, and falls into the sea by three branches.
The Bay of Bahia, or All-Saints, has been pronounced
one of the finest harbours in the world. The entrance,
which is nearly three leagues wide, is from the south, hav¬
ing the continent on the right hand, and the long island of
Itaparica on the left. According to Mr Flenderson, this
island forms two entrances, the eastern or proper entrance
being eight miles in width, and the western or false bar
being less than two miles across. The bay is twelve
leagues in diameter, and thirty-six leagues in circumfe¬
rence, without including the islands or remote parts. I he
anchorage is secure. Vessels are here sheltered from every
wind, and there is accommodation for the united navies of
the world. This little Mediterranean is spotted with above
a hundred islands, many of which are cultivated and inha¬
bited. The city of St Salvador, better known by the name
of Bahia, is, with the exception of Rio, the largest and most
flourishing city in Brazil. In ecclesiastical dignity it claims
the precedency, being an archiepiscopal see. It has also a
higher antiquity, and was long the capital of the empire.
Notwithstanding the removal of the seat of government to
Rio, the natural advantages of Bahia will enable it, under
all changes, to preserve its rank as the second city in Bra¬
zil. It is situated on the right side of the bay, where the
land, at a small distance from the shore, rises steeply to a
high ridgy hill, on the summit of which the. city is chiefly
erected. From the inequality of the ground, and the plan¬
tations interspersed, it occupies a considerable space, its
length from north to south being four miles. The build¬
ings are chiefly of the seventeenth century, the churches
being of course the most conspicuous edifices. The town
has a magnificent, appearance from the water, but when en¬
tered, its interior is found not to correspond with its impos¬
ing aspect at a distance. In the lower town, where the port
is situated, the houses are high, and the streets confined and
narrow, wretchedly paved, and kept in a very filthy state.
The upper town, from its height, and from the slope of the
streets, is much cleaner than the port, and although far
from being well built, has a number of handsome private
houses and public buildings. Here are the cathedral, the
archiepiscopal palace, the governor’s palace, the ex-Jesuits
church (built entirely of marble brought from Europe, but
now' degraded into barracks for soldiers), the misericordia
with its hospital, and various other edifices. The cathe¬
dral, and several other churches, are handsome, and richly
ornamented. The city is protected by a number of forts
and batteries, some of which are garrisoned. Society is
not considered so polished here as at Rio. Gaming, the
resource of vacant minds, is eagerly followed by both sexes.
Intellectual pursuits seem to be little cultivated; and a large Salvation
library, containing some valuable manuscripts respecting II
the interior of America, is allowed to remain in a neglected
state. Bahia contains thirty-six churches, a number of
monasteries, has a university, a number of schools of in¬
struction, a foundling hospital, the library already mention¬
ed, a few printing-presses, and is the centre of a very con¬
siderable trade. There are about a hundred and twenty
wholesale merchants, and amongst other manufactures car¬
ried on are those of cotton, glass, rum, and sugar. There are
companies engaged in the whale-fishery, and in ship-building.
The best idea of the great importance of the trade of
Bahia will be formed from the following statements of the
exports and imports. A statement of the quantities of Bra¬
zilian produce exported from the port of Salvador or Bahia
in the year ending the 1st of October 1835 : Sugar, 47,428
cases of thirteen hundredweights, 474 half cases, and 3071
barrels ; cotton, 40,320 bags of about 160 pounds ; 148,752
hides; coffee, 12,601 sacks and 131 barrels ; tobacco, 54,419
bales, 172 sacks, and 5739 barrels; rum, 6129 pipes; mo¬
lasses, 315 pipes ; besides many other smaller articles. The
number of vessels which cleared from the port was 244.
A statement of the value of merchandise imported into
the port of Bahia or Salvador in the year ending the 1st of
July 1835 : Cotton manufactures to the value of L.664,104,
of which Great Britain furnished L.573,097 ; woollen goods
to the value of L.67,517, of which Great Britain supplied
L.64,740 worth; linen manufactures to the value of L.77,863,
Great Britain supplying L.57,497 worth; silk L.42,086, of
which Great Britain supplied L.5657 worth, and France
L.25,053; and numerous other articles, of which a large pro¬
portion is furnished by Great Britain ; the total value of the
imports being L. 1,412,521.
The population of this city is estimated at 150,000. The
environs of Bahia are very beautiful; and being constantly
refreshed by land and sea breezes, the climate is deemed
very healthy. The Reconcave, as the country which ex¬
tends round the whole sweep of this beautiful bay is deno¬
minated, is one of the richest and most populous parts of
Brazil. It varies in breadth from twelve to forty miles.
Upon the rivers which intersect it, and fall into the bay, are
situated many flourishing towns, which carry on a consider¬
able trade with the capital. One of the largest is Cachoeira,
situated on the river Paraguassu, which divides it into two
parts. Near this town was found a mass of native copper,
weighing a ton and a half. Fifteen miles below Cachoeira,
on the same river, is Maragogype, also a considerable town.
The other chief towns are St Amaro, on the right bank of
the Serigy or Serzipe, twelve miles from its mouth, and
forty north-west of Bahia ; and Jaguaripe, on the right bank
of the river of the same name, seven miles from its mouth,
the inhabitants of which are chiefly manufacturers of earth¬
enware. On the island of Itaparica, which is twenty-three
miles in length from north to south, and ten in breadth, is
a considerable town, with 16,000 inhabitants, who engage
in the whale-fishery. The population of the whole province
of St Salvador is estimated at 600,000.
SALVATION means the safety or preservation of any
thing which is or has been in danger, and is generally used
in a religious sense, when it means preservation from eter¬
nal death, or reception to the happiness of heaven, which
now offered to all men by the Christian religion upon
ill*
certain conditions. See Theology.
SALVIANUS, an ancient father of the Christian church,
who flourished in the fifth century, and was well skilled m
the sciences. He acquired such reputation for his piety and
learning, that he was named the Master of the Bishops.
He wrote a Treatise on Providence; another on Avarice;
and some epistles, of which Baluze has given an excellent
edition. That of Conrad Rittershusius, in two volumes 8vo,
is also esteemed.
SAL
:alute SALUTE, in military matters, a discharge of artillery,
1 or small arms, or both, in honour of some person of extra-
'zburg’. ordinary quality. The colours likewise salute royal persons,
^ and generals commanding in chief, which is done by lower¬
ing the point to the ground. In the field, when a regiment
is to be reviewed by the king or his general, the drums beat
a march as he passes along the line, and the officers salute
one another, bowing their half-pikes or swords to the ground,
then recover and take off their hats. The ensigns salute
all together, by lowering their colours.
Salute, in the navy, a testimony of deference or homage
rendered by the ships of one nation to those of another, or
by ships of the same nation to those of a superior or equal.
This ceremony is variously performed, according to1 the
circumstances, rank, or situation, of the parties. ^ It con¬
sists in firing a certain number of cannon, or volleys of
small arms; in striking the colours or top-sails ; or in one
or more general shouts of the whole ship’s crew, mounted
for that purpose on the masts or rigging.
SALWATTY, an island in the Pacific Ocean, near the
north-west coast of New Guinea, from which it is separated
by a narrow channel. It is about ninety miles in circum¬
ference. Long. 131. 15. E. Lat. 1. 6. S.
SALZBURG. At present this district forms a circle of
the Austrian province of Upper Ens, extending over 2836
square miles. It was formerly one of the most valuable of
the independent ecclesiastical states of Germany, in the
circle of Bavaria, under its own archbishop, whose revenues
and dignity were of the highest class. It then contained
sixteen cities, twenty-three market-towns, and 250,000 in¬
habitants. Owing to a severe persecution of the Protes¬
tants, which the archbishop instituted between 1729 and
1733, many of that religious party emigrated, and establish¬
ed themselves in other parts of Germany, and thereby the
population was more than one third reduced; and those
who had abandoned it were the most active portion of the
community. During the French revolution, the country
was secularized, and by the treaty of 1802 was, with Eich-
stadt, Berchtolsgaden, and a part of Passau, given to the
archduke of Austria, Ferdinand, as an indemnification for
the loss of Tuscany. By the peace of Presburg in 1805,
Salzburg was secured to the emperor of Austria, and Eich-
stadt, with Passau, ceded to Bavaria. The treaty of 1809
left Salzburg at the disposal of Napoleon, who, in 1810,
transferred it to the kingdom of Bavaria ; but by the gene¬
ral peace of 1815 it was again delivered over to the Aus¬
trian monarchy, of which it still forms a portion. It is a
most romantically interesting country, very rich in the long
valley through which the river Salza flows, and in the smal¬
ler valleys which proceed from it, especially on the southern
side of that stream. On both sides of these valleys are lofty
mountains, forming a part of the Noric Alps, whose tops, es¬
pecially that of the Nokehorn, which is 10,380 feet in height,
are covered with perpetual snow, and exhibit, like the Alps
in Switzerland, the striking objects which attract such nu¬
merous visitors. There are various mines in the territory,
the most prolific of which are those of rock-salt, which yield
more than sufficient for the consumption of the inhabitants.
Formerly, several mines of gold were worked, and some of
silver ; but of late years that employment has been diminish¬
ed, and applied to other subterranean objects. These are
non, arsenic, rock-crystal, marble, serpentine, saltpetre, co¬
balt, and asbestos. The iron is made into cutlery and other
hardwares for domestic use, but no raw iron is exported,
dbe circle yields flax and hemp, which, with the wool of
their sheep, is spun and woven by the peasantry during the
winter months, and converted by themselves into the ne¬
cessary articles of clothing. The whole number of the in¬
habitants at present is 152,000.
Salzburg, a city, the capital of the Austrian circle of the
same name. It stands on the beautiful valley of the Saltz,
SAM 629
on both sides the river of that name, over which there is a Salzwedel
beautiful bridge three hundred and seventy feet long and II
torty feet broad. The city is surrounded with walls, but the Samaiieans*
suburbs are more extensive and more elegant, and extend v
to a considerable distance, containing the best of the mo¬
dern residences. The streets within the city are narrow
and crooked, but there are several handsome open plazas
or squares, and a great number of those large and striking
buildings which are tokens of its former ecclesiastical sove¬
reigns. On a hill overlooking the city, and six hundred feet
above it, is the ancient fortress of Moncksberg, now dis-
mantled of its artillery; but it is an object of curiosity from
a road having been hewn out of the solid rock on which it
stands, forming an archway a hundred and fifty yards in
length and eight in breadth, which terminates in a most de-
lightful prospect of the surrounding country. It contains,
with the suburbs, 16,500 inhabitants, who have little trade
except at two large fairs, which become entrepots for ex¬
changing the productions of Italy with those of Germany.
The environs are highly enchanting from the scenery they
exhibit. Long. 13. 54. 5. E. Lat. 47. 43. 10. N.
SALZ\\ EDEL, a city of Prussian Saxony, in the govern¬
ment of Magdeburg, the capital of a circle of the same name,
which extends over 454 square miles, and contains a popu¬
lation of 31,600 persons. It is situated on the river Jeeke,
which is navigable thus far, is surrounded with walls, and con¬
tains 930 houses, with 6300 inhabitants, employed in linen,
cotton, and woollen manufactures, and in making leather,
shoes, gloves, and refining salt.
SAMADONG, a large town in the island of Java, situ¬
ated in a country of luxuriant fertility, 144 miles south-east
from Batavia.
SAMAK, an island in the south-western part of the Gulf
of Persia, about twelve leagues in circumference.
SAM AN A, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Delhi,
possessed by native chiefs in alliance with the British, 122
miles north-west from Delhi. Long. 75. 48. E. Lat. 30. 2. N.
SAMANAP, a large and populous town on the south¬
eastern coast of the island of Madura, and the residence of
a prince. It is situated on a fine bay, which, though rather
shallow, will admit of large brigs or country prows lying
close to the town. It carries on an extensive commerce,
and the country abounds in rice, and teak-timber for build¬
ing. Long. 114. E. Lat. 7. 5. S.
SAMAND, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Moultan, and district of Bahar, which is tributary to the
Afghans. It is situated on the eastern side of the river In¬
dus. Long. 19. 57. E. Lat. 28. 11. N.
SAMANEANS, in Antiquity, a kind of magicians or
philosophers, who have been confounded by some with the
Brahmins. They proceeded from Ariana, a province of
Persia, and the neighbouring countries, spread themselves
in India, and taught new doctrines.
The Brahmins, before their arrival, it is said, were in the
highest period of their glory the only oracles of India; and
their principal residence was on the banks of the Ganges
and in the adjacent mountains, whilst the Samaneans were
settled towards the Indus. Others say that the Brahmins
acquired all their knowledge from the Samaneans, before
whose arrival it would be difficult to prove that the Brah¬
mins were the religious teachers of the Indians. The most
celebrated and ancient of the Samanean doctors was Boutta,
or Buddha, who was born 683 years before Christ. His scho¬
lars paid him divine honours ; and his doctrine, which con¬
sisted chiefly in the transmigration of souls, and in the wor¬
ship of cows, was adopted not only in India, but also in Ja¬
pan, China, Siam, and Tartary. It was propagated, accord¬
ing to M. de Sainte Croix, in Thibet, in the eighth century,
and succeeded there the ancient religion of Zamolxis. The
Samaneans, or Buddhists, were entirely destroyed in India
by the Brahmins ; but several of their books were preserv-
S A M
S A M
ed, and still continue to be respected on the coasts of Ma¬
labar.
SAMAR, one of the Philippine Islands, 140 miles in
length by sixty in average breadth. It is situated south¬
east from the large island of Luzon, from which it is sepa¬
rated by a strait five leagues in breadth. It is of an ex¬
tremely fertile soil, which, besides other grain, produces
abundance of rice, that is wholly appropriated to the use
of the parochial clergy. The common food of the natives
consists chiefly in a species of potato, yams, and a sort
of root named gaby. The soil is favourable for the pro¬
duction of the sugar-cane, and fruits, such as lemons, me¬
lons, figs, of which there are about fourteen different spe¬
cies, the pumplemous, a species of orange, which is nearly
five inches in diameter, and other vegetables besides, name¬
ly, cabbages, garlic, onions, and the like. Pepper, honey,
and wax are found in the wroods; and from the sap of the
cocoa, nipe, and cabonegro trees, excellent materials are
found for the manufacture of brandy. The woods afford an
excellent cover for many animals, and monkeys abound ;
also a remarkably large deer, wild buffaloes, and other
quadrupeds. They swarm also with every description of
birds, particularly the common fowl. There are three spe¬
cies of the turtle-dove. The parroquet, cockatoo, and an¬
other pretty little bird of the same genus, and of the size of
a linnet, are quite common. A diminutive bird, of the size
of a wasp, is also seen, of the most vivid and beautiful co¬
lours, consisting of a shade of yellow mixed with red and blue.
There is a curious production found in this island. It con¬
sists in numerous folds of the bark of a tree, which in a cer¬
tain period of putrefaction are separable without art or dif¬
ficulty. These pieced together afford a species of fine linen,
harsh, indeed, and disagreeable to the skin, but which is
softened by a preparation of lime. Besides serving as the
materials of linen, it is likewise useful for the purposes of
cordage. The iron-tree, ebony, and dyeing-wood, grow
everywhere ; and gold dust is found in small quantities in
the interior.
The natives, especially those who reside upon the sea-
coast, were formerly Mahommedans ; but being converted
by the missionary Jesuits, they embraced the religion and
submitted to the authority of Spain. Their houses are
constructed of bamboos, and being raised a few feet from
the ground, they admit a circulation of air from beneath.
The natives are extremely simple in their habits, and are
clothed with very little trouble or expense. The priests
exercise over them both spiritual and temporal authority.
They give them advice and admonition, which is always
accompanied with presents of wine and medicines, or food ;
and when punishment is necessary, it is promptly inflicted.
Long. 124. 15. to 125. 52. E. Lat. 11. 15. to 12. 45. N.
SAMARA, a town of Irak Arabi, on the Tigris, rever¬
ed by Mussulmen as containing the tomb of Mahommed al
Mahudi, the twelfth imam. It was known in antiquity, and
was in the ninth century the residence of several caliphs of
the house of Abbas. It now only contains about four hun¬
dred houses. It is sixty miles north of Bagdad.
SAMARANG, a fortified town on the north-east coast
of the island of Java, and the principal central station in
the island, being the capital of a large district. It has a
considerable European population, and ranks next in im¬
portance to Batavia. The town is defended by a stone pa¬
rapet, with bastions and a wet ditch ; but is in no condition
to withstand a siege by European troops, being only cal¬
culated for defence against a native power. It has a good
hospital, and a public school, chiefly for the teaching of ma¬
thematics, where numbers of Dutch and half-caste children
were formerly educated for the military profession; and also
a theatre, a fine large church, and a variety ot other pub¬
lic buildings, both elegant and commodious, within and
without the city. Between the town and the sea-coast is
an impassable morass, through which the access to the town Samarcar
is by two fine roads east and west, both of which are raised,
and communicate with each other. Owing to shoals, ships
are obliged to lie at the distance of five or six miles from
the shore, the anchorage being six fathoms, with a muddy
bottom. The river is navigable for prows and coasting
vessels as far as the town. In blowing weather the bar at
the mouth is very dangerous. The surrounding country is
remarkably fertile, and provisions in the town are conse¬
quently abundant and cheap. The climate is more healthy
than that of Batavia, and the European inhabitants have
more active habits. In the environs are numerous villas,
which, from their elevated situation, command a view of
the neat garden-houses and beautifully verdant fields below.
There is here a numerous population of natives and Chi¬
nese, and crowded villages overspread the neighbourhood.
Samarang was always the seat of a separate governor, who
was called the governor of Java, his authority extending
from Cheribon to the eastern extremity of the island. This
government is one of the most lucrative in the gift of the
Dutch East India Company, and is surpassed only by that
of the governor-general. It is 343 miles east from Batavia.
Long. 110. 38. E. Lat. 6. 54. S.
SAMARCAND. This city, which was once the capital
of Independent Tartary, and the favourite residence of the
great limour, is now little better than a mass of ruins. Un¬
til the time of Shah Murad, the place was not only ruin¬
ous, but desert, the haunt of the wolf and the lion. That
sovereign used all his efforts to restore and to repeople this
place; and though it is still small, it is daily increasing.
It formerly covered more ground than Bokhara; and .al¬
though the original walls, which tradition declares, though
this is no doubt an exaggeration, to have been forty-eight
miles in circuit, have mouldered into dust, Clavijo, a Spa¬
nish ambassador, who visited it about the year 1400, esti¬
mates the population of the city at 150,000 ; and a consi¬
derable number besides, for want of habitations, were ob¬
liged to shelter themselves in the caves of the surrounding
rocks. The surrounding country also had a floui'ishing and
populous appearance, being entirely covered with large vil¬
lages, gardens, and country-houses, the residence of Tartar
chiefs. " A great proportion of the inhabitants consisted of
persons who had been collected by J imour from every part
of Asia, whose policy it was to bring hither all who were
famous for the exercise of any art not followed in Samar-
cand. It carried on, besides, a great inland commerce with
Russia, Tartary, India, Turkey, and particularly China.
The splendour of Timour’s court is said to have surpassed
description, and his palaces vied with each other in magni¬
ficence. They were adorned with the spoils of conquered
countries, and were resplendent with hangings of silk, gold
and silver embroidery, tables of solid gold, and a display
of rubies and precious stones that formed a dazzling scene.
The city is still protected with a mud-wall, and has a cita¬
del of the same materials ; but the principal buildings and
most of the houses are constructed of stone. The mau¬
soleum of Timour may still be seen here. It is a large
building, with a very lofty dome, which was once covered
with gold; but this covering has since been taken off by
Shah Murad. Within this building is the tomb, covered
by a large flag of green stone, adorned with jewels, and
sculptured over with the genealogical tree of the great li-
mour. Here, too, was the observatory of Oolugh Beg,
which was destroyed by one of the many barbarous inva¬
ders of this country, and it is now a heap of dust. There
were here also the tombs of many other distinguished per¬
sons, but they are all going to decay. Samarcand was a
seat of religion and learning as well as of an extensive com¬
merce ; and it contained many colleges, the finest of whicfi
was the Khanums, which is now all in ruins, and its exten¬
sive buildings laid waste. Some, however, are still inhabited.
. ®
P
\rT
m f
S.
iana
II
litens
SAM
There is still in the town a very large dome, having six
sides, each side forming a bazaar; regular horse-markets
, are held here on Sundays and Wednesdays, and horses are
cheaper than at Bokhara. It has the reputation of being
a pleasant place, having a small stream running through it
from the mountains, a fine country around it, and a fine cli¬
mate. At a little distance flows the river Kohuk, which
falls into the Zurusshan, the latter passing by Bokhara, and
flowing into the Oxus. It is about 150 miles due east from
Bokhara, and 180 miles south of Balkh. Long. 64. 9. E
Lat. 39. 37. 23. N.
SAMARIA, in Ancient Geography, one of the three
larger Cisjordan districts, situated in the middle between
Galilee to the north and Judaea to the south, beginning at
the village Ginaea, in the Campus Magnus, and ending at
the toparchy called Acrobatena. Its soil differs in nothing
from that of Judaea, both being equally hilly and cham¬
paign, and both equally fertile in corn and fruit. It is called
the kingdom of Samaria in Ephraim, comprehending the ten
tribes, and consequently all the country to the north of Ju¬
daea and east and west of Jordan.
Samaria, the capital city of the kingdom of Samaria, or
of the ten tribes. It was built by Omri king of Israel, who
began to reign in the year of the world 3079, and died 3086.
SAMARITANS. The Samaritans are the people of the
city of Samaria, and the inhabitants of the province of which
Samaria was the capital city. In this sense, it should seem
that we might give the name of Samaritans to the Israelites
of the ten tribes, who lived in the city and territory of Sa¬
maria. However, the sacred authors commonly apply the
name of Samaritans only to those strange people whom the
kings of Assyria sent from beyond the Euphrates to inhabit
the kingdom of Samaria, when they took captive the Israel¬
ites that were there before. Thus we may fix the epoch of
the Samaritans at the taking of Samaria by Salmaneser, in
the year of the world 3283. This prince carried away cap¬
tive the Israelites that he found in the country, and assign¬
ed them dwellings beyond the Euphrates, and in Assyria.
He sent other inhabitants in their stead, of which the most
considerable were the Cuthites, a people descended from
Cush, and who are probably of the number of those whom
the ancients knew by the name of Scythians.
After Salmaneser, his successor Esarhaddon was inform¬
ed that the people who had been sent to Samaria were in¬
fested by lions that devoured them. This he imputed to
the ignorance of the people in the manner of worshipping
the god of the country. Esarhaddon therefore sent a priest
of the God of Israel, that he might teach them the religion
of the Hebrews. But they thought they might blend this
religion with that which they had previously professed; so
they continued to worship their idols as before, in conjunc¬
tion with the God of Israel, not perceiving how absurd and
incompatible these two religions were.
It is not known how long they continued in this state ;
but at the return from the captivity of Babylon, it appears
they had entirely quitted the worship of their idols; and
when they asked permission of the Israelites that they might
labour with them at the rebuilding of the temple of Jerusa¬
lem, they affirmed, that from the time when Esarhaddon
had brought them into this country they had alw ays wor¬
shipped the Lord. And indeed, after the return from the
captivity, the Scripture does not anywhere reproach them
with idolatrous worship, though it does not dissemble either
their jealousy against the Jews, or the ill offices they had
done them at the court of Persia by their slanders and ca¬
lumnies, or the stratagems they contrived to hinder the re¬
pairing of the Avails of Jerusalem.
It does not appear that there was any temple in Samaria,
in common to all these people Avbo came thither from be¬
yond the Euphrates, befoi’e the arrival of Alexander the
Great into Judaea. Before that time, every one was left to
'SAM
631
Ins owm discretion, and worshipped the Lord wherever he Samaritans,
thought fit. But they presently comprehended, from the
books of Moses which they had in their hands, and from the
example of the Jews their neighbours, that God was to be
worshipped in that place only which he had chosen ; so that
since they could not go to the temple of Jerusalem, which
the Jews would not alloiy of, they bethought themselves of
ui ding a temple of their own upon Mount Gerizim, near
the city of Shechem, which was then their capital. San-
ballat, governor of the Samaritans, therefore applied him¬
self to Alexander, and told him he had a son-in-law, called
Manasses, son of Jaddus the high priest of the Jews, who
had retired to Samaria with a great number of other per¬
sons of his own nation ; that he desired to build a temple
in this province, where he might exercise the high priest¬
hood ; and that this undertaking ivould be to the advantage
of the king’s affairs, because in building a temple in the pro¬
vince of Samaria, the nation of the Jews would be divided,
Avho are a turbulent and seditious people, and by such a di¬
vision would be made weaker, and less in a condition to un¬
dertake new enterprises. Alexander readily consented to
what Sanballat desired, and the Samaritans presently be¬
gan building the temple of Gerizim, which from that time
they have always frequented, and still frequent to this day,
as the place Avhere the Lord intended to receive the ado¬
ration of his people. It is of this mountain and of this
temple that the Samaritan woman of Sychar spoke to our
Saviour.
But the Samaritans did not long continue under the
obedience of Alexander. They revolted from him the very
next year, and Alexander drove them out of Samaria, put
Macedonians in their place, and gave the province of Sa¬
maria to the Jews. This preference which Alexander gave
to the Israelites contributed not a little to increase that hat¬
red and animosity that had already obtained betiveen these
two people. When any Israelite had deserved punishment
for the violation of some important point of the law, he pre¬
sently took refuge in Samaria or Shechem, and embraced
the method of worship according to the temple of Gerizim.
When the Jews were in a prosperous condition, and affairs
were favourable to them, the Samaritans did not fail to call
themselves Hebrews, and pretended to be of the race of
Abraham. But no sooner were the Jew's fallen into dis¬
credit or persecution, than the Samaritans immediately dis-
OAvned them, would have nothing in common with them,
and acknowledged themselves to have been originally Phoe¬
nicians, or that they were descended from Joseph and Ma-
nasseh his son. This wras their practice in the time of An-
tiochus Epiphanes.
The Samaritans, having received the Pentateuch, or the
five books of Moses, from the priest that was sent by Esar¬
haddon, continued to preserve it in the old Hebrew or Phoe¬
nician character, which we noiv call the Samaritan, to dis¬
tinguish it from the modern Hebrew character, Avhich avc
find in the books of the Jews. These last, after their cap¬
tivity, changed their old characters, and took up those of
the Chaldaic, which they had been used to at Babylon, and
which they continue still to use. It is Avrong, says Calmet,
to give this the name of the Hebrew character, for that can
be said properly to belong to the Samaritan text. The
critics have taken notice of some variations betiveen the
Pentateuch of the Jews and that of the Samaritans; but
these varieties of reading chiefly regard the w ord Gerizim,
which the Samaritans seem to have purposely introduced to
favour their pretensions that Mount Gerizim was the place
in Avhich the Lord was to be adored. The other various
readings are of little importance.
As to their belief, it is objected to them, that they receive
only the Pentateuch, and reject all the other books of Scrip¬
ture, chiefly the prophets, who have more expressly declar¬
ed the coming of the Messiah. They have also been ac-
632
SAM
Samboan-
gan.
Samavat cused of believing God to be corporeal, and of denying tbe
N Holy Ghost, and the resurrection of the dead.
Joseph Scaliger, with the view of informing himself re¬
specting their usages and opinions, wrote to the Samaritans
of Egypt, and to the high priest of the whole sect, who re¬
sided at Neapolis in Syria. They returned two answers to
Scaliger, dated in the year of the Hejira 998. I hese were
preserved in the French king’s library, translated into Latin
by Father Morin, and printed in England in the collection
of that father’s letters, in 1682, under the title of Antiqui-
tates Ecclesice Orientalis.
There are still some Samaritans at Shechem, which is
otherwise called Naplous ; and they have priests there, who
say they are of the family of Aaron. They have a high priest,
who resides at Shechem, or at Gerizim, who offers sacri¬
fices there, and who declares the feast of the passover, and
all the other feasts, to all the dispersed Samaritans. Some
of them are to be found at Gaza, others at Damascus, and
others at Grand Cairo.
SAMAVAT, a town of the Syrian desert, to the west of
the Euphrates, once a considerable city, but now only con¬
taining 300 Arabs, who levy exorbitant contributions on all
pilgrims who take this route to the holy city. It is nine¬
ty miles west of Meshed Ali.
SAMBACCA, a town of the island of Sicily, in the pro¬
vince of Mazzara, and fifty miles from Palermo. It is in a
healthy situation on a hill, eight miles from the sea-shore,
and contains 9600 inhabitants.
SAMBAH, a town of Hindustan, in the Sikh territo¬
ries, and province of Lahore, situated on the eastern side of
the small river Deeg, fifty-five miles north-north-east iiom
the city of Lahore. Long. 74*. 8. E. Lat. 32. 34. N.
SAME AR Point, the south-west point of the large island
of Borneo.
SAMBASS, a town and river on the west coast of the
island of Borneo. The town is about forty miles up the
river. It is built, as the seaport towns in Borneo generally
are, of timber and bamboos, and is raised on wooden staiks
and piles, on low swampy morasses. The river is wide at
its entrance, which is in long. 109. 5. E. and lat. L 12. N.
The inhabitants here, as in other towns on the coast, were
much addicted to piracy. They were in the practice of dart¬
ing out on defenceless vessels, so that it became quite un¬
safe for the European trader to venture near so dangerous
a coast. It was on account of these piracies that the place
was attacked by the British in 1812, who were repulsed
with loss, and suffered still more severely from the pesti¬
lential effects of the climate. In 1813, a second attack was
made by a British armament, which proved completely sue-
cessful.
SAMBAYA, a river on the north coast of the island of
Java, which is navigable in the rainy season as far as the
residence of the Emperor of Solo; and a recent survey,
made by Captain Colebrooke, shows that the impediments
to its further navigation might be easily removed.
SAMBELONG Islands, two or three islands among
the Nicobar Islands, a little to the north of the Great Ni¬
cobar. Long. 100. 36. E. Lat. 41. ^0. N.
SAMBER, a Rajpoot town of Hindustan, in the province
of Ajmeer, and district of Jyepoor. It is situated in the vici¬
nity of a salt lake, from which the greater pai t of Hindus¬
tan is supplied with salt, which is a source of great prosperity
to the town.
SAMBHAR Cape, on the south-western coast of the
island of Borneo. Long. 109. 50. E. Lat. 2. 52. S.
SAMBOANGAN, a Spanish fortress and settlement on
the south-west extremity of the island of Magindanao. Ihe
town is situated on the banks of a small rivulet which flows
into the sea, and contains a thousand inhabitants, including
officers, soldiers, and their respective families. Here are
erected, on posts twelve feet high, small look-out houses, in
Samoiii ij
SAM
all of which a constant guard is kept by the Spaniards, Samfxp
against the inroads of the natives, with whom they are in a
state of perpetual hostility. The military force consists of
150 to 200 soldiers, natives of Manilla, who have no discip¬
line. To this place criminals are sent into banishment from
the Philippines. The adjacent country is extremely fertile,
and cattle have multiplied everywhere in the woods. Pirates
swarm in the neighbourhood, and frequently plunder and
cut off vessels richly laden, while lying in the harbour.
They frequently make descents close to the fort, and carry
off the inhabitants, whom they sell into slavery. Long. 122.
10. E. Lat. 6. 45. N.
SAMBOR, a circle of the Austrian kingdom of Gallicia,
extending over 2050 square miles, comprising ten cities
and towns, and 352 villages, with 250,700 inhabitants, about
one fifth of whom are Jews. The capital is the city of the
same name, which is situated on the river Dniester. It
stands on a fine plain, is tolerably well b • ilt, and has a gym¬
nasium, one Greek and three Catholic churches, 1170 houses,
and 6950 inhabitants. Long. 23. 30. 31. E. Lat. 49. 31.
30. N.
SAMBUCA, (ra/iduxTi, appears to have been an instru¬
ment of the harp kind, of a triangular form, and having
strings of unequal length and thickness, said to have been
invented by Ibycus of Messina, a lyric poet, contemporary
with Anacreon; more probably, we think, an oriental in¬
strument adopted by the ancient Greeks. (Consult Athe-
nseus, 1. 4 and 1. 14.)
S AMGAUM, a town of Hindustan, in the province of the
Carnatic, and district of Nelloor, situated on the north bank
of the Pennar river. Long. 70. 44. E. Lat. 14. 33. N.
SAMMAN, a town in the interior of Lasha, in Arabia,
fifty miles west-north-west of El Katif.
SAMOGITIA, a province of Poland, bounded on the
north by Courland, on the east by Lithuania, on the west
by the Baltic Sea, and on the south by Regal Prussia, be¬
ing a hundred and seventy-five miles in length and a hun¬
dred and twenty-five in breadth.
SAMOIED A, a country of the Russian empire, between
Asiatic Tartary and Archangel, lying along the sea-coast
as far as Siberia. The inhabitants are extremely rude and
barbarous, travelling on the snow in sledges drawn by an
animal like a rein-deer, but vrith the horns of a stag. Their
chief employment consists in hunting and fishing.
SAMON, an island in the Eastern Seas, to the north¬
west of Timor. It is hilly, and covered with wood. The
tides run very strong, and occasion ripplings, which have
the appearance of breakers.
SAMOS, a Greek island on the shore of Asia Minor, from
which it is separated bv a very narrow and crooked channel
called the Little Boghaz, near to which are the ruins of
Ephesus and the celebrated Cape Mycale. It is celebrated
as the birthplace of Pythagoras, and was the most powerful
and important of the Ionian Islands, distinguished by the
number and skill of its seamen, who, 566 years before tne
Christian era, navigated the Mediterranean to the pillars
of Hercules, and are said to have ascended the river Gua¬
dalquivir in Spain. Some degree of independence was
maintained until the reign of the Emperor Vespasian, about
the year 70. Up to that time it had been celebrated for
being a great school of statuary, and for preparing bronze
images, in which art Rhoekos, and his two sons Theodoros
and Telekles, were distinguished masters. In the middle
ages the island was successively governed by Arabs, Ve¬
netians, Genoese, and Turks, and continued a portion ot
the empire of the latter till the recent Grecian revolution
broke out. The islanders on that occasion took part witn
their countrymen as soon as the news reached them of the
execution of their patriarch. Fortifications were erectea
towards the channel of the Boghaz, which rendered an in¬
vasion from the continent of Anatolia too hazardous o
SAM
oyedes. the Turks to attempt. Under the command of the arch-
bishop, ten thousand men were instantly armed and formed
into regiments, bearing the cross as their standard. Three
vessels were equipped as ships of war, and well manned
with the best of seamen, who carried on predatory excur¬
sions with great success on the neighbouring continental
shores. The conduct of the Sameotes produced unbound¬
ed rage in the Turkish government, and a powerful fleet
and a numerous body of armed men were collected to in¬
sure the subjugation in 1821; but it failed, principally owing
to the Greek fleet having been posted in the channel be¬
tween Cape Mycale, where the Turkish land force was as¬
sembled. In that contracted spot the heavy Turkish ships
could not approach, and the active and brave Greek sea¬
men attacked the crowded transports, some of which were
sunk, and others of them burned by fire-ships. The Capi-
tan Pasha withdrew with his fleet, followed by the Greeks
with their fire-ships; and the land-forces returned as they
could along the shore to Constantinople.
Though repulsed and disgraced, the Turks, having cap¬
tured and desolated Scio, and the island of Ispara, near to
Samos, resolved on another attempt on that island in the
year 1824. It was arranged that the Turkish force should
be joined by the fleet of the pasha of Egypt. When the
junction was effected, the Turks sent a flag of truce, offer¬
ing an amnesty and proposing to treat; but the Sameotes,
warned by the atrocities committed at the Isle of Scio in
spite of a treaty, resolved to defend their possessions, or to
dedicate their lives to its defence. The females, and the chil¬
dren, with their provisions, were removed to the moun¬
tains, and the men stood armed on the shore. The Turks
had placed their ships in the narrowest part of the Boghaz,
where they formed a kind of bridge for the troops to pass
over. Upon the bridge or line of shipping the small ves¬
sels of the Greeks opened a most destructive fire, some
were sunk and others burned, while the larger ships of the
Turks, drawing too much water, remained in a state of
total inactivity. A retreat was commenced, at which time
another Greek fleet, under Miaulis, reached the scene of
contest. The unwieldy and ponderous ships of the Turks
could not withstand the attacks of this new enemy, whose
ships, from being small, and the men agile, gave them a
great superiority. The Turks were driven out to sea,
where, by means of their enemy’s fire-ships, they lost one
man-of-w'ar of fifty-four guns, and a corvette, brig, and
several gun-boats of the Egyptian fleet. After this "attack
the Sameotes were unmolested, and are now in alliance with
the kingdom of Greece.
The island is twenty-seven miles in length, being of an
irregular shape, and very various breadth. The chief town
is Vathi, in latitude 37° 46' and longitude 26° SS'. The
island is represented by those who have visited it to have
contained from 50,000 to 60,000 inhabitants, living in com¬
fort, industry, and abundance, and all of them Greek Chris¬
tians. The only town is Vathi, built on the descent of
some mountains, sloping down to the port, and tolerably
well built, but with narrow streets. The port is beautiful,
being the segment of a long oval, stretching inland towards
the south-east, covered with trees, and well cultivated. It
is protected from all winds but the south-w^est. The most
important production is the rich Muscato wine, known in
Europe by the name of Malmsey. A great quantity of
raisins are furnished for exportation, as well as much oil. In
the preparation of the latter much pains are taken, and it
equals that from Lucca. Though the apprehension of the
horrors exhibited at Scio by the Turks caused many fami¬
lies to fly, yet some of them have returned, and the pros¬
perity of the island is returning.
SAMOYEDES, one of those barbarous tribes who range
over the vast and frozen deserts of Asia, which are bound¬
ed by the Northern Ocean. They cover a space along the
von. xix.
SAM 633
shores of that ocean which extends east and west about two Samoyedes.
thousand miles, nearly as far as the river Mesen on the west,
which falls into the White Sea ; and eastward to the Olenek
and almost to the Lena, comprising the space between the
40th and 120th degrees of east longitude. From north to
south this territory extends from 300 to 600 miles; yet on
this extensive area there are not more than 20,000 inhabi-
tants. 1 hey are divided into three principal tribes, namelv,
the Vanoites, who inhabit the banks of the Petchora and
the Obi; the European tribe, who are found on the Mesen
and in the interior of the government of Archangel; and
the Klnrutches, who wander over the remoter wastes of Si¬
beria. 1 hey bear the stamp of their ungenial climate in
their small and stunted proportions, being in general not
above four or five feet in height. Their features are ex¬
tremely coarse, resembling those of the Tungouses. while
their neighbours the Ostiaks bear the stamp of the Finnish
race. 1 he face is flat, round, and broad, the lips large and
thick, the nose wide and open, and the beard small, with a
small quantity of rough and black hair carefully arranged.
The dress of the 'men differs little from that of the Ostiaks.
But the females do not wear any veil; they keep the head
an(l face uncovered, unless during their winter journeys.
The Ostiaks are in regular subjection to the Russians, have
adopted many of their customs, and are reckoned to have
made greater advances in civilization than their neighbours.
The Samoyedes, though included within the nominal limits
of Russian authority, are left at liberty to roam at large
over the desert, the vast extent and poverty of which would
not maintain a military force. They live by hunting, and
are continually moving about on their sledges from place to
place. The animal they hunt is the wild deer, which is
their chief subsistence; they eat the flesh, make clothes
of the skin, and use the nerves as thread for sewing. They
also hunt the white fox, and employ themselves in summer
in fishing in the lakes. Like most savage nations, they
are extremely superstitious, and have very rude ideas of
the Supreme Being. They however acknowledge the Deity
as the ruler of the universe, who cannot be represented
by any image; and under him numerous inferior deities,
spirits, and demi-gods, who are divided into celestial and
terrestrial, and are the inferior agents who distribute good
and evil among men. These are represented by little
wooden idols, finely clothed and ornamented, placed in
houses or in woods, to which sacrifices are offered. They
have their magicians or shamans, who are genera! through¬
out Northern Asia, and are distinguished by their drums,
and by a dress adorned with rings and pieces of iron.
These persons have a terrific aspect, which frightens even
the Russians ; and their practice is to work themselves
up into such an irritable state of nerves, that a sudden
cry, a blow', or even a touch, raises them to a state of
frenzy, and they seize the first deadly weapon they can lay
hold of in order to massacre the person who is the cause
of their agitation. On the subject of death they have
many superstitions. They cover the deceased with all his
clothes, put a caldron over his head, and, wrapping him in
deer-skins, they drag him out by an opening made in the
tent for the express purpose, lest, as they fear, he should
drag out any one after him. In winter they place the
body in a ditch, and cover it over with leaves and branches
of trees. In winter a wooden cottage is constructed, in
which they place the dead with his axe, knife, bow, arrows,
tobacco, and pipe. Their dead bodies are consequently in
most cases devoured by the wild beasts. They have a su¬
perstitious dread of ghosts, and have recourse in this case
to magicians, who array themselves in charms, and exorcise
the spirit, exhorting him not to revisit the earth and dis¬
turb his surviving friends, or envy them the possession of
those hunting grounds which he has left. It is considered
of evil omen to pronounce the name of the deceased; and
C34
Sampan-
mango
Cape
II
Samar.
S A M
this is viewed by the relatives as a deadly injury. They
are in general a peaceable and harmless race, prone to in¬
toxication, as most savages are, and immoderately fond of
tobacco. Their favourite amusements are wrestling and
< dancing. . r u
SAMPANMANGO Cape, the north-west point ot the
island of Borneo. Long. 116. 52. E. Lat. 7. 0. N.
SAMPIT, a town of the island of Borneo, on the south
coast, near a river of the same name, 140 miles west of Ban-
jar Massam.
SAMPOO, a small island in the Eastern Seas, near the
south coast of Java. Long. 112. 26. E. Lat. 8. 23. S.
SAMRONGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the district of
Nepaul. It has a large artificial reservoir in the vicinity,
which shows the country to have been better cultivated
than at present. Long. 85. 30. E. Lat. 26. 45. N.
SAMSOE, an island belonging to the kingdom of Den¬
mark, in the Cattegat, between Zealand and Jutland. It
is forty-five square miles, or 28,800 acres, in extent, and
is divided into six parishes, containing 2400 inhabitants.
It is of moderate fertility, producing both corn, butter,
and cheese, and occupying a part of the people in the fish-
enes.
SAMSON, one of the judges of Israel, memorable for
his supernatural strength, his victories over the Philistines,
and his tragical end, as related in the book of Judges.
Samson’s Post, a sort of pillar erected in a ship’s hold,
between the lower deck and the kelson, under the edge of
a hatchway, and furnished with several notches that serve
as steps to mount or descend, as occasion requires. I his
post being firmly driven into its place, not only serves to
support the beam and fortify the vessel in that place, but
also to prevent the cargo or materials contained in the hold
from shifting to the opposite side, by the rolling of the ship
in a heavy sea.
S AMSOON, a port on the southern shore of the Black Sea,
to the westward of Trebisond. It contains many well-built
houses, seven mosques, one Armenian church, and 500 Ma-
hommedan and 200 Christian families. The vicinity has long
been noted for silver and copper mines, two of which, lying
between Samsoon and Kabback, and near the river Saraez
Gourkhan, are deemed of great antiquity, and are called
Malett and Jumbish. They have been recently opened anew.
From the earliest times all these districts, to the very mar¬
gin of the Euxine, have also been famous for workers in
fron, and they bear the same reputation now as in ancient
times.
SAMUEL, Books of, two canonical books of the Old
Testament, being usually ascribed to the prophet Samuel.
The books of Samuel and the books of Kings are a conti¬
nued history of the reigns of the kings of Israel and Judah ;
for which reason the books of Samuel are likewise styled the
first and second books of Kings. Since the first twenty-four
chapters contain all that relates to the history of Samuel,
and* the latter part of the first book and all the second in¬
clude the relation of events that happened after the death
of that prophet, it has been supposed that Samuel was author
only of the first twenty-four chapters, and that the prophets
Gad and Nathan finished the work. The first book of Sa¬
muel comprehends the transactions under the government
of Eli and Samuel, and under Saul, the first king, and also
the acts of David whilst he lived under Saul; and is sup¬
posed to contain the space of a hundred and one years. The
second book contains the history ol about forty years, and
is wholly spent in relating the transactions of David’s reign.
SAMULCOTTA, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of the Circars, and district of Rajamundry. Pepper grows
wild on the neighbouring hills. It is situated on the north
bank of a small river, a few miles from the sea. Long. 82.
30. E. Lat. 17. 5. N.
SAMUR, a river of Persia, in the province of Shirvan,
SAN
which rises in the mountains of Lesghistan, and falls into
the Caspian. At its mouth there is a small town of the
same name, fifteen miles south of Derbend.
SAN, a river of China, which rises on the frontier of Tar¬
tary, and falls into the Gulf of Leatong. Long. 117. 28. E
Lat. 39. 9. N.
SAN del Bose, an elevated island in the Eastern Seas.
Long. 120. 31. E. Lat. 10. 27. S.
SAN Paloi, a small island near the west coast of Luzon.
Lonsr. 120. 10. E. Lat. 14. 45. N
San
o 11
kanadoi:
San Juan de Puerto Rico. See Porto Rico.
SAN Lucar de Barrameda, a city of Spain, in the
province of Andalusia. It is a good port, at the entrance of
the river Guadalquivir, and the city is built on its eastern
bank. The trade of Seville in a great degree centres here,
as the larger vessels belonging to that city cannot ascend
higher up the river. It is well fortified towTards the sea.
The country around it is cultivated quite to the shore, and
produces rich crops of grapes, olives, and the other fruits
of the climate, but little or no corn. It contains 15,200
inhabitants.
San Sebastian, a city of Spain, in the province of Gui-
puscoa, at the mouth of the river Urumea, which runs from
Navarre. Its harbour is excellent, and, as well as the city,
is defended by the strong fortress La Mota, w'hich overlooks
both; and it has other powerful fortifications towards the
land as well as the sea. It has considerable trade by means
of ships of great burden. The mole is a magnificent and
well-executed work, as is the lighthouse, which is visible at
sea at nine leagues distance. San Sebastian has always^
been considered, for its extent, the most commercial city of
Spain, and its trade is as ancient as its foundation. I he
city contains about seven hundred houses, mostly contain¬
ing two or more families, and the population is 13,100 souls;
but the country around it is thickly studded with country
residences, and is well peopled. The land in its neighbour¬
hood is not fertile, but the hills which surround it abound
with iron, and are a great source of wealth to the inhabi¬
tants. It is in latitude 43. 19. 39. north, and longitude 1.
30. 35. west from London.
SANA, the capital of the province of Yemen, in Arabia,
and the residence of the Imam. It is situated in a barren
and stony valley amidst lofty hills, and is surrounded in its
immediate vicinity with fine gardens and luxuriant woods.
It contains many handsome stone houses, and others sub¬
stantially built of brick, and is said by Sir Henry Middle-
ton to be somewhat larger than Bristol, in space at least,
if not in population. It is defended by a strong mud-wall.
Fruits are plentiful in the neighbourhood. It is 128 miles
north-north-east of Mocha. Long. 44. 9. E. Lat. 15. 21. N.
SANADON, Noel Etienne, a Jesuit, and a distin¬
guished professor ol humanity at Caen, was born at Rouen
in 1676. He there became acquainted with Huet, bishop
of Avranches, whose taste for literature and poetry was si¬
milar to his own. Sanadon afterwards taught rhetoric at
the university of Paris, and upon the death of Du Morceau
he was intrusted with the education of the prince of Conti.
In 1728 he was made librarian to Louis XIV., an office
which he retained to his death, which took place on the 21st
of September 1733, in the fifty-eighth year of his age.
Flis works are, 1. Latin Poems, in 12mo, 1/15, reprint¬
ed by Barbou, in 8vo, 1754. His style possesses the graces
of the Augustan age. His language is pure and nervous,
his verses are harmonious, and his thoughts are delicate
and well chosen, but sometimes his imagination flags. ^ His
Latin poems consist of odes, elegies, epigrams, and others,
on various subjects. 2. A translation of Horace, with re¬
marks, in two vols. 4to, printed at Paris in 1 /2/. The best
edition of this work, however, was printed at Amsterdam
in 1735, in eight vols. 12mo, in which are also inserted the
versions and notes of M. Dacier. In general, his version
SAN
rushy- is rather a paraphrase than a faithful translation. Learn-
°tta ed men have justly censured him for the liberty which he
Lchez. ^as ^a^en 'n mahing considerable changes in the order and
structure of the odes; and he has also given offence by his
uncouth orthography. 3. A Collection of Discourses de¬
livered at different times, which afford strong proofs of his
knowledge of oratory and poetry. 4. A "book entitled
Prieres et Instructions Chretiennes.
SANASHYGOTTA, a flourishing town of Bengal, in
the district of Purneah, on the Mahanuddy river, much
frequented by Hindu pilgrims on their route to the places
of ablution in the Northern Mountains, from which circum¬
stance it takes its name. Long. 88. 32. E. Lat. 26. 35. N.
SANBALLAT, the chief or governor of the Cuthites
or Samaritans, was always a great enemy to the Jews. He
was a native of Horon, or Horonaim, a city beyond Jordan,
in the country of the Moabites. He lived in the time of
Nehemiah, who was his great opponent, and from whose
book we learn his history. There is one circumstance re¬
lated of him which has occasioned some dispute among the
learned. When Alexander the Great came into Phoenicia,
and sat down before the city of Tyre, Sanballat quitted the
interests of Darius king of Persia, and went at the head of
eight thousand men to offer his service to Alexander. This
prince readily entertained- him, and being much solicited
by him, gave him leave to erect a temple upon Mount Ge-
rizim, where he constituted his son-in-law Manasseh the
high priest. But this story carries with it a flagrant ana¬
chronism. For a hundred and twenty years before this, that
is, in the year of the world 3550, Sanballat was governor of
Samaria; 'wherefore Dr Prideaux, in his Connexion of the
Histories of the Old and New Testament, supposes two
Sanballats, and endeavours to reconcile it to truth and pro¬
bability by showing it to be a mistake of Josephus. This
author makes Sanballat to flourish in the time of Darius
Codomannus, and to build his temple upon Mount Gerizim
by license from Alexander the Great; whereas it was per¬
formed by leave from Darius Nothus, in the fifteenth year
of his reign. This takes away the difficulty arising from
the great age of Sanballat, and brings him to be contem¬
porary with Nehemiah, as the Scripture history requires.
SANCERRE, an arrondissement of the department of
the Cher, in Fraflce, extending over 209,684 hectares, equal
to 73? square miles. It comprehends eight cantons, and
seventy-six communes, and in 1836 the inhabitants amount¬
ed to 70,907. The capital is the city of the same name,
upon an elevation rising from the river Loire. In 1836 it
contained 3482 inhabitants, who are chiefly employed in
making hats and hosiery, and in working some marble quar¬
ries in the neighbourhood. Long. 2. 45. 15. E. Lat. 47.
16. 53. N.
SANCHEZ, Francois, called in Latin Sanctius, was a
native of Las Brocas, in Spain, and has been dignified by
his own countrymen with the pompous titles of father of
the Latin language and doctor of all kinds of letters. He
wrote, 1. An excellent treatise entitled Minerva, or De Cau-
sis Linguce Latince, which was published at Amsterdam in
1714, in 8vo; 2. The Art of Speaking and the Method
of translating Authors ; 3. Several other learned pieces on
grammar. He died in the year 1600, in his seventy-seventh
year.
We must be careful to distinguish this author from an¬
other Francis Sanchez, who died at Toulouse in 1632.
This last wras a Portuguese physician, wdio settled at Tou¬
louse, and, though a Christian, was born of Jewish parents.
SAN 635
He is sale to have been a man of genius, and a philosopher. Sancho-
His works have been collected under the title of Opera Me niatho.
dica. They were printed at Toulouse in 1636. ' * '
SANCHONIAI HO, a Phoenician philosopher and his¬
torian, who is said to have flourished before the Trojan war,
and about the time of Semiramis. Of this most ancient
writer the only remains extant are various fragments of
cosmogony, and of the history of the gods and first mortals,
preserved by Eusebius and Theodoret, both of whom speak
of Sanchoniatho as an accurate and faithful historian; and
the foi mer adds, that his work, which was translated bv
Philo-Byblius from the I htenician into the Greek language,
contains many things relating to the history of the Jews
which deserve great credit, both because they agree with
the Jewish writers, and because the author received these
particulars from the annals of Hierombalus, a priest of the
god Jao.
Several modern writers of great learning, however, have
called in question the very existence of Sanchoniatho, and
have contended, with much plausibility, that the fragments
which Eusebius adopted as genuine upon the authority of
Porphyry, were forged by that author or by the pretended
translator Philo, from enmity to the Christians, and that
the Pagans might have something to show of equal anti¬
quity with the books of Moses. These opposite opinions
have produced a controversy that has filled volumes, and
of which our limits would hardly admit of an abstract. We
shall therefore in few words state what appears to us to be
the truth, and refer such of our readers as are desirous of
fuller information to the u^orks of the authors mentioned
below.1
The controversy respecting Sanchoniatho resolves itself
into two questions : First, was there in reality such a writer ?
and, second, was he of the very remote antiquity which his
translator claims for him ?
Now that there was really such a writer, and that the frag¬
ments preserved by Eusebius are indeed parts of his his¬
tory, interpolated perhaps by the translator, we are com¬
pelled to believe by the following reasons.2 Eusebius, who
admitted them into his work as authentic, was one of the
most learned men of his age, and a diligent searcher into
antiquity. His conduct at the Nicene council shows, that
on every subject he thought for himself, neither biassed by-
authority on the one side, nor carried over by the rage of
innovation on the other. He had better means than any
modern writer can have of satisfying himself with respect
to the authenticity of a very extraordinary work, which had
then but lately been translated into the Greek language,
and made generally known; and there is nothing in the
work itself, or at least in those parts of it which he has pre¬
served, that could induce a wfise and good man to obtrude
it upon the public as genuine, had he himself suspected it
to be spurious. Too many of the Christian fathers were in¬
deed credulous, and ready to admit the authenticity of writ¬
ings without duly weighing the merits of their claim; but
then such writings were always believed to be favourable to
the Christian cause, and inimical to the cause of Paganism.
That no man of common sense could suppose the cosmo¬
gony of Sanchoniatho favourable to the cause of revealed
religion, further proof cannot be requisite than what is fur¬
nished by the following extract.
“ Fie supposes, or affirms, that the principles of the uni¬
verse were a dark and windy air, or a wind made of dark
air, and a turbulent evening chaos ; and that these things
were boundless, and for a long time had no bound or figure.
1 Bochart, Scaliger, Vossius, Cumberland, Dodwell, Stillingfleet, Mosheim’s Cudvvorth, and Warburton.
2 Of these indeed there are several proofs. Philo makes Sanchoniatbo speak of By bias as the most ancient city of Phoenicia, which,
in all probability, it was not. We read in the book of Judges of Berith or Berytus, the city where Sanchoniatho himself lived; but not
of Byblus, which was the native city of Philo, and to which he is therefore partial. He makes him likewise talk of the Greeks at a
period long before any of the Grecian states were known or probably peopled.
S A N
SAN
But when this wind fell in love with his own principles,
and a mixture was made, that mixture was called desire or
Cupid (‘TioOog).
“ This mixture completed, was the beginning of the
(xmsws) making of all things. But that wind did not know
its own production ; and of this with that wind was begot¬
ten Mot, which some call Mua, others the putrefaction of
a watery mixture. And of this came all the seed of this
building, and the generation of the universe.
“ But there were certain animals which had no sense,
out of which were begotten intelligent animals, and were
called Zophesemin, that is, the spies or overseers of hea¬
ven ; and were formed alike in the shape of an egg. I bus
shone out Mot, the sun and the moon, the less and the
greater stars.
“ And the air shining thoroughly with light, by its fiery
influence on the sea and earth, winds were begotten, and
clouds and great defluxions of the heavenly waters. And,
when all these things first were parted, and were separated
from their proper place by the heat of the sun, then all met
again in the air, and dashed against one another, and weie
broken to pieces, whence thunders and liglitnings were made;
and at the stroke of these thunders the fore-mentioned
intelligent animals were awakened, and frighted with the
sound, and male and female stirred in the earth and in the
This is the generation of animals.”
sea.
After these things Sanchoniatho goes on to say, “ 1 hese
things are written in the Cosmogony of laautus, and in
his memoirs ; and out of the conjectures and surer natural
signs which his mind saw, and found out, and wherewith he
has enlightened us.”
Afterwards declaring the names of the winds north and
south, and the rest, he makes this epilogue: “ But these
first men consecrated the plants shooting out of the earth,
and judged them gods, and worshipped them ; upon whom
they themselves lived, and all their posterity and all before
them ; to these they made their meat and drink offerings.
Then he concludes : “ These were the devices of worship,
agreeing with the weakness and want of boluness in their
minds.”
Let us suppose Eusebius to have been as weak and cre¬
dulous as the darkest monk in the darkest age of Europe,
a supposition which no man will make who knows any thing
of the writings of that eminent historian, what could he see
in this senseless jargon, which even a dreaming monk would
think of employing in support of Christianity ? Eusebius
calls it, and calls it truly, direct atheism ; but could he ima¬
gine that an ancient system of atheism would contribute so
much to make the Pagans of his age admit as divine reve¬
lations the books of the Old and New Testaments, that he
should be induced to adopt, without examination, an impu¬
dent forgery, not two hundred years old, as genuine re¬
mains of the most remote antiquity ?
If this Phoenician cosmogony be a fabrication of Por¬
phyry, or of the pretended translator, it must surely have
been fabricated for some purpose ; but it is impossible for
us to conceive what purpose either of these wiiters could
have intended to serve by forging a system so extravagantly
absurd. Porphyry, though an enemy to the Christians, was
not an atheist, and would never have thought of making an
atheist of him whom he meant to obtrude upon the world
as the rival of Moses. His own principles were those of
the Alexandrian Platonists ; and had he been the forger of
the works which bear the name of Sanchoniatho, instead
of the incomprehensible jargon about dark wind, evening
chaos, Mot, the overseers of heaven in the shape of an egg,
and animation proceeding from the sound of thunder, we
should doubtless have been amused with reflned specula¬
tions concerning the operations of the Demiurgus and the
other persons in the Platonic Triad.
Father Simon of the oratory imagines,1 that the purpose ^
for which the history of Sanchoniatho was forged, was to
support Paganism, by taking from it its mythology and al¬
legories, which were perpetually objected to it by the Chris¬
tian writers. But this learned man totally mistakes the
matter. The primitive Christians were too much attached
to allegories themselves to rest their objections to Paganism
on such a foundation. What they objected to that system
was, the immoral stories told of the priests. To this the
pagan priests and philosophers replied, that these stories
were only mythological allegories, which veiled all the great
truths of theology, ethics, and physics. The Christians said
this could not be; for that the stories of the gods had a
substantial foundation in fact, these gods being only dead
men deified, who in life had like passions and infirmities
with other mortals. This, then, was the objection which
the forger of the works of Sanchoniatho had to remove, if
he really forged them in support of Paganism ; but instead
of doing so he gives the genealogy and history of all the
greater gods, and shows that they were men deified after
death for the exploits, some of them grossly immoral, which
they had performed in this world. We have elsewhere (see
Polytheism) given his account of the deification of Chry-
sos, and Ouranos, and Ge, and Hypsistos, and Muth.; but
our readers may not perhaps be ill pleased to accompany
him through the history of Ouranos and Kronus, two of his
greatest gods; whence it will appear how little his writings
are calculated to support the tottering cause of Paganism
against the objections which were then urged to it by the
Christian apologists.
“ Ouranos,” says he, “ taking the kingdom of his father,
married Ge, his sister, and by her had four sons ; Hus, who
is called Kronus; Betylus ; Dagon, who is Siton, or the god
of corn; and Atlas. But by other wives Ouranos had much
issue, wherefore Ge, being grieved at it and jealous, re¬
proached Ouranos, so as they parted from each other. But
Ouranos, though he parted from her, yet by force invading
her, and lying with her when he listed, went away again ;
and he also attempted to kill the children he had by her.
Ge also often defended or avenged herself, gathering auxi¬
liary powers unto her. But when Kronus came to man’s
age, using Hermes Trismegistus as his counsellor and as¬
sistant (for he was his secretary), he opposed his father
Ouranos, avenging his mother. But Kronus had children,
Persephone and Athena ; the former died a virgin, but by
the counsel of the latter Athena, and of Hermes, Kronus
made of iron a scimitar and a spear. Then Hermes, speak¬
ing to the assistants of Kronus with enchanting words,
wrought in them a keen desire to fight against Ouranos in
the behalf of Ge ; and thus Kronus, warring against Oura¬
nos, drove him out of his kingdom, and succeeded him in
the imperial power of office. In the fight was taken a well-
beloved concubine of Ouranos, big with child. Kronus
gave her in marriage to Dagon, and she brought forth at
his house what she had in her womb by Ouranos, and call¬
ed him Demaroon. After these things Kronus builds a wall
round about his house, and founds Byblus, the first city in
Phoenicia. Afterwards Kronus, suspecting his own brother
Atlas, with the advice of Hermes, throwing him into a deep
hole of the earth, there buried him, and having a son called
Sadid, he despatched him with his own sword, having a sus¬
picion of him, and deprived his own son of life with his own
hand. He also cut off the head of his own daughter, so
that all the gods were amazed at the mind of Kronus. But
in process of time, Ouranos, being in flight, or banishment,
sends his daughter Astarte, with two other sisters, Rhea and
Sancho
niatho.
1 Bib. Crii. vol. i. p. 140.
SAN
"iatr
■V
cho- Dione, to cut off Kronus by deceit, whom Kronus taking,
tk°- made wives of these sisters. Ouranos, understanding this,
''V'—"'sent Eimarmene and Hore, Fate and Beauty, with other
auxiliaries, to war against him ; but Kronus, having gained
the affections of these also, kept them with himself. More¬
over, the god Ouranos devised Baetulia, contriving stones
that moved as having life. But Kronus begat on Astarte
seven daughters called Titanides or Artemides ; and he be¬
gat on Rhea seven sons, the youngest of whom, as soon as
he was born, was consecrated a god. Also by Dione he
had daughters, and by Astarte, moreover, two sons, Pothos
and Eros, that is, Cupid and Love. But Dagon, after he
had found out bread-corn, and the plough, was called Zeus
Aratrius. To Sydyc, or the just, one of the Titanides bare
Asclepius. Kronus had also in Peraea three sons, first, Kro¬
nus, his father’s namesake; second, Zeus Belus ; and, third,
Apollo.”
Is it conceivable, that a writer so acute as Porphyry, or
indeed that any man of common sense, either in his age or
in that of Philo, would forge a book filled with such stories
as these, in order to remove the Christian objections to the
immoral characters of the Pagan divinities ? The very sup¬
position is impossible to be made. Nor let any one ima¬
gine that Sanchoniatho is here writing allegorically, and by
his tales of Ouranos, and Ge, and Kronus, is only personi¬
fying the heaven, the earth, and time. On the contrary,
he assures us, that Ouranos, or Epigeus, or Autochthon (for
he gives him all these names), was the son of one Eliaun or
Hypsistos, who dwelt about Byblus, and that from him the
element which is over us was called heaven, on account of
its excellent beauty, as the earth was named Ge after his
sister and wife. And his translator is very angry1 with the
Neotoric Greeks, as he calls them, because that, “ by a great
deal of force and straining, they laboured to turn all the
stories of the gods into allegories and physical discourses.”
This proves unanswerably that the author of this book,
whoever he was, did not mean to veil the great truths of
religion under the cloak of mythological allegories; and
therefore, if it was forged by Porphyry in support of Pa¬
ganism, the forger so far mistook the state of the question
between him and his adversaries, that he contrived a book,
which, if admitted to be ancient, totally overthrew his own
cause.
The next thing to be inquired into with respect to San¬
choniatho is his antiquity. Did he really live and write at
so early a period as Porphyry and Philo pretend ? We think
he did not; and what contributes not a little to confirm us
in our opinion, is that mark of national vanity and partiality,
common to after-times, in making the sacred mysteries of
his own country original, and conveyed from Phoenicia into
Egypt. This, however, furnishes an additional proof that
Porphyry was not the forger of the work ; for he well knew
that the mysteries had their origin in Egypt (see Mys¬
teries), and would not have fallen into such a blunder.
He is guilty, indeed, of a very great anachronism, when he
makes Sanchoniatho contemporary with Semiramis, and yet
pretends that what he writes of the Jews is compiled from
the records of Hierombalus the priest of the god Jao ; for
Bochart has made it appear in the highest degree probable,2
that Hierombalus or Jeromb-baal is the Jerub-baal or Gi¬
deon of Scripture.
Between the reign of Semiramis and the Trojan war a
period elapsed of near eight hundred years, whereas Gideon
fiourished not above seventy years before the destruction
of Troy. But supposing Sanchoniatho to have really con¬
sulted the records of Gideon, it by no means follows that
he flourished at the same period with that judge of Israel.
He speaks of the building of Tyre as an ancient thing,
while our best chronologers3 place it in the time of Gideon.
S A N 637
Indeed, were we certain that any writings had been left by Sancot
that holy man, we should be obliged to conclude, that a ^ II
large tiact of time had intervened between the death of
their author and their falling into the hands of Sanchonia- ' v  
tho ; for, surely, they could not, in a short period, have been
so completely corrupted as to give any countenance to his
impious absurdities. His atheistic cosmogony he does not
indeed pretend to have got from the annals of the priest of
Jao, but from records which were deposited in his own town
of Beiytus by I both, a Phoenician philosopher, who was
afterwards made king of Egypt. But surely the annals of
Gideon, if written by himself) and preserved pure to the
days of Sanchoniatho, must have contained so many truths
of the Mosaic religion, as must have prevented any man of
sense from adopting so impossible a theory as Thoth’s, al¬
though sanctioned by the greatest name of profane anti¬
quity. Stillingfleet indeed thinks it most probable that
Sanchoniatho became acquainted with the most remarkable
passages of the life of Jerub-baal from annals written by a
Phoenician pen. He observes, that immediately after the
death of Gideon, the Israelites, with their usual proneness
to idolatry, worshipped Baal-berith, or the idol of Berytus,
the town in which Sanchoniatho lived; and from this cir¬
cumstance he concludes, that there must have been such an
intercourse between the Hebrews and Berytians, that in pro¬
cess of time the latter people might assume to themselves
the Jerub-baal of the former, and hand down his actions to
posterity as those of a priest instead of a great commander.
All this may be true; but if so, it amounts to a demonstra¬
tion that the antiquity of Sanchoniatho is not so high by
many ages as that which is claimed for him by Philo and
Porphyry; though he may still be more ancient, as we think
Vossius has proved him to be, than any other profane his¬
torian whose writings have come down to us either entire
or in fragments.
But granting the authenticity of Sanchoniatho’s history,
what, it may be asked, is the value of his fragments, that
we should be at any trouble to ascertain whether they be
genuine remains of high antiquity, or the forgeries of a mo¬
dern impostor ? We answer, with the illustrious Stilling¬
fleet, that though these fragments contain such absurdities
as it would be a disgrace to reason to suppose credible,
though the whole cosmogony is the grossest sink of atheism,
and though many persons make a figure in the history,
whose very existence may well be doubted; yet we, who
have in our hands the light of divine revelation, may in this
dungeon discover many excellent relics of ancient tradition,
which throw no feeble light upon many passages of holy
scripture, as they give us the origin and progress of that
idolatry which was so long the opprobrium of human na¬
ture. ’ They furnish, too, a complete refutation of the extra¬
vagant chronology of the Chaldaeans and Egyptians, and
show, if they be genuine, that the world is indeed not older
than it is said to be by Moses.
SANCOT, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Se-
rinagur, situated in a well-cultivated and fertile country.
It is tributary to the Ghoorkali rajah of Nepaul. Many of
the inhabitants are affected with tumours in their neck.
SANCROFT, William, archbishop of Canterbury, was
born at Fresingfield in Suffolk in 1616, and admitted into
Emanuel College, Cambridge, in 1633. In 1642 he was
elected a fellow ; but was ejected from his fellowship for re¬
fusing to take the covenant. In 1660 he was chosen one of
the university preachers, and in 1663 was nominated to the
deanery of York. In 1664 he was installed dean of St Paul’s.
In this situation he set himself with unwearied diligence to
repair the cathedral, till the fire of London in 1666 em¬
ployed his thoughts on the more noble undertaking of re¬
building it, to which he gave L.1400. He also rebuilt the
1 A pud E-usebium, Prosp, Evang. lib. i. cap. vi.
* Geogr. Sac. p, 2, book ii. lib. ii. cap. xvii.
Scaliger.
633
SAN
Saud.
Sanctifica- deanery, and improved its revenue. In 1668 he was admit-
60tl ted archdeacon of Canterbury, upon the king’s presentation.
In 1677, being now prolocutor of the convocation, he was
, unexpectedly advanced to the archbishopric of Canterbury.
In 1687 he was committed to the Tower, with six other
bishops, for presenting a petition to the king against read¬
ing the declaration of indulgence. Upon King James II.’s
withdrawing himself, he concurred with the lords in a de¬
claration to the Prince of Orange for a free parliament, and
due indulgence to the Protestant dissenters. But when
that prince and his consort were declared king and queen,
his grace refused to take the oath to their majesties, and
was suspended and deprived. He lived in a very private
manner till his death, which took place in 1693. His learn¬
ing, integrity, and piety, made him an exalted ornament of
the church. He published a volume in 12mo, entitled Mo¬
dern Politics, taken from Machiavelli and other select au¬
thors; and also Familiar Letters to Mr North. Three of
his sermons were printed together after his death.
SANCTIFICATION, the act of sanctifying, or render¬
ing a thing holy. The reformed divines define sanctifica¬
tion to be an act of God’s grace, by which a person’s desires
and affections are alienated from the world; and by which
he is made to die to sin, and to live to righteousness, or, in
other words, to feel an abhorrence of all vice, and a love of
religion and virtue.
SANCTION, the authority given to a judicial act, by
which it becomes legal and authentic.
SANCTORIUS, or Sanctorio, an ingenious and learn¬
ed physician, was professor in the university of Padua in
the beginning of the seventeenth century. He contrived
a kind of statical chair, by means of which, after estimat¬
ing the aliments received, and the sensible discharges, he
was enabled to determine with great exactness the quan¬
tity of insensible perspiration, as well as what kind of vic¬
tuals and drink increased or diminished it. On these ex¬
periments he erected a curious system, which he published
under the title of De Medicina Statica, and which has been
translated into English by F)r Q-uincy. Sanctorius publish¬
ed several other treatises, which showed great abilities and
learning.
SANCTUARY, among the Jews, called also Sanctum
Sanctorum, or Holy of Holies, was the holiest and most re¬
tired part of the temple of Jerusalem, in which the ark of
the covenant was preserved, and into which none but the
high priest was allowed to enter, and that only once a \eai,
to intercede for the people.
Some distinguish the sanctuary from the Sanctum Sancto¬
rum, and maintain that the whole temple was called the
sanctuary.
To try and examine any thing by the weight of the sanc¬
tuary, is to examine it by a just and equal scale ; because
among the Jews it was the custom of the pxiests to keep
stone weights, to serve as standards for regulating all weights
by, though these were not at all different from the royal or
profane weights.
Sanctuary, in the Roman Catholic church, is also used
for that part of the church in which the altar is placed, being
encompassed with a rail or balustrade.
Sanctuary, according to our ancient customs, is the
same with asylum.
SAND, in Natural History, properly denotes small par¬
ticles of siliceous stones. Sands are subject to be various-
Iv blended with different substances, as that of talcs, &c.
Hence, as well as from their various colours, they are sub¬
divided into, 1. white sands, whether pure, or mixed with
other arenaceous or heterogeneous particles, of all w Inch
there are several kinds ; 2. the red and reddish sanas, both
pure and impure; 3. the yellow sands, whether pure oi
mixed, which are also very numerous; 4. the brown sands,
distinguished in the same manner; 5. the black sands, oi
SAN
which there are only two varieties, a fine shining grayish- Sar.d-st;
black sand, and another of a fine shining reddish-black co-
lour; and, 6. the green kind, of which there is only one ”
knowm species, namely, a coarse variegated dusky green
sand, common in Virginia.
Sand is of great use in the glass manufacture ; a white
kind of sand being employed for making the white glass,
and a coarse greenish-looking sand for the green glass. In
agriculture it seems to be the office of sand to render unc¬
tuous or clayey earths fertile, and fit to support vegetables,
by making them more open and loose.
S.iND-Stone, a compound stone, of which there are nu¬
merous varieties, arising not only from a difference of ex¬
ternal appearance, but also from the nature and proportions
of the constituent parts. See Geology and Mineralogy.
SAND A, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Sinde,
situated on the south bank of the Goonee river, which is
there a hundred yards broad, on the route from Hydera¬
bad, the capital of Sinde, to Luckput Bunder, and after¬
wards to Mandavee, on the Gulf of Cutch. Lat. 25. 6. N.
SANDAL, in Antiquity, a rich kind of slipper worn on
the feet by the Greek and Roman ladies. It was made of
gold, silk, or other precious stuff, and consisted of a sole,
with an hollow at one extreme to embrace the ancle, but
leaving the upper part of the foot bare.
Sandal is also used for a shoe or a slipper worn by the
pope and other Catholic prelates when they officiate. It is
likewise the name of a sort of slipper worn by several con¬
gregations of reformed monks. This last consists of no
more than a mere leathern sole, fastened with latches or
buckles, all the rest of the foot being left bare. The Ca¬
puchins wear sandals, and the Recollects clogs; the former
being of leather, and the latter of wood.
SANDANAH Cape, the point of the high land that
forms the north-eastern end of the island of Java, and the
northern entrance of Baly Straits, on the west and north¬
west side. Long. 114. 35. E. Lat. 7. 46. S.
SANDARLIE, a small place on the western coast of
Asia Minor, near the head of a bay called the Gulf of San-
darlie, fifty miles north-north-west of Smyrna.
SANDBACH, a market-town of the county of Chester,
in the hundred of Northwich, 162 miles from London. It
is situated on a small brook, which runs into the river Dane
and into the navigable canal. It has a fine large church
with a lofty tower, a good market which is held on Thurs¬
day, and is in a district of considerable fertility, celebrated
for the excellence of its malt liquor. The population amount¬
ed in 1801 to 1844, in 1811 to 2311, in 1821 to 2905, and
in 1831 to 3710.
SANDEC, a circle in the Austrian kingdom of Galhcia,
extending over 1147 square miles. It contains eight cities,
five market-towns, and 386 villages, with 198,750 inhabi¬
tants. The capital is the city of New Sandec, situated on
the river Dunajec, and contains 490 houses, with 3840 in¬
habitants.
SANDEL, or Sundana, Island, in the Eastern Seas,
about eighty miles in length, and from fifteen to thirty-six in
breadth. Long. 119. 33. to 120. E. Lat. 9. 35. to 10. 15. S.
SANDELWOOD Isle, an island in the Eastern Seas,
a hundred miles in length by thirty in average breadth. It
is situated to the south of the island of Flores, about the
tenth degree of north latitude.
SANDEMANIANS, in Ecclesiastical History, a sect
that originated in Scotland about the year 1728, and v\as
afterwards distinguished by the name of Glassites, from its
founder Mr John Glass, who was a minister of the estab¬
lished church of that kingdom. Being charged with a de¬
sign of subverting the national covenant, and sapping the
foundation of all national establishments by the kirk ju¬
dicatory, he was expelled by the synod from the Church ot
Scotland. But his sentiments are fully explained in a tract
SAN
ding
published at that time, entitled The Testimony of the Kino-
^ of Martyrs, and preserved in the first volume of his works’.
^ In consequence of Mr Glass’s expulsion, his adherents form¬
ed themselves into churches, conformable in their institution
and discipline to what they considered to be the plan of the
first churches, as recorded in the New Testament. Soon after
the year 1755, Mr Robert Sandeman, an elder in one of these
churches in Scotland, published a series of letters address¬
ed to Mr Hervey, occasioned by his Theron and Aspasio,
in which he endeavours to show that his notion of faith is
contradictory to the Scripture account of it, and could only
serve to lead men, professedly holding the doctrines com¬
monly called Calvinistic, to establish their own righteous¬
ness upon their inward feelings and various acts of faith. In
these letters Mr Sandeman attempts to prove that faith is
neither more nor less than a simple assent to the divine
testimony concerning Jesus Christ, recorded in the New
Testament; and he maintains, that the word faith, or be¬
lief, is constantly used by the apostles to signify what is de¬
noted by it in common discourse, namely, a persuasion of
the truth of any proposition, and that there is no difference
between believing any common testimony and believing
the apostolic testimony, except that which results from the
nature of the testimony itself. This led the way to a con¬
troversy among those who were called Calvinists, concern¬
ing the nature of justifying faith ; and those who adopted
Mr Sandeman’s notion of it, and who took the denomina¬
tion of Sandemanians, formed themselves into a church or¬
der, in strict fellowship with the churches in Scotland, but
holding no kind of communion with other churches. The
chief opinions and practices in which this sect differs from
other Christians are, their weekly administration of the
Lord’s Supper; their love-feasts, of which every member
is not only allowed but required to partake, and which con¬
sists in their dining together in the interval between the
morning and afternoon service; their kiss of charity used
on this occasion, at the admission of a new member, and at
other times when they deem it to be necessary or proper ;
their weekly collection before the Lord’s Supper for the
support of the poor, and defraying other expenses; mu¬
tual exhortation; abstinence from blood and from things
strangled; washing each other’s feet, the precept concerning
which, as well as other precepts, they understand literally;
community of goods, in so far as that every one is to con¬
sider all that he has in his possession and power as liable
to the calls of the poor and church ; and the unlawfulness
of laying up treasures on earth, by setting them apart for
any distant, future, and uncertain use. They allow of pub¬
lic and private diversions, so far as they are not connected
with circumstances really sinful; but apprehending a lot
to be sacred, they disapprove of playing at cards, dice, and
the like. Ihey maintain a plurality of elders, pastors, or
bishops, in each church ; and the necessity of the presence
of two elders in every act of discipline, and at the admi¬
nistration of the Lord’s Supper. In the choice of these
elders, want of learning and engagements in trade are not
a sufficient objection ; but second marriages disqualify for
the office; and they are ordained by prayer and fasting,
imposition of hands, and giving the right hand of fellow¬
ship. In their discipline they follow strictly what they con¬
sider to be the rules of Scripture, and think themselves
obliged to separate from the communion and worship of all
such religious societies as appear to them not to profess the
simple truth for their only ground of hope, and who do not
walk in obedience to it.
SANDING Isles, Pulo Sanding, or Sandiang, two
small islands, which are both inhabited, and are situated
off the south-west coast of Sumatra, near the south-eastern
extremity of the Nassau or Foggy Isles, in which group
they are sometimes included. They produce the wild nut¬
meg and some good timber.
SAN
639
Sandwich
Islands.
SAKDOMIR, one of the provinces into which the king- Sandomir
dom of Poland is divided. It extends in north latitude
from 50° 25' to 51° 52', and in east longitude from 1&° 43'
to^21° 52', consisting of 5590 square miles; and it contains
d78,000 inhabitants, mostly adhering to the Catholic church,
except the Jews, who form the majority in the towns. It
is a level district, situated on the left bank of the Vistula,
and bears the best white wheat, which brings the highest
price in the markets of Dantzig or of Odessa, to both of
which it is sent, as the prices are most favourable. This
province provides iron from its mines to the rest of the
kingdom. It is divided into four circles, and the capital is
Radom.
SANDPU, or Sanpoo, the vulgar name of a river in
the East Indies, which is one of the largest in the world.
It is better known by that of Brahmaputra, or Burram-
pooter, to which the reader is referred.
SANDWICH, a town of the county of Kent, in the hun¬
dred of Eastry, and lathe of St Augustine, sixty-eight miles
from London. It is situated on the river Stour, two miles from
its entrance into the sea. It was once accessible by ships, but
the sand has nearly choked the passage, though some plans
are at present in contemplation to improve it. It is one
of the Cinque Ports, and as such, is governed by a corpora¬
tion composed of a mayor, a recorder, twelve jurats, and
twenty-four common-council men, who have jurisdiction
over Deal, Fordwich, Ramsgate, Reculver, Sarre, Stower,
and Walmer. It was once fortified, and a portion of its
walls is still standing. Sandown Castle, a strong fortress
within the parish, commands the anchorage of the Downs. It
is rather a decayed town, but has a market on Wednesday
and Saturday. It returns two members to parliament, and
confers on the family of Montague the title of earl. The
population amounted in 1801 to 2452, in 1811 to 2735, in
1821 to 2912, and in 1831 to 3136.
Sandwich, an island in the Eastern Seas, opposite to
the island of New Ireland. It is covered with trees, and
its general appearance is picturesque and pleasing. Long,
of the most westerly point 50. 54. 15. E. Lat. 2. 59. 26. S.
Sandwich Islands. These islands, which are situated
in the Pacific Ocean, are eleven in number. They were
discovered by Captain Cook and Captain King in the year
1778, and have been subsequently visited by Vancouver,
Meares, Turnbull, and various other navigators. These
islands received their name from the Earl of Sandwich,
during whose administration they were discovered. In
their climate they resemble the West India islands, which
lie in the same latitude, although, on the whole, the tem¬
perature is more moderate; nor are they subject to the
dreadful hurricanes which desolate the West India Islands.
The thermometer during the day never rises higher than
88°, but its mean height at noon is about 83°. There
is a constant land and sea breeze every night. The vege¬
table productions differ little from those in the rest of the
South Sea islands. The bread-fruit thrives, the sugar-canes
are of unusual size, and large vegetable roots are produced,
shaped like a yam, and from six to eight pounds in weight,
which yield a juice that wasfoundtobe an excellent substitute
for sugar. These islands are evidently peopled by the same
race which is found in the islands of New Zealand, the So¬
ciety and Friendly Islands, and the Marquesas ; a race that
possesses, without any intermixture, all the known lands
between the latitudes of 47° south and 20° north, and be¬
tween the longitudes of 184° and 260° east. The natives
are in general above the middle size, graceful in all their
movements, and capable of bearing great fatigue. They
are of a much darker complexion than the Otaheitans, and
are altogether an inferior people, though many have fine
open countenances, and a number of the women have a
sweetness and sensibility which renders them very engag¬
ing. They are distinguished from Europeans by one pecu-
640
S AN
SAN
Sandy
Sandy De¬
sert.
liarity, namely, a fulness of the nostril, without any flat¬
ness or spreading of the nose. They are praised by Cap¬
tain King for their mild and affectionate dispositions; yet
, it is difficult to reconcile such dispositions with the habits
of savage life, which are always ferocious and cruel. Hu¬
manity, mildness, and all the gentler sympathies of the
human heart, are fostered by civilization. They are the re¬
sult of cultivation, and not the spontaneous produce of the
human heart; and, accordingly, they come to no maturity
in the adverse soil of barbarism. Besides, they are inferi¬
or to the other islanders in that sure test of humanity,
namely, respect for women. It has even been suspected,
though no positive evidence of the fact has been found, that
they are or have been in the practice of eating the bodies
of their enemies ; and it is well known, that the sacrificing
of human victims was commonly practised among them,
which is certainly no index of any mildness in their man¬
ners ; and the same ferocious spirit is indicated by their
wearing, as ornaments the most precious and invaluable,
which are handed down as a sort of heir-looms in families,
the bones of their enemies slain in battle, which are fashion¬
ed into various forms. Their natural capacity when they
were first visited by Europeans was found to be good ; they
had made some improvements in agriculture and manufac¬
tures ; and the eager curiosity with which they attended the
armourer’s forge, and the many expedients they invented for
working the iron procured from Europeans, afforded strong
proofs of their docility and their ingenuity. They had, how¬
ever, all the peculiar customs of the most savage nations,
and are still in the practice, along with all the other inha¬
bitants of these islands, notwithstanding the example and
exhortations of the missionaries settled among them, of ta-
tooing their bodies, and also their face, which is peculiar to^
them and to the New Zealanders. The common dress of
all ranks of people consists only of a piece of thick cloth
ten or twelve inches broad, which they pass between the
legs and tie round the waist. They have another dress
appropriated to ceremonial occasions, which consists of a
feathered cloak and helmet, and which is remarkable for
its beauty and magnificence, and is reserved chiefly for
persons off high rank. The common people chiefly subsist
on fish and vegetables, such as yams, sweet potatoes, ta-
mow, plantains, sugar-canes, and bread. To these the
people of a higher rank add the flesh of hogs and dogs,
dressed in the same manner as at the Society Islands.
They also eat fowls. For further particulars, and a more
full account of these islands, see Polynesia.
SANDY, a town of Hindustan, in the district of Khyra-
bad, belonging to the nabob of Oude, situated in a bleak
and desolate country, without a tree or a shrub to shade
the arid soil. In the vicinity is an extensive lake. Sandy
is twenty-five miles south-east from Furruckabad. Long.
70. 58. E. Lat. 27. 18. N.
Sandy Desert, an extensive tract in Hindustan, so nam¬
ed in the maps, bounded on the south by the province of
Cutch, on the east by that of Gujerat, on the west by Sinde,
and on the north by Ajmeer. This region is but little known
to Europeans ; but, from the accounts of those by whom it
has been traversed, it does not appear to be such a uniform
and barren wilderness as it has been represented, being inter¬
spersed with many fertile spots, the seats of petty chiefships
or stationary tribes. The most powerful of these chiefs are
the Beloochee Kosahs, who settled in the country a good
many years ago, and are a race ot sanguinary thieves, who
infest the district of Parkur, and extend their ravages to
the Joudpour territories. They amount to about 12,000.
They disown all allegiance to any superior, subsisting by
their horses and their swords, and hiring out their ser¬
vices to the different predatory chieftains. The only pro¬
duce of this tract is a coarse species of grain, which only
grows where the sandy soil is a little mixed with clay. W a-
ter-melons grow abundantly and in great perfection through¬
out the whole of this parched region, and furnish a most
grateful refreshment. The river Loonee, which comes from
Marwar, runs through the Gurrah district, and is said to ^
fall into the Run, which bounds Cutch to the north. The
route across this tract of country from Rahdunpore is fifty
coss, and is said to be good the whole way. Thirty coss
west from Pareenuggur is situated Islamnaggur. The in¬
tervening country consists of sand-hills, in traversing which
the traveller is exposed to great hardship from the heat, the
glare, and the want of water. All over this sandy tract are
to be found scattered jungle, and coarse vegetation of dif¬
ferent sorts, which supply the cattle with food. Islamnaggur
is described as a strong fort, situated in the desert, and des¬
titute of water without the walls. The country north from
Parkur, towards Amercote, is called Dhat, and the distance
is eighty coss. The country is of the same character as that
already described, being composed of sand-hills and jungle,
with occasional wells. In many parts there is no cultiva¬
tion, and the inhabitants subsist on the produce of their nu¬
merous flocks of cattle, and camels. The natives are de¬
scribed as pacifically inclined, possessing few horses, and
armed with swords only. It was in this tract that the army
of the celebrated Mahmoud of Ghizni was nearly lost.
Sandy Island, a small island near the west coast of Su¬
matra. Long. 100. 18. E. Lat. 1. 50. S. It is another in
the Eastern Seas. Long. 112.48. E. Lat. 10. 40. N. Also
a small island in the Chinese Sea, near the coast of Cochin
China. Long. 109. 12. E. Lat. 12. 28. N.
SANDYS, Sir Edwin, second son of Dr Edwin Sandys,
archbishop of York, was born about 1561, and educated at
Oxford under Mr Richard Hooker, author of the Ecclesi¬
astical Polity. In 1581 he was collated to a prebend in the
cathedral of York. He travelled into foreign countries;
and, upon his return, became famous for learning, prudence,
and virtue. While he was at Paris, he drew up a tract,
published under the title of Europce Speculum. In 1602,
he resigned his prebend; and the year following he was
knighted by King James I., who employed him in several
important affairs. He was dexterous in any great employ¬
ment, and a good friend and patriot. Opposing the court,
however, with vigour in the parliament in 1621, he, with Mr
Selden, was committed to custody for a month. He died in
1629, having bequeathed L.1500 to the university of Ox¬
ford, for the endowment of a metaphysical lecture.
Sandys, George, brother of Sir Edwin, and youngest son
of Archbishop Sandys, was born in 1577. He was a very
accomplished man, travelled over several parts of Europe
and the East, and published a relation of his journey in folio
in 1615. He made an elegant translation of Ovid’s Meta¬
morphoses ; and composed some poetical pieces of his own,
which were greatly admired at the time in which they were
written. He also paraphrased the Psalms; and has left
behind him a translation, with notes, of one Sacred Drama,
written originally by Grotius, under the title of Christus
Patiens, on which, with Adamus Exul, and Masenius, is
founded Lauder’s impudent charge of plagiarism against
Milton. Our author became one of the privy chamber to
Charles I., and died in 1643.
S ANGA, a regularly-built seaport of Japan, in the island
of Ximo, with wide streets, and defended by a citadel. It is
forty miles north-east of Nangasaki.
SANGAMSERE, a small town of Hindustan, in the pro¬
vince of Bejapore, and district of the Concan, situated on
the banks of the Jaigur river. Long. 73. 15. E. Lat. 17.
11. N.
SANGANEER, a town of Hindustan, in the province
of Ajmeer, and district of Kotah, fortified by a strong stone¬
wall and ditch, and garrisoned by the troops of the rajah oi
Kotah. It is situated on the Upper Chumbul river.
SANGAR, a town of Hindustan, in the province o.
Sandy
land.
Sangar
SAN
Malwah, situated on a plain surrounded by a range of low
II . hills. Long. 78. 50. E. Lat. 23. 50. N.
iiedrira. gANGARA, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
'"v""",'Nandere, belonging to the nizam. It is situated at the
junction of the Manzora with the river Godavery, forty-
three miles from the town of Nandere. Long. 78. 12. E.
Lat. 18.49. N.
SANGBARAH, a town of Hindustan, tributary to the
Mahrattas, in the province of Gujerat, 112 miles north-west
from Ahmedabad. Long. 74. 13. E. Lat. 23. 37. N.
SANGIR, an island in the Eastern Seas, thirty miles in
length by ten in average breadth. It is high land, well
wooded, and the coast has better harbours, and is less dan¬
gerous from hidden rocks and shoals, than most of the east¬
ern islands. The country is populous, and affords refresh¬
ments of various kinds to ships, such as bullocks, hogs, goats,
and poultry. Cocoa-nut oil is exported, and spices are also
procured. About the middle of the west coast of the island
is the town, bay, and harbour of Taroona. This island was
formerly under the dominion of the Dutch, who had a small
garrison here. It is situated between the 3d and 4th de¬
grees of north latitude, and the 125th and 126th degrees of
east longitude. The population is estimated at 12,000.
SANGUR, a town and fortress of Hindustan, in the
province of Allahabad, and district of Bundelcund. It is
tributary to the Mahrattas. It is a hundred miles south-west
from Chatterpoor. Long. 78. 50. E. Lat. 23. 50. N.
SANHEDRIM, or Sanhedrin, from the Greek word
2ui/edgiov, which signifies a council or assembly of persons
sitting together, was the name by which the Jews called
the great council of the nation, assembled in an apartment
of the temple of Jerusalem to determine the most import¬
ant affairs of their church and state. This council consist¬
ed of seventy senators. The room they met in was a ro¬
tunda, half of which was built without the temple, and half
within; that is, one semicircle was within the compass of
the temple, the other semicircle was built without, for the
senators to sit in, it being unlawful for any one to sit down
in the temple. The Nasi, or prince of the sanhedrim, sat
upon a throne at the end of the hall, having his deputy at
his right hand, and his sub-deputy at his left. The other
senators were ranged in order on each side.
The rabbin pretend, tha't the sanhedrim has alwrays sub¬
sisted in their nation from the time of Moses down to the
destruction of the temple by the Romans. They date the
establishment of it from what happened in the wilderness,
some time after the people departed from Sinai, in the year
of the world 2514. Moses, being discouraged by the con¬
tinual murmurings of the Israelites, addressed himself to
God, and desired to be relieved at least from some part of
the burden of the government. Then the Lord said to him,
“ Gather unto me seventy men of the elders of Israel, whom
thou knowest to be the elders of the people, and officers over
them ; and bring them unto the tabernacle of the congre¬
gation, that they may stand there with thee : And I will,
come down and talk with thee there ; and I will take of the
spirit which is upon thee, and will put it upon them ; and
they shall bear the burden of the people with thee, that
thou bear it not thyself alone.” The Lord, therefore, pour¬
ed out his spirit upon these men, who began at that time
to prophesy, and have not ceased ever since. The sanhedrim
wras composed of seventy counsellors, or rather seventy-
two, being six out of each tribe ; and Moses, as president,
made up the number to seventy-three. To prove the un¬
interrupted succession of the judges of the sanhedrim, there
is nothing unattempted by the partisans of this opinion.
They find a proof where others cannot so much as perceive
any appearance or shadow of it. GrotiuSf may be consulted
in many places of his commentaries, and in his first book
Dejure belli etpacis (c. iii. art. 20), and Selden De Synedriis
veterum Hebrceorum ; also Calmet’s Dissertation concern-
VOL. XIX.
SAN 641
ing the Polity of the ancient Hebrews, printed before his Sanhedrim.
Commentary upon the Book of Numbers. ' -■ y'"'"—'
As to the personal qualifications of the judges of this
bench, their birth was to be untainted. They were often
taken from the race of the priests or Levites, or out of the
number of the inferior judges, or from the lesser sanhedrim,
which consisted only of twenty-three judges. They were
to be skilful in the law, as well traditional as written. They
were obliged to study magic, divination, fortune-telling,
physic, astrology, arithmetic, and languages. The Jews
say they were to know to the number of seventy tongues;
that is, they were to know all the tongues, for the Hebrews
acknowledged but seventy in all, and perhaps this is too
great a number. Eunuchs were excluded from the sanhe¬
drim because of their cruelty, usurers, decrepid persons,
players at games of chance, such as had any bodily defor¬
mities, those that had brought up pigeons to decoy others
to their pigeon-houses, and those that made a gain of their
fruits in the sabbatical year. Some also exclude the high
priest and the king, because of their power; but others will
have it that the kings always presided in the sanhedrim
whilst there were any kings in Israel. Lastly, it was re¬
quired that the members of the sanhedrim should be of a ma¬
ture age, of a handsome person, and of considerable fortune.
We speak now according to the notions of the rabbin, with¬
out pretending to warrant their opinions.
The authority of the great sanhedrim was very extensive.
This council decided such causes as were brought before it
by way of appeal from the inferior courts. The king, the
high priest, and the prophets, were under its jurisdiction.
If the king offended against the law, for example, if he
married above eighteen wives, if he kept too many horses,
if he hoarded up too much gold and silver, the sanhedrim
had him stripped and whipped in their presence. But whip¬
ping, they say, among the Hebrews was not at all ignomi¬
nious ; and the king bore this correction by way of penance,
and himself made choice of the person that was to exercise
this discipline over him. The general affairs of the nation
were also brought before the sanhedrim. The right of
judging in capital cases belonged to this court, and the sen¬
tence could not be pronounced in any other place, but in
the hall called Laschat haggazith, or the hall paved with
stones, supposed by some to be the A/tWrg&jros, or pavement,
mentioned in John xix. 13. Hence it came to pass, that
the Jews were forced to quit this hall when the power of
life and death was taken out of their hands, forty years be¬
fore the destruction of their temple, and three years before
the death of Jesus Christ. In the time of Moses this coun¬
cil was held at the door of the tabernacle of the testimony.
As soon as the people were in possession of the land of pro¬
mise, the sandhedrim followed the tabernacle. It was kept
successively at Gilgal, at Shiloh, at Kirjath-jearim, at Nob,
at Gibeon in the house of Obed-edom; and, lastly, it was
settled at Jerusalem until the Babylonish captivity. During
the captivity it was kept up at Babylon. After the return
from Babylon, it continued at Jerusalem until the time of
the Sicarii or Assassins. Then finding that these profligate
wretches, whose number increased every day, sometimes es¬
caped punishment by favour of the president or judges, it
was removed to Hanoth, which were certain abodes situ¬
ated, as the rabbin tell us, upon the mountain of the temple.
From thence they came down into the city of Jerusalem,
withdrawing themselves by degrees from the temple. Af¬
terwards they removed to Jamia, thence to Jericho, to Uz-
zah, to Sepharvaim, to Bethsanim, to Sephoris, last of all to
Tiberias, where they continued till the time of their utter
extinction. And this is the account the Jews themselves
give us of the sanhedrim.
But the learned do not agree with them in all this. Father
Petau fixes the beginning of the sanhedrim not till Gabinius
was governor of Judaea, who, according to Josephus, erect-
4 M
642 SAN
Sanjore ed tribunals in the five principal cities of Judaea; at Jeru-
II salem, at Gadara, at Amathus, at Jericho, and at Sephora
Sannaza- or gep}lorjS) a city of Galilee. Grotius places the origin of
x _.1U*S'_L , the sanhedrim under Moses, as the rabbin do ; but he makes
it terminate at the beginning of Herod’s reign. Mr Basnage
at first thought that the sanhedrim began under Gabinius;
but afterwards he places it under Judas Maccabaeus, or un¬
der his brother Jonathan. We see, indeed, under Jonathan
Maccabaeus, in the year 3860, that the senate along with the
high priest sent an embassy to the Romans. The rabbin say,
that Alexander Jannaeus, king of the Jews, of the race of
the Asmonaeans, appeared before the sanhedrim, and claimed
a right of sitting there, whether the senators would or not.
Josephus informs us, that when Herod was but yet gover¬
nor of Galilee, he was summoned before the senate, where
he appeared. It must be therefore acknowledged that the
sanhedrim was in being before the reign of Herod. It was
in being afterwards, as we find from the Gospel and from
the Acts. Jesus Christ in St Matthew (v. 22) distinguishes
two tribunals. “ Whosoever is angry with his brother with¬
out a cause shall be in danger of the judgmentthis, they
say, is the tribunal of the twenty-three judges. “ And
whosoever shall say to his brother Raca, shall be in danger
of the councilthat is, of the great sanhedrim, which had
the right of life and death, at least generally, and before
this right was taken away by the Romans. Some think that
the jurisdiction of the council of twenty-three extended to
life and death also ; but it is certain that the sanhedrim was
superior to this council.1
From all this it may be concluded, that the origin of the
sanhedrim is involved in uncertainty; for the council of the
seventy elders established by Moses was not what the He¬
brews understand by the name of sanhedrim. Besides, we
cannot perceive that this establishment subsisted either un¬
der Joshua, the judges, or the kings. We find nothing of
it after the captivity till the time of Jonathan Maccabaeus.
The tribunals erected by Gabinius were very dilferent from
the sanhedrim, which was the supreme court of judicature,
and fixed at Jerusalem, whereas Gabinins established five
at five different cities. Lastly, it is certain that this senate
was in being in the time of Jesus Christ; but the Jews
themselves inform us that they had then no longer the power
of life and death (John, xviii. 31).
SANJORE, a Rajpoot town of Hindustan, in the province
of Ajmeer and district of Saroway, situated on the east side
of the river Bah, 115 miles west-south-west from Odeypoor.
It is surrounded with the Beloochee plunderers, so that the
road to it is impassable without a large escort. It is sub¬
ject to the rajah of Joudpoor, who keeps a garrison stationed
in it. It is 115 miles west-south-wrest from Odeypoor. Long.
72. 16. E. Lat. 25. 3. N.
SANKAN, a town of Arabia, in the province of Yemen,
near the coast of the Red Sea, thirty-five miles north-north-
west of Abu-Arisch.
SANNAZARIUS, James, acelebi'ated Latin and Italian
poet, born at Naples in 1458. He by his wit ingratiated
himself into the favour of King Frederick ; and when that
prince was dethroned, he attended him into France, where
he staid with him until his death, which happened in 1504.
Sannazarius then returned into Italy, where he applied him¬
self to polite literature, particularly to Latin and Italian
poetry. His gay and facetious humour made him be sought
for by all companies; but he was so afflicted at the news
that Phillibert prince of Orange, general of the emperor’s
army, had demolished his country-house, that it threwr him
into an illness, of which he died in the year 1530. It is
said that, being informed a few days before his death,
that the Prince of Orange was killed in battle, he called
SAN
tharinaj
out, “ I shall die contented, since Mars has punished this Sanok:
barbarous enemy of the Muses.” He wrote a great num¬
ber of Italian and Latin poems. Among those in Latin, his
De Partu Virginis and Eclogues are chiefly esteemed; and
the most celebrated of his Italian pieces is his Arcadia.
SANOK, a circle of the Austrian kingdom of Gallicia,
extending over 2151 square miles, containing ten cities, ten
market-towns, and 431 villages, with 230,600 inhabitants.
The capital is the city of the same name, situated on the
river San. It is a poor place, with but little trade, contain¬
ing a castle, and 220 houses, with 1640 inhabitants. Long.
22. 7. E. Lat. 49. 31. 5. N.
i SANQ.UHAR, a royal burgh in Scotland, on the left
bank of the Nith, between the counties of Dumfries and Ayr.
The town most probably owes its origin to a castle of some
note, the ruins of which are still extant, on a high bank
overlooking the river Nith. This castle was the chief resi¬
dence of the Queensberry family, before William, the first
duke, built the noble mansion of Drumlanrig. It is a place
of little trade. The population in 1831 was 1527. It is one
of the district of burghs which jointly with Dumfries sends
a member to parliament.
SANTA Catalina, one of the Solomon Islands, in long.
162. 31. 30. E. and lat. 10. 53. 50. S.
Santa Catharina, a province of Brazil, comprehend¬
ing the island of the same name, and a territory of sixty
leagues in length from north to south on the neighbouring
continent, reckoning from the Sahy Grande, which separates
it from St Paulo on the north, to the Mampituba, which
divides it from Rio Grande on the south. On the west, the
heads of the Cordillera divide it from the same provinces,
its greatest width not exceeding twenty leagues. The above
limits include a territory extending from 25° 50' to 29° 20'
of south latitude. On the continent, four miles south-east of
the capital, stands the town of San Jose, the inhabitants of
which are principally occupied in sawing timber into planks,
making bricks, and growing rice. To the north of this town
the shores are studded with houses, pleasantly situated amid
bananarias, orangeries, and plantations of rice, coffee, and
mandioca. Nine leagues from San Jose is the village of Ar-
macao, situated at the extremity of the Bay of St Miguel.
It is a fishing station for whales, which were formerly very
numerous on the coast, and in the bays that indent it.
The conveniencies for the manufacture of oil are extensive
and well contrived, and all the fish on the coast are brought
to this quarter. Beyond the point of Armaqao is that of
Dos Ganchos, forming the southern extremity of the spa¬
cious Bay of Tejuco or Tejucas, into which a river of the
same name, fifty fathoms wide, discharges itself. Ten leagues
north of this place is the fine capacious harbour of Gua-
roupas, with its handsome town. Further northward is the
Bay of St Francisco, in which there is an island with a
town, both of the same name. The harbour is fine, and
has three entrances, defended by forts. Ship-building is
carried on at this place to some extent; the cutting of the
fine timber in the neighbourhood, and other labours con¬
nected with this art, being the chief occupation of the in¬
habitants, who may amount to about two thousand. The
largest continental town in the province is Laguna, prettily
situated upon the eastern margin of the lake from which it
derives its name, two miles from the bar, and sixty miles
south of Desterro. In the months of November, and De¬
cember particularly, a prodigious quantity of a long fishj
with a forked tail, called bagre, enter the lake, supply¬
ing a lucrative branch of commerce. This place contains
four thousand inhabitants. Fifteen miles north of Laguna
is Villa Nova, or Santa Anna, situated on an elevation near
the northern extremity of the same lake. More flax is ma-
1 See also Mark, xiii. 9, xiv. 55, xv. 1; Luke. xxii. 52, 66; John, xi. 47; Acts, iv. 15, vl 21; where mention is made of the synedrion
or sannedrim.
SAN
f Sa Craz nufactured here than in any other part of the province.
^ lr r The other towns or villages of Santa Catharina are small
d ota.and iittle imP°rtance- In 1812 the population, accord-
% . .. ing to Cazal, was 31,530; but it has greatly increased.
The province is divided into seven parishes, three of which
are situated on the island of Santa Catharina, and four on
the continent. The whole are included within the see of
Eio de Janeiro. For a description of the island of Santa
Catharina, see the article Catherine, St.
Santa Cruz, or St Croix, a small and unhealthy island,
situated in about sixty-four degrees west longitude and
eighteen north latitude. In 1643 it was inhabited by the
Dutch and the English, who soon became enemies to each
other; and in 1650 they were both driven out by twelve hun¬
dred Spaniards, who arrived there in five ships. The triumph
of these lasted but a few months. The remains of that nu¬
merous body, which were left for the defence of the island,
surrendered without resistance to a hundred and sixty
French, who had embarked, in the year 1651, from St Chris¬
topher’s, to make themselves masters of the island. It con¬
tinued without inhabitants and without cultivation till 1733,
when it was sold by France to Denmark for L.30,750. Soon
afterwards the Danes built there the fortress of Christian-
stadt. It was then that this northern power seemed likely to
take deep root in America; but, unfortunately, she laid her
plantations under the yoke of exclusive privileges. Indus¬
trious people of all sects, particularly Moravians, strove in
vain to overcome this great difficulty. Many attempts were
made to reconcile the interests of the colonists and their op¬
pressors, but without success. The two parties kept up a
continual struggle of animosity, and not of industry. At
length the government purchased, in 1754, the privileges and
effects of the company. The price was fixed at L.412,500 ;
and the navigation of the islands opened to all the subjects
of the Danish dominions. It is the most valuable of the
Danish possessions in the West Indies. The soil is fertile
and well cultivated, and the principal productions are sugar,
rum, and coffee. It is about eighty-one square miles in
extent, and contains about 37,000 inhabitants, of whom 3000
are whites, 1200 free blacks and mulattoes, and the remain¬
der slaves.
Santa Cruz, a small island among the Philippines, near
the south coast of Luzon. Long. 121. 52. E. Lat. 13. 42.
N. Also an island near the south-west coast of Mindanao.
Long. 122. 12. E. Lat. 6. 40. N.
Santa Fe, a city of Spain, on the plains of Granada, and
in the province of Andalusia. When, under Ferdinand and
Isabella, the court of Spain determined to reduce to the
Christian dominion the last refuge of the Moors in the city
of Granada, as the siege was likely to be very protracted,
this city was founded near it, as the head-quarters of the
Catholic forces. It is in a fine situation, surrounded by the
best cultivation, and enjoying the best soil in Spain, per¬
haps in the world; and its powers of irrigation are always
greater in proportion to the heat of the weather, as the wa¬
ters are supplied from the melting of the snows on the sum¬
mit of the Sierra Nevada. This city has been frequently
injured by earthquakes, which have at times almost destroy¬
ed its edifices. One in 1807 was especially destructive1;
but, from the richness of the soil, it has speedily risen from
its ruins, and been as flourishing as before the visitation.
It is said that a narrow strip of land, extending the whole
distance across the plain, and on one part of which this city
is built, is periodically subject to this calamity, which, how¬
ever the inhabitants may dread it, has not power to drive
them from it. Near to this place is the residence and estate
granted by the Spanish government to the Duke of W el-
lingten for his services during the war. It is called the
Sota de Roma, and is finely situated.
Santa Fe de Bogota, a town of South America, and
capital of New Granada, is situated at the foot of a steep
SAN
643
mountain, at the entrance of a vast plain. It is the resi¬
dence of a viceroy and an archbishop, and the seat of an
audiencia and a university, and contains magnificent houses,
five bridges, and thirty thousand inhabitants. The air is
constantly temperate. The wheat of Europe and the sesame
of Asia produce abundant crops, and at all seasons. The
plateau on which the town of Santa Fe de Bogota is situated
bears a resemblance in several respects to that which en¬
closes the Mexican lakes. They are both more elevated
than the convent of St Bernard, the former being 8190, the
latter 7008 feet above the level of the sea. Long. 74.10. W.
Lat. 4. 35. N.
SANTANDER, a city of Spain, in the province of Old
Castille. It is situated on the northern coast, on the Bay of
Biscay, and i$ one of the best ports on that shore. It car¬
ries on considerable commerce in fine wools, and imports
large quantities of the salted fish of Newfoundland. The
commerce with the interior has induced the construction of
a good road to Reynosa, in spite of the rocks and quag¬
mires which intervene. It is the see of a bishop, and has an
ancient cathedral and several richly adorned churches. It
is in north latitude 43. 28. 20. and west longitude 3. 5. 6.
from London. It contains 10,000 inhabitants, one sugar
refinery, some breweries, founderies, a royal one for anchors,
and several tanneries.
SANT All EM, a city of Portugal, in the province of
Estremadura. It is situated on a hill, which is washed by
the river Tagus, and from it, such is the gradual declivity of
the country, that the towers of Lisbon, though at fifty miles
distance, are visible through the translucent atmosphere.
The prospects from the heights above the city, either up or
down the river, are enchanting. The place contains about
eight thousand inhabitants, who, with the exception of a
numerous body of ecclesiastics, are by no means rich. The
number of churches and other religious houses is out of all
proportion to the number of the inhabitants, there being
thirteen churches and fourteen convents, besides places for
divine worship in several of the hospitals. Great part of the
town is in ruins ; and though no place may be kept clean
at less expense, it is excessively filthy, both in its streets
and its houses. Some parts of the country about the city are
highly fertile, and yield abundant crops of grapes, olives,
maize, and some wheat. It was long the station of a part
of the British army during the late contest, and it was se¬
veral times occupied by the French.
SANTEUIL, or Santeul, Jean Baptiste de, an ex¬
cellent Latin poet, was born at Paris in the year 1630. Hav¬
ing finished his studies, he applied himself entirely to poetry,
and celebrated in his verse the praises of several great men,
by which he acquired universal applause. He enriched
Paris with a great number of inscriptions, which are to be
seen on the public fountains and the monuments consecrat¬
ed to posterity. At length, some new hymns being to be
composed for the Breviary of Paris, Claud Santeuil his
brother, and M. Bossuet, persuaded him to undertake that
work ; and he succeeded in it with the greatest applause.
On this the order of Clugny having desired him to compose
some for their Breviary, he complied with their request; and
that order, out of gratitude, granted him letters of filiation,
with an annual pension. Santeuil was caressed by all the
learned men of his time, and had as his admirers the two
princes of Conde, father and son, from whom he fiequently
received favours. Louis XIV. also gave him a proof of his
esteem, by bestowing upon him a pension. He attended
the Duke of Bourbon to Dijon, when that prince went
thither in order to hold the states of Burgundy, and died
there in 1697, as he was preparing to return to Paris. Be¬
sides his Latin hymns, he wrote a great number of Latin
poems, which have all the marks of genius discoverable in
the works of true poets.
SANTIAGO, a large city of Spain, in the province of
Santander
II
Santiago.
644 SAN
Santiago Galicia, of which it is the capital. It is about six leagues
.11 from the sea, on a little river not navigable, called the Sar,
Santipontc. unjtes with another called the San eta, and then flows
into the Ulla, and joins the river Arosa, which has at its
entrance to the ocean some secure harbours for small ves¬
sels. This is an archiepiscopal city, and is one of the most
richly endowed of all the cathedrals of the kingdom. In
former times this church was the resort of pilgrims from
every part of Spain, and a great part of the rest of Europe.
The votive offerings have therefore been prodigious, and
though the veneration for the shrine of St lago has been
on the decline for many years, yet the accumulation of past
periods now serves to keep in idleness, if not in profligacy,
a great number of ecclesiastics. The city contains a uni¬
versity of considerable celebrity, a very large and well-re¬
gulated hospital, and several smaller ones, besides other
sumptuous public edifices. It contains about 25,000 inha¬
bitants, the greater part of whom depend on the religious
houses, especially some thousands of poor, who are not dis¬
posed to work, because the donations in food and in money
from the different pious establishments are sufficient to keep
them alive, and allow them to indulge in their habitual
indolence. There are indeed some few manufactories of
linens, laces, and tapes; they languish, however, and give
employment but to very few. The surrounding country is
cold and sterile, and therefore the donations of the pious
are expended in obtaining necessaries from the more dis¬
tant parts of the province.
Santiago, or St Jago, the capital of the republic of
Chili, in South America, is delightfully situated in an ex¬
tensive plain on the southern shore of the river Mapocho,
on each side of which large mounds of stone have been
raised as a security against inundation. On the opposite
side of the river lie the suburbs of Chimba, Cannadilla,
and Renca, which are connected with the city by means
of a beautiful bridge. The streets are straight, wide, well
paved, and cross each other at right angles, which divides
the city into quadras or solid squares. Water is conveyed
from the river by means of aqueducts, which not only sup¬
ply the inhabitants, but, running through the streets, keep
the town very clean. The houses are flat-roofed, of one
story, and, being white-washed, give the town a very gay
appearance. They are built in a quadrangular form, and
all the rooms may be entered from a square court in the
middle, or from doors of communication from one to the
other. The entrance from the street is by a broad porch,
on either side of which are stables, &c. The great square
is 450 feet on each side, in the middle of which there is a
fine bronze fountain. The north side is occupied by the
directorial palace, a splendid building, having the city pri¬
son under the same roof. On the western side are the ca¬
thedral, and a mean-looking palace of the bishop. The most
remarkable edifices are the cathedral, the church of St Do¬
minick, the great college, which formerly belonged to the
Jesuits, and the town-hall. The mint is situated in an
obscure part of the town. Being the centre of the com¬
merce of Chili, it abounds with all sorts of provisions, which
are very cheap. The inhabitants are gay, hospitable, more
inclined to hold intercourse with strangers, and less bigoted,
than their countrymen generally are. The population is
about 45,000. It is thirty leagues distant from the Pacific
Ocean, seven from the Andes, and fifty-five miles east-
south-east from the port of Valparaiso. Long. 70. 44. W.
Lat. 33. 26. S.
SANTIPONTE, or Santiponce, a town of Spain, in
the division of Andalusia and government of Seville, about
five miles from that city, situated on the right bank of the
river Guadiana. It is celebrated for its antiquity, having
been the seat of the old Roman Italica, the city of which
the Emperor Trajan was a native. The remains of Roman
magnificence still visible prove it to have been a place of
S A O
considerable importance. The most remarkable object is Santp
the amphitheatre, which, though in ruins, still shows its di- ||
mensions and the plan of its original construction. It is ' j-ptin
formed of Roman bricks for the foundation, and stone benches UPPK I ^
of ten rows rising one above the other, so as to seat con- ^”'vv!
veniently ten thousand spectators. The ruins of the ancient
city are scattered over the fields near the amphitheatre, and
abundance of coins and inscriptions are to be found. A
beautiful tessellated pavement, lately discovered, has upon
it figures which represent the Muses and the signs of the
zodiac, the outlines of which are correct, and the colours
fresh and brilliant. There is, or was till lately, a rich con¬
vent of St Jerome, with many hospitable monks. A very
large fair is annually held at this place, and the church of
the monastery has several exquisite paintings.
SANTIPORE, a town of Bengal, in the district of Kish-
enagur, situated on a sandy soil, two miles east of the Bha-
gurutty river. Long. 28. 34. E. Lat. 23. 13. N.
SANTORIN, one of the Greek islands in the iEgean
Sea, and among the richest and best peopled of their num¬
ber. It is about seventy-eight square miles in extent. Its
appearance is that of a mountain perpendicularly cut down¬
wards from the sea, composed of various volcanic matters,
such as basalt, puzzolana, and pumice. The surface is much
covered with the latter substance in almost every part, but
mixed with good vegetable mould. This soil is peculiarly
adapted to the growth of wine, of which a vast quantity is
made, and forms the chief drink, as there is little and in
many parts no good water, but rain that is preserved.
Some barley is grown, but far short of what is consumed.
There are some figs, almonds, and pulse, and a little cot¬
ton wool, raised. The inhabitants amount to twelve thou¬
sand, all Greeks, some adhering to the Greek religion, but
some are Catholics, and each sect has its own bishop. There
are five small towns and several villages. The capital is
on the east side, and called Emporia. Long. 26. 15. E.
Lat. 36. 21. N.
SANTUR, a Turkish stringed instrument, resembling
that kind of German psaltery which is especially used in
Hungary in the dances of the common people.
SAONE, a considerable river of France, which has its
source in the Vosges, near Darney, and falls into the Rhone
at Lyons.
Saone, Upper, a department of France, formed out of a
part of the ancient province of High Burgundy, or Franche
Comte. It is bounded on the north by the Upper Marne
and the Vosges, on the east by the Upper Rhine, on the
south by the Doubs and the Jura, and on the west by the
Cote d’Or and the Upper Marne. It extends, according to
the Statistique de la France, over 530,990 hectares, equal
to 1867 square miles, and is divided into three arrondisse-
ments, twenty-eight cantons, and 651 communes, with a po¬
pulation of 343,298 persons. The chief river is that from
which the name is taken, which rises in the Vosges, and is
navigable for only a short portion of its course through this
department. The other rivers are the Oignon, the Dra-
geon, the Amance, the Auterne, the Saolon, and the Bran-
chin. The surface consists of mountains, hills, and valleys.
A spur from the Vosges Mountains enters the eastern side
of the department, but to the south-west it is quite level.
The soil for the most part consists of clay, and is very
stony; but much of it is fertile, and a great part covered
with woods. Although the husbandry is conducted in a
slovenly manner, yet it yields sufficient corn for the con¬
sumption, and more of wheat than of rye. There are abun¬
dance of good meadows which afford pasturage for cows,
and the dairies produce excellent butter. Fruit is plenti¬
ful, especially walnuts, from which much valuable oil is
extracted. The vine is extensively cultivated, the vine¬
yards occupying about 20,000 acres, which enables the in¬
habitants to export some wine. There are mines of ifon
•v
SAP
I tone and of coal at work, which afford employment to many
T Jj0ire hands. Much of the iron is converted near the mines into
bphira. the heavier hardware articles. There are some manufac-
v .~y ■»! ^ tares produced, but the establishments are upon a small
scale, furnishing tiles, glass, paper, and liqueurs. There is
also some trade in timber, and in pot and pearl ashes, from
the more wooded divisions of the department.
Saone and Loire, a department of France, formed out
of some portions of the ancient duchy of Burgundy, then
distinguished as the Autunois, the Charollais, and the Cha-
lonnais. It is bounded on the north by the departments
of the Nievre and the Cote d’Or; on the east by that of
Jura; on the south by those of the Aine, the Rhone, and
the Loire; and on the west by the Allier and the Nievre.
It extends over 856,472 hectares, which are equal to 3009
square miles, is divided into five arrondissements, forty-
eight cantons, and 592 communes, and in 1836 it contain¬
ed a population of 538,507 persons. Its inhabitants have
increased since the peace at a far greater rate than the
other parts of France, having been in 1818 only 470,085.
The chief rivers are the two which confer their names on the
department, but there are others of great value, such as the
Doubs, the Arroux, the Seille, and the Garonne. It is fa¬
voured, too, by the Canal of Digoin, and the Central Canal,
which commences at Digoin, and terminates in the Saone
at Chalons. The surface is covered with hills, some of
which are 2400 feet in height, with rich valleys between
them. The soil, upon the whole, is highly fruitful, though
in parts chalky, stony, or sandy. The strip from Chalons to
Ma^on, along the Loire, is one of the finest in France, con¬
sisting, on one side of the river, of extensive rich natural
meadows, and on the other of gentle acclivities covered
with command vines. The agriculture has been much in¬
creased by bringing into cultivation large portions of land
before covered with woods. There are some mines of iron
and coal, but their product is not large. There are some
manufactures, chiefly for home consumption. The trade
consists chiefly in exporting the fruits of the soil, especially
corn, wine, hay, wool, and some timber and coal. The ca¬
pital of the department is the city of Ma^on, which in 1836
contained 11,944 inhabitants.
SAP, the juice found in vegetables. See Vegetable
Physiology.
Sap, in sieges, is a trench, or an approach made under
cover, of ten or twelve feet in breadth, when the besiegers
come near the place, and the fire from the garrison grows
so dangerous that they are not able to approach uncovered.
There are several sorts of saps ; the single, which has only
a single parapet; the double, having one on each side; and
the flying, made with gabions. In all saps traverses are
left to cover the men.
SAPAROUA, one of the Amboyna Isles, about twenty
miles in circumference. It formerly yielded to the Dutch
East India Company one half of the cloves exported from
the Amboyna government.
SAPATA, a small island in the Eastern Seas, elevated'
and barren, and white like the cliffs of Dover, with innu¬
merable flocks of sea-fowl screaming over it. Long 109.
10. E. Lat. 10. 4. N.
SAPPAN, a river in the peninsula of Malacca, which
falls into the straits, in long. 101. 47. E. and lat. 2. 37. N.
SAPPERS are soldiers belonging to the royal artillery,
whose business is to work at the saps. A brigade of sappers
generally consists of eight men, divided equally into parties;
and whilst one of these is advancing the sap, the other is
furnishing the gabions, fascines, and other necessary im¬
plements. They relieve each other alternately.
SAPPHIRA was the wife of a rich merchant in Guel-
dres, and equally distinguished for her beauty and her virtue.
Rhinsauld, a German officer, and governor of the town of
Gueldres, fell in love with her; and not being able, either
S A R
by promises or presents, to seduce her, he imprisoned her Sappho
husband, pretending that he kept up a traitorous corre- II
spondence with the enemies of the state. Sapphira yielded Saran?ar'
to the passion of the governor in order to relieve her hus- ^ v
band from chains; but private orders had already been given
to put him to death. His unhappy widow, overwhelmed
with grief, complained to Charles duke of Burgundy. He
ordered Rhinsauld to marry her, after having made over to
her all his possessions; and as soon as the deed was signed,
and the marnage over, Charles commanded him to be put
to death. Thus the children of a wife whom he had se-
duced, and of a husband whom he had murdered, became
lawful heirs to all his wealth.
SAPPHO, a celebrated poetess of antiquity, who for her
excellence in the art has been called the Tenth Muse, was
born at Mitylene, in the isle of Lesbos, about 610 years
before Christ. She was contemporary with Stesichorus and
Alcaeus.
Of her numerous poems there is nothing remaining but
some small fragments, which the ancient scholiasts have
cited; a hymn to Venus, preserved by Dionysius of Hali¬
carnassus ; and an ode.
Ovid introduces her as making a sacrifice to Phaon, one
of her paramours. She fell desperately in love with Phaon,
and did all she could to win him, but in vain ; upon which
she threw herself headlong from a rock, and died. The
Mitylenians held her in such high esteem that they paid
her sovereign honours after her death, and stamped their
money with her image. T. he Romans erected a noble sta¬
tue of porphyry to her; and the ancients as well as mo¬
derns have done honour to her memory. Vossius says
that none of the Greek poets excelled Sappho for sweetness
of verse; and that she made Archilochus the model of her
style, but at the same time took care to soften the severity
of his expression. It must be granted, from what is left us
of Sappho, that Longinus had great reason to extol the ad¬
mirable genius of this woman; for there is in what remains
something delicate, harmonious, and impassioned to the last
degree.
SAPY Straits. These are between the east end of the
island Sumbawa, and the west side of Commodo or Rotten
Island. The southern entrance is in long. 119. 20. E. and
lat. 8. 40. S. Numerous small islands are found in this
strait, which by contracting, increase the rapidity of the
current, and render navigation dangerous.
SARABAND, in Spanish zarabanda, a Spanish dance
in - time, formerly danced with castanets. The movement
is rather slow. In the music of Corelli and other old masters,
sarabands are of frequent occurrence.
SARABAT, a considerable river of Asia Minor, which
rises in the Morad Dag, and passing by Sart and Magnesia,
falls into the Gulf of Smyrna, in latitude 38. 40. N.
SARACENS, the inhabitants of Arabia, so called from
the word saru, which signifies a desert, as the greater part
of Arabia is; and this being the country of Mahommed,
his disciples were called Saracens.
SARAGOSSA. See Zaragoza.
SARANGPOOR, a town and district of the Mahratta
territories, in the province of Malwah, situated about the
twelfth degree of north latitude. It is hilly, yet being
watered by numerous branches of the Sopra and Gilly Sinde
rivers, it is fertile and productive. The chief towns are
Sarangpoor, Rajegur, and Sher.
Sarangpoor, the capital of the above district, situated
on the north side of the river Sopra, is fifty-five miles north¬
east from Oojain. Long. 76. 30. E. Lat. 23. 38. N.
SARANGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the province of
Gundwana, possessed by independent Goand chiefs, four¬
teen miles south-west from Bustar. Long. 82. 26. E. Lat.
19. 40. N.
646
S A K
Sarapilly SARAPILLY, a town of Hindustan, in the Carnatic,
il thirteen miles south from the town of Nelloor. Long. 79.
Sarcopha- 58> E_ Lat_ 14< 14< N,
gus‘ , SARATOV, a large province or government, partly m
the south-east of Europe, and partly in Asia. Its form is
that of a triangle on both sides of the Volga, having on the
one side the country of the Don Cossacks, and on the other
that of Astracan. It is very thinly peopled, containing an
area of 91,000 square miles, and the population not exceed¬
ing 1,000,000, in consequence of the barrenness oi the
soil and the unpropitious climate. Great part of the sod
is of a saline quality, and unfit for the growth of vegetables.
There are several salt lakes, the most productive of which
is that of Elton or Ulton. The country lying to the west of
the Volga is less level, but has no hills of any great height.
The ground is partly arable and partly pastoral. German
colonists have been settled in the country, but with little
success. The capital is of the same name, and is situated
on the Volga. It is neatly built, and has wide, straight
streets ; but the houses are mostly of wood. The position
cf the place between Moscow and Astracan is favourable to
trade, and it has, besides, the command of water-carriage
on the Volga. The principal articles of its trade, wmcn
are not derived from the two cities already named, are fi»h,
comar, and salt. The population is 5000. It is 374 miles
north by west of Astracan, and 465 south-east of Moscow'.
Long. 46. 0. E. Lat. 51. 31. N. r. i u-
SARA WAN, the most northerly division of Eeloochis-
tan, composed entirely of vast mountains and deserts, and
divided into districts, each of which furnishes its military
quota to the Mahommedan armies.
SARBATCHOU SAHA, a small isiand in the Sea of Ja¬
pan, near the coast of Corea. Long. 131. 37. E. Lat. 42.
54,.
SARBO, an island in the Red Sea, near the coast of Abys¬
sinia. Lat. 15. 8. N.
S.4 RCASM, in Bhetoric, a keen and bitter expression,
which has the true point of satire, by which the orator scoffs
and insults his enemy. Such was that which the Jews said
to our Saviour : “ He saved others, himself he cannot save.
SARCHAD, a town of Syria, in the district beyond Jor-
°1SARCOPH AGUS, in Antiquity, a sort of stone coffin or
grave, in which the ancients deposited the bodies of the
dead which were not intended to be burned. The word,
as derived from the Greek, literally signifies flesh-eater,
because originally a kind of stone was used for tombs,
which quickly consumed the bodies. One of the most ce¬
lebrated specimens of antiquity is the great sarcophagus,
which is commonly called the tomb of Alexander the Great.
It fell into the hands of the British at the capitulation of
Alexandria in Egypt in 1801, and is now deposited in the
British Museum. <
Sabcophagus, or Lapis Assius, in the natural history of
the ancients, a stone much used amongst the Greeks in their
sepultures, is recorded to have always perfectly consumed
in forty days the flesh of human bodies buried in it. This
property it was much famed for, and all the ancient natu¬
ralists mention it. There was also another very singular
quality in it, but whether in all, or only in some peculiar
pieces of the stone, is not known; that is, its turning into
stone any thing that was put into vessels made of it. 1 his is
recorded only by Mutianus and Theophrastus, except that
Pliny had copied it from these authors, and some of the
later writers on these subjects from him. The account Mu¬
tianus gives of it is, that it converted into stone the shoes
of persons buried in it, as also the utensils which it was in
some places customary to bury with the dead, particularly
those which the person while living most delighted m. 1 he
utensils this author mentions are such as must have been
made of very different materials; and hence it appears that
S A II
this stone not only had a power of consuming flesh, but its Sardanapa
petrifying quality extended to substances of very different
kinds. Whether it ever really possessed this last quality has
been much doubted. ^
SARDANAPALUS, the last king of the Assyrians, was
the thirtieth from Ninus, of w hom Herodotus merely men¬
tions that he concealed his treasure in subterranean vaults.
The character usually ascribed to him is that of a luxurious
and slothful prince, who spent the greater part of his time
in the harem among his women. But it is difficult to re¬
concile this statement with the brave and obstinate resist¬
ance he made to the attack of the rebel Arbaces, prince of
Media. He defeated Arbaces twice, but at last was shut
up within Ninus (Nineveh), where he destroyed himself
and treasures on a funeral pile. There was, however, an¬
other Sardanapalus, the son of Anacyndaraxes, who is said
to have founded Tarsus and Anchiale in one day, and
whose epitaph is frequently quoted, and it is not unlikely
that Ctesias, from whom Diodorus quotes, has mixed up
the events that happened to these two. The second is
thought to be the Esarhaddon of the Scriptures, and the
first to be the Saracus of Abydenus.
SARDINIA. This kingdom is composed of two por¬
tions. One is the island bearing that name, which has long
been entitled to the distinctive title of a kingdom; and the
other consists of portions of the north-west of Italy, which
at different periods had been distinguished as feudal or in¬
dependent sovereignties under various forms of government
as well as titles.
The existence of the island of Sardinia is noticed casual¬
ly in the ancient writers, so as to justify the opinion of some
authors on its antiquities, that it was peopled about 1700
years before our era, by a party of Etruscans ; but others
have contended for an origin 500 years later, and for its
first colonists having been Libyans under Sardis, a descend¬
ant of the Theban Hercules, who gave his name to the
island. Without entering on the dark subject of the first
peopling of this island, the high antiquity of its settlement
is attested by durable monuments, the materials, height, and
construction of which are different from almost any other
that are to be found. These Cyclopean structures are very
numerous, between five and six hundred of them being to
be seen on the island. They are called nuraggis, both by an¬
cients and moderns, being in height about fifty feet, and in
diameter at the base about ninety feet. They are strong build¬
ings, in the form of a truncated cone, composed of masses of
stone from two to five or six feet square, arranged in layers,
without cement. The materials are lava, freestone, porphyry,
or such other substances as the respective sites afford; and
they generally crown the summits of hills, commanding plains
where they are seen in every state, some being nearly com¬
plete, and others a mere heap of rubbish. On entering these
edifices, which is effected by a low door, the structure is found
to extend below the surface of the surrounding earth. The in¬
terior space is almost invariably divided into two floors, each
consisting of a vaulted room, to which access is gained from
a ramp between two concentric walls, and leading to the
summit, where a flight of steps completes the ascent. The
nuraggis are of two distinct kinds. Those which are the
most common have no marks of the chisel, and are con¬
structed of massive blocks, with irregular faces, and smaller
stones in the interstices; the materials ot the others ex¬
hibit exteriors formed by tools, though the stones are not
exactly square, but are placed with a stricter regard to
keeping the horizontal layers, and gradually dimmish m size
tow ards the summit.
There have been various conjectures respecting the pro¬
bable object of these buildings. The darkness of their in¬
terior, and the fragments of terracotta found in them, would
indicate their having been monuments for the dead, a be¬
lief so general that they have obtained in their neighbour-
lus
II
Sardinia.
SARDINIA.
iinia. hood the name of Domu de Orcu, or the house of death;
    but the pottery being evidently Roman, and in some instan¬
ces accompanied by coins of the lower empire, indicates
only that such was the use made of them at a late period.
Captain Smyth, who examined these ancient monuments,
says, “ From their laborious construction, their number, and
their general situation on curcureddm or eminences, more or
less distant from each other, I cannot but suppose they were
designed to answer the double purpose of mausolea for the
eminent dead, and as asyla for the living, especially as many
of them are flanked with smaller nuraggis having a subter¬
raneous communication. But the mystery in which they
are involved will probably remain impenetrable, since none
of them exhibit the least trace of either literal or symboli¬
cal characters.”
At whatever periods these remarkable works were erect¬
ed, a long time elaspsed before any precise notice is to be
discovered of the history of Sardinia, until about the year
560 before Christ, when the Carthaginians under Machaeus,
after a victorious campaign in Sicily, attempted the con¬
quest of the island. They were repulsed with such loss, how¬
ever, as left it in repose until the contests commenced be¬
tween the Punic and Roman republics.
By successive conquests it passed into the hands of the
Vandals, the Mahommedans, and the Spaniards, in whose
power it remained from 1324i till the period of the dis¬
puted succession of the crown of Spain between the houses
of Bourbon and Austria in 1708, wdien the Austrian party,
with the assistance of the English fleet under Sir John
Leake, succeeded in obtaining possession of the island. In
1720 it was ceded by treaty to Victor Asmodeus, who as¬
sumed the title of king of Sardinia. After this event, not¬
withstanding the wars which agitated the rest of Europe,
Sardinia experienced a peace of seventy years, during which
period the princes of the house of Savoy, especially Charles
Emanuel, made the greatest exertions to ameliorate the con¬
dition of the people.
The success of the French arms in Italy by the year 1798
! had been such as to compel the king, Charles Emanuel IV.,
to abandon the capital, Turin, and the whole of his conti¬
nental dominions. He withdrew to Leghorn, where he re¬
ceived with delight deputies from the stamente of Sardi¬
nia, assuring him of the entire devotion of the people to his
person and government. Satisfied with these assurances,
he embarked, and, escorted by an English frigate, arrived
at Cagliari on the 3d of March 1799, where he was welcomed
with the most enthusiastic affection.
The successes of the Russian General Suwarof induced
his majesty to return to the Continent, till, hearing in Tus¬
cany of the battle of Marengo, and being inconsolable for
the death of his wife, the sister of Louis XVL, he abdicat¬
ed in favour of the Duke of Aosta in March 1802, and re¬
sided in privacy at Rome, where he died in 1819. His suc¬
cessor, Victor Emanuel, remained some time in Italy in the
hope of gaining his continental dominions ; but seeing little
prospect of succeeding, he left Naples, where he had resided
since his accession, and arrived in Sardinia on the 17th of
February 1806, where he remained secure under the pro¬
tection of England.
The son of Charles Emanuel followed the footsteps of his
father in opposing the principles of the French revolution,
which was then spreading its direful effects over all Europe,
and nowhere more generally than in the continental part of
the kingdom of Sardinia. The events of that period are to
be found in this work in the historical parts of the two ar¬
ticles Europe and France. We need only state here,
therefore, that the king of Sardinia returned to his conti¬
nental capital in 1814, and by the treaty of Vienna the
duchy or ancient republic of Genoa was added to his domi¬
nions ; and that by the same treaty he ceded to the state
of Geneva the circles of Carouge and Chesnej containing
12,700 inhabitants. On the restoration of Victor Emanuel,
he re-established, as far as could be done, the old constitu¬
tion ; again introducing the Jesuists, and becoming a zeal¬
ous member of the Holy Alliance. He confirmed to those
who had made purchases under the French confiscation the
property they had gained; restored to their owners the few
estates that had not been sold; and allotted the annual
sum of 400,000 lire as some compensation for the plunder
which they had suffered. He however established a very
severe censorship of the press, and introduced such restric¬
tions on the process of education in the universities and
the other seminaries as he judged necessary to check the
prevailing tendency to infidelity and immorality. These
measures, and the predisposition to revolution indulged
throughout Italy, caused an insurrection in 1821, the par¬
ticulars of which are narrated in this work under the head
of Italy. I he prosperity of the kingdom has been pro¬
ceeding with regularity since the return of tranquillity,
owing in a great measure to the increased demand for silk
in England, Germany, France, and Russia, and in no in¬
considerable degree from the annexation of Genoa to the
territory, by which a trade is now carried on to almost every
part of the habitable vrorld.
The extent of the several divisions of this kingdom, and
their population in 1833, were as follow :—
Provinces.
Turin....
Cuneo...
Alessandro.
Novara 
Aosta 
Savoy 
Nice 
Genoa 
Island of
Sardinia.
Island of
Capraja..
Extent in
Square
Miles.
3,278
2,684
2,420
2,596
1,408
4,092
1,496
2,288
9,856
484
30,602
Population.
808,526
521,631
547,622
437,576
71,096
504,165
204,538
583,233
491,050
1,500
4,170,937
Cities.
12
13
11
5
1
19
6
19
95
Towns.
54
53
40
44
1
36
16
25
15
285
Villages
347
303
453
426
78
594
160
700
377
3441
The whole of the inhabitants of this kingdom adhere to
the Roman Catholic church, with the exception only of
about 30,000 Jews, who have a restricted toleration, and
some Protestants, well known under the name of Walden-
ses, who are settled, after long and frequent persecutions, in
the valleys of Lucerne, Perusa, and St Martin, in the west¬
ern part of Piedmont. According to their own account,
they occupy thirteen villages, and number nearly 20,000
souls, who are allowed the free exercise of their own mode
of religious worship.
The religious establishment of the kingdom is very ex¬
tensive, comprehending no less than nine archbishoprics
and thirty-four bishoprics, who have under them ninety-
seven chapters of ecclesiastics in the cities, with 3619 pa¬
rish priests in the towns and villages, besides 300 monas¬
teries of various orders, and about eighty nunneries for fe¬
males. The state of education is generally very low, and
few of the peasantry can either read or write. There is a
university at Turin with about eight hundred students, an¬
other at Genoa with about four hundred, and a third in the
island of Cagliari with two hundred and fifty. There are
also about eighty colleges where Latin is taught, and forty
seminaries for the education of the ecclesiastics.
The government is an absolute and hereditary monar¬
chy, although in the island of Sardinia the assembly of the
647
Sardinia.
«l
648
SARDINIA.
Sardinia, ancient states is still continued ; but their power extends
■''only to objects of a local and insignificant nature. In
Genoa, too, some shadow of the ancient republican aristo¬
cracy exists, but it has little or no influence on the de¬
terminations of the monarch. The revenues of the king¬
dom are stated to amount to about two millions sterling
annually, and the expenditure to be nearly the same. In
the latter is included the interest on a national debt of five
millions, a large portion of which is owing to foreigners, and
among others to the capitalists of Geneva and other parts
of Switzerland ; but by means of a sinking fund it is yearly
diminishing. An army of thirty-five thousand men is main¬
tained in time of peace, and a naval force, consisting of six
frigates, three corvettes, six brigs, and several schooners
and other small craft.
The continental parts of this kingdom present a face of
the greatest possible variety. The part to the north, for¬
merly the duchy of Savoy, is in appearance more a part of
Switzerland than of Italy. It is an alpine land, separated
from the plains of the peninsula by an enormous chain of
mountains known as the Gray Alps. It is peculiarly in¬
teresting, from the lofty heights, whose tops are covered
with snow and ice, from the narrow and deep valleys, from
its perpendicular cliffs, from the numerous cascades, and
from the deep lakes; and it is especially distinguished
by the raging winds and violent storms of hail, rain, and
snow, which occur with frequency in the more elevated
regions.
The provinces of Piedmont, Milan, and Montserrat, form
a vast valley, or rather plain, which was probably once cover¬
ed with water, and which begins at the pass of Susa, and
only terminates on the easternmost frontier of Italy. The
river Po divides this valley into two nearly equal portions.
Its northern side extends to the foot of the Alps, which se¬
parate it from Switzerland, some great projections of which
enter it at Aosta and Ossola. The southern part of this
valley is bordered in its whole length by the range of the
Apennines, which separates it from the provinces on the
sea-coast. This valley is bounded on the part in contact
with France by the Cottian Alps.
The provinces on the sea-shore, comprehending Genoa
and Nice, which surround the Gulf of Genoa, are sepa¬
rated from the other parts of the kingdom by the Apen¬
nines. They are collectively mountainous districts, which
extend to the sea, and have only narrow valleys or strips
on the shore, in which marshes, heaths, and sandy tracts
of. land, yielding but little, and thinly inhabited, are in fact
the most cold, dreary, and uncomfortable of any part of the
Apennine ranges.
The soil of Savoy is everywhere stony, and consequent¬
ly not favourable to agriculture upon a great scale. There
are few plains of any extent, the valleys are narrow, and
the earth is very thin on the rocks, which, by the force of
the mountain torrents, is often washed away, leaving the
bare stone. The deposited soil in the great valley which
contains Piedmont, Montserrat, and Milan, is in most parts
rich and deep, except that at the foot of both the Apen¬
nines and the Alps there are vast accumulations of banks
of pebbles, to which the practices of agriculture cannot be
applied with any profit. The height of the mountains, which
enclose the valley, give such force to the streams of water
that rush down, as to prevent them from being generally
under the direction of human art; but in many instances
the water has been turned into channels and canals, where,
by the help of sluices, it has been applied beneficially to the
purpose of irrigation, and, as far as it has been accomplish¬
ed, with beneficial effect.
The provinces on the borders of the Mediterranean Sea
have no resemblance to Piedmont, either in respect to the
soil, the climate, or the vegetation. The soil is stony and
poor, the stones are in enormous blocks, and in a few parts
only is it adapted for cultivation; but the olive and the Sardinia,
vine are found to flourish.
In the island of Sardinia the land is generally rather hilly ’
than mountainous. Several ranges of hills intersect the
whole land, and two large streams cause in many parts ex¬
tensive marshes, while the scarcity of water in other parts
causes cultivation to be much neglected. The soil is, how¬
ever, productive, and is capable of becoming, with good
management, much more than sufficient for the subsistence
of the inhabitants. At present it is said that scarcely one
third of the land is cultivated, whereas, if the whole were,
it might become, as in the time of the Romans and Cartha¬
ginians, a granary for the countries on the Continent.
The mountains within the Sardinian dominions are ob¬
jects which excite the greatest interest; but a description
of them will be found in this work under the general article
Alps. The chains of mountains may be viewed as the cis¬
terns for collecting those vast bodies of water which empty
themselves into the Mediterranean and Adriatic Seas. The
first of these seas receives the waters of the Rhone, which
rises in Savoy, and at first forms the boundary towards
France.
The river Var constitutes the boundary between Nice and
France; and the Paglion is a river of short course in the
province of Nice, which rises near to Luce, and falls into
the sea at a short distance from the capital. The great
river of Sardinia, however, is the winding and lengthened
Po, of which an account has been given under that head.
The larger lakes of the Alps belong only in part to this
kingdom. The Leman, or lake of Geneva, is divided be¬
tween Sardinia and the canton of Switzerland, the southern
bank of it only belonging to the kingdom. Lake Maggiore
has also only its western shores in the Sardinian dominions,
the eastern side belonging to the Austro-Yenetian kingdom i
of Lombardy, and the upper part forming a portion of Swit¬
zerland. The lakes exclusively Sardinian are of smaller ex- 1
tent than those which are but partly in the kingdom. The i
lake of Bourget, in Savoy, scarcely exceeds 100,000 acres I
in extent, but is about 240 feet in depth, and being con- i
nected by the Canal of Savieres, discharges much water j |
into the Rhone. The lake of Annency, in Savoy, is 1350 feet j
above the level of the sea, and is 180 feet in depth. R has ,
an outlet by the rivers Thon and Fier into the Rhone. The \ t
lake of Orta is a long narrow piece of water by the side of
Lake Maggiore, into which its surplus water is discharged.
There are some smaller lakes, a few of which ar e dried up i f
in the summer; and others of them are on elevations of
great height, the most.remarkable of which is one on Mont
Cenis, 5740 feet above the level of the sea.
The several states abound in mineral springs of great use
to the healing art. In Savoy the sulphureous wells of Bon-
neval have attained great celebrity; but their reputation is
excelled by that of the warm baths of Aix. In the valley of
Aosta are the medicinal springs of St Vincenzio and of Cor-
maggiore, and the baths of Pre and of St Didier. In the pro¬
vince of Piedmont are the baths of Aqui, Balieri, and \ i-
nadio, and the springs of St Genesio.
The mountains on the island are small chains. The most
remarkable of them are, Monti di Limbara in Gallura;
Monti di Villanova, between Alghieri and Bosa; Monti
Genargento, between Oleastra and the Barbagien ; and the
Monti Arizzo and Founi, in the Barbagien itself. None of
the mountains are of a height to be covered with perpetual
snow. The general elevation of the range is from 1000 to
3000 feet; but the peak of Limbara is 3686 feet, and that
of Genargento has an altitude of 52/6, and enables t e
people of the neighbouring town, Aritzu, to trade in snow
for the consumption of the capital. These mountains are
almost covered with wood to their summits, and the lower
parts have olive-woods, yielding good oil.
The .rivers of the island are the Oristano, which rises
SARD
Sa !>ia. near Buboso, runs from north-east to south-east, and enters
the sea at the town of its name; the Flumendoso, which
springs from Monti Genargento, waters the district of Bar-
bagien, and falls into the sea at Muravera; and the Quoqui-
nos, which rises near Tirso, and, taking a northerly direc¬
tion, falls into the sea about seven miles from Castel Sardo.
The lakes of Sardinia are insignificant; they are mostly
formed by rain in winter, and are dried up in summer; or
by the overflowing of the sea from the dilapidated state of
the embankments.
Mineral springs are numerous on the island, but are for
the most part neglected. The principal are those of Sar-
dara, Villa Cidro, and Fordongianus, in the Capo de Sotto ;
and those at the foot of Castel Doria, at Codrongianus, and
the Benetutti springs of the Goceana Mountains, on the
Capo di Sopra. In a secondary rank may be noticed the
thermal waters of Marrubin, of Iglesias, and of St Antonio.
Aqua Cotta, at the eastern base of an insulated hillock
near Villa Cidro, is a small but constantly limpid spring,
of about 105° of Fahrenheit, close by a stream of potable
water having a temperature of 60°, whilst that of the at¬
mosphere is 64°. Here most of the cloth of the Campe-
dano is fulled, the makers of it paying to the proprietor for
the use of the water.
The climate of this kingdom varies excessively in the
different provinces which compose it. In Savoy, in the
valley of Aosta, and between the Alps of Piedmont, a real
Swiss climate prevails. Often is to be seen in those valleys
the summer in its glorious garb, when the surrounding hills
have their tops and sides covered with snow. The air on
them is too raw to bring forth the more tender fruits of
Italy; but in favoured spots the grapes ripen, and the sides
of the hills yield abundance of chestnuts. Though change¬
able, the air in these districts is on the whole pure and
healthful. The valley of Piedmont, according to Saussure’s
division, has the climate of the north region of Italy, where
the quicksilver falls below ten degrees. Even in the midst
of summer the benumbing Tramonta winds descend from
the heights, and night-frosts, which begin in November,
continue till April. It is not unusual, in the neighbourhood
of the mountains, to see the ground covered with snow
during ten or twelve days. It is, however, not subject to
the inconveniences of Southern Italy ; and neither the burn¬
ing atmosphere of Calabria, nor the Sirocco, nor earthquakes,
are experienced, nor the annoyance of the sharp-biting mus-
quito. The mulberry trees, the vines, and the maize, flou¬
rish ; and the air, when not in the vicinity of rice-fields, has
a balmy fragrance, and is remarkably pure and healthful.
The coasts of the kingdom, from Nice to Genoa, are pro¬
tected by the Apennines from the Tramonta winds, and the
climate is that distinguished by Saussure as the second re¬
gion of Italy, in which the olives and the agruraens attain
perfection; but the evils of the Sirocco or Mistrol winds are
too often felt in the whole of the district.
The island of Sardinia has some peculiarities of climate.
In times of antiquity, the unhealthiness of the island is al¬
luded to by Martial, Cicero, Pausanias, Cornelius Nepos,
Strabo, Tacitus, and Claudian ; and in later times the same
character is given it by Dante. The chief agent of this in¬
salubrity is found in the feculent miasma of marshes, beds of
rivers and torrents, stagnant pools, and putrescent vegeta¬
tion, in the vicinity of which it is always found deleterious-
ly active, and which are well known to be quite adequate
to the generation of malignant fevers. The common disease,
called here intemperie, appears to be somewhat different from
the malaria of Sicily and Italy; for although equally or more
acrimonious in effect, it does not produce the swelled bodies
and sallow skins which are the pathognomonic symptoms of
the latter. Both diseases usually commence when the sum¬
mer heat, assisted by slight showers, disengages the impure
gases from the low grounds; and continue till the end of No-
VOL. XIX.
I N I A. f;49
vember, when the heavy rains have precipitated the mia sma, Sardinia,
and purified the air. But they differ, in as much as mal aria
is generally supposed to be weak in its effects, unless im-
bibed during sleep; whereas intemperie, though worst at
night, is dangerous at all times. Instances have been known
of strangers landing for a few7 hours only, from Italian coast¬
ers, who were almost immediately earned off by its viru¬
lence ; indeed the very breathing of the air bv a foreigner
at night, or in the cool of the evening, is considered as cer¬
tain a death in some parts, as if he had swallowed some poi¬
sonous drug. While the atmosphere is in this state, the
natives never move abroad until an hour after sunrise, and
they hasten home before sunset, carefully closing every
door and window, or, if obliged to go out, carefully holding
a handkerchief before the mouth. The extreme heat of
the day is also carefully avoided, for they are apprehensive
of the colpo di sole, or stroke of the sun, attributing its fre¬
quency and fatal effects to the malignancy of the intemperie.
It is agreed on all sides that fire is an excellent antidote
to this evil ; and it is recorded that the Lords of Oristano
were wont, during the unhealthy season, to burn large fires
around the town every night, to rarefy the mephitic exhala¬
tions. Most of the people remove from the plains to the
higher grounds on St John’s day in June, when the air be¬
gins to be unsafe, although it does not become dangerous
before August. Those who, from their circumstances, are
obliged to remain, keep themselves well clad in thick wool¬
lens, to avert the ardent rays of the sun. Exertion, expo¬
sure to summer showers, and fatigue of every kind, are stu¬
diously avoided; and a spare but good diet is adopted, with
cool acidulated drinks. The migrations consequent on this
distressing visitation, with the want of cottages, pastures,
and enclosures, and the many extensive commons, give the
plains of Sardinia a depopulated aspect, and may be ad¬
duced, among other causes, as a reason for the comparatively
low consideration in which this once most fertile of the
Tyrrhenian islands has been held. The contempt in which
the inhabitants of the plains are held by those of the moun¬
tains, with the large fiefs in the hands of some of the non¬
resident nobles, are also serious obstacles to improvement.
The chief occupation of the inhabitants of this kingdom
consists in the cultivation of the land, and is accordingly
as varied as the surface of the soil, and as that of the cli¬
mate, which depends on the elevation. Under the head of
Lombardy will be found a detailed account of the agricul¬
ture of this district, the greater part of which may be ad¬
verted to as a description of what takes place in the richer
portion of Sardinia, which belongs to the basin of the river
Fo, comprehending the greater part of the provinces of Tu¬
rin, Cuneo, and Alessandria. In Savoy generally the cul¬
tivation is badly conducted. The cultivable land is divided
into large portions, belonging to a few great proprietors,
and is subdivided into smaller portions to tenants, who,
without leases, transmit their lots from one generation to
another, who pay neither money-rent nor labour to their
superiors, but deliver to them or their agents one half the
produce of the fields, whatever it may be, in its several
kinds. The cattle on these lands are commonly the pro¬
perty of the lord, and are maintained on the produce ot
the soil, before the division is made of what it yields.
The power of the tenants to transmit the land to their
successors is combined with the power of subdividing it
among their several children; and this is carried to such
an extent, as in Ireland and in some other countries, that
it has led, and is leading, to such a subdivision that a great
number of the farms barely raise sufficient food for the oc¬
cupants, though their provisions are of the most humble
and penurious kind. Savoy is annually deficient in corn to
the extent of nearly one third of its consumption. This is
in some measure made up by using chestnuts and potatoes
as substitutes for bread; though in Aosta and in some other
4 N
650
SARDINIA.
Sardinia, parts the potato is little cultivated, and in them corn must
be drawn from the neighbouring countries. The land on
the coast of Nice and Liguria consists chiefly of narrow
strips of valley, which in the greater portion is composed of
sand, and not very appropriate for the growth of grain,
though a little is grown in some of the more fertile of the
valleys; but the common people only eat bread on Sun¬
days and holidays, and at other times subsist on chestnuts
obtained from the Apennines, and on inferior cheese made
by themselves. They derive a part of their subsistence
from fish, especially sardinias, which at some seasons are
abundant; and oil, a useful accompaniment, is at a very
moderate price.
The agriculture of the island of Sardinia differs so much
from that of the rest of the kingdom, that it merits a spe¬
cial notice, the more so from its having been, in ancient
times, the source of supplies of grain to the continent of
Italy, and occasionally of Spain. The lands are divided into
feudal and non-feudal. The former comprise those belong¬
ing to the respective nobles, as well as those sold to indivi¬
duals, but recognising the feudal lord. Those not feudal
belong to communities or to individuals; for landed property
can be let or sold, or given away, with the consent of the
tribunals, or of the husband if belonging to married females.
The first lands as to importance, though the least in ex¬
tent, are those called tanche, or enclosed lands, which are
generally well cultivated. But the far larger proportion are
those called vidazzone, or belonging to communities. They
are chiefly divided into three parts, each of which is culti¬
vated in its turn, and, while under culture, is enclosed with
a line of hurdles ; but the rest being fallow, lies open to the
ravages of wandering flocks, and the blast of every wind
that blows.
The foreign commerce of Sardinia, both by sea and by
land, with the countries contiguous to it, naturally demands
observation. The number and tonnage of the vessels be¬
longing to the kingdom are shown in the following table,
furnished by the British consul.
Vessels belonging to the Kingdom of Sardinia.
Year.
1827
1828
1829
1830
1831
From one
to thirty
tons.
1874
1899
1931
1903
1965
From thir¬
ty to sixty
tons.
172
161
170
158
157
From sixty
to a hun¬
dred tons.
232
222
214
214
215
Above a
hundred
tons.
546
595
602
616
629
Number
of the
Crews.
31,201
30,671
31,577
32,176
32,842
The accounts for the last seven years are not to be pro¬
cured ; but there is reason to believe that no very material
increase has taken place during that period, and that the
proportion of the national vessels of the larger class has
been more augmented, while that of the smaller class has
somewhat declined, as is observable in the preceding table
of the five years from 1827 to 1831.
The chief articles which Sardinia imports from foreign
countries are sugar, coffee, spices, cotton wool, cotton ma¬
nufactured, indigo, cochineal, and other dyeing drugs, corn
chiefly from the Black Sea, salted fish, salt, hides and lea¬
ther, iron, steel, lead, copper, pitch and tar, tobacco, and
timber. There are many smaller articles of luxury, whose
aggregate amount bears but a trifling proportion in value to
those here enumerated. The commerce in grain is casual,
depending in a great degree on the productiveness of the
harvests in Switzerland, to which country, when the do¬
mestic supply is found to be insufficient, the corn, chiefly
wheat from the ports of Odessa and Taganrog, is transmit¬
ted to the Swiss districts bordering on the Sardinian territory.
A Statement of the Number and Tonnage of Vessels, dis- Sttrdin
tinguishing the Countries to ichich they belonged, which
entered inwards and cleared outwards at the port of
Genoa in the year 1834, exclusive of Coasters.
Countries.
Inwards.
Ships. Tons.
Outwards.
Ships. Tons.
British 
Sardinian 
American 
Austrian 
Danish 
Dutch 
French 
Greek 
Neapolitan 
Russian 
Spanish 
Swedish 
Tuscan, Roman, )
and Lucchese... /
Bremen and Lubeck.
Hanoverian  
96
998
18
8
4
11
258
1
149
1
148
10
160
4
1
15,014
121,000
3,800
1,390
695
1.400
19,000
83
19,100
420
6.400
2,100
3,900
610
167
95
996
25
8
4
15
256
1
151
3
153
16
179
6
2
14,973
117,000
5,398
1,673
695
1,836
18,597
83
19,334
1,077
6,491
2,918
4,882
733
278
The variations in the years preceding and succeeding
1834 are so little as to render our filling the pages of this
wwk with lengthened accounts quite unnecessary ; and the
particular year selected is sufficient to show the general na¬
ture and extent of the trade, and the respective countries
with which it is carried on.
The cities of this kingdom whose population amounts to
more than 10,000 souls, are the followdng.
Turin 120,596
Genoa  94,000
Alessandria  36,000
Cagliari  29,000
Nice  27,000
Asti  23,000
Sassari  21,000
Cuneo  20,000
Savigliano  19,000
Casale  18,000
Mondovi  17,000
Novara  16,400
Bercelli  16,000
Vigevano  15,000
Fossano  14,300
Chieri 14,000
Savona 13,400
Carmagnola 13,200
Saluzzo 13,200
Pinerola 12,500
Boghera 12,147
Chamberi 12,060
Bra 11,300
St Remo 11,200
Novi 11,100
Racconigi 11,000
Chiavari 10,800
Rapello 10,150
Tortona 10,015
The most valuable product of Sardinia which is exported
is silk, but it has little connection with maritime commerce.
The greater part of it, which goes to other countries, is trans¬
ported by land-carriage, in order to supply the manufac¬
turers of France, of Prussia, of Belgium, of Holland, and in
some measure of England; for even to the latter country
much is now sent by land through France, or by the Rhine.
Oil is one of the greater productions exported from Genoa,
after being collected there by means of the numerous coast¬
ing vessels with which the shores of Sardinia abound. The
larger portion of this article is sent to England, where it is
used by the wool-combers in the manufacture of cloth ; but
a considerable quantity of it is sent to Holland, and from
thence into the interior of Germany, where it is applied to
the same purposes. Rice is also exported by sea to Franee,
though it can scarcely sustain the competition with that
wffiich is produced in the East Indies or in Carolina. Though
much wine is made, it is almost wholly consumed at home,^
the quantity exported being trifling. Fruit is an article oi
foreign trade; and soap, white lead, essences, and perfumery,
may be enumerated as the most prominent of the smallei
S A R
rdonius articles of export. There is, however, a considerable transit
disus trade carried on through Genoa, by which many of the pro-
IJ ducts of the other parts of Italy are exchanged with those
He. a France> t0 the advantage of the commission-houses in
^ that city.
Before the seventeenth century, Genoa was the centre or
channel of all the supply of manufactured silks and velvets
to the other parts of Europe ; but at present the manufac¬
turing industry, as regards silk, is reduced to the point which
the internal consumption demands, or to the process of pre¬
paring the raw material for the manufacturers of France,
England, Holland, Germany, and Russia. For domestic
use, Sardinia has sufficient manufactories to supply with silk,
linen, or woollen goods, the demand for clothing. Their
silks are handsome and strong, especially the stockings; but,
in the absence of the best descriptions of machinery, they
are dearer than elsewhere. Leather, iron goods, copper
ware, glass, pottery, and the smaller articles of the house¬
hold, are made at home.
As to the islanders, they are in so rude a state, that, in
a commercial view, they scarcely require to be noticed ; as
must be the case where every man is his own tailor, shoe¬
maker, spinner, weaver, tanner, carpenter, mason, and black¬
smith, and wants nothing but his fire-arms, or other wea¬
pons of defence.
SARDIS, or Sardes. See Sart.
SARDONIUS Risus, Sardonian Laughter, a convulsive
involuntary laughter, so named from the herba sardonia,
which is a species of ranunculus, and is said to produce such
convulsive motions in the cheeks as resemble those motions
which are observed in the face during a fit of laughter.
This complaint is sometimes speedily fatal. If the ranun¬
culus happens to be the cause, the cure must be attempted
by means of a vomit, and frequent draughts of hydromel
with milk.
SARDONYX, a precious stone, consisting of a mixture
of the calcedony and carnelian, sometimes in strata, but at
other times blended together.
SARFEND, supposed to be the ancient Sarepta, a vil¬
lage of Palestine, eight miles south of Saida.
SARHAUT, a town of Bengal, in the district of Bir-
bhoom, eighty-five miles west from Moorshedabad. Long.
86. 51. E. Lat. 24. 14. N.
SARI, a town of Persia, and capital of the province of
Mazanderan, once the seat of Aga Mahommed Khan, and
still the residence of one of the Persian princes. It is a
very ancient city, and frequently alluded to by Ferdousi. It
is small, but well fortified, being surrounded by a good
wall and a deep ditch. It is crowded with inhabitants, and a
society of Armenians is established in the vicinity of the town.
Here are many merchants of credit, who carry on a con¬
siderable trade with Astracan and with the interior parts of
Persia. The palace, though small, is neat and commodious.
When this place was visited by Hanway, it contained four
or five temples of the ancient Persians, built of solid mate¬
rials, and in the shape of rotundas, about thirty feet in dia¬
meter, and raised to the height of 120 feet. The surround¬
ing country is flat, woody, and interspersed with streams,
and bounded on the north-east and south-west by a low
range of hills. Long. 52. 58. E. Lat. 35. 35. N.
SARLAT, an arrondissement of the department of the
Dordogne, in France. It extends over 683 square miles,
and comprehends ten cantons, divided into 133 communes,
with 110,447 inhabitants. The capital is the city of the
same name. It stands in a low situation, on every side sur¬
rounded with naked rocks. In the neighbourhood a great
quantity of oil is expressed from nuts. It contained, in 1836,
5569 inhabitants. Long. 1. 9. E. Lat 45. 3. N.
S ARM ATT A Isle, a small island in the Eastern Seas,
about thirty miles in circumference. Long. 129. 15. E.
Lat. 8. 10. S.
S A R
651
SARNO, a city of Italy, in the Neapolitan province of Sarno
Principato Citeriore. It is situated on a river of the same II
name, is the see of a bishop, with a cathedral, three parish ^ Sarthe.
and five conventual churches, and contains 11,930 inhabi-
tants, who grow much good wine and oil, and make paper
of various kinds.
SARDS, in chronology, a period of 223 lunar months.
The etymology of the word is said to be Chaldaean, signify¬
ing restitution or return of eclipses; that is, conjunctions
of the sun and moon in nearly the same place of the ecliptic.
The Saros was a cycle like that of Meto.
SAROS-PATAK, a city of Hungary, in the province of
the Hither Theiss, and the circle of Tokay. It stands on the
river Bodrog, and is well built, being the seat of a Calvinist
university, which has nine professors and 1240 students,
with a library of 20,000 volumes, a museum, and physical la¬
boratory. It has manufactures of woollen cloths, and con¬
tains 1630 houses, with 9150 inhabitants. Long. 21. 29.
57. E. Lat. 48. 18. 50. N.
SAROWY, a Rajpoot town and district of Hindustan,
in the province of Ajmeer. The district is situated princi¬
pally between the twenty-fifth and twenty-sixth degrees of
north latitude. The country, which is occupied by Rajpoot
chiefs, is hilly and unproductive, although watered by the
Bah and Banass rivers. The town is forty-four miles west
of Odeypoor. Long. 73. 20. E. Lat. 25. 32. N.
SARRASIN, a city of the department of the Tarn and
Garonne, and in the arrondissement of the same name, of
which it is the capital. It is sometimes distinguished as
Castel-Sarrasin. The arrondissement in extent is 267,723
acres, or 418 square miles, and contains seven cantons and
eighty communes, with 72,650 inhabitants. The city stands
on the river Sanguire, has some manufactories of serges and
linen goods, and contains 7408 inhabitants.
SARREBOURG, an arrondissement of the department
of the Meurthe, in France, extending over 418 square miles.
It is divided into five cantons, and these into 116 communes,
which have a population of 75,499 persons. The capital is
the city of the same name situated on the river Saar; but it
contained only 2340 inhabitants. There is a military bake¬
house with eight ovens, which can make bread each day suf¬
ficient for an army of 40,000 men.
SARREGUEMINES, an arrondissement of the depart¬
ment of the Moselle, in France, 524 square miles in extent.
It is divided into eight cantons, and these into 143 com¬
munes, containing, in 1836, 125,973 inhabitants. The capi¬
tal is a city of the same name, situated at the junction of the
river Rise with the Saar. There is some excellent china
made, and it has manufactures of lacquered ware of various
kinds, and some extensive tanneries. It contained, in 1836,
4113 inhabitants. Long. 7. 5. E. Lat. 46. 8. N.
SART, a village of Asia Minor, small and insignificant;
now chiefly distinguished by the ruins of Sardis, once the
splendid capital of Lydia. These ruins are found confused¬
ly scattered over a verdant plain, and consist of bricks so
strongly cemented together that it is scarcely possible for
any violence to disjoin them.
SARTENE, one of the arrondissements into which the
island of Corsica has been divided. It extends over 648
square miles, and comprehends eight cantons, divided into
forty-three communes, with 25,739 inhabitants. The chief
place is the city of the same name, with 2682 inhabitants.
SARTHE, a department of the north-west of France,
formed out of parts of the ancient province of the Upper
Maine, of Anjou, and Perche-Gouet. It is bounded on the
north by the department of the Orne, on the east by those
of the Eure-Loire and the Loire-Cher, on the south by
the Indre-Loire and Maine-Loire, and on the west by
the Maine. It is nearly of a circular form, and extends to
1,398,600 acres, equal to 2185 square miles; and it is di¬
vided into four arrondissements, thirty-three cantons, and
652 S A S S A T
Sartine 394 communes. The population amounted, in 1836, to
II 466,888 persons. They are industrious, averse to changes,
Sashes. an(j ]eave the places of their birth, or alter the fashion
of their dress. The surface is generally level, but on the
north-eastern side there is a range of hills of very moderate
height. The soil varies excessively, the department com¬
prehending some of the best as well as some of the worst
land in France. The north-west part consists of good corn-
land, and the north-east of valuable meadows; but the south
and south-west divisions are for the most part mere sandy
heaths, yielding little or no corn, but in certain districts pro¬
ducing good wine. The chief river is that which gives its
name to the department. It is navigable in the lower part,
and before it joins the Loire receives the waters of thir¬
ty-six rivers and brooks. The products are the common
domestic animals, with buck-wheat, maize, wheat, barley,
hemp, flax, wine, honey, and various fruits. Nearly one
tenth of the surface is covered with woods, which are com¬
monly used as fuel. There are some mines of iron, and
although none of them are very extensive, yet their great
number enables the department to extract a sufficient quan¬
tity of that metal for its own consumption. The manufac¬
turing industry is not considerable, being confined to hard¬
ware, paper, woollen cloths, leather, and the spinning of linen
yarn. The capital is Le Mans, in the centre of the depart¬
ment, with a population, in the year 1836, of 23,164. It
contains scarcely any other large towns.
SARTINE Islands, a cluster of small islands in the
Northern Pacific Ocean, so named by Perouse. Long. 129.
18. W. Lat. 50. 56. N.
SARUM, Old, a place in the county of Wilts, only re¬
markable from the proprietor of it having retained the an¬
cient right of returning two members to the House of Com¬
mons till 1832. Some of the most distinguished states¬
men have sat for this place, among the rest Lord Chatham.
There is at present but one house in it, though the remains
of ancient walls and the foundation of a cathedral may still
be traced.
SARUN, an extensive and valuable district in the pro¬
vince of Bahar, situated about the twenty-sixth degree of
north latitude. Its boundaries on the north are Gorakpoor
and Bettiah, on the south it has the Ganges, on the east
Bettiah and Hajypoor, and on the west the Dewah or the
Goggrah River. It contained, according to Major Ren-
nell’s mensuration, in 1784, 5106 square miles. For its
size it is one of the most prosperous districts in the Com¬
pany’s dominions, being well watered by the Ganges and
the Gunduck, besides numerous smaller streams. Its soil
furnishes abundantly all the richest productions of the East.
It is also an excellent pastoral country, producing fine cattle
and horses. The saltpetre exported to Europe, and used
in Bengal, is principally manufactured in this district and
in that of Hajypoor, In 1801, the population of this district
was, in reply to various questions circulated by the board of
revenue, stated at 1,204,000, in the proportion of one Ma-
hommedan to four Hindus. The chief town is Chuprach.
SARZEAU, a city of France, in the department of Mor-
bihan, and the arrondissement of Vannes. It depends
chiefly on the fishery, and contains, including the parish,
6126 inhabitants.
SASERAM, a town of Hindustan, in the province of Ba¬
har, and district of Rhotas. This was the favourite residence
of Shere Khan, the Afghan, who, after having defeated the
Moguls, and expelled the Emperor Humayoon, the father
of Akbar, from Hindustan, mounted the throne and reigned
five years. He was killed at the siege of Callinger in 1545,
and lies buried here in a magnificent mausoleum, built in the
middle of a great reservoir of water. The monument rises
from the centre of the tank. Long. 84. 5. E. Lat. 25. N.
SASHES, in military dress, are badges of distinction,
worn by the officers of most nations, either round their tvaist
or over their shoulders. Those for the British army are Sasn®
made of crimson silk; for the imperial army, of crimson II
and gold ; for the Prussian army, of black silk and silver ; v Sataraii
for the Hanoverians, of yellow silk; and for the Portuguese, ^
of crimson silk w ith blue tassels.
SASNEE, a town and fort of Hindustan, in the province
of Agra, from which the zemindar was expelled, after a
desperate resistance, by the British in 1803. It is thirty-
eight miles north-north-east from the city of Agra. Long.
78. 4. E. Lat. 27. 45. N.
SASRAM, a small island in the Gulf of Siam, near the
coast of Cambodia. Long. 103. 48. E. Lat. 10. N.
SASSARI, a city of the island of Sardinia. It stands
on the plain of Fulmenaria, in the northern part, about
nine miles from Porto Torres. The situation is pleasing
and healthy, and the vicinity produces abundance of wine,
oil, corn, fruit, and tobacco, and is distinguished by the ex¬
cellence of its cultivation. The city is well built, and, be¬
sides the cathedral, boasts of tw'enty-four churches, ten con¬
vents, three nunneries, and a Tridentine seminary. A uni¬
versity also has been formed out of a Jesuits’ college. The
cathedral is a large structure, with a most elaborate facade,
and an interior clean and airy. It contains 19,360 inhabi¬
tants, whose chief sources of existence arise from the agri¬
culture around them.
SAT ALIA, Antalia, or, according to others, Adalia,
a city of Asia Minor, in Caramania, beautifully situated at
the head of a gulf to which it gives name. The site is a
rising ground, on which the streets are placed above each
other, and form a succession of terraces. On the level
summit of the hill the city is enclosed by a ditch, a double
wall, and a series of square towers, which are about fifty yards
asunder. In an opening between two of the towers, now
closed up, appear the remains of a splendid gateway, exhibit¬
ing fourteen columns, the upper part being of the Corinthian
order. The port is enclosed by two stone piers, which once
had towers at the extremities; but it is now in a ruinous
condition. The surrounding country is fertile and produc¬
tive, and the gardens round the town, filled with trees load¬
ed with fruit, are beautiful. The climate is delightful, and
the air is refreshed by alternate breezes from the sea and
from the chain of the Taurus Mountains. The town is
supposed to occupy the site of the ancient Olbia. The
population, two thirds Mahommedan and one third Greek,
is 8000. Long. 30. 45. E. Lat. 36. 50. N.
SATANAGUR, a town of Hindustan, in the nizam’s
territories, and the province of Hyderabad. It is fiity-five
miles north by east from the city of Hyderabad. Long. 78.
16. E. Lat. 17. 56.'N.
SATARAH, a well-known town and fortress of Hindus¬
tan, in the province of Bejapoor, and the Mahratta territories.
Its foundation is on a rock, which stands on the western¬
most point of a hill, rising from a base of from seven to eight
miles in length from east to west. The passage to it is very
narrow, only admitting one person at a time. It was taken
by Sevajee, the founder of the Mahratta power, in 1673,
and by Aurungzebe in 1690; but was retaken soon after
the death of that monarch, in 1707. It capitulated to the
British after a very short resistance in 1818; and being
afterwards surveyed by British officers, they declared that
it might be defended by two hundred troops against any
force. This place owes its celebrity chiefly to its having
been the state-prison of the legitimate sovereign of the
Mahrattas, who was confined here by his chief minister
the peishwa, who usurped the real power, while the de¬
posed rajah was still honoured with the empty forms of
royalty, and his name inserted in all public records. The
representative of the Satarah rajah, though divested of all
real power, was still recognised as the pageant of royalty;
and the country adjacent to Satarah, in consequence of his
residence, enjoyed an exemption from all military license.
S A T
I teilite The father of the late rajah was a commandant of horse;
II but being unfortunately of the blood of Sevajee, he was
| " immured in the state-prison of Satarah. He died in 1808,
" and the Peishwa Bajerow immediately proceeded from Poo-
nah,his residence, to superintend his obsequies, and to invest
his successor with his empty dignity, and the misery of a
prison thereto annexed. The Peishwa Bajerow was expelled
from his throne in 1818, in consequence of joining in the
coalition of the native powers against the British; and it
was determined to take the Satarah rajah from his confine¬
ment as a state prisoner, and to reinstate him in a portion
of his ancient dominions. The territory granted him, and
which he now enjoys, is bounded by the Western Ghaut
Mountains, on the south by the Warner and Krishna rivers,
on the north by the Neera and Beema rivers, and on the
east by the frontier of the nizam’s dominions. The whole
area occupies 11,000 square miles.
SATELLITE, an island in D’Entrecasteaux Channel,
Van Diemen’s Land, partly covered with an impenetrable
thicket.
SATGONG, formerly a large trading city, in which the
Europeans had their factories; but it is now an inconsider¬
able village, on a small creek of the river Hooghly, about four
miles to the north-west of the tow n of Hooghly, in Bengal.
SATIMANGALUM, a towm of Hindustan, in the north¬
ern district of Coimbetoor, situated on the river Bhawani.
The fort is said to have been built about two hundred years
ago. The town, which formerly contained eight hundred,
but has now only six hundred houses, is scattered over the
plain. Here is a temple of some repute dedicated to Vishnu.
Coarse cotton goods are manufactured in the town and neigh¬
bourhood. Long. 77. 20. E. Lat. 10. 28. N.
SAT TER AM, a town of Hindustan, in the Mysore ra¬
jah’s territories, situated twenty miles south from Seringa-
patam. Long. 76. 53. E. Lat. 12. 9. N.
SA TTIA\ ER AM, a town of Hindustan, on the sea-coast
of the Northern Circars. It is fifty-six miles south-wrest from
Vizagapatam. Long. 82. 45. E. Lat. 17. 15. N.
SATURDAY, the seventh and last day of the week, so
called from the idol Seater, worshipped on this day by the
ancient Saxons, and thought to be the same as the Saturn
of the Latins.
SATURN, in Astronomy, one of the planets of our solar
system, revolving at the distance of more than nine hundred
millions of miles from the sun.
Satukn, in Chemistry, is an appellation which was for¬
merly given to lead.
Saturn, in Heraldry, denotes the black colour in blazon¬
ing the arms of sovereign princes.
Saturn, one of the principal of the Pagan deities, was
the son of Coelus and Terra, and the father of Jupiter. He
deposed and castrated his father, and obliged his brother
Titan to resign to him his crown, on condition of his bring¬
ing up none of his male issue, that the succession might at
length devolve on him. For this purpose he devoured all
the sons he had by his wife Rhea or Cybele ; but she bring¬
ing forth at one time Jupiter and Juno, presented the latter
to her husband, and sent the boy to be nursed on Mount
Ida, when Saturn, being informed of her having a son, de¬
manded the child, but in his stead his wife gave him a stone
swaddled up like an infant, which he instantly swallowed.
Titan, finding that Saturn had violated the contract he had
made with him, put himself at the head of his children and
made war on his brother, and having taken him and Cybele
prisoners, confined them in Tartarus; but Jupiter being in
the mean time grown up, raised an army in Crete, went to
his father’s assistance, defeated Titan, and restored Saturn
to the throne. Some time after this, Saturn being told that
Jupiter intended to dethrone him, endeavoured to prevent
it; but the latter being informed of bis intention, deposed
his father, and threw him into Tartarus. Saturn having es-
S A T 653
caped from thence, however, fled into Italy, where he was Saturnalia
kindly received by Janus, king of the country, who asso- II
ciated him in the government; and hence Italy obtained the ®!!Un^er*
name of Saturnia Tellus, as also that of iMtium, from lateo, ■. .
to lie hidden. 1 here Saturn, by the wisdom and mildness
of his government, is said to have produced the golden age.
Saturn is represented as an old man with four wings,
armed with a scythe ; and sometimes he is delineated under
the figure of a serpent with its tail in its mouth. This is
emblematical of the seasons, which roll perpetually in the
same circle. Sometimes also Saturn is painted with a sand¬
glass in his hand. The Greeks say that the story of his
mutilating his father and destroying his children is an alle¬
gory, which signifies, that Time devours the past and pre¬
sent, and will also devour the future. The Romans, in
honour of him, built a temple, and celebrated a festival
which they denominated Saturnalia. During this festival
no business or profession was allowed to be carried on except
cookery; all distinctions of rank ceased; slaves could say
with impunity what they pleased to their masters, and they
could even rally them to their faces with their faults.
SA fURNALIA, in Roman antiquity, a festival observed
about the middle of December, in honour of the god Sa¬
turn, whom Lucan introduces giving an account of the ce¬
remonies observed upon this occasion. “ During my whole
reign,” says he, “ which lasts but for one week, no public
business is done ; there is nothing but drinking, singing,
playing, creating imaginary kings, placing servants with their
masters at table, Sec. There shall be no disputes or re¬
proaches, but the rich and poor, masters and slaves, shall
be equal.” On this festival the Romans sacrificed barehead¬
ed, contrary to their custom at other sacrifices.
SATURNINE, an appellation given to persons of a me¬
lancholy disposition, as being supposed to be under the in¬
fluence of the planet Saturn.
S AT Y AYR AT A, or Menu, in Indian mythology, is be¬
lieved by the Hindus to have reigned over the whole world
in the earliest age of their chronology, and to have resided
in the country of Dravira, on the coast of the eastern Indian
peninsula. His patronymic name w^as Vaivaswata, or Child
of the Sun. Sir William Jones has shown it to be in the
highest degree probable, that the Satyavrata of India is the
Kronus of Greece and the Saturn of Italy. See Saturn,
and Asiatic Researches, vol. i. p. 230.
SATYRS, in ancient mythology, a species of demi-gods,
who dwelt in the woods. They are represented as mon¬
sters, half men and half goats; having horns on their heads,
and a hairy body, with the feet and tail of a goat. They
are generally delineated in the train that follows Bacchus.
As the poets supposed that they were remarkable for pier¬
cing eyes and keen raillery, they have placed them in the
same pictures with the Graces, Loves, and even with Ve¬
nus herself.
SAUL the son of Kish, of the tribe of Benjamin, was
the first king of the Israelites. On account of his disobe¬
dient conduct, the kingdom was taken from his family and
given to David.
SAUMUR, an arrondissement of the department of the
Maine et Loire, in France, extending over 516 square miles.
It is divided into eight cantons and ninety-three communes,
and, in 1836, contained 91,159 inhabitants. The capital is
the city of the same name, situated at the influx of the Thouet
into the Loire, which here forms several islands. It con¬
tains 11,925 inhabitants. There is much linen trade carried
on, some tanning, some copper and cutlery goods made, and
some saltpetre refineries. Long. 0. 9. 55. W. Lat. 47. 15.
24. N.
SAUNDERS’ Island, in the South Atlantic Ocean, ten
leagues in circumference, and discovered by Captain Cook
in 1775. Long. 26. 44. W. Lat. 57. 49. S.
SAUNDERSON, Dr Robert, an eminent casuist, was
654 S A U S A U
Saunder- born at Rotherham, in Yorkshire, on the 19th of September him to purchase books and pay an amanuensis. Saunderson Saunde:
son- 1587. He was descended of an ancient family, and attend- told Barlow, “ that if any future tract of his could be of any son.
ed the grammar-school at Rotherham, where he made such use to mankind, he would cheerfully set about it without a' v'“
wonderful proficiency in the languages, that at thirteen it pension.” Boyle, however, sent him a present of L.50,
was judged proper to send him to Lincoln College, Oxford, sensible, no doubt, that, like the other royalists, his finances
In 1608 he was appointed logic reader in the same college, could not be great. Upon this Dr Saunderson published
He took orders in 1611, and was promoted successively to his book De Conscientia.
several benefices. Archbishop Laud recommended him to When Charles II. was reinstated in the throne, he re-
Charles I. as a profound casuist; and that monarch, who covered his professorship and canonry, and soon after-
seems to have been a great admirer of casuistical learning, wards was promoted to the bishopric of Lincoln. During
appointed him one of his chaplains in 1631. Charles pro- the two years and a halt in which he possessed this new
posed several cases of conscience to him, and received so office, he spent a considerable sum in augmenting poor vi-
great satisfaction from his answers, that at the end of his carages, and in repairing the palace at Budgen. He died
month’s attendance he told him that he would wait with on the 29th of January 1662-63, in his seventy-sixth year,
impatience during the intervening eleven months, as he was He was a man of great acuteness and solid judgment,
resolved to be more intimately acquainted with him, when “ 1 hat staid and well-weighed man Dr Saunderson,” says
it would again be his turn to officiate. The king regularly Dr Hammond, “ conceives all things deliberately, dwells
attended his sermons, and was wont to say that he “ car- upon them discreetly, discerns things that differ exactly,
ried his ears to hear other preachers, but his conscience to passeth his judgment rationally, and expresses it aptly,
hear Mr Saunderson.” clearly, and honestly.” Being asked, what books he had
In 1642 Charles created him regius professor of divinity read most, he replied, that “he did not read many books,
at Oxford, with the canonry of Christ Church annexed, but those which he did read were well chosen and frequent-
But the civil wars prevented him until 1646 from entering ly perused.” These, he said, were chiefly three, Aristotle’s
on the office; and in 1648 he was ejected by the visitors Rhetoric, Aquinas’s Secunda SecundtB, and Cicero’s works,
which the parliament had commissioned. He must have especially his Offices, which he had not read over less than
stood high in the public opinion ; for in the same year in twenty times, and could even, in his old age, recite without
which he was appointed professor of divinity, both houses book.” He added, that “ the learned civilian Dr Zouch
of parliament recommended him to the king as one of had written Elementa Jurisprudentia;, which he thought
their trustees for settling the affairs of the church. The he could also say without book, and that no wise man could
king, too, reposed great confidence in his judgment, and fre- read it too often.” He was not only conversant with the
quently consulted him about the state of his affairs. When fathers and schoolmen, with casuistical and controversial
the parliament proposed the abolition of the episcopal form divinity, but he was well acquainted with all the histories
of church government, as incompatible wfith monarchy, of the English nation, was a great antiquary, had searched
Charles desired him to take the subject under his consi- minutely into records, and was well skilled in heraldry and
deration, and deliver his opinion. He accordingly wrote a genealogy.
treatise entitled Episcopacy, as established by Law in Eng- It will now be proper here to give a short account of his
land, not prejudicial to Regal Power. At taking leave, the works. 1. In 1615 he published Logicce Artis Compen-
king advised him to publish Cases of Conscience. He re- dium, which was the system of lectures he had delivered
plied that “ he was now grown old, and unfit to write cases in the university when he was logic reader ; 2. Sermons,
of conscience.” The king said, “It was the simplest thing amounting in number to thirty-six, printed in 1681, folio,
he had ever heard from him ; for no young man was fit to with the author’s life by Walton ; 3. Nine Cases of Con-
be a judge, or write cases of conscience.” Walton, who science resolved, first collected in one volume in 1678, 8vo;
wrote the life of Dr Saunderson, informs us, that in one of 4. De Juramenti Obligatione, which was translated into
these conferences the king told Saunderson, or one of the English by Charles I. while a prisoner in the Isle of Wight,
rest who was then in company, that “ the remembrance of and printed at London in 1665, in 8vo; 5. De Obligatione
two errors did much affect him, which were his assent to the Conscientia ; 6. Censure of Mr Antony Ascham his book
Earl of Strafford’s death, and the abolishing of Episcopacy of the confusions and revolutions of government; 7. Pax
in Scotland; and that if God ever restored him to the Ecclesice, concerning Predestination, or the five points; 8»
peaceable possession of his crown, he would prove his re- Episcopacy, as established by Law in England, not prejudi-
pentance by a public confession and a voluntary penance, cial to the Regal Power, in 1661. Besides these, he wrote
by walking barefoot from the Towrer of London, or White- two Discourses in defence of Usher’s wi'itings.
hall, to St Paul’s Church, and would desire the people to Saunderson, Dr Nicholas, was born at ihurlstone, in
intercede with God for his pardon.” Yorkshire, in 1682, and may be considered as a prodigy for
Dr Saunderson was taken prisoner by the parliament’s his application and success in mathematical literature, in
troops, and conveyed to Lincoln, in order to procure in ex- circumstances apparently the most unfavourable. He lost
change a Puritan divine named Clark, whom the king’s army his sight by the small-pox before he was a year old. But
had taken. The exchange was agreed to, on condition that this disaster did not prevent him from searching after that
Dr Saunderson’s living should be restored, and his person knowledge for which nature had given him so ardent a de-
and property remain unmolested. The first of these de- sire. He was initiated into the Greek and Roman authors
mands was readily complied with; and a stipulation was at a free school at Penniston. After spending some years
made, that the second should be observed; but it was im- in the study of the languages, his father, who had a place
possible to restrain the licentiousness of the soldiers. They in the excise, began to teach him the common rules of
entered his church in the time of divine service, interrupt- arithmetic. But he soon surpassed his father, and could
ed him when reading prayers, and even had the audacity make long and difficult calculations without having any
to take the common-prayer book from him, and to tear it sensible marks to assist his memory. At eighteen he was
to pieces. taught the principles of algebra and of geometry by Mr
Mr Boyle, having read a work of Dr Saunderson’s, en- Richard West of Undoorbank, who, though a gentleman o
titled De Juramenti Obligatione, was so much pleased that fortune, yet, being strongly attached to mathematical leam-
he inquired at Bishop Barlow, whether he thought that it wras ing, readily undertook the education of so uncommon a
possible to prevail on the author to write Cases of Consci- genius. Saunderson was also assisted in his mathemati-
ence, if an honorary pension was assigned him to enable cal studies by Dr Nettleton. These two gentlemen real
S A U
S ider- books to him and explained them. He was next sent to
n- a private academy at AtterclifF near Sheffield, where logic
and metaphysics were chiefly taught. But these sciences
not suiting his turn of mind, he soon left the academy.
He lived for some time in the country without any instruc¬
tor; but such was the vigour of his own mind, that few in¬
structions were necessary. He only required books and a
reader.
His father, besides the place he had in the excise, pos¬
sessed also a small estate; but having a numerous family to
support, he was unable to give him a liberal education at
one of the universities. Some of his friends, who had re¬
marked his perspicuous and interesting manner of commu¬
nicating his ideas, proposed that he should attend the uni¬
versity of Cambridge as a teacher of mathematics. This
proposal was immediately put in execution, and he was ac¬
cordingly conducted to Cambridge in his twenty-fifth year,
by Mr Joshua Dunn, a fellow-commoner of Christ’s College.
Though he was not received as a member of the college,
he was treated with great attention and respect. He was
allowed a chamber, and had free access to the library. Mr
Whiston was at that time professor of mathematics, and as
he read lectures in the way that Saunderson intended, it
was naturally to be supposed he would view his project as
an invasion of his office. But, instead of meditating any
opposition, the plan was no sooner mentioned to him than
he gave his consent to it. Saunderson’s reputation was soon
spread throughout the university. When his lectures were
announced, a general curiosity was excited to hear such
intricate mathematical subjects explained by a man who
had been blind from his infancy. The subject of his lec¬
tures was the Principia Mathematica, the Optics, and the
Arithmetica Universalis, of Sir Isaac Newton. He was ac¬
cordingly attended by a very numerous audience. It will
appear at first incredible to many that a blind man should
be capable of explaining optics, which requires an accurate
knowledge of the nature of light and colours ; but we must
recollect that the theory of vision is taught entirely by lines,
and is subject to the rules of geometry.
While thus employed in explaining the principles of the
Newtonian philosophy, he became known to its illustrious
author. He was also intimately acquainted with Halley,
Cotes, Demoivre, and other eminent mathematicians. When
Whiston was removed from his professorship, Saunderson
i was universally allowed to be the man best qualified for
the succession. But to enjoy this office it was necessary,
as the statutes direct, that he should be promoted to a de¬
gree. To obtain this privilege, the heads of the univer¬
sity applied to their chancellor the Duke of Somerset, who
procured the royal mandate to confer upon him the degree
of master of arts. He was then elected Lucasian profes¬
sor of mathematics in November 1711. His inauguration
speech was composed in classical Latin, and in the style
of Cicero,; with whose works he had been much conversant.
He now devoted his wdiole time to his lectures and the
instruction of his pupils. In 1728, when George II. vi¬
sited the university of Cambridge, he expressed a desire
to see Professor Saunderson. In compliance with this de¬
sire, he waited upon his majesty in the senate-house, and
was there, by the king’s command, created doctor of laws.
He was admitted a member of the Royal Society in 1736.
Saunderson was naturally of a vigorous constitution, but
having confined himself to a sedentary life, he at length
became scorbutic. For several years he felt a numbness
in his limbs, which in the spring of 1739 brought on a
mortification in his foot; and, unfortunately, his blood was
so vitiated by the scurvy, that assistance from medicine
was not to be expected. When he was informed that his
death was near, he remained for a little space calm and si¬
lent ; but he soon recovered his* former vivacity, and con¬
versed with his usual ease. He died on the 19th of April
S A U 655
Hb9, in the fifty-seventh year of his age, and wTas buried Saurin.
at his own request in the chancel at Boxworth. He mar- '
lied the daughter of Mr Dickens, rector of Boxworth, in
Cambridgeshire, and by her had a son and a daughter.
Dr Saunderson was rather to be admired as a man of
wonderful genius and assiduity, than to be loved for his
amiable qualities. He spoke his sentiments freely of cha¬
racters, and praised or condemned his friends as well as his
enemies without reserve. This has been ascribed by some
to a love of defamation; but it has with more propriety
been attributed by others to an inflexible love of truth,
which urged him upon all occasions to speak the sentiments
of his mind without disguise, and without considering whe¬
ther this conduct would please, or the reverse. His senti¬
ments were supposed to be unfavourable to revealed religion.
It is said that he alleged he could not know God, because
he was blind, and could not see his works; and that upon
this Dr Holmes replied, “ Lay your hand upon yourself,
and the organization which you will feel in your own body
will dissipate so gross an error.” On the other hand, we
are informed that he had desired the sacrament to be given
him on the evening before his death. He was however
seized w ith a delirium, which rendered this impossible.
He wrote a system of algebra, which was published in
two volumes 4to, at London, after his death, in the year
1740, at the expense of the university of Cambridge.
Dr Saunderson had invented for his own use a Palpable
Arithmetic, that is, a method of performing operations in
arithmetic solely by the sense of touch. It consisted of a
table raised upon a small frame, so that he could apply his
hands with equal ease above and below. On this table
were drawn a great number of parallel lines, which were
crossed by others at right angles ; the edges of the table
were divided by notches half an inch distant from one an¬
other, and between each notch there were five parallels,
so that every square inch was divided into a hundred little
squares. At each angle of the squares where the parallels
intersected one another, a hole was made quite through the
table ; and in each hole were placed two pins, a large and a
small one. It was by the various arrangements of the pins
that Saunderson performed his operations.
His sense of touch was so perfect that he could discover
with the greatest exactness the slightest inequality of sur¬
face, and could distinguish in the most finished works the
smallest oversight in the polish. In the cabinet of medals
at Cambridge he could single out the Roman medals with
the utmost correctness; and he could also perceive the
slightest variation in the atmosphere. One day, while
some gentlemen were making observations on the sun, he
took notice of every little cloud that passed over his disk
and served to interrupt their labours. When any object
passed before his face, even though at some distance, he
discovered it, and could guess its size with considerable
accuracy. When he walked, he knew when he passed by
a tree, a wall, or a house. He had made these distinctions
from the different ways his face was affected by the motion
of the air.
His musical ear was so remarkably acute, that he could
distinguish accurately to the fifth of a note. In his youth
he had been a performer on the flute, and he had made such
proficiency, that if he had cultivated his talents in this way,
he would probably have been as eminent in music as he
was in mathematics. He recognised not only his friends,
but even those with whom he was slightly acquainted, by
the tone of their voice ; and he could judge with wonder¬
ful exactness of the size of any apartment into which he was
conducted.
SAURIN, James, a celebrated preacher, was born at
Nismes in 1677, being the son of a Protestant lawyer of con¬
siderable eminence. He applied to his studies with great
success; but at length being captivated with a military life,
656 S A U
Saurin. he relinquished them for the profession of arms. In 1691
he made a campaign as a cadet in Lord Galloway’s com¬
pany, and soon afterwards obtained a pair of colours in the
regiment of Colonel Renault, which served in Piedmont.
But the Duke of Savoy having made peace with France, he
returned to Geneva, and resumed the study of philosophy
and theology under Turretin and other professors. In 1700
he visited Holland, then went to England, where he re¬
mained for several years, and married. In 1705 he returned
to the Hague, where he fixed his residence, and preached
with the most unbounded applause. To an exterior appear¬
ance highly prepossessing, he added a strong and harmoni¬
ous voice. The sublime prayer which he recited before his
sermon was uttered in a manner highly affecting. Nor was
the attention excited by the prayer dissipated by the sermon.
All who heard it were charmed ; and those who came with
an intention to criticise, were carried along with the preacher
and forgot their design. Saurin had, however, one fault in
his delivery; he did not manage his voice with sufficient
skill. He exhausted himself so much in his prayer and the
beginning of his sermon, that his voice grew feeble towards
the end of the service. His sermons, especially those which
were published during his life, are distinguished for just¬
ness of thought, force of reasoning, and an eloquent unaffect¬
ed style. Saurin died on the 30th of December 1730, aged
fifty-three years.
He wrote, first. Sermons, which were published in twelve
vols. 8vo and 12mo; some of which display great genius
and eloquence, and others are composed with negligence.
One may observe in them the imprecations and the aver¬
sion which the Calvinists of that age were wont to utter
against the Roman Catholics. Saurin was, notwithstanding,
a lover of toleration; and his sentiments on this subject gave
great offence to some of his fanatical brethren, who attempt¬
ed to obscure his merit and embitter his life. They found
fault with him because he did not call the pope Antichrist,
* and the Church of Rome the whore of Babylon. But these
prophetic metaphors, however applicable they may be, were
certainly not intended by the benevolent religion of Jesus
to be bandied about as terms of reproach ; which would
teach those to rail who use them, and irritate, without con¬
vincing, those to whom they were applied. Saurin, there¬
fore, while he perhaps interpreted these metaphors in the
same way with his opponents, discovered more of the mo¬
deration of the Christian spirit. Five volumes of his ser¬
mons were published in his life, and the rest have been add¬
ed since his decease.
Secondly, he published Discourses Historical, Critical,
and Moral, on the most memorable Events of the Old and
New Testament. This is his greatest and most valuable
work. It was first printed in two volumes folio. As it was
left unfinished, Beausobre and Roques undertook a conti¬
nuation of it, and increased it to four volumes. It is full of
learning, being a collection of the opinions of the best au¬
thors, both Christian and heathen ; of the philosophers, his¬
torians and critics, on every subject which the author ex¬
amines. He also published the State of Christianity in
France, 1725, 8vo; in which he discusses many important
points of controversy, and calls in question the truth of the
miracle said to have been performed on La Fosse at Paris ;
and An Abridgment of Christian Theology and Morality,
in the form of a Catechism, 1722, 8vo.
A Dissertation which he published on the Expediency of
sometimes disguising the Truth, raised a multitude of ene¬
mies against him. In this discourse his plan was, to state
the arguments of those who affirm that, in certain cases, it
is lawful to disguise truth, and the answers of those who
maintain the contrary. He does not determine the question,
but seems, however, to incline to the former opinion. He was
immediately attacked by several adversaries, and a long con¬
troversy ensued; but his doctrines and opinions were at
S A U
length publicly approved of by the synods of Campen and Saun.
the Hague. s—v''
The subject of this controversy has long been agitated,
and men of equally good principles have supported opposite
sides in it. It would certainly be a dangerous maxim that
falsehood can ever be lawful. There may, indeed, be par¬
ticular cases when the motives to it are of such a nature as
to diminish its criminality; but to lessen its guilt is a very
different thing from justifying it by the laws of morality.
Saurin, Joseph, a geometrician of the Academy of Sciences
at’Paris, was born at Courtouson, in the principality of Orange,
in the yeax 1659. His father, who was a minister at Gre¬
noble, was his first preceptor. He made rapid progress in his
studies, and, when very young, was admitted minister of
Eure in Dauphine ; but having made use of some violent ex¬
pressions in one of his sermons, he was obliged to quit France
in the year 1683. He retired to Geneva, and thence to
Berne, where he obtained a considerable living. Scarcely
wras he settled in his new habitation, however, when some
theologians raised a persecution against him. Saurin, hating
controversy, and disgusted with Switzerland, where his ta¬
lents were entirely concealed, repaired to Holland. He re¬
turned soon afterwards to France, and surrendered himself
into the hands of Bossuet, the bishop of Meaux, who obliged
him to make a recantation of his errors. This event took
place in 1690. His enemies, however, suspected his since¬
rity in the abjuration which he had made. It was a gene¬
ral opinion, that the desire of cultivating science in the ca¬
pital of France had a greater effect in producing this change
than religion. Saurin, however, speaks of the reformers
with great asperity, and condemns them for going too far.
“ Deceived in my opinions concerning the rigid system of
Calvin, I no longer regarded that reformer in any other
light but as one of those extravagant geniuses who are car¬
ried beyond the bounds of truth. Such appeared to me in
general the founders of the reformation ; and that just idea
which I have now obtained of their character has enabled
me to shake off a load of prejudices. I saw in most of the
articles which have separated them from us, such as the in¬
vocation of saints, the worship of images, the distinction of
meats, &c. that they had much exaggerated the inevitable
abuses of the people, and imputed these to the Church of
Rome, as if sanctioned by its doctrines ; besides, that they
have misrepresented those doctrines which were not con¬
nected with any abuse. One thing which surprised me
much when my eyes began to open, was tl^e false idea,
though in appearance full of respect for the word of God,
which the reformers entertained of the perfection and per¬
spicuity of the Holy Scriptures, and the manifest misinter¬
pretation of passages which they bring to support that idea
(for that misinterpretation is a point which can be proved).
Two or three articles still raised some objections in my mind
against the Church of Rome ; to wit, transubstantiation, the
adoration of the sacrament, and the infallibility of the church.
The adoration of the sacrament I considered as idolatry,
and, on that account, removed from her communion. But
soon after, the Exposition of the bishop of Meaux, a work
which can never be sufficiently admired, and his Treatise
concerning changes, reversed all my opinions, and rendered
me an enemy to the Reformation.” It is said also that
Saurin appeased his conscience by reading Poiret’s Cogita-
times Rationales. This book is written with a view to vin¬
dicate the Church of Rome from the charge of idolatry.
If it was the love of distinction that induced Saurin to
return to the Church of Rome, he was not disappointed;
for he there met with protection and support. He was
favourably received by Louis XIV., obtained a pension
from him, and was treated by the Academy of Sciences
with the most flattering respect. At that time (1717)
geometry formed his principal occupation. He adorned
the Journal des Sgavans with many excellent treatises;
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^ure. and lie added to the memoirs of the academy many in-
v ' teresting papers. These are the only works which he has
left behind him. He died at Paris, of a fever, on the 29th of
December 1737, in his seventy-eighth year. He married a
wife of the family of Crousas, in Switzerland, who bore him
a son, Bernard Joseph, distinguished as a writer for the
theatre.
Saurin was of a bold and impetuous spirit. He had that
lofty deportment which is generally mistaken for pride.
His philosophy was austere; his opinions of men were not
very favourable ; and he often delivered them in their pre¬
sence. This created him many enemies. His memory was
attacked after his decease. A letter was printed in the Mer-
cure Suisse, said to be written by Saurin from Paris, in
which he acknowledges that he had committed several
crimes which deserved death. Some Calvinist ministers
published in 1757 two or three pamphlets to prove the au¬
thenticity of that letter; but Voltaire made diligent inquiry,
not only at the place where Saurin had been discharging
the sacerdotal office, but at the deans of the clergy of that
department. They all exclaimed against an imputation so
opprobrious. It must not, however, be concealed, that Vol¬
taire, in the defence which he has published in his general
history of Saurin’s conduct, leaves some unfavourable im¬
pressions upon the reader’s mind. He insinuates that Sau¬
rin sacrificed his religion to his interest, and that he played
upon Bossuet, who believed he had converted a clergyman,
when he had only given a little fortune to a philosopher.
SAUSSURE, Horace Benedict de, a celebrated na¬
turalist, was a native of Geneva, and born in the year 1740.
His father was an intelligent farmer, who lived at Conches,
about half a league from Geneva, which no doubt contri¬
buted, in addition to his active education, to increase the
physical strength of young Saussure, so requisite for a na¬
turalist who intends to travel. He went daily to town for
public instruction ; and as he lived at the foot of a moun¬
tain, he frequently amused himself in ascending its steep
and rugged sides. Thus environed by the phenomena of
nature, and assisted by study, it was to be expected that
he would soon conceive a predilection for natural history.
Botany wras his most early and favourite study, a taste which
was powerfully encouraged by his local situation, and was
the means of introducing him to the acquaintance of the
great Haller, to w hom he paid a visit in 1764, and who was
astonished at his intimate acquaintance with every branch
of the natural sciences.
His attachment to the study of the vegetable kingdom
was also increased by his connection with Bonnet, who had
married his aunt, and w ho put a proper estimate on the
talents of his nephew-. He was at that time engaged in
the examination of the leaves of plants, to which Saussure
was also induced to turn his attention, and published the
result of his researches under the title of Observations on
the Bark of Leaves. About this time the philosophical
chair at Geneva became vacant, and wras given to Saussure
at the age of twenty-one. Rewards conferred so early have
been thought to extinguish in some a zeal for the increase
of knowledge; but this was not the case w-ith De Saussure,
w ho taught physics and logic alternately with equal success.
For physics, however, he had the greatest taste, as afford¬
ing the means of prosecuting the study of chemistry, mi¬
neralogy, and other kindred sciences.
He now began his travels through the mountains, not for
the purpose of studying, as formerly, their flowery decora¬
tions, but their constituent parts, and the disposition of
their masses. During the first fifteen years of his profes¬
sorship, he was alternately engaged in discharging the du¬
ties of his office, and in traversing the mountains in the vi¬
cinity of Geneva; and in this period his talents as a great
philosopher were fully displayed. He extended his re¬
searches on one side to the banks of the Rhine, and on the
VOL. XIX.
s A U 657
other to the country of Piedmont. He travelled to Au- Saussure.
v esgne to examine the extinguished volcanoes, going after-
wards to Paris, England, Holland, Italy, and Sicily. It is
proper to remark, that these were not mere journeys, but
w ere undertaken purely with the view of studying nature ;
and in all his journeys he was surrounded with such instru¬
ments as wrould be of service to him, together with plans
previously arranged of his whole procedure.
The first volume of his travels through the Alps, which
was published in 1779, contains a circumstantial descrip¬
tion of the environs of Geneva, and an excursion as far as
Chamouni, a village at the foot of Mont Blanc. It con¬
tains a description of his magnetometer. In proportion as he
examined the mountains, the more was he persuaded of the
importance of mineralogy; and that he might study it with
advantage, he acquired a knowledge of the German lan¬
guage. In the last volumes of his travels, the reader will
perceive how much new mineralogical knowledge he had
acquired.
During the troubles which agitated Geneva in 1782, he
made his beautiful and interesting experiments on hvgro-
metry, which he published in 1783. This has been pro¬
nounced the best work that ever came from his pen, and
completely established his reputation as a philosopher. De
Saussure resigned his chair to his pupil and fellow-labourer,
Pictet, who discharged the duties of his office with reputa¬
tion, although rendered difficult to him by succeeding so
great a man. He projected a plan of reform in the educa¬
tion of Geneva, the design of which was to make young
people acquainted with the natural sciences and mathema¬
tics at an early period; and wished that their physical edu¬
cation should not be neglected, for which purpose he pro¬
posed gymnastic exercises. This plan found admirers in the
city, but the poverty of its funds was an obstacle in the
way of any important innovation. It was dreaded, too, that
if established forms were changed, they might be altered
for the worse.
The attention of De Saussure was not wholly confined to
public education, for he superintended the education of his
own two sons and a daughter, who have since proved them¬
selves worthy of such a father and preceptor. In 1786,
he published his second volume of travels, containing a de¬
scription of the Alps around Mont Blanc, the whole having
been examined with the eye of a mineralogist, geologist,
and philosopher. It contains some valuable experiments on
electricity, and a description of his own electrometer, said
to be the most perfect we have. To him we are indebted
for his cyanometer, for measuring the degree of blueness of
the heavens, which is found to vary according to the height
of the observer; his diaphanometer, for measuring the trans¬
parency of the atmosphere; and his anemometer, for ascer¬
taining the force of the winds. He founded the Society of
Arts, to the operations of which Geneva is indebted for the
state of prosperity which it has reached w-ithin the last
thirty years. Over that society he presided to the day of
his death; and the preservation of it in prosperity consti¬
tuted one of his fondest wishes.
In 1794, the health of this eminent man began rapidly
to decline, and a severe stroke of the palsy almost deprived
him of the use of his limbs. Such a condition was no
doubt painful; but his intellects still preserved their origi¬
nal activity, and he prepared for the press the last two vo¬
lumes of his travels, which appeared in 1796. 1 hey con¬
tain a great mass of new facts and observations, of the last
importance to physical science. During his illness he pub¬
lished Observations on the Fusibility of Stones by means
of the Blow-pipe. He was in general a Neptunian, ascrib¬
ing the revolutions of our globe to water, and admitting
the possibility of mountains having been thrown up by
elastic fluids disengaged from the cavities of the earth. In
the midst of his rapid decline he cherished the hopes of re-
658 S A V
Sautgur covery ; but his strength was exhausted. A languor suc-
II ceeded the vigour which he had formerly enjoyed ; his slow
v Savage‘ pronunciation did not correspond with the vivacity of his
^ ^ Y ^" mind, and formed a melancholy contrast to the pleasant¬
ness which he had formerly exhibited. He tried in vain
to procure the re-establishment of his health ; for all the
remedies prescribed by the ablest physicians were wholly
ineffectual. His mind afterwards lost its activity; and on
the 22d of March 1799, he finished his mortal career, in
the fifty-ninth year of his age, lamented by a family to whom
he was dear, by a country to which he had done great
honour, and by Europe, the knowledge of which he had
extended.
SAUTGUR, a town of the south of India, in the pro¬
vince of Barramahal, among the Eastern Ghauts, thirty miles
west from Vellore. Long. 78. 54. E. Lat. 12. 58. N. The
pass in the Ghaut beyond this place, approaching the My¬
sore, has been levelled and improved since the conquest of
the country by the British.
SAUVEUR, Joseph, an eminent French mathemati¬
cian, born at La Fleche in 1653. He was absolutely dumb
until he was seven years of age; and even then his organs
of speech were not evolved so fully as to permit him to
speak without great deliberation. Mathematics were the
only studies he had any relish for, and these he cultivated
with extraordinary success; so that he commenced teacher
at twenty years of age, and rose so rapidly into vogue, that
he had Prince Eugene for his scholar. He became mathe¬
matical professor in the royal college in 1686 ; and ten years
afterwards was admitted a member of the Academy of
Sciences. He died in 1716 ; and his writings, which con¬
sist rather of detached papers than of connected treatises,
are all inserted in the Memoirs of the Academy of Sciences.
He was twice married; and by the last wife he had a son, who,
like himself, was dumb for the first seven years of his life.
SAVA, a town of Persia, now in ruins, in the northern
part of the province of Irak. It is still the capital of a dis¬
trict which yields excellent pasture, though strongly im¬
pregnated with salt. It is one hundred and eighty miles
north-west from Ispahan.
SAVAGE is a word so well understood as scarcely to
require explanation. When applied to inferior animals, it
denotes that they are wild, untamed, and cruel; when ap¬
plied to man, it is of much the same import with barbarian,
and means a person that is untaught and uncivilized, or
who is in the rudest state of uncultivated nature.
Savage Island, in the South Pacific Ocean, discovered
'by Captain Cook in 1774. It is about thirty-three miles
in circumference. Long. 169. 37. W. Lat. 19. 1. S.
Savage, Richard, one of the most remarkable charac¬
ters that is to be met with in all the records of biography,
was, according to her own confession, the son of Anne coun¬
tess of Macclesfield by the Earl of Rivers, and was born in
1698. This confession of adultery was made in order to
procure a separation from her husband the Earl of Maccles¬
field ; yet, having obtained this desired end, no sooner was
her spurious offspring brought into the world, than, without
the dread of shame or poverty to excuse her, she discover¬
ed the resolution of disowning him, and, as long as he lived,
treated him with the most unnatural cruelty. She deliver¬
ed him over to a poor woman to educate as her own; pre¬
vented the Earl of Rivers from leaving him a legacy of L.6000,
by declaring him dead; and in effect deprived him of an¬
other legacy which his godmother Mrs Lloyd had left him,
by concealing from him his birth, and thereby rendering it
impossible for him to prosecute his claim. She endeavour¬
ed to send him secretly to the plantations; but this plan
being either laid aside or frustrated, she placed him appren¬
tice with a shoemaker. In this situation, however, he did
not long continue; for his nurse having died, he went to
take care of the effects of his supposed mother, and found
S A V
Si
in her boxes some letters which discovered to young Sa- Savage, rr*
vage his birth, and the cause of its concealment.
From the moment of this discovery it was natural for him
to become dissatisfied with his situation as a shoemaker.
He now conceived that he had a right to share in the afflu¬
ence of his real mother ; and therefore he directly, and per¬
haps indiscreetly, applied to her, and made use of every art
to awaken her tenderness and attract her regard. But in
vain did he solicit this unnatural parent. She avoided him
with the utmost precaution, and took measures to prevent
his ever entering her house on any pretence whatever.
Savage was at this time so touched with the discovery of
his birth, that he frequently made it his practice to walk
before his mother’s door in hopes of seeing her by accident;
and often did he warmly solicit her to admit him to see her;
but all to no purpose. He could neither soften her heart
nor open her hand.
In the mean time, whilst he was assiduously endeavouring
to rouse the affections of a mother in whom all natural affec¬
tion was extinct, he was destitute of the means of support,
and reduced to the miseries of want. We are not told by
what means he got rid of his obligation to the shoemaker,
or whether he ever was actually bound to him ; but we now
find him very differently employed in order to procure a
subsistence. In short, the youth had parts, and a strong
inclination towards literary pursuits, especially poetry. He
wrote a poem, and afterwards two plays, Woman’s a Riddle,
and Love in a Veil; but the author was allowed no part of
the profits from the first; and from the second he received
no other advantage than the acquaintance of Sir Richard
Steele and of Mr Wilkes, by whom he was pitied, caressed,
and relieved. However, the kindness of his friends not af¬
fording him a constant supply, he wrote the tragedy of Sir
Thomas Overbury, which not only procured him the esteem
of many persons of wit, but brought him in L.200. The ce¬
lebrated Aaron Hill was of great service to him in correct¬
ing and fitting this piece for the stage and the press; and
he extended his patronage still further. But Savage was,
like many other wits, a bad manager, and was ever in dis¬
tress. As fast as his friends raised him out of one difficulty,
he sunk into another; and, when he found himself greatly
involved, he would ramble about like a vagabond, with scarce¬
ly a shirt to his back.
Mr Hill also earnestly promoted a subscription to a volume
of Miscellanies by Savage, and likewise furnished part of
the poems of which the volume was composed. To this
miscellany Savage wrote a preface, in which he gives an
account of his mother’s cruelty in an uncommon strain of
humour. The profits of his tragedy and his Miscellanies
together had now, for a time, somewhat raised poor Savage
both in circumstances and in credit; so that the world just
began to behold him with a more favourable eye than for¬
merly, when both his fame and his life were endangered by
a most unhappy event. A drunken frolic in which he one
night engaged, ended in a fray, and Savage unfortunately
killed a man, for which he was condemned to be hanged.
His friends earnestly solicited the mercy of the crown, whilst
his mother as earnestly exerted herself to prevent his re¬
ceiving it. The Countess of Hertford at length laid his whole
case before Queen Caroline, and Savage obtained a pardon.
Savage had now lost that tenderness for his mother which
the whole series of her cruelty had not been able wholly to
repress; and considering her as an implacable enemy, whom
nothing but his blood could satisfy, threatened to harass her
with lampoons, and to publish a copious narrative of her
conduct, unless she consented to allow him a pension. This
expedient proved successful; and the Lord Tyrconnel, upon
his promise of laying aside his design of exposing his mo¬
ther’s cruelty, took him into his family, treated him as an
equal, and engaged to allow him a pension of L.200 a year.
This was the golden part of Savage’s life. He was courted
S A V
age. by all who endeavoured to be thought men of genius, and
' caressed by all who valued themselves upon a refined taste.
In this gay period of his life he published the Temple of
Health and Mirth, on the recovery of Lady Tyrconnel from
a languishing illness; and The Wanderer, a moral poem,
which he dedicated to Lord Tyrconnel, in strains of the
highest panegyric. But these praises he in a short time
found himself inclined to retract, being discarded by the
man on whom they were bestowed. Of this quarrel Lord
Tyrconnel and Mr Savage assigned very different reasons.
Our author’s known character pleads too strongly against
him ; for his conduct was ever such as made all his friends,
sooner or later, grow weary of him, and even forced most
of them to become his enemies.
Being thus once more turned adrift upon the world, Sa¬
vage, whose phssions were very strong, and whose gratitude
was very small, became extremely diligent in exposing the
faults of Lord Tyrconnel. He, moreover, now thought him¬
self at liberty to take revenge upon his mother, in a poem
called The Bastard. This poem had an extraordinary sale ;
and its appearance happening when his mother was at Bath,
many persons there took frequent opportunities of repeating
passages from the Bastard in her hearing.
Some time after this, Savage formed the resolution of
applying to the queen. With this view, he published a
poem on her birth-day, which he entitled the Volunteer-
Laureat; for which she was pleased to send him L.50, with
an intimation that he might annually expect the same boun¬
ty. But this annual allowance was nothing to a man of
his strange and singular extravagance. His usual custom
was, as soon as he had received his pension, to disappear
with it, and secrete himself from his most intimate friends,
till every shilling of the L.50 was spent; which done, he
appeared again, pennyless as before. But he would never
inform any person where he had been, or in what manner
his money had been dissipated. From the reports, how¬
ever, of some, who found means to penetrate his haunts, it
would seem that he expended both his time and his cash
in the most sordid and despicable sensuality.
His wit and parts, however, still raised him new friends
as fast as his behaviour lost him his old ones. Yet such
was his conduct, that occasional relief only furnished the
means of occasional excess; and he defeated all attempts
made by his friends to fix him in a decent way. He was
even reduced so low as to be destitute of a lodging, inso¬
much that he often passed his nights in those mean houses 1
that are set open for casual wanderers; sometimes in cel¬
lars, amidst the riot and filth of the most profligate of the
rabble; and not seldom would he walk the streets till he
was weary, and then lie down in summer on a hulk, or in
winter with his associates among the ashes of a glass-house.
Yet, amidst all this penury and wretchedness, had this
man so much pride, and so high an opinion of his own
merit, that he was always ready to repress, with scorn and
contempt, the least appearance of any slight or indignity
towards himself, in the behaviour of his acquaintance, among
whom he looked upon none as his superior. This life, un¬
happy as it may be imagined, was yet rendered more so by
the death of the queen in 1738, which stroke deprived him
of all hopes from the court. His pension was discontinued,
and the insolent manner in which he demanded of Sir Ro¬
bert Walpole to have it restored, for ever cut off this con¬
siderable supply.
His distress became now so great and so notorious, that
a scheme was at length concerted for procuring him a per¬
manent relief. It was proposed that he should retire into
Wales, with an allowance of L.50 per annum, on which he
was to live privately in a cheap place, for ever quitting his
town haunts, and resigning all further pretensions to fame.
This offer he seemed gladly to accept; but his intentions
were only to deceive his friends, by retiring for a while, to
s A v 659
write another tragedy, and then to return with it to London Savage,
in order to bring it upon the stage. —y-w”
In 1/39 he set out in the Bristol stage-coach for Swan-
sey, and was furnished with fifteen guineas to bear the ex¬
pense of his journey. But, on the fourteenth day after his
depaiture, his friends and benefactors, the principal of whom
was Mr Pope, who expected to hear of his arrival in Wales,
were surprised with a letter from Savage, informing them
that he was yet upon the road, and could not proceed for
want of money. There was no other method than a remit¬
tance, which was sent him, and by the help of which he
was enabled to reach Bristol, whence he was to proceed to
Swansey by water. At Bristol, however, he found an em¬
bargo laid upon the shipping, so that he could not imme¬
diately obtain a passage. Here, therefore, being obliged
to stay for some time, he, with his usual facility, so ingra¬
tiated himself with the principal inhabitants, that he was
frequently invited to their houses, distinguished at their
public entertainments, and treated with a regard that highly
flattered his vanity, and therefore easily engaged his affec¬
tions. At length, with great reluctance, he proceeded to
Swansey, where he lived about a year, very much dissatis¬
fied with the diminution of his salary; for he had, in his
letters, treated his contributors so insolently, that most of
them withdrew their subscriptions. Here he finished his
tragedy, and resolved to return with it to London ; which
was strenuously opposed by his great and constant friend
Mr Pope, who proposed that Savage should put this play
into the hands of Mr Thomson and Mr Mallet, in order that
they might fit it for the stage, that his friends should re¬
ceive the profits it might bring in, and that the author should
receive the produce by way of annuity. This kind and
prudent scheme was rejected by Savage with the utmost
contempt. He declared he would not submit his works
to any one’s correction; and that he should no longer be
kept in leading-strings. He soon returned to Bristol in his
w^ay to London ; and there meeting with a repetition of the
same kind treatment he had before found, he was tempted
to make a second stay in that opulent city. Here he was
again not only caressed and treated, but the sum of L.30
was raised for him, w ith which it had been happy if he
had immediately departed for London. But he never con¬
sidered that a frequent repetition of such kindness was not
to be expected, and that it was possible to tire out the
generosity of his Bristol friends, as he had before tired his
friends everywhere else. In short, he remained here till
his company wras no longer welcome. His visits in every
family were too often repeated ; his wit had lost its novelty,
and his irregular behaviour grew troublesome. Necessity
came upon him before he was aw are. His money was spent,
his clothes were worn out, his appearance was shabby, and
his presence was disgustful at every table. He now' began
to find every man from home at whose house he called.
Thus reduced, it would have been prudent in him to have
withdrawn from the place ; but prudence and Savage w ere
never acquainted. He staid, in the midst of poverty, hun¬
ger, and contempt, till the mistress of a coffee-house, to
whom he owed about eight pounds, arrested him for the
debt. He remained for some time, at a great expense, in
the house of the sheriff’s officer, in hopes of procuring bail;
which expense he was enabled to defray by a present of
five guineas from Mr Nash. No bail, however, was to be
found, so that poor Savage was at last lodged in Newrgate,
a pi’ison so named in Bristol.
But it was the fortune of this extraordinary mortal al¬
ways to find more friends than he deserved. The keeper
of the prison took compassion on him, and greatly softened
the rigours of his confinement by every kind of indulgence.
He supported him at his own table, gave him a commodious
room to himself, allowed him to stand at the door of the
jail, and even frequently took him into the fields for the
660
S A V
S A V
Savary.
Savannah benefit of the air and exercise; so that, in reality, Savage
endured fewer hardships in this place than he had usually
, suffered during the greater part of his life. Whilst he re¬
mained in this not intolerable prison, his ingratitude again
broke out, in a bitter satire on the city of Bristol, to which
he certainly owed great obligations, notwithstanding the
circumstances of his arrest, which w as but the act of an in¬
dividual, and that attended with no circumstances of in¬
justice or cruelty.
When Savage had remained about six months in this
hospitable prison, he received a letter from Mr Pope, who
still continued to allow him L.20 a year, containing a charge
of very atrocious ingratitude. What were the particulars
of this charge we are not informed; but, from the noto¬
rious character of the man, there is reason to fear that Sa¬
vage was but too justly accused. He, how ever, solemnly
protested his innocence; but he was very unusually affect¬
ed on this occasion. In a few days afterwards he was seized
with a disorder, which at first was not suspected to be dan¬
gerous ; but growing daily more languid and dejected, at
last a fever seized him, and he expired on the 1st of August
1743, in the forty-sixth year of his age.
SAVANNAH, formerly the capital of Georgia, in North
America. This city is advantageously situated for a com¬
mercial town, being accessible to large vessels from the
sea, and communicating with the interior by the noble
river of the same name. It is built on a high bank rising
about forty feet above the water; and its spacious and re¬
gular streets and handsome buildings, mingling with the
groves of ornamental trees, have an imposing appearance.
The site was formerly unhealthy, on account of the sur¬
rounding sw'amps ; but this evil has been remedied by ju¬
dicious drainings, and by the substitution of the dry for
the wet cultivation of rice around the city. Savannah was
founded by General Oglethorpe in 1733, on a spot then
known as the Yamacrow Bluff. It was captured by the
British in 1778, and unsuccessfully besieged and assault¬
ed by the French and Americans in the following year.
In 1820 it suffered so much from a terrible fire, that its
prosperity received a temporary check, and the population,
which in 1820 had been 752*3, was only 7423 in 1830;
but it has since recovered from this shock, and has been
for a number of years one of the most flourishing towns in
the southern states, its .population having increased to
about 11,000 in 1835. Although the railroad from Au¬
gusta to Charlestown, and the security of the inland passage
from the Savannah to that city, have of late tended to di¬
vert much of the trade thither, yet Savannah is the chief
commercial depot in the state, and much of the cotton and
rice of Georgia, with large quantities of the other exported
articles, are shipped from its wharfs. In 1835, the exports
included 250,000 bales of cotton, and 24,000 casks of rice;
and the whole value of exported articles in 1836 amounted
to 15,469,000 dollars. Twenty steam-boats of a large class,
and fifty steam tug-boats, are employed on the river; and
the shipping of the port amounts to 8375 tons. The bank¬
ing institutions in the city are five, with an aggregate ca¬
pital of 1,682,525 dollars.* Long. 81. 10. W. Lat. 32.8. N.
SAVARY, James, an eminent French writer on the sub¬
ject of trade, was born at Done, in Anjou, in 1622. Being
bred to merchandise, he continued in trade until 1658,
when he left off the practice, to cultivate the theory. He
had married in 1650; and in 1660, when the king de¬
clared his purpose of assigning privileges and pensions to
such of his subjects as had twelve children alive, Mr Sa¬
vary was not too rich to put in his claim to the royal bounty.
He w as afterwards admitted of the council for the reforma¬
tion of commerce, and the orders which passed in 1670 w ere
drawn up by his instructions and advice. He wrote Le
Parfait Negotiant^ 4to; and Avis et Conseils sur les Im~
port antes Matieres du Commerce, in 4to. He died in 1690;
and out of seventeen children whom he had by one wife, he Savai
left eleven. Two of his sons, James and Philemon Louis, , I!
laboured jointly on a great work, Dictionnaire Universelle
du Commerce, in two vols. folio. This work was begun
by James, who was inspector-general of the manufactures
at the custom-house, Paris, and w ho called in the assist¬
ance of his brother Philemon Louis, although a canon of
the roval church of St Maur, and by his death left him to
finish it. This work appeared in 1723, and Philemon after¬
wards added a third supplemental volume. Postlethwayte’s
English Dictionary of Trade and Commerce is a transla¬
tion, with considerable improvements, from Savary.
Savary, M., an eminent French traveller and writer,
was born at Vitre, in Bretagne, about the year 1748. He
studied with applause at Rennes, and in 1776 travelled into
Egypt, where he remained nearly three years. During this
period he was wholly engaged in the study of the Arabian
language, in searching out ancient monuments, and in exa¬
mining the national manners. After making himself ac¬
quainted with the knowledge and philosophy of Egypt, he
visited the islands in the Archipelago, where he spent eigh¬
teen months. On his return to France in the year 1780, he
published, 1. A Translation of the Koran, with a short Life
of Mahommed, in 1783, two vols. 8vo; 2. The Morality of
the Koran, or a Collection of the most excellent Maxims
in the Koran ; 3. Letters on Egypt, in three vols. 8vo, in
1785. In these the author makes his observations with ac-
curacv, paints with vivacity, and renders interesting every
thing he relates. His descriptions are in general faithful,
but are perhaps in some instances too much ornamented.
He has been justly censured for painting modern Egypt
and its inhabitants in too high colours. He died on the 4th
of February 1788.
SAVE, a river of Germany, w hich has its source in Up¬
per Carniola, on the frontiers of Carinthia. It runs through
Carniola from west to east, afterwards separates Sclavonia
from Croatia, Bosnia, and part of Servia, and then falls into
the Danube at Belgrade.
SAVENAY, an arrondissement of the department of the
Lower Loire, in France, extending over 210,279 hectares,
which, in English measure, is equal to 739^ square miles.
It is divided into eleven cantons, and these into fifty-one
communes, with (in 1836) 114,256 inhabitants. The ca¬
pital is a town of the same name, which, in 1836, contained
2079 inhabitants.
SAVENDROOG, a celebrated fortress of the south of
India, in Mysore. It is strongly situated on the summit of
an immense rock, half a mile in nearly perpendicular height,
and surrounded by a thick wood. It was taken by the Bri¬
tish in 1791, without the loss of a man. Long. 77. 29. E.
Lat. 12. 56. N.
SAVERNE, an arrondissement of the department of the
Lower Rhine, in France. Its extent is 297,104 acres,
equal to 464 square miles ; and is divided into seven cantons,
and these into 165 communes, with a population, in the
year 1836, of 112,260 persons. The capital, a city of the
same name, stands on the river Zorn, at the toot of the
Vosges Mountains, in one of the most luxuriant parts of
ancient Alsace. It is antiquely built, and contains 535-
inhabitants, who generally speak the German language.
Long. 7. 48. 21. E. Lat. 48. 44. 20. N.
SAVIGLIANO, a city of Italy, in the kingdom of Sar¬
dinia and province of Turin. It stands on a fine plain
watered by the river Maira. It is well built, and has a fine
market-place, magnificent palaces, several churches anc
monasteries, and 18,750 inhabitants, among whom are many
of the nobility. It has some considerable manufactures of
silk and linen goods, and considerable trade in cattle, wine,
and corn, especially in maize. Long. 6. 33. E. Lat. 4 .
30. N. ‘ , , , •
SAVIGNANO, a town of Italy, in the papal delegation
Hsvi'ft
i
avings
auks.
SAVINGS BANKS.
662”'
S.AA INGS BANKS are institutions established by act of
parliament, for the safe custody of small sums deposited by
the industrious classes, and for the accumulation of such
sums at compound interest. The origin of savings banks
is comparatively recent. Attempts at instituting such banks
were made, on a small scale, at various placed in England
towards the end of last century and the beginning of the
present: attempts of a private and isolated nature, without
the benevolent individuals by whom they were made enter¬
taining any ide^ of the institution ever becoming general;
and it was reserved for an individual yet living to have
the honour ot founding an institution which served as a
model for such banks, and thus of conferring an unspeak¬
able blessing on the operative classes. We refer to the
Kev. Dr Duncan, minister of Ruthwell in Dumfriesshire.
In 1810 he established “the Parish Bank Friendly So¬
ciety of Ruthwelland during the same year published a
pamphlet on the subject, entitled “ An Essay on the Na¬
ture and Advantages of Parish Banks.” This pamphlet,
in which the nature and advantages of these institutions
are ably developed, had so great an effect, and the success
of the Ruthwell institution had been so remarkable, that
“ Parish Banks,” as Dr Duncan called them, but which
are now' described as Savings Banks, speedily sprung up,
not only in most of the principal towns and boroughs of
Scotland, but in several remote parishes.
Savings banks in England and Ireland were first taken
under the protection of government by the act of 57th Geo.
III. cap. 62, passed in 1817 ; but the first act in support
of these institutions in Scotland did not pass till two
years afterwards. A savings bank in Scotland, establish¬
ed under the latter act, is an institution formed by any
number of persons who may choose to unite for the pur¬
pose of receiving deposits of small sums, and who, upon
enrolling their rules at the quarter-sessions, acquire the pri¬
vilege of suing and being sued in the name of trustees. The
money and effects of the institution are vested in the trus¬
tees, for behoof of the depositors. Receipts and other do¬
cuments used by the bank are exempted from stamp-duties;
and provision is made by the act for a summarv mode of
settling disputes that may arise between the trustees and
depositors. These were all the advantages which the act
conferred on savings banks in Scotland. Hence these in¬
stitutions did not flourish ; the aggregate sums deposited in
them at the period (1835) when the privileges of the Eng¬
lish system w ere extended to Scotland not being estimated
higher than L. 100,000.
\ arious acts were meanwhile passed for the support of
these institutions in England and Ireland ; but all these
statutes were consolidated in the existing English Savings
Bank Act of 9th Geo. IV. cap. 92, passed in 1828, which
w-as amended in a few particulars by the act of 3d Will.
IV. cap. 14. These acts, as previously stated, were extend¬
ed to Scotland in 1835.
By this statute the whole deposits may be invested in the
Bank of England on account with the Commissioners for the
Reduction of the National Debt, at the rate of L.3. 16s. O^d.
per cent, of interest. The savings banks are thus enabled
to give a comparatively high rate of interest, which is
generally L.3. 6s. 8d., or 34 per cent. Each individual is
allowed to deposit any sum from one shilling up to L.30 in
a year, and L.150 in all, exclusive of interest; and, in¬
cluding interest, L.200. The bank is obliged to allow
compound interest; and this interest must be made up by
law at the end of every year (20th November), and added
to the amount belonging to each depositor, even though
he does not appear to get his book balanced. The bank
is also authorized to receive the funds of friendly societies
without limitation, and of benevolent and charitable insti¬
tutions to the amount of L.300 in all. By this statute
the whole funds are required to be invested with the Na¬
tional ^Debt Commissioners, and nowhere else; and any Saving*
part ot these funds, when required, is repaid by the Bank Bank;,
of England, without regard to fluctuations in the value of
toe public stocks. It likewise requires security to be given
b\ eveiy person—-the treasurer, the actuary, the cashier,
the clerks, the office-keeper—intrusted with the receipt or
custody of any sum of money belonging to a savings bank ;
while neither these functionaries, nor the managers or trus¬
tees, nor any person having a control or direction in the
management, can become depositors in the bank, or derive,
diiectly oi indirectly, any benefit from the institution.
Annual returns must be made to the National Debt Office,
and likewise suspended in the office of the bank, and exhi¬
bited to depositors ; the manager and trustees being thus
directly responsible both to the government and to the
public. In short, while the greatest facilities are afforded
for the increase of the funds, every possible precaution has
been taken to insure their safe custody, and the direct re¬
sponsibility of the managers. Nay, so liberal is the sys¬
tem, that the annual general meeting is open by lawr to
depositors of the amount of L.10 ; but, practically speaking,
every depositor who chooses is allowed to attend* Beside?,
the rules and regulations of every savings bank require to
be approved by the Commissioners of the National Debt,
and certified by the barrister-at-law appointed for the pur¬
pose, and enrolled at the quarter-sessions of the justices of
the peace for the county in which the bank is situated. It
may here be mentioned, that, to prevent an abuse of the
institution, no person is allowed by law to be a depositor
in two savings banks at the same time ; and on joining a
savings bank, every person is required to sign a declaration
to that effect.
The act 2d and 3d Will. IV. enables depositors in sav¬
ings banks, and others, to purchase government annuities,
for life or for a given number of years, and either imme¬
diate or deferred. At present these annuities are limited
to L.20 a year. The money advanced is returned (but
without interest), provided the contracting party does not
live to the age at which the annuity is to become payable,
or is unable to continue the monthly or annual instalments.
The transactions under the act are to be carried on through
the medium of savings banks, or by societies established
for the purpose. But of this scheme, the classes for
whose benefit it was intended have not availed themselves
to any great extent.
Since their establishment in 1817, the increase of sav¬
ings banks has been beyond all expectation. The total
sum of money invested by these institutions in England,
Wales, and Ireland, amounts at this moment (1841) to up¬
wards of L.22,000,000 sterling; while in Scotland, since
1835, when the English law on the subject was extended
to that part of the united kingdom, the progress has also
been very considerable ; savings banks having been es¬
tablished in most of the principal towns; while, in many
places, such institutions still exist, and are flourishing, under
the meagre and defective statute of 1819. The National
Security Savings Bank of Edinburgh was founded in April
1836; andonthe20th November 1841, after the lapse of only
five years and a half it had accumulated L.221,816.19s. 0d.,
including interest; wdiile the aggregate number of de¬
positors wras no fewer than 19,130, of whom 16,149 had
balances (including interest) in their favour not exceed¬
ing L.20 each. Of this bank, 107 charitable societies,
whose united deposits amounted to L 5215. is. 2d., had
availed themselves; and sixty-two friendly societies, whose
gross deposits amounted to L.216,585. 13s. 5d.
The object and principle of this great national institution
cannot be too highly commended. In London, and many
other parts of England, public banks do not receive small
deposits, and upon none do they pay any interest. And
even in Scotland, where the public banks allow interest on
(563* SAVINGS
Savings deposits, they are not willing to open an account under
Banks. But few poor persons are able to save so large a
s*—sum, except by a lengthened course of economy. The
truth therefore is, that, until savings banks were establish¬
ed, the poor were everywhere without the means of securely
and profitably investing those small sums which they are
not unfrequently in a condition to save, and were conse¬
quently led, from the difficulty of disposing of them, to
neglect opportunities of making savings, or, if they did
make them, were tempted by the offer of high interest to
lend them to persons of doubtful character and desperate
fortune, by whom they were for the most part squandered.
Under such circumstances, it is plain that nothing could be
more important in the way of diffusing habits ot forethought
and economy among the labouring classes than the esta¬
blishment of savings banks, where the smallest sums aie
placed in perfect safety, are accumulated at compound
interest, and are paid, with their accumulations, the mo¬
ment they are demanded by the depositors.
But, notwithstanding the soundness of these views, various
objections have been stated against these institutions. To
a few only of these objections can we at present allude.
It has, for example, been objected to savings banks that
the money deposited in them being sent to London and
invested in national stock, is withdrawn from the spot where
it was saved, and that thereby that spot is impoverished in
proportion to the amount of the sum thus transferred. 1 his
objection is more specious than solid. In the first place,
nine tenths of the money invested in savings banks would
not be saved at all, but spent as it is earned, if these insti¬
tutions did not exist. The savings bank does not transmit
to London money already saved. It causes money to be
saved which otherwise would have been spent. It may be
siiid to create money; and it is only the fund which it cre¬
ates that it transmits to London and invests in national
stock. But, in the second place, no man is obliged to put
his money into a savings bank, and thus to send it to Lon¬
don ; nor wdll he ever dream of doing so, it he can invest
it more profitably at home. Profitable and safe invest¬
ment is the sole object, and money is always sure to go
where it can be most profitably employed. The circum¬
stance of an individual putting his earnings into a savings
bank, affords a proof that such a mode of investment is re¬
garded by him as the most eligible. Besides, he will at
once recall it from the savings bank, which he is entitled to
do, if he find he can invest it elsewhere more profitably.
The savings bank, therefore, is not merely the parent or
saving, but its deposits embrace only those sums which can¬
not be otherwise so profitably employed. It withdraws no
money from productive industry. It merely embraces
funds which cannot otherwise be so favourably employed,
or which might not have existed, or have been placed in
improper hands, and lost to the individual.
But there is no objection, no general or national objec¬
tion to money being sent to London. The money thus
disposed of is invested by the National Debt Commissioners,
as agents, in stock; which is the same thing as if it were
directly invested in productive industry. These commis¬
sioners, for example, have bought stock with the twenty-two
millions of money belonging to the savings banks through¬
out England, Wales, and Ireland ; and when they so bought
in, other parties must necessarily have sold out. for any
given amount of buying there must be an equal amount ot
selling. Now the money thus sold out will not lie idle,
because money in a free country never lies idle, but will
be invested in productive industry; and it is evidently the
same thing for the country as it the twenty-two millions of
the savings banks, instead of being converted into stock,
had been at once employed in productive industry, as the
money in the stocks which it displaced is so invested.
The only other objection of which we shall take notice
1 BANKS.
is the following ; namely, that as the money of savings banks Savings
goes into the hands of government, the minister of the day v banks,
may avail himself of it, and use it for public purposes ; that
the depositors have only government security ; and that
if a revolution should take place, the funds would all be
lost.
These objections, however formidable in appearance,
are in reality quite fanciful and untenable. It cannot,
with any degree of truth, be said that the money of sav¬
ings banks goes into the hands of government. The
money is invested in the Bank of England, and the Na¬
tional Debt Commissioners are appointed by law to pur¬
chase national stock with it. Government does not touch
a fraction of the funds. Such money no more goes into
the hands of the minister of the day, than the funds of any
corporate body or private individual who purchases stock.
Parliament passed a law for the encouragement of savings
banks, and for the safe custody and increase of their funds,
which law-, under certain conditions, provides that these
funds may be sent through the Bank of England to the Na¬
tional Debt Commissioners ; that these commissioners shall
buy stock with them, or, in other words, invest them in
government securities, and allow the depositors a certain
rate of interest, or, at their option, to withdraw their funds
in full, without reference to the existing state of the public
securities. Now, these commissioners, when the money
comes into their hands, must buy stock with it, and return
proper vouchers to the savings banks. The commissioners
have been exposed to much additional labour in conse¬
quence of the great spread of savings banks ; but they cost
these banks nothing; for though their duty is imperative,
their services are gratuitous.
It is thus evident that the funds of savings banks neither
go nor can go into the hands of government. The law
provides the very reverse. As well might it be said that
any funds invested in national stock has this destination.
But though the government does not and dares not use one
fraction of the funds of these institutions, it is undoubtedly
security for the money. But can the world afford higher
security than that of this intelligent, free, and wealthy na¬
tion ? As to a revolution, the people of this country are
too intelligent, and value too much the institutions under
which they live, to render such an event at all probable ; but
even should a season of anarchy occur, the constitution has
so much elasticity and solidity in it, that, under well-direct¬
ed public intelligence, it would soon recover and right itself.
Besides, in all civilized countries, as was recently proved
in France and Belgium, a revolution generally respects
private property. In this case, the funds of savings ban;<s
would certainly be as secure, indeed we should say a great
deal more secure, than any other species ot property what¬
ever. Besides, the very circumstance of a large portion
of the people, as the depositors in savings banks, having a
deep interest in the stability of government, would make
them constitutionally to resist, not wantonly to promote,
civil commotion. “ Every person,” says Mr Tidd Pratt,
“ who has vested his savings in the public funds, has a
stake in the security of the country, proportioned not merely
to the sum total of those savings, but to the value ot that
sum to himself, and will be deterred from compassing the
disturbance of his native land by a personal motive, added^
to the influence of duty. Fie will feel the importance ot
public peace and public credit with that strong conviction
which individual interest never fails to inspire; and in
answer to the objections of those who would be jealous of
the support thus obtained to the ruling powers, it shouu
be observed, that he who possesses property in a country ts
not interested in the stability of the administration for the
time being, but in the perpetual stability of universal order
and good government.”—(Hist, ot Savings Banks, p-
ed. 1830.) (c- I')
S A V
ile of Forli. It contains 5100 inhabitants, mostly very poor
ille who are chiefly occupied in winding silk. ’
SAVILE, Sir George, afterwards Marquis of Halifax,
and one of the greatest statesmen of his time, was born
about the year 1630 ; and some time after his return from
his travels was created a peer, in consideration of his own
and his father s merits. He was a strenuous opposer of the
bill of exclusion, but proposed such limitations of the Duke
of York’s authority as should disable him from doing any
harm either to church or state; as the taking out of his hands
all power in ecclesiastical matters, the disposal of the pub¬
lic money, and the power of making peace and war, and
lodging these in the two houses of parliament. After that
bill was rejected in the House of Lords, he pressed them,
though without success, to proceed to the limitation of the
duke’s power; and began with moving, that during the king’s
life he might be obliged to live five hundred miles out of
England. In August 1682 he was created a marquis, and
soon after made privy-seal. Upon King James’s accession,
he was made president of the council; but on his refusal to
consent to the repeal of the test act, he was dismissed from
all public employments. In that assembly of the Lords
which met after King James’s withdrawing himself the first
time from Whitehall, the marquis was chosen their president;
and upon the king’s return from Feversham, he was sent,
together with the Earl of Shrewsbury and Lord Delamere,
from the Prince of Orange, to order his majesty to quit the
palace at Whitehall. In the convention of parliament he
was chosen speaker of the House of Lords, and strenuously
supported the motion for the vacancy of the throne, and the
conjunctive sovereignty of the prince and princess, upon
whose accession he was again made privy-seal. Yet, in
1689, he quitted the court, and became a zealous opponent of
the measures of government till his death, which happened
in April 1695. Mr Grainger observes, that “ he was a per¬
son of unsettled principles, and of a lively imagination,
which sometimes got the better of his judgment. Fie would
never lose his jest, though it spoiled his argument, or brought
his sincerity or even his religion in question. He was de¬
servedly celebrated for his parliamentary talents; and in the
famous contest relating to the bill of exclusion was thought
to be a match tor his uncle Shaftesbury. The pieces he has
left us show him to have been an ingenious, if not a mas¬
terly writer; and his Advice to a Daughter contains more
good sense in fewer words than is, perhaps, to be found in
any of his contemporary authors.” His lordship also wrote,
the Anatomy of an Equivalent; a Letter to a Dissenter; a
Rough Draught of a New Model at Sea; and Maxims of
State; all which were printed together in one volume 8vo.
Since these there were also published under his name, the
Character of King Charles II. 8vo; the Character of Bi¬
shop Burnet, and Historical Observations upon the Reigns
of Edward I. Edward II. Edward III. and Richard II.
with Remarks upon their faithful Counsellors and false Fa¬
vourites.
SAVILLE, Sir Henry, a learned Englishman, was the
second son of Henry Saville, and was born at Bradley, near
Halifax, in Yorkshire, on the 30th of November 1549. He
entered of Merton College, Oxford, in 1561, where he took
the degrees in arts, and was chosen fellow. When he pro¬
ceeded master of arts in 1570, he read for that degree in
the Almagest of Ptolemy, which procured him the reputa¬
tion of a man eminently skilled in the mathematics and the
Greek language ; in the former of which he voluntarily read
a public lecture in the university for some time.
In 1578 he travelled into France and other countries,
where, diligently improving himself in all useful learning,
in languages, and in the knowledge of the w orld, he became
a most accomplished gentleman. At his return he was
made tutor in the Greek tongue to Queen Elizabeth, who
had a great esteem for him.
S A V 661
In lo85 he was made warden of Merton College, which Saville.
he governed thirty-six years with great honour, and im-''-"•v-—^
proved it by all the means in his power. In 1596 he was
chosen provost of Eton College, which he filled with many
learned men. James I. upon his accession to the crowm of
England expressed a great regard for him, and would have
preferred him either in church or state; but Saville de¬
clined it, and only accepted the ceremony of knighthood
from the king, at Windsor, in 1604. His only son Henrv
dying about that time, he thenceforth devoted his fortune
to the promoting of learning. Among other things, in 1619,
he founded, in the university of Oxford, two lectures or
professorships, one m geometry, and the other in astrono¬
my, which he endowed with a salary of L. 160 a year each,
besides a legacy of L.600 to purchase more lands for the
same use. He also furnished a library with mathematical
books, near the mathematical school, for the use of his pro¬
fessors, and gave L.100 to the mathematical chest of his
own appointing ; adding afterwards a legacy of L.40 a year
to the same chest, to the university, and to his professors
jointly. He likewise gave L.120 towards the new building
of the schools, besides several rare manuscripts and printed
books to the Bodleian Library, and a good quantity of Greek
types to the printing press at Oxford.
After a-life thus spent in the encouragement and promo¬
tion of science and literature in general, he died at Eton
College on the 19th of February 1622, in the seventy-third
year of his age, and was buried in the chapel there. On
this occasion, the university of Oxford paid him the greatest
honours, by having a public speech and verses made in his
praise ; which were soon afterwards published in quarto, un¬
der the title of Ultima Lima Savilii.
The highest encomiums were bestowed on Saville by all
the learned of his time; by Casaubon, Mercerus, Meibomius,
Joseph Scaliger, and especially the learned Bishop Monta¬
gue, who, in his Diatribce upon Selden’s History of Tythes,
styles him, “ that magazine of learning, whose memory shall
be honourable amongst not only the learned, but the righte¬
ous, for ever.” His works are, 1. Four Books of the His¬
tories of Cornelius Tacitus, and the Life of Agricola, with
Notes upon them, in folio, dedicated to Queen Elizabeth,
1581. 2. A View of certain Military Matters, or Commen¬
taries concerning Roman Warfare, 1598. 3. Rerum Angli-
carum Scriptores post Bedam, 1596, a collection of the best
writers of our English history. 4, The Works of St Chry¬
sostom, in Greek, in eight vols. folio, 1613. This is a very
fine edition, and composed with great cost and labour. In
the preface he says, “ that having himself visited, about
twelve years before, all the public and private libraries in
Britain, and copied out thence whatever he thought useful
to his design, he then sent some learned men into France,
Germany, Italy, and the East, to transcribe such parts as
he had not already, and to collate the others with the best
manuscripts.” The whole charge of this edition, including
the several sums paid to learned men, at home and abroad,
employed in finding out, transcribing, and collating the best
manuscripts, is said to have amounted to no less than L.8000.
5. In 1618 he published a Latin work, written by Thomas
Bradwardin, archbishop of Canterbury, against Pelagius. en¬
titled De Causa Dei contra Pelagium, et de virtute Causa-
rum, to which he prefixed the life of Bradwardin. 6. In
1621 he published a collection of his own Mathematical
Lectures on Euclid’s Elements, in 4to. 7. Oratio coram
Elizabetha Regina Oxoniae habita, anno 1592, printed at
Oxford in 1658, in 4to. 8. He translated into Latin King
James’s Apology for the Oath of Allegiance. He also left
several manuscripts, written by order of King James, all
which are in the Bodleian Library. He wrote notes like¬
wise upon the margin of many books in his library, particu¬
larly Eusebius’s Ecclesiastical History; which were after¬
wards used by Valesius in his edition of that work in 1659.
662
S A V
Saviour Four of his letters to Camden are published by Smith,
M among Camden’s Letters, 1691, 4to.
Savonarola. SAVIOUR, an appellation which is peculiarly given to
' Jesus Christ, as being the Messiah and Saviour of the world.
See Jesus.
SAVONA, a city of Italy, in the kingdom of Sardinia,
and the province, formerly the state, of Geno. It stands on
the river Ponente, near the sea, where the Egabona falls into
that stream. It has a small harbour, fit only for coasting
vessels, but by which trade and the fisheries are carried on
in it. It is the seat of a bishop, and, besides the cathedral,
has twenty parish and monastic churches. It contains 10,660
inhabitants, who manufacture silk goods, earthenware, soap,
vitriol, and fire-arms. Long. 9. 25. E. Lat. 44. 16. N.j
SAVONAROLA, Jerome, a famous Italian monk, was
born at Ferrara in 1452, being descended of a noble family.
At the age of twenty-two he assumed the habit of a Domi¬
nican friar, without the knowledge of his parents, and dis¬
tinguished himself in that order by his piety and ability as
a preacher. Florence was the theatre where he chose to
appear, and where he preached, confessed, and wrote. He
had address enough to place himself at the head of the fac¬
tion which opposed the family of the Medici. He explain¬
ed the Apocalypse, and there found a prophecy which fore¬
told the destruction of his opponents. He predicted a re¬
novation of the church, and declaimed with much severity
against the clergy and the court of Rome. Alexander \ I.
excommunicated him, and prohibited him from preaching.
He derided the anathemas of the pope ; yet he forbore for
some time from preaching, and then resumed his employ¬
ment with more applause than before. The pope and the
Medici family then thought of attacking him with his own
weapons. Savonarola having posted up a thesis as a sub¬
ject of disputation, a Franciscan, at their instigation, offer¬
ed to prove it heretical. The Franciscan was seconded by
his brother friars, and Savonarola by his ; and thus the two
orders were at open war with each other. To settle the
dispute, and to convince their antagonists of the superior
sanctity of Savonarola, one of the Dominicans offered to
walk through a fire; and in order to prove his wickedness,
a Franciscan agreed to the same experiment. The multi¬
tude, eager to witness so extraordinary a spectacle, urged
both parties to come to a decision ; and the magistrates
were constrained to give their consent. Accordingly, Sa¬
turday the 7th of April 1498 was fixed for the trial. On
that day the champions appeared ; but when they saw one
another in cold blood, and beheld tne wood in flames, they
were seized with fear, and very anxious to escape, by any
subterfuge, the imminent danger into which they had rashly
thrown themselves. The Dominican pretended he could
not enter the flames without the host in his hand. This the
magistrates obstinately refused to allow; and the Domini¬
can’s fortitude was not put to the test. The Franciscans
incited the multitude against their opponents, who accord¬
ingly assaulted their monastery, broke open the gates, which
were shut against them, and entered by force. Upon this,
the magistrates thought it necessary to bring Savonarola to
trial as”an impostor. He was put to the torture and ex¬
amined, and the answers which he gave fully evinced that
he was both a cheat and a fanatic. He boasted of having
frequent conversations with God, and he found his brother
friars credulous enough to believe him. One of the Domi¬
nicans who had shared in his sufferings, affirmed that he
saw the Holy Ghost in the shape of a dove, with feathers
of gold and silver, twice in one day alight on the shoulder
of Savonarola and peck his ear ; and he pretended also that
he had violent combats with demons. John Francis Picus,
count of Mirandola, who wrote his life, assures us that the
devils which infested the convent of the Dominicans trem¬
bled at the sight of Friar Jerome, and that out of vexation
they always suppressed some letters of his name in pro-
S A V
nouncing it. He expelled them from all the cells of the
monastery. When he went round the convent sprinkling
holy water to defend the friars from the insults of the de¬
mons, it is said that the evil spirits spread thick clouds be¬
fore him to prevent his passage. At length, the Pope Alex¬
ander VI. sent the chief of the Dominicans, with Bishop
Romolino, to degrade him from holy orders, and to deliver
him up to the secular judges with his two fanatical associ¬
ates. They were condemned to be hanged and burned on
the 23d of May 1498. Savonarola submitted to the execu¬
tion of the sentence with great firmness and devotion, and
without uttering a word respecting his guilt or his inno¬
cence. He was in the forty-sixth year of his age. His
works have been published at Leyden in six vols. 12mo.
SAVOY. See Sardinia.
S AVU, an island in the Eastern Seas, about twenty miles
in length, low at the sea-coast, but towards the middle ris¬
ing into considerable hills. According to Captain Cook and
other navigators, it presents a delightful prospect from the
sea. The inhabitants have made some approaches to civi¬
lization, and the island is divided into five principalities.
Long. 122. 30. E. Lat. 10. 35. S.
SAW, an instrument which serves to cut into pieces se¬
veral solid matters, as wood, stone, ivory, and the like.
The best saws are of tempered steel ground bright and
smooth ; those of iron are only hammer-hardened. Hence
the first, besides their being stiffer, are likewise found smooth¬
er than the last. They are known to be well hammered by
the stiff bending of the blade ; and to be well and evenly
ground, by their bending equally in a bow.
The lapidaries, too, have their saw, as well as the work¬
men in mosaic; but of all mechanics, none have so many
saws as the joiners, the chief of which are the following.
The pit-saw, which is a large two-handed saw, employed
for sawing timber in pits, and chiefly used by the sawers.
The whip-saw, which has likewise two handles, used in saw¬
ing such large pieces as the hand-saw will not easily reach.
The hand-saw is made to be used by an individual, of which
there are different kinds, as the frame-saw, which is furnish¬
ed with cheeks. By the twisted cords which pass from the
upper parts of these cheeks, and the tongue in the middle
of them, the upper ends are drawn close together, and the
lower set farther asunder. The tenon-saw, which being
very thin, has a back to keep it from bending. The com¬
pass-saw, which is very small, and its teeth usually not set.
Its use is to cut a round, or any other compass-kerf, on
which account the edge is made bro/id, and the back thin,
that it may have a compass to turn in.
At an early period, the trunks of trees were split with
wedges into as many and as thin pieces as possible ; and it
it were necessary to have them still thinner, they were hewn
on both sides to the proper size. This simple and wasteful
manner of making boards has been still continued in some
places to the present day. Peter the Great of Russia en¬
deavoured to put a stop to it, by forbidding hewn dales to
be transported on the river Neva. The saw, however,
though so convenient and beneficial, has not been able to
banish entirely the practice of splitting timber used in build¬
ing, or in making furniture and utensils; and indeed it must
be allowed that this method is attended with peculiar aa-
vantages which that of sawing can never possess. The
wood-splitters perform their work more expeditiously than
sawers, and split timber is much stronger than that which
has been sawn: for the fissure follows the grain of the
wood, and leaves it whole ; whereas the saw, which proceeds
in the line chalked out for it, divides the fibres, and by these
means lessens its cohesion and solidity. Split timber, m
deed, turns out often crooked and warped; but for many
purposes to which it is applied this is not injurious, an
these faults may sometimes be amended. As the fibres,
however, retain their natural length and direction, thin
SAW
Sa vlills. boards particularly can be bent much better. This is a
✓great advantage in making pipe-staves, or sieve-frames,
which require still more art, and in forming various imple¬
ments of a similar kind.
Our common saw, which requires only to be guided by
the nand, however simple it may be, was not known to the
inhabitants of America when they were subdued by the
Europeans. The inventor of this instrument has been in¬
serted in their mythology by the Greeks, with a place, in
which, amongst their gods, they honoured the greatest be¬
nefactors of the earliest ages. By some he is called Talus,
and by others Perdix. None except Pliny make Daedalus
the inventor; but Hardouin, in the passage where this oc¬
curs, reads Talus for Daedalus. Talus is the name of the
inventor according to Diodorus Siculus, Apollodorus, and
others. He was the son of Daedalus’s sister, and was by
his mother placed under the tuition of her brother, to be
instructed in his art. Having found the jaw-bone of a snake,
he employed it to cut through a small piece of wood, and
by these means was induced to fabricate a similar instru¬
ment of iron, that is, to make a saw. This invention, by
which labour is greatly facilitated, excited the envy of his
master, and prompted him to put Talus privately to death.
Being asked, when burying the body, what he was deposit¬
ing in the earth, he replied, a serpent. This ambiguous
answer discovered the murder; and thus a snake was the
cause of the invention, of the murder, and of its being
brought to light. By others the inventor is called Perdix,
who is supposed to have been the son of a sister of Daeda¬
lus. Perdix did not employ the jaw-bone of a snake for a
saw, but the back-bone of a fish, as is mentioned by Ovid.
The saws of the Grecian carpenters had the same form,
and were made with equal ingenuity as the same instru¬
ments at present. This appears from a painting preserved
among the antiquities of Herculanum. Two genii are re¬
presented at the end of a bench consisting of a long table
resting on two four-footed stools, and the piece of wood to
be sawn through is secured by cramps. The saw with which
the genii are at work bears a striking resemblance to our
frame-saw. It consists of a square frame, having a blade
in the middle, the teeth of which are perpendicular to the
plane of the frame. The piece of wood to be sawn extends
beyond the end of the bench, and one of the workmen ap¬
pears standing, and the other sitting on the ground. The
arms in which the blade is fastened have the same form as
that which is given to them at present. In the bench are
seen holes, in which the cramps holding the timber are
stuck. They are shaped like the figure 7; and the ends of
them reach below the boards which form the top of it.
Saw-Mills. The most beneficial improvement of the
operation of sawing was the invention of saw-mills, which
are driven either by water or by wind. Mills of the first kind
were erected in Germany, on the small river Ruer, as early
as the fourth century. The art of cutting marble with a
saw is very ancient. According to Pliny, it was invented
in Caria. Stones of the soap-rock kind, which are softer
than marble, were sawn at that period; but it appears that
the harder kinds of stone were also then sawn ; for we are
informed of the discovery of a building which was encrusted
with cut agate, carnelian, lapis lazuli, and amethysts. There
is, however, no account in any of the Greek or Roman writers
of a mill for sawing wood; and as modern authors speak of
saw-mills as new and uncommon, it appears that the oldest
construction of them has been forgotten, or that some inte¬
resting improvement has made them appear entirely new.
Becheyr says that saw-mills were invented in the seven¬
teenth century, which is a mistake; for when the Infant
Henry sent people to settle in the island of Madeira, dis¬
covered in 1420, he gave orders for saw-mills to be erected,
for the purpose of sawing into deals the various species of
excellent timber with which the island abounded, and which
SAW 663
were afterwards exported to Portugal. There was a saw- Saw-Mill*,
mill in the city of Breslau about the year 1427, producing
arent three merks ; and in 1490, the magistrates
0 .. r urt purchased a forest, in which they erected a saw¬
mill, besides renting another in the neighbourhood. The
nrst saw-mill m Norway was erected about the year 1530.
u i year there was a saw-mill erected at Joachims-
thal, the property of a mathematician called Jacob Geusen.
c T? i ,e E1Y> ambassador from Queen Mary
or Englaud to the court of Rome, having seen a saw-mill
m the vicinity of Lyons, the writer of his travels gave a
particular description of it. The first saw-mill was erected
in Holland at Saardam in 1596, the invention of which is
ascribed to Cornelius Cornelissen. The first mill of this
kind in Sweden was erected in the year 1653.
In England, saw-mills had at first a similar effect with
printing in iurkey, the ribbon-loom in the dominions of
the church, and the crane at Strasburg. When attempts
were made to introduce them, they were violently opposed,
because it was apprehended that the sawers would thus be
deprived of the means of procuring subsistence. An opu¬
lent merchant in 1767 or 1768, by desire of the Society of
Arts, caused a saw-mill to be erected at Limehouse, driven
by wind ; but it was demolished by the mob, and the da¬
mage was sustained by the nation, while some of the riot¬
ers were punished. This, however, was not the only mill
of the kind then in Great Britain; for at Leith there was one
driven by wind some years before. Saw-mills are very com¬
mon in America, where the moving power is generally water.
Some have been constructed on a very extensive plan.
The mechanism of a sawing-mill may be reduced to three
principal things. The first is, that the saw is drawn up and
down as long as is necessary, by a motion communicated to
the wheel by water. The second is, that the piece of tim¬
ber to be cut into boards is advanced by an uniform motion
to receive the strokes of the saw ; for here the wood is to
meet the saw, and not the saw to follow the wood, there¬
fore the motion of the wood and that of the saw ought im¬
mediately to depend the one on the other. The third is,
that where the saw has cut through the whole length of the
piece, the whole machine stops of itself, and remains im¬
moveable ; lest having no obstacle to surmount, the moving
power should turn the wheel with too great velocity, and
break some part of the machine.
When a completely cylindrical pillar is to be cut out of
one block of stone, the first thing will be to ascertain in
the block the position of the axis of the cylinder, then lay
the block so that such axis shall be parallel to the horizon,
and let a cylindrical hole of from one to two inches diame¬
ter be bored entirely through it. Let an iron bar, whose
diameter is rather less than that of this tube, be put through
it, having just room to slide freely to and fro as occasion
may require. Each end of this bar should terminate in a
screw, on which a nut and frame may be fastened. The
nut-frame should carry three flat pieces of wood or iron,
each having a slit running along its middle from nearly one
end to the other, and a screw and handle must be adapted
to each slit. By these means the frame-work at each end
of the bar may readily be so adjusted as to form equal isos¬
celes or equilateral triangles ; the iron-bar will connect two
corresponding angles of these triangles, the saw to be used
two other corresponding angles, and another bar of iron or
of wood the two remaining angles, to give sufficient strength
to the whole frame. By this construction the workmen
are enabled to place the saw at any proposed distance from
the hole drilled through the middle of the block ; and then,
by giving the alternating motion to the saw-frame, the cylin¬
der may at length be cut from the block, as required.
If it were proposed to saw a conic frustum from such a
block, then let two frames of wood or iron be fixed to those
parallel ends of the block which are intended to coincide
SAX
Sawardin with the bases of the frustum, circular grooves being pre-
11 viously cut in these frames to correspond with the circum¬
ferences of the two ends of the proposed frustum ; the saw
bein" worked in these grooves will manifestly cut the conic
surface from the block. This, we believe, is the contrivance
of Sir George Wright.
The best method of drilling the hole through the middle
of the proposed cylinder seems to be this. On a carriage
running upon four low wheels let two vertical pieces, each
having a hole just large enough to admit the borer to play
freely^ be fixed two or three feet asunder, and so contrived
that the pieces and holes to receive the borer may, by
screws, be raised or lowered at pleasure, while the borer is
prevented from sliding to and fro by shoulders upon its bar,
which are larger than the holes in the vertical pieces, and
which, as the borer revolves, press against those pieces; let
a part of the boring bar between the two vertical pieces be
square, and a grooved wheel with a square hole of a suit¬
able size be placed upon this part of the bar ; then the ro¬
tatory motion may be given to the bar by an endless band
which shall pass over this grooved w heel and a wheel of a
much larger diameter in the same plane, the latter wheel
being turned by a winch-handle in the usual way.
Circular saws, acting by a rotatory motion, have been
long known in Holland, where they are used for cutting
wood used in veneering. They were introduced into this
country, w^e believe, by General Bentham, and are now
used in the dock-yard at Portsmouth, and in a few other
places ; but they are not as yet so generally adopted as
might be wished, considering how' well they are calculated
to abridge labour, and to accomplish with expedition and
accuracy what is very tedious and irksome to perform in
the usual way. Circular saws may be made to turn either
in horizontal, vertical, or inclined planes, and the timber to
be cut may be laid upon a plane inclined in any direction;
so that it may be sawn by lines making any angle whatever,
or at any proposed distance from each other. When the
saw is fixed at a certain angle, and at a certain distance
from the edge of the frame, all the pieces will be cut of the
same size, without marking upon them by a chalked line,
merely by causing them to be moved along, and keeping
one side in contact with the side of the frame; for then, as
they are brought one by one to touch the saw revolving on
its axle, and are pressed upon it, they are soon cut through.
SAWARDIN, a Kalmuck melody, sung while dancing.
SAWBRIDGEWORTH, a town of the hundred of
Braughin, in the county of Hertford, twenty-six miles from
London. It had once a market, but it has totally declined.
The population amounted in 1801 to 1687, in 1811 to 1827,
in 1821 to 2071, and in 1831 to 2231.
SAXE, Maurice, Count of, was born on the 13th of
October 1696. He was the natural son of Frederick Au-
o-ustus II. elector of Saxony and king of Poland, and of the
Countess of Konigsmarc, a Swedish lady, celebrated both
for her wit and her beauty. He was educated along with
Frederick Augustus, the electoral prince, afterwards king
of Poland. His infancy announced the future warrior.
Nothing could prevail on him to apply to his studies but
the promise of being allowed, after he had finished his task,
to mount on horseback, or exercise himself in arms.
He served his first campaign in the army commanded by
Prince Eugene and the Duke of Marlborough, when only
twelve years old. He signalized himself at the sieges of
Tournay and Mons, and particularly at the battle of Mal-
plaquet. In the evening of that memorable day, he was
heard to say, “ I’m content with my day’s work.” During
the campaign of 1710, Prince Eugene and the Duke of
Marlborough made many public encomiums on his merit.
Next year the young count accompanied the king of Po¬
land to the siege of Stralsund, the strongest place in Po¬
merania, and displayed the greatest intrepidity, swimming
SAX
across the river in sight of the enemy, with a pistol in his
hand. His valour shone no less conspicuously on the bloody s**
day of Gaedelbusck, where he commanded a regiment of
cavalry. He had a horse killed under him, after he had
three times rallied his regiment, and led them to the charge.
Soon after that campaign, his mother prevailed on him
to marry the Countess of Lubin, a lady both rich and beau¬
tiful. This union lasted but a short time. In 1721, the
count procured a dissolution of the marriage; a step of
which he afterwards repented. The countess left him with
regret; but this did not prevent her from marrying soon
afterwards. The Count of Saxe was too fond of variety to
submit to the duties which marriage imposes. In the midst,
however, of the pleasures in which he sometimes indulged,
he never lost sight of his profession. He carried along with
him wherever he went a library of military books ; and even
when he seemed most occupied with his pleasures, he never
failed to spend an hour or two in private study.
In 1717 he went to Hungary, where the emperor had an
army of 15,000 men commanded by Prince Eugene. Count
Saxe was present at the siege of Belgrade, and at a battle
which the prince gained over the Turks. On his return to
Poland in 1718, he w as made a knight of the Golden Eagle.
The wars in Europe being concluded by the treaties ot
Utrecht and Passarowitz, Count Saxe went to France. He
had always professed a partiality for that country. French,
indeed, was the only foreign language which during his in¬
fancy he was willing to learn. He spent his whole time
during the peace in studying mathematics, fortification, and
mechanics, sciences which exactly suited his genius. The
mode of exercising troops had struck his attention when
very young. At sixteen he invented a new exercise, which
wras taught in Saxony with the greatest success. Having
obtained a regiment in France in 1722, he formed it him¬
self according to his newT plan. From that moment the
Chevalier Folard, an excellent judge of military talents,
predicted that he would be a great man.
In 1726 the states of Courland chose him for their so¬
vereign, but both Poland and Russia rose in arms to oppose
the election. The Czarina wished to bestow the duchy on
Menzikoff, a happy adventurer, who from a pastry-cook’s
boy became a general and a prince. Menzikoff sent eight
hundred Russians to Milan, where they besieged the newly-
chosen duke in his palace. Count Saxe, who had only sixty
men, defended himself with astonishing intrepidity. The
siege was raised, and the Russians were obliged to retreat.
Soon afterwards he retired to Usmaiz, and prepared to de¬
fend his people against the two hostile nations. Here he
remained with only three hundred men, until the Russian
general approached to force his retreat, at the head of four
thousand. That general invited the count to a conference,
during which he intended to surprise him, and take him
prisoner. The count, informed of the plot, reproached him
for his baseness, and broke up the conference. About this
time he wrote to France for men and money. Mademoi¬
selle le Couvreur, a celebrated actress, pawned her jewels
and plate, and sent him the sum of forty thousand livres.
This actress had formed his mind for the fine arts. She had
made him read the greater part of the French poets, and
given him a taste for the theatre, which he retained even
in the camp. The count, unable to defend himself against
Russia and Poland, was obliged in the year 1729 to leave
his new dominions, and retire into France. It is said that
Anne Iwanowa, duchess dowager of Courland, and secon
daughter of the Czar Iwan Alexiowitz, had given him hopes
of marriage, and abandoned him at that time because sie
despaired of fixing his wavering passion. This inconstancy
lost him not only Courland, but the throne of Russia itse ,
which that princess afterwards filled.
Count Saxe, thus stripped of his territories, devoted him¬
self for some time to the study of mathematics. He com-
Saxe.
SAX
-posed also, in thirteen nights, and during the intervals of
' wan ague, his Reveries, which he afterwards corrected. This
book is written in an incorrect but forcible style; it is full
of remarks both new and profound, and is equally useful to
the soldier and the general.
The death of the king of Poland, his father, in 1733,
kindled a new war in Europe. His brother, the elector of
Saxony, offered him the command of all his forces; but he
preferred the French service, and repaired to Marshal Ber¬
wick’s army, which w?as encamped on the Rhine. “ Count,”
said that general, who was preparing to attack the enemy’s
intrenchments at Etlinghen, “ I was going to send for three
thousand men, but your arrival is of more value than theirs.”
When the attack began, the count, at the head of a regi¬
ment of grenadiers, forced the enemy’s lines, and by his
bravery decided the victory. He behaved with no less in¬
trepidity at the siege of Philipsburg. For these services
he was, in 1734, rewarded with the rank of lieutenant-
general. Peace was concluded in 1736 ; but the death of
Charles VI., the emperor of Germany, almost immediately
kindled a new war.
Prague was besieged by the Count of Saxe in 1741, near
the end of November, and was taken the same month by
assault. The conquest of Egra followed that of Prague. It
was taken a few days after the trenches were opened. This
success gave so much joy to the Emperor Charles VII.,
that he wrote with his own hands a congratulatory letter to
the conqueror.
In 1744 he was made marshal of France, and commanded
a part of the French army in Flanders. During that cam¬
paign he displayed the greatest military conduct. Though
the enemy was superior in number, he observed their mo¬
tions so skilfully that they could do nothing. In January
1745, an alliance was concluded at Warsaw, between the
queen of Hungary, the king of England, and the states of
Holland. The ambassador of the states-general, meeting
Marshal Saxe one day at Versailles, asked his opinion of
that treaty. “ I think,” said he, “ that if the king my mas¬
ter would give me an unlimited commission, I would read
the original at the Hague before the end of the year.” This
answer was not a bravado; the marshal was capable of per¬
forming it.
He went soon afterwards, though exceedingly ill, to take
the command of the French army in the Low Countries.
A gentleman seeing the feeble condition in which he left
Paris, asked him how he could in that situation undertake
so great an enterprise. “ The question,” replied he, “ is
not about living, but setting out.” Soon after the opening
of the campaign, the battle of Fontenoy was fought. Mar¬
shal Saxe was at the point of death, yet he caused himself
to be put into a litter, and carried round all the posts. Du¬
ring the action he mounted on horseback, though he was
so very weak that his attendants dreaded every moment to
see him expire. The victory of Fontenoy, which was owing
entirely to his vigilance and capacity, was followed by the
reduction of Tournay, Bruges, Ghent, Oudenard, Ostend,
Ath, and Brussels. This last city was taken on the 28th
of February 1746 ; and very soon afterwards the king sent
to the marshal a letter of naturalization, conceived in the
most flattering terms. The succeeding campaigns gained
him additional honours. After the victory of Raucoux,
which he gained on the 11th of October 1746, the king of
France made him a present of six pieces of cannon. He
was, on the 12th of January of the following year, created
marshal of all the French armies, and, in 1748, commander-
general of all those parts of the Netherlands w'hich were
lately conquered.
Holland now began to tremble for her safety. Maes-
tricht and Bergen-op-Zoom had already fallen, and nothing
but misfortunes seemed to attend the further prosecution
of the w ar. The states-general, therefore, offered terms of
VOL. XIX.
SAX 665
P^Ce’ ^W3llc^ were accePted, and a treaty concluded on the Saxe-Al-
18th of October 1748. tenburg
Marshal Saxe retired to Chambord, a country-seat which Q, ^
tie king of France had given him. Some time afterwards (vwr.
he went to Berlin, where the king of Prussia received him Gotha?
as Alexander would have received Caesar. On his return
to France, he spent his time among men of learning, art¬
ists, and philosophers. He died of a fever, on the 30th of
November 1750, at the age of fifty-four.
The best edition of his Reveries was printed at Paris,
1757, in two volumes 4to. It was compared with the greatest
attention with the original manuscript in the king’s library.
It is accompanied with many designs exactly engraved, and
a life of the author written in the panegyrical style.
SAXii-ALTENBURG, a duchy in Germany, recently
become an independent though a small sovereignty. It
was united with Saxe-Gotha till the decease without issue
of the Grand Duke of Saxe-Gotha Altenburg, when a dis¬
pute arose between the several branches of the family,
which was terminated by a treaty in 1826, Gotha beino-
transferred to the Duke of Saxe-Coburg, and Altenburg
being created a sovereign state. It is 502 square miles in
extent, but is not compact, and some parts are surrounded
by the territories of other states. It contains ten cities and
towns, and 458 villages, with (in 1836) 120,690 inhabitants,
who, with the exception of 3900 Catholics, adhere to the
Lutheran religion. The revenues of the state amount to
L.68,250, consisting nearly one half of the rent of the do¬
mains, and the other half of direct taxes on consumption.
The annual expenditure is somewhat less, and the surplus
is applied to the discharge of the debt, which, in 1832,
amounted to L.183,900. The force to form the contingent
to the German confederation is fixed at 982 men. By a
constitution fixed in April 1831, the assembly of the states
is appointed to consist of nobles, burghers, and peasants,
and, with the duke, to make or alter the laws. The dis¬
trict is hilly and woody, but more so on the western than
on the eastern side. In the latter division the soil is ge¬
nerally fertile, producing abundant crops of corn, and con¬
taining much rich meadow-land, adapted to the fattening of
cattle. The river Saale rises in this duchy, and receives
many of the smaller streams which run to the Elbe. The
chief manufacturing industry is spinning the flax of their
own growth ; but a few woollen goods are made, and some
iron ware. The capital is the city of Altenburg, contain¬
ing 13,800 inhabitants. Two other places contain more than
4000, viz. Ronnenburg 4640, and Eisenburg 4605.
Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, a sovereign duchy in Germany.
The Duke of Coburg, by a family arrangement, attained in
1826 the duchy of Gotha, and added it to his former domi¬
nions. The whole is a compact territory, except that a part
of Saxe-Weimar projects itself into the south-eastern portion
of it, and it extends over 1049 square miles. It comprehends
twenty-one towns and cities, and 525 villages, with 156,639
inhabitants, of whom 127,000 are Lutherans, 11,500 are
Catholics, 2900 Calvinists, and 1200 Jews, the remainder not
being ascertained. The revenue amounts to L. 120,000, and
the expenditure to about one tenth less, the residue being
applied to diminish the state debts, amounting to L.300,000.
The military force to be furnished to the German Confe¬
deration is 1366 men. The northern part, or the duchy of
Gotha, is on the Thuringian Mountains, some of whose ele¬
vations are near 3000 feet above the level of the sea, but
decline towards the east into an undulating district, which
is drained by streams running into the Elbe or the Weser.
The climate, though cold, is healthy. The soil is of mo¬
derate fertility, and being well cultivated, produces good
crops of corn, and a great abundance of fruits and culinary
vegetables, as well as large quantities of flax. The duchy
of Coburg, or southern part, is an extensive plain, except
in the province of Lichtenburg, where there are some ranges
666
SAX
SAX
Saxe-
Meiningen
Hildburg-
hausen
Saxe-
Weimar-
Eisenach.
of hills. Some of the streams run into the Elbe, some into
the Weser, and others into the Rhine. The land is better
calculated for pasture than for agriculture, and does not
produce corn equal to the consumption, but receives sup¬
plies from Gotha. There are mines producing copper, others
iron, and some coal. These afford some employment to
the inhabitants ; but the country is poor, and the means of
obtaining subsistence are scanty. The villagers are gene¬
rally occupied in spinning flax, or in making wood ware
and potash from the forests. The cities are Gotha with
18,321, and Coburg with S067 inhabitants.
Saxe-Meiningen-Hildburghausen, a sovereign duchy
in Germany. It was two duchies, though now both united
under one of the great branches of the Saxon Ernestine fa¬
mily. It extends over 896 square miles, and comprehends
thirty-two cities or towns, and 381 villages, with 149,294 in¬
habitants, of whom 128,000 adhere to the Lutheran profes¬
sion, and the remainder consists of Catholics and Calvinists,
with some Jews. The income of the state amounts to
L.l 10,000, and the expenditure to nearly the same ; but in
the latter is included the interest on the public debt, which
is heavy when compared with that of the other Saxon
duchies, being L.550,000. It is bound to furnish a force
of 1150 men to the German Confederation. Meiningen is
generally a mountainous country, though none of the hills
are higher than 2700 feet, and few exceed 2000 feet. 4 he
valleys between these hills are tolerably fertile, and are
drained by several small streams, all of which unite in the
Werra in its progress to the ocean.
The agriculture is in a backward state, and, but for the
great cultivation of potatoes, would not yield sufficient for
the population. Flax is grown equal to the furnishing of
employment for the females ; but the chief product for sale
beyond the limits of the duchy is timber, and there is also
some trade in wool, which has been lately improved by the
introduction of merino sheep. Some tobacco is raised; a.nd
a little inferior wine is made in the southernmost parts. 4 he
duchy of Hildburghausen is of nearly the same character,
except that the soil is more sandy, and the forests of less
extent. The meadows are better, and produce some well-
fattened black cattle ; and it has some manufactories of iron
and glass ware. The only cities in these duchies are Mein¬
ingen with 4500 inhabitants, Saalfeld with 4500, and Hild¬
burghausen and Posnect with 3500 each.
Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach, a sovereign state in Germany,
distinguished as a grand duchy, or rather composed of two
duchies, which are not contiguous, but are separated by a
part of Saxe-Gotha and a part of the Prussian province of
Saxony being interposed betwreen them. Some portions
also of this dominion are separated from both parts, and
surrounded by the territories of other princes. The whole
of the grand duchy is 1436 square miles in extent, the
duchy of Weimar being 985, and that of Eisenach 451.
The population of the whole, which in 1817 amounted to
197,712, had in 1835 increased to 241,046 persons, ol
whom about one quarter live in the cities and towns, and
the remainder in villages and on detached farms. About
220,000 are Lutherans, 10,000 Catholics, 6600 Calvinists,
and the remainder are either Jews, or some of the smaller
protestant sects. The number of births in 1831 was 7559,
and of deaths 5280. The marriages in the same year were
1707. The whole of the dominion is rather hilly, some ot
the elevations reaching to 1900, and one ot them to 2460
feet. Between these hills the valleys are extensive, and ot
considerable fertility. The most flourishing are those vales
through which run the rivers Saale, Werra, and Ilmenau.
The climate, like that of all Thuringia, is raw and cold, and
the snow lies late in the summer on the hills; but it is consi¬
dered as healthy. As the business ot husbandry is mostly in
the hands of small peasants, and the land cultivated on the
common field system, it is, wuth a tew exceptions, imper¬
fectly conducted ; but it yields, in the duchy of Weimar, a Saxmum
surplus equal to the deficiency which is annually experien-
ced in the duchy of Eisenach; and in good seasons is en- Sa^
abled to furnish rye to the mining districts in the kingdom Qrammat
of Saxony. The chief subsistence of the lower orders is cus.
potatoes, the extension of wffiich has kept pace writh thev—-v^.
growth of the population. Flax, hemp, rape, poppies, and
hops are grown; and the sides of the hills, on the red soil,
are well planted with plum, cherry, apple, and pear trees,
that yield abundant fruit. The extensive forests supply a
sufficiency of fuel and timber, and afford employment to
large numbers, who manufacture a variety of articles from
the wrood. The country is most abundantly stocked with
game, which, to the annoyance of the peasantry, was most
sedulously preserved by the last grand duke. It is said that
more than 20,000 hares and 1400 deer have been taken in
one year, besides great numbers of wild boars, and some
thousands of pheasants. The rivers are also well stocked
with fish. The domesticated animals are not numerous,
and, except sheep, whose wool has been improved in fine¬
ness, deserve no particular mention. _
The chief manufactures are carried on at Eisenach and
in its vicinity. They consist of woollen, linen, and cotton
cloths, carpets, hosiery, earthenware, glass, leather, and seed-
oil. There are mills for spinning cotton, and flax is spun
bv the peasants in every cottage. In each of the cities
there are breweries and distilleries. Much trade arises from
the passage of the goods and passengers on the great road
through the state from Frankfort to Leipsig, especially at
the time of the great fairs at those cities. This grand duchy
has a constitution formed by the late sovereign. The states,
consisting of twenty-nine members, meet at Weimar for
legislative purposes; but their proceedings attract very
little attention. The annual revenue, derived mostly from
domains, but partly from direct taxes, amounts to L.l30,285;
and the expenditure, including the interest of the state debt,
is L.l20,460. The amount of the debt at present is about
L.450,000, but it is diminishing yearly. The military force
consists of one regiment of infantry and a small corps ot
hussars. The contingent to be furnished to the German
Confederation is 2010 men. Education is sedulously at¬
tended to. There is a university at lena of considerable
celebrity, with 590 students and many able professors.
There are two gymnasia, sixty-nine burgher schools, and
543 village schools. The cities containing more than 5000
inhabitants were (in 1835) Weimar, 11,005; Eisenach, 9270;
and lena, 5792. j j r
SAXMUNDHAM, a town and parish of the hundred ot
Plomsgate, in the county of Suffolk, eighty-nine miles from
London. It is situated on a hill, with good prospects around
it, and is not well built, but has a large church. It has very
little trade, but a market is held on Thursday. The popu-
lation amounted in 1801 to 855, in 1811 to 9o7, in 1821 to
989, and in 1831 to 1048. . .
SAXO-GRAMMATICUS, descended from an illustrious
Danish family, was born about the middle of the twelfth cen¬
tury. Stephens, in his edition of Saxo-Grammaticus, print¬
ed at Soroe, indubitably proves that he must have been alive
in 1156; but he cannot ascertain the exact place and time
of his birth. On account of his uncommon learning, Saxo
was distinguished by the name of Grammaticus. He was
provost of the cathedral church of Roskild, and warmly pa¬
tronized by the learned and warlike Absalon, the celebra e
archbishop of Lunden, at whose instigation he wrote the
History of Denmark. His epitaph, which is a dry panegync
in bad Latin verses, gives no account of the era of his dea h,
which happened, according to Stephens, m 1204. His his
tory, consisting of sixteen books, begins from the earliest
account of the Danish annals, and concludes with the year
1186. According to the opinion of an accurate writer, t
first part, which relates to the origin of the Danes, and tt
SAX
SAX
S#r
v-4''
, ,re,f"s °[ the “ncient k,1n«s’ '? ful> fables; but the eight to very different causes; the name of their Indian prove-
last books, and particularly those which regard the events nitor, the plundering disposition of their Asiatic fathers and '
ot his own times deserve the utmost credit He wrote in the short, hooked weapons of their warriors. But the real
Latm; and the style, if we consider the barbarous age in origin of the Saxons, and the genuine derivation of their
which he flourished, is m general extremely elegant, but name, seem to be diflerent.
rather too poetical for history. Mallet, in his Histoire de In the earlier period of the Gallic history, the Celts; of
Daiinemarc (xo\. i p. 182), says that “ Sperling, a writer Gaul crossed the Rhine in considerable numbers, and rflTnt-
of great erudition has proved, m contradiction to the as- ed various colonies in the regions beyond it Thus the
sertions of Stephens and others, that Saxo-Grammaticus Vole® Tectosages settled on one side of the Hercvn an
was secretary to Absalon, and that the Saxo, provost of Ros- Forest and about the banks of the Neckar: the Helvetd
Q A vnvv r Pe?T’ and hved Ti , t> UP°n another dnd about the Rhine a»d Maine ; the Boii be”
• SA^?NI’ °ner0f hj Provm^es of the kingdom of Prus- yond both; and the Senones in the heart of Germany Thus
sia. It has been formed out of several of the hereditary also we see the Treviri, the Nervii, the Suevi, and 'the Mar-
states of the monarchy, and also by the addition of the ter- comanni, the Quadi, the Venedi, and others in that coun-
ritory of some mediatized princes, and in a great measure try, all plainly indicated as Gallic nations, by the Gallic ao-
by extensive parts of the kingdom of Saxony which were pellations which they bear, and all together possessing the
transferred to Prussia by the negotiations for the general greatest part of it. And, even as late as the conclusion of
peace of 1814. The parts then conveyed from Saxony the first century, we find one nation on the eastern side of
v ere the duchy of that name and its province of Thuringia, this great continent actually speaking the language of Gaul
I he actual province now extends in north latitude from 50° and another upon the northern side using a dialect nearW
27' to 53 5', and in east longitude from 9° 44' to 13“ 58', related to the British. But as all the various tribes of the
being 9902 square miles. The division of the province Germans are considered by Strabo as y^o, FaXara, or
is into three governments, assuming the names of the cities genuine Gauls in their origin, so those particularly that lived
where the several administrative boards are established, viz. immediately beyond the Rhine, and are asserted by Tacitus
Magdeburg, Merseburg, and Erfui t. 1 he population amount- to be indubitably native Germans, are expressly denominated
ed in 1817 to 1,214,219, but had, like that of the other parts TaXarai, or Gauls, by Diodorus, and declared by Dio to have
of Prussia, increased so as to amount in 1831, according to been from the earliest period distinguished by the equivalent
the census at the end of that year, to 1,449,587. Of these
persons, two thirds adhere to the Lutheran church, and the
other third are mostly Catholics, but with a small number
of other protestant sects, and some Jews. The Catholics are
chiefly found in the circles of Upper and Lower Reichsfeld,
and in that of Erfurt.
The greater part of the province is a plain, with a few un¬
dulations ; but on the western side, in the circles of Merse¬
burg and Erfurt, are the Thuringian Hills, which are ele¬
vated but fertile, and include a part of the Hartz Forest,
which is mountainous and woody. The whole is well
watered by various small rivulets, which form the rivers
Mulda, Saale, Ohre, Aland, Black-Alster, and Havel, all of
which run through the Elbe to the German Ocean. There
are three canals, viz. the Plauen, which unites the Havel
with the Elbe, w hich is about twenty miles in length, and is
used for navigation ; the Shiffigraben, between Magdeburg
appellation of Celtce. And the broad line of nations which
extended along the ocean, and reached to the borders of
Scythia, was all known to the learned in the days of Diodo¬
rus by the same significant appellation of TaXarai, Gauls.
Of these the most noted were the Sicambri and Cimbri,
the former being situated near the channel of the Rhine,
and the latter inhabiting the peninsula of Jutland. The
denominations of both declare their original, showing them
to have been derived from the common stock of the Celt®,
and to be of the same Celtic kindred with the Cimbri of
our Somersetshire, and the Cymbri or Cambrians of our
Wales. The Cimbri are accordingly denominated Celt®
by Strabo and Appian ; and they are equally asserted to be
Gauls by Diodorus, descendants of that nation which sack¬
ed the city of Rome, plundered the temple of Delphi, and
subdued a great part of Europe and some of Asia.
Immediately to the south of these were the Saxons, ex-
and Brunswick, which is chiefly constructed for draining tending from the isthmus of the Chersonesus to the current
a rich tract of land; and the Flossgraben, in Merseburg, of the Elbe; and they were equally Celtic in their origin as
which connects the Elster and the Pegau, and is chiefly their neighbours. They were denominated Ambrones as well
used for floating timber. The rivers, lakes, and ponds are as Saxons; and as such, they are included by Tacitus under
very fully stocked with a variety of fishes. the general appellation of Cimbri, and comprehended in Plu-
No part of Germany is better cultivated than this pro- tarch under the equal one of Celto-Scythce. The name of
vince, and as the land is of a moderate quality, it yields Ambrones appears particularly to have been Gallic, being
abundant crops, and is considered as the granary of the common to the Saxons beyond the Elbe, and the Ligurians
Prussian dominions. The number of sheep is very great, in Cisalpine Gaul; as both found to their surprise, on the
and the wool of them, which has been much improved of irruption of the former into Italy with the Cimbri. And,
late years, both supplies the home manufacturers, and also what is equally surprising, and has been equally unnoticed
exports much to other countries. The inhabitants are in- by the critics, the Welsh distinguish England by the name
dustrious, cleanly, and temperate, like all the Saxons; and of Loeyr or Liguria, even to the present moment. In that
there is the appearance of ease in the villages and towns, irruption these Saxons, Ambrones, or Ligurians, composed
where the manufacture of linens and woollens is the usual
employment. There are mines, in that part which is within
the Hartz, that produce silver, copper, iron, and coals; but
the most productive of the mines are those of salt, which are
found at a great depth in various parts of the province, and
supply abundance of culinary salt when refined.
The country of Saxony is remarkable for being the cradle
of the present English nation ; but concerning the Saxons
themselves previous to that period, w® have very few par¬
ticulars. The Saxons, says Mr Whitaker, have been de¬
rived by our historians from very different parts of the
globe; India, the north of Asia, and the forests of Ger¬
many. Their appellation, too, has been equally referred
a body of more than thirty thousand men, and were princi¬
pally concerned in cutting to pieces the large armies of
Manlius and C®pio. Nor is the appellation of Saxons less
Celtic than the other. It was originally the same with the
Belgic Suessones of Gaul; the capital of that tribe being
now entitled Soisons by the French, and the name of the
Saxons pronounced Saisen by the Welsh, Sason by the
Scotch, and Sasenach by the Irish. And the Suessones
or Saxones of Gaul derived their own appellation from the
position of their metropolis on a river, the stream at Soisons
being now denominated the Aisne, and formerly the Axon;
Uesson or Axon importing only waters or a river, and
S-uess-on or S-ax-on on the waters or the river. The
C68 SAX
Saxony. Suessones, therefore, are actually denominated the Ues-
sones by Ptolemy, and the Saxones are actually entitled
the Axones by Lucan.
These, with their brethren and allies the Cimbri, having
been more formidable enemies to the Romans by land, than
the Samnites, Carthaginians, Spaniards, Gauls, or Parthians,
in the second century applied themselves to navigation, and
became nearly as terrible by sea. They soon made them¬
selves known to the inhabitants of the British isles by their
piracies in the northern channels, and were denominated
by them Lochlyn or Lochlynach; lucd-lyn signifying the
people of the wave, and the d being quiescent in the pro¬
nunciation. They took possession of the Orkney Islands,
which were then merely large shoals of sand, uncovered with
wood, and overgrown with rushes; and they landed in the
north of Ireland, where they ravaged the country. Before
the middle of the third century they made a second descent
upon the latter, disembarked a considerable body of men,
and designed the absolute subjection of the island. Before
the conclusion of it, they carried their naval operations to the
south, infested the British channel with their little vessels,
and made frequent descents upon the coasts. And in the
fourth and fifth centuries, acting in conjunction with the
Piets of Caledonia and the Scots of Ireland, they ravaged
all the eastern and south-eastern shores of Britain, began
the formal conquest of the-country, and finally settled their
victorious soldiery in Lancashire.
In the course of time these barbarous tribes were civi¬
lized, and settled in their lands, on which they began to
exercise their industry in cultivation, and in various ma¬
nufactures for their own convenience. Their possessions
extended from beyond the north-western part of Germany
to the southern extremity of the Erzgebirge, and were
denominated the Duchy of Saxony, forming one of the
most powerful German states, which was governed till the
commencement of the tenth century by various Vandal
houses, when Henry I. took from them the land lying be¬
tween the Saale and the Elbe, and founded for its pro¬
tection the margravate of Meissen, which was governed at
first by various houses, but latterly became hereditary in
the Askanian family. When the duchy of Saxony was
taken from Henry the Lion, in the twelfth century, it was
split into so many parts, that Bernhard of Askania, who suc¬
ceeded to this duchy, being unable to procure any thing
but the mere title, transferred the name of Saxony to the
lands which he already possessed, and which still constitute
a principal part of the present kingdom. After the death
of Bernhard, and the extinction of his family, Frederick,
landgrave of Thuringia, succeeded in the year 1423 to his
titles and property. In 1485, however, his family divided
itself into two distinct lines; the elder, or Ernestine, which
possessed Thuringia and the electorship, and the younger, or
Albertine, which possessed Meissen and the title of duke.
In the year 1547, Frederick the Magnanimous was made
prisoner, and forced to resign a great part of his territory
and his electorship to his cousin Maurice, of the Alberti-
nian line; and thus the kings of Saxony are descended from
the younger of the Thuringian family. In 1697, the royal fa¬
mily went over to the Catholic church, in the reign of Augus¬
tus 1. and thereby procured for a season the crown of Poland.
During the early stages of the French revolution, Saxony
took little or no part in the struggle, and only as a member of
the Germanic empire furnished the contingent of troops re¬
quired by that relation, which were withdrawn when Prussia
formed a combination of the northern states of Germany to
counteract the confederation which France had formed in
the southern states. To this extent Saxony was in alliance
with Prussia when France, in 1806, began the war with
that power. At the decisive battle of lena, in October of
that year, a body of twenty thousand Saxons were joined to
the Prussian army. The complete victory of Napoleon in-
O N Y.
duced the Duke of Saxony to conclude a peace with him, Saxony, W
and to become a member of the Rhenish confederation, ofN*v^»
which the French emperor was acknowledged the protector.
In July 1807, the peace of Tilsit, between Russia, France,
and Prussia, was concluded. In conformity with its con¬
ditions, the whole of the dominions of Prussia on the left
bank of the Elbe, including the strong fortresses which
commanded the passages over that river, were ceded to
Saxony, and the duke was acknowledged as king. A
part also of Poland, which at the last division of that country
had been shared by Prussia, was, with the capital, erected
into a grand duchy, called by the name of Warsaw, and the
sovereignty of it was conferred on the king of Saxony.
After the peace between Austria and France, which fol¬
lowed the battle of Wagram, the newly-created grand duchy
of Warsaw was extended by additions from Austria of
West Gallicia and the city of Cracow, with the vast salt
mines of Wielicsla, whilst to the Saxon crown there were
conveyed some portions of the kingdonj of Bohemia.
When Napoleon declared war with Russia in 1812, the
Saxon capital was the spot on which the several monarchs
of Europe were assembled to pay homage to him whose de¬
pendents they had become. In the grand army that in¬
vaded Russia, the troops of the king of Saxony formed a
part of the right wing, and advanced into Russia. They
had little opportunity of distinguishing themselves, and after
the burning of Moscow retired to their own country.
When in the following year the French army advanced
into Germany to oppose the Russians and Prussians, the
king of Saxony treated with Austria, with the pretext that
it was only for the purpose of obtaining a peace. He de¬
clared his own neutrality, and gave orders to his general,
Thielman, to refuse admission to the troops of any of the
belligerent parties into his fortress of Torgau on the Elbe.
While these negotiations with Austria were proceeding, the
king left Dresden, and repaired first to Ratisbon, and from
thence to Prague, whilst the French general Davoust en¬
tered his capital. About five weeks afterwards (2d May),
Napoleon had gained a battle at Lutzen, over the united army
of Russia and Prussia. Upon this the French emperor, who
by the victory was master of Leipsig, and the whole of the
king’s dominions, peremptorily demanded by a special mes¬
senger to Prague, “ Je veux que le roi se declare ; je saurai
alors ce que j’aurai a faire ; mais s’il est centre moi, il per-
dra tout ce qu’il a.” This determined the conduct of the
king. He returned to Dresden. His forces joined the
French army, and the troops of that nation occupied Tor¬
gau and the other fortresses. His troops joined those of
Napoleon in the successful resistance of the attack by the
Russians and Prussians on Dresden, when the French ge¬
neral Moreau was killed; and at length, after an armistice,
proceeded to Leipsig with the French. At the fatal battle
before that city on the 19th of October, when the French re¬
treated, the king was left in that city, wherfe he was made a
prisoner by the confederate armies of Austria, Russia, Prus¬
sia, and Sweden, and was removed to Berlin. The king
remained under restraint from October 1813 till June 1815 ;
whilst the allied powers were fully occupied, first, in anni¬
hilating the government of Napoleon, then in quelling his
attempts to resume that power, and, finally, in settling the
arrangements which the state of Europe demanded. At
the congress of Vienna, the first intention seems to have
been to depose the king of Saxony, and allot to other powers
the whole of the territory; but gradually a more tender
feeling prevailed. He was compelled to sign a treaty soon
after Napoleon had arrived in Paris from Elba, by which he
consented to the partition of his dominions, and joined his
forces to those of the allies then advancing towards France.
By the partition Prussia received from Saxony more in
extent than one half of its territory, and somewhat less than
half as regarded the number of inhabitants. The loss most
SAXON Y.
uny.
lamented was that of the province of Saxony, the cradle of
^ the reigning dynasty, which was 5700 square miles in extent
and contained 875,000 inhabitants. Among the subiects of
regret, the greatest was the loss of those portions of the king¬
dom which chiefly supplied the corn, the wood, and the salt.
Amidst the calamities that had been endured, not a com¬
plaint was made by the subjects against their monarch
They were universally satisfied, that in all the changes, he
had acted more out of regard to the happiness of his people
than his own aggrandisement; and when he returned from
his captivity to Dresden, he was received with the affec¬
tionate feeling which would be displayed in a domestic circle,
when the viituous head of a family returned home amon^
scenes of distress and common suffering, khe country w’as at
that time, from having been so long occupied by numerous
armies of various nations, in a most dreadful state of po¬
verty, disease, and moral depravity ; but the return of peace,
the restoration of the monarch, and the confidence reposed
in his goodness and wisdom, produced in a very short time
a wonderful effect. Order and credit in the finances were
first established, and the fruitful soil, by the application of
the skill and industry for which the natives are distinguish¬
ed, soon produced abundance of the necessaries of life ; by
breeding fine-woolled sheep, the means of restoring that
manufacture was effected; and the surplus wool being ex¬
ported, brought in return much real wealth. The fabrics
of linen, cotton, iron, and other goods, were much extend¬
ed, whilst the great fairs at Leipsig became two central
points yearly for beneficial commerce w ith foreign countries.
As the tranquillity gradually produced prosperity, judicious
improvements were made in the establishments for the edu¬
cation of the common people, as w7ell as for the training of
the medical students, of the civil and military engineers,
and of the higher branches of knowledge. The king lived
to a great age, the last twelve years of which w ere attended
with improvements in every public department, and exhi¬
bited among all classes, whether agricultural, commercial,
mining, or manufacturing, an advance which excited surprise
in all who attentively watched its steps, and inspired that
mutual confidence between the king and the people, which
wras retained till his death in 1827. The progress w7as con¬
tinued under the successor of the king till the year 1831. At
that time the revolution in France, w hich expelled the elder
branch of the Bourbons, was felt in every part of Germany,
and excited popular tumults. Dresden had its share, and
a mob destroyed one or two of the inferior public buildings.
It was, however, soon suppressed, by the discharge of a
good but unpopular minister, by the division of the states
into two chambers, and other trifling alterations. From that
period peace has continued and prosperity has advanced.
1 he kingdom of Saxony, in its present state, is a com¬
pact and connected territory. It extends from 28° 5' to
3F 13' east longitude, and from 50° 10' to 51° 31' north
latitude. It is bounded on the north and north-east by
Prussia, on the south-east and south by Austria, on the
south-west by Bavaria, on the west by the principality of
Keus and the duchy of Saxe-Gotha, and on the north-west
by Prussia. By a recent arrangement it has been divided
into four circles, and these again are subdivided into amts
or bailiwicks in the following manner:
Circles.
Dresden..
Leipsig....
Zwickau..
Bautzen...
Amts.! Cities.
32
38
58
13
Villages.
998
1001
873
629
15
141
3501
Extent in
EnglisliAcres.
Inhabi¬
tants.
1,098,240
887,040
1,182,720
633,600
411,864
361,251
549,811
257,444
3.801,600 1,580,370
By a subsequent addition of the births, and a deduction
of the deaths, the population at the end of the year 1836
was found to be 1,618,495. In the year 1818 the popula¬
tion was found to be 1,282,082, having thus increased in
eighteen years 336,413, being at the rate of about twenty-
five per cent. J
The cities w hose inhabitants amount to more than 5000
with their present population, are,
Dresden (besides the
garrison) 66,133
Leipsig 44,802
Chemnitz 21,137
Freyburg..... 11,545
Plauen  8,570
Bautzen  8,467
Zittau  8,195
Meissen  7,525
Schneeberg  6,769
Annaberg  6,377
Glauchau 6229
Zwickau 6127
Grossenhain 5582
Dobeln 5559
Mittweide .....5506
F rankenberg 5415
Reichenbach 5412
Zschopau 5384
Oschatz 5248
Perna 5214
The northern part of the kingdom of Saxony is for the
most part a level or an undulating country ; but on the
south it is very mountainous. The mountains rise in three
successive ridges, denominated the Vorgeberg, Mithelge-
berg, and Hochgeberge; the southernmost of these, bor¬
dering on Bohemia, is the loftiest. I he highest points of
these mountains are those of the Fichtelberg, 3780 feet;
Auersberg, 2931 feet; the Lausche, 2400 feet; and Hoch-
wald, 2299 feet.
A part of this mountainous district, between Dresden and
Bohemia, usually denominated Saxon Switzerland, has pe¬
culiar charms for the lovers of picturesque scenery. It is
about twenty-eight miles in length and twenty-three in
breadth, displaying deep chasms bordered by perpendicular
rocks, some naked, and others clothed with every variety of
trees. Rapid streams pour from declivities, forming cas¬
cades in some parts, and in others, in deep vales, meandering
through verdant meadows, wdthout their issue or their egress
being discoverable by the observer from the precipices which
enclose such recesses, and whence he can see no path by
which the vales can be reached. Through this mass of
mountains the river Elbe has worn itself a passage, by a
most tortuous course, and washes the bases of rocks, in some
parts of near a thousand feet in perpendicular height, from
the summit of which that stream appears to the beholder as
an insignificant rivulet. From the surface of this mountain
plain rise pinnacles of rocks, on which castles in the feu¬
dal times were erected, some of the ruins of which add to the
romantic grandeur of the prospect; whilst others, such as
Kdnigstein and Litherstein, have had applied to them all
the arts of modern fortification, and are the most impreg¬
nable fortresses in the Saxon dominions. Kdnigstein es¬
pecially, though, from its great height, it appears to termi¬
nate in a point, has on its apex strong walls, surrounding
buildings in which the treasures of the crown are secured
in times of danger, with ground to yield potatoes enough to
feed the garrison, as that vegetable grows there to perfec¬
tion, though, from being fourteen hundred feet in height,
the rigid cold of winter is most severely felt. This fortress,
and that of Lillienstein on the opposite side of the Elbe, are
considered as the keys to Bohemia. Few spots in Europe
create greater interest in the geologist, the botanist, or the
lover of picturesque scenery, than this portion of the coun¬
try so appropriately denominated Saxon Switzerland.
The principal river of Saxony, and that to which almost
all the others contribute their streams, though not till it has
left this kingdom, is the Elbe. It enters from Bohemia,
and is navigable for barges through the whole of its Saxon
course. The other rivers are the Black Elster, which rises
in Lusatia, and soon enters the Prussian territory; and the
Spree, which comes out of Bohemia, divides itself into two
670
SAXONY.
Saxony, branches near Bautzen, and then passes into Prussia. These
'-v—rivers fall into the Elbe on its right bank. On the left
bank it receives the Moldau, which has two sources in
Bohemia, and in Saxony unites with the Zwichau, and runs
parallel to the Elbe till it joins that stream at Dessau.
The White Elster rises in Voightland, with many curva¬
tures reaches the suburbs of the city of Leipsig, and, re¬
ceiving there the small river Pleisse, falls into the Saale,
and is ultimately lost in the Elbe above Magdeburg. The
only river that does not run to the Elbe is the Neisse, which
rises in the eastern corner of the kingdom, and, passing in¬
to Silesia, is at length emptied into the Oder. There are no
lakes in Saxony, nor any canals, except such as are used
in the mining districts for conveying the ore to the mills.
As compared vrith most parts of Germany, the agricul¬
ture of Saxony is much advanced. Wherever the soil is
capable of cultivation, it is worked with diligence; and the
more hilly and poorer soils have a good herbage, and yield
pasture to numerous flocks and herds. The sides of the
mountains towards the Elbe, from Pirna to Meissen, are
covered with vines which yield both red and white wine;
the former from the vicinity of Pilnitz and Loschwutz, and
the latter from that of Hoflasnitz, are the most valued ; but
the great portion of the Saxon wines is of a very indifferent
quality. The best of them are produced from the vineyards
belonging to the king; and though they are sold at the
highest prices, it is very doubtful if the expenses of cultiva¬
tion, and the rent which might be obtained for the land,
do not exceed what is produced by the sale of the wines.
The whole of Saxony is highly productive of fruit, and
the care and skill exercised in its cultivation is amply re¬
warded. Great destruction to the fruit-trees took place
during the tremendous military conflicts of which the coun¬
try was the theatre ; but still the orchards and gardens are
very extensive, and new trees, planted since the wasting
warfare of 1813, are beginning to yield their products. The
calamities which proved injurious to the fruit-trees have
lessened the number of cattle of every description ; in the
year 1817, in many districts of the circle of Meissen, not a
single head of cattle was to be found. The bee-hives were
destroyed by the same events ; but the traces of these ca¬
lamities have now disappeared, and the remembrance of
them is scarcely adverted to by the rising generation. The
sheep were preserved by being driven to the mountains,
and since the war have vastly multiplied ; and the fineness
of the wool, for the sake of which they are chiefly kept, has
been most wonderfully increased, and excels the finest wools
of Spain.
The arable land is chiefly cultivated on a three-course
system, consisting of a fallow, winter sown grain, and spring
sown grain. In some cases there is a fallow crop of flax,
hemp, or potatoes. The winter corn that succeeds is ge¬
nerally rye, and sometimes, though less extensively, wheat;
the summer corn which follow's is chiefly oats, and some¬
times barley. The greater part of the arable land is in
common fields, held under a feudal tenure, over which the
lord of the manor has the right of depasturing his flocks
between the harvest and the next seed time. The farming
occupations are generally very small, and the increase of
grain throughout the whole kingdom is said not to average
more than five to one. The culture of potatoes has been
very much extended of late years, and forms almost exclu¬
sively the food of the labouring classes in the mountainous
districts. Tobacco, hemp, flax, wood, hops, and chiccory,
are grown in some parts of the kingdom, but neither of
them to the extent which the consumption of the country
requires. The woods of the kingdom, since the separation
of its best portions, are insufficient to furnish the inhabi¬
tants with the necessary fuel; and though abundance of
coal is found near Dresden, it is of so sulphureous a nature
as to be deemed unwholesome, and is used only by those
who are unable to pay the high price for wood which its
scarcity has created.
Saxony abounds in minerals, and though the veins in
general are far from being of great thickness, the ore is to¬
lerably rich; which, added to superior skill and economy
in working the mines and separating the metals, makes
them very beneficial to the crown, to whom the greater
portion of them belong. The mineralogical school of Frey-
berg has had a wonderful influence, not only in Saxony, but
in all parts of the world, in increasing the knowledge and
in improving the practice of the operative labourers in the
mining art. The annual produce of the silver-mines is
about 400,000 ounces ; and besides this, they yield copper,
lead, tin, iron, sulphur, quicksilver, bismuth, arsenic, and
coal. Gold is found in very small quantities.
In no part of the Continent has manufacturing industry
been carried to so great an extent, or occupied so large a
proportion of the population, as in Saxony. Before the se¬
paration from it of the most productive agricultural pro¬
vinces, it was calculated that two fifths of the inhabitants
were employed in manufactures ; but since that unfortunate
event, it is estimated that three fifths are occupied in com¬
merce and manufactures, and only two fifths in agriculture.
It is by the extent of its manufactures alone that the coun¬
try can be furnished with the means of paying for those ar¬
ticles of the first necessity, of which a sufficiency is not now
produced within it. The provinces which supplied corn,
fuel, and salt, have been ceded to Prussia, and those articles
must be paid for by the sales of the minerals and manufac¬
tures. During the continuance of Napoleon’s continental
system, the Saxon manufacturers enjoyed a most extensive
trade, and the encouragement thus obtained gave an im¬
pulse which directed the efforts and the capital of the coun¬
try towards their perfection ; but the division of labour was
not carried to such an extent, nor was the application of
machinery so generally adopted, as to enable them to with¬
stand the competition wfith British goods, which peace in¬
troduced into many of those markets that they had before
almost exclusively supplied. It wrould include almost the
whole catalogue of European manufactures to enumerate
the respective kinds of goods made in Saxony. \\ oollens,
linens, cottons, and silks for clothing; iron, brass, and copper
wares; paper, leather, earthenware, hats, musical instru¬
ments, and turnery ware; various chemical and dyeing pre-
parations ; clocks, watches, swords, guns, and pistols, are all
comprehended in the list of Saxon manufactures.
The commerce of a country whose inhabitants are chief¬
ly occupied in manufactures, and produce an insufficiency of
food for their own consumption, must necessarily be extensive.
The trade of Saxony chiefly centres in the city of Leipsig,
whence, at the time of the two annual fairs, the greater part
of the manufactures are disposed of, and contracts are made
for such foreign commodities as the supply of the country
demands. As the fairs of Frankfort-on-the-Maine precede,
and those of Frankfort-on-fhe-Oder follow', the fairs of Leip¬
sig, some portion of the trade is carried on by those chan¬
nels. The roads leading to Leipsig are generally good, and
trains of waggons loaded with goods are at all times to be
seen proceeding to and from that place; many of whicn
come from Flanders, Holland, Hamburg, and Brunswick,
on one side, and from Russia, Poland, and even Turkey, on
the other. At the fairs of Leipsig the new’ books Panted
in most parts of Germany are brought for publication, i here
the publishers meet and exchange the works of one part ot
the country, where the German language is spoken, wit
those of another. So extensive is this trade, that it is said
the commissions on it to the brokers and merchants ot Leip¬
sig amount to more than 40,000 rix-thalers a year. e
whole sales at the fairs in that city are estimated, including
the exports and imports, at about 20,000,000 nx-thalers, or
more than L.3,000,000 sterling. Saxony disposes, in tdis
Saxonv,
SAX
S C A
671
i y- way, of sheep’s wool, fine woollen goods, linen and thread
lace, yarn and worsted, ironmongery, cutlery, and braziery,
and also books. It receives in return corn, wine, salt, wood,
and colonial wares. Although the river Elbe is navigable
from the ocean to the interior of Saxony, it is only used for
the conveyance of the heaviest goods, and for them but par¬
tially. It is found that the tolls on that river, with the risk
of damage and of robbery, make it more advantageous to
convey commodities by land than by water.
The government is a monarchy hereditary in the Saxon
Albertine line, and in failure of that, in the Ernestine or
Saxe-Weimar branch of the family. The monarchy may
be called limited; but the limitations are of such a nature
that the liberties of the people have been more secured by
the mildness of the reigning family than by any restrictions
that the states have or could exercise. The king enjoys
the whole executive power, confirms pardons, bestows com¬
missions, nominates the supreme judges, and enjoys the
power of making peace and war, and of concluding all trea¬
ties. In making new laws, and in imposing new taxes, the
states have the right to be consulted. According to the
ancient constitution, which is still adhered to, the states are
constituted of various elements ; and, in fact, are an amal¬
gamation of various corporations, each of which thinks only
of its own peculiar interests, and contrives to cast the weight
of all public burdens from the cities and the nobles, who
are represented, to the country people, who have no voices.
The assembly consists, first, of members chosen by the pro¬
vincial representatives of the nobility ; secondly, of the re¬
presentatives of the prelates, who, before the Reformation,
had seats, but who have since been chosen by the higher class
of nobles in right of their possessing certain estates of which
the prelates were deprived ; and, thirdly, the university of
! Leipsig. These states represent only the circles of Meissen,
Leipsig, Erzgebirge, and Voightland; for that of Lausatia
has its own peculiar assembly of states, winch differs but
little from those of the other four, except that the members
from the land possessors must have at least sixteen quarter-
ings in their coats of arms. When the king pleases, these
states are convoked ; but as it has not been found necessary
to impose new taxes, or to make alterations in the laws, they
have seldom been assembled, and their session has usually
been very short. The administration is conducted by a
cabinet council, under which, through the medium of the
privy council, orders are communicated to the departments
of finance, war, domains, police, and foreign affairs.
The financial affairs of the kingdom and the credit of the
government have rapidly improved. According to the bud¬
get of 1837, the income, a great part of which is derived from
the estates of the crown, amounted to 5,194,873 rix-thalers,
valued at about three shillings each. The expenditure
amounted to the same sum, but in that was included 145,424
thalers appropriated to a reserve fund to meet unforeseen
contingencies, 321,545 thalers to pay the interest of the
debt, and 171,806 thalers which forms a sinking fund to
extinguish the debt, which, at the rate now proceeding, a
few years will accomplish, as at the close of the war it was
near L.4,000,000 sterling, and is, according to the budget,
reduced to L.l,177,740 sterling.
The armed force is no more than the contingent requir¬
ed from the kingdom by the German Confederation. It is
composed of the following arms :—
The guards  370
Infantry of the line 7,080
Cavalry 2,066
Artillery 1,032
Sharp-shooters 1,454
Engineers  191
12,193
Although the royal family profess the Catholic religion,
Sayanskie
II
Sealiger.
The Catholics in Lausatia are governed by the abbot of
Bautzen, on whom the pope generally bestows the title of
bishop in partibus injidelium.
Education is well conducted in the university of Leipsig,
and in the endowed classical schools of Meissen, Wurzen,
and Grimma, as well as in several gymnasia. The popu¬
lar education is not so well managed as in the other Pro¬
testant German states; but some steps have been taken,
and others are in contemplation, which may soon make the
Saxon system as effective as that of Prussia. The fine arts
have been cultivated with considerable success, and both
statuary and painting receive valuable assistance from the
fine productions which are contained in the collections of
Dresden.
SAYANSKIE, a chain of mountains in Siberia, forming
a prolongation of the Altai chain, and, like them, separat¬
ing Siberia from Chinese Tartary. They extend between
the river Yenisei and Lake Baikal, and consist of naked
rocks of red granite.
SAYMBRUMBACUM, a small town of India, in the
province of the Carnatic. Near it is a remarkably fine re¬
servoir of water, eight miles in length by three in average
breadth, which in the dry season is rendered subservient
to the purposes of cultivation, and being let out in small
streams, serves to irrigate the lands of thirty-two villages.
Long. 80. 5. E. Lat. 13. 2. N.
SAYPAN, one of the Ladrone Isles, in the Eastern Seas,
about twenty miles in circumference. It was once the best
peopled island of the Ladrones, but is now uninhabited;
and very opposite accounts are given of its productiveness
by different voyagers. Anson mentions that it presents as
pleasant an aspect as Tinian ; and on the west side of the
island lies a safe and commodious port. Long. 145. 55. E.
Lat. 15. 13. N.
SCALDS, in the history of literature, a name given by
the ancient inhabitants of the northern countries to their
poets, in whose writings their history is recorded.
SCALE, a mathematical instrument, consisting of seve¬
ral lines drawn on wood, brass, or silver, and variously di¬
vided, according to the purposes it is intended to serve;
whence it acquires various denominations, as the plain scale,
diagonal scale, plotting scale, and the like.
Scale, in Music, see Music. The name is derived from
scala, a ladder, or flight of stairs, and has reference to the
disposition of the notes that ascend or descend upon the writ¬
ten or printed musical stave.
Scale, in Architecture and Geography, a line divided in¬
to equal parts, and placed at the bottom of a map or draught,
to serve as a common measure to all the parts of the build¬
ing, or all the distances and places of the map.
SCALENE, or Scalenous Triangle, scalenum, in Geo¬
metry, a triangle the sides and angles of which are un¬
equal.
SCALIGER, Julius Caesar, a learned critic, poet, phy¬
sician, and philosopher, was born at the castle of Ripa, in
the territories of Verona, in 1484 ; and is said to have been
descended from the ancient princes of Verona, though this
and are zealous in discharging its injunctions, the establish¬
ed faith is the Lutheran, and, until the year 1811, no per¬
son of any other sect wras eligible to seats in the several
corporations in the provincial or general assembly of the
states. At that period all sects were placed on the same
footing. The whole number of Catholics is about 28,000,
some of whom are attached to the royal household ; but
most of them are found among the inhabitants of the pro¬
vince of Lausatia. I he number of Protestants dissenting
from the established church, including Moravians and Cal¬
vinists, is not supposed to exceed two thousand. The Lu¬
theran church is governed by four consistories or assem¬
blies of divines, differing in the number of superinten¬
dents, but comprising together twenty-five of that order.
672
Scaliger.
S C A
S C A
is not mentioned in the letters of naturalization which he
obtained in France in 1528. He learned the first rudiments
of the Latin tongue in his own country; and in his twelfth
year was presented to the Emperor Maximilian, who made
him one of his pages. He served that emperor seventeen
years, and gave signal proofs of his valour and conduct in
several expeditions. He was present at the battle of Raven¬
na in April 1512, in which he had the misfortune to lose his
father Benedict Scaliger, and his brother Titus, on which
his mother died with grief; when, being reduced to neces¬
sitous circumstances, he entered into the order of the Fran¬
ciscans, and applied himself to study at Bologna. But soon
afterwards, changing his mind with respect to his becom¬
ing a monk, he took arms again, and served in Piedmont;
at which time a physician persuaded him to study physic,
which he did at his leisure hours, and also learned Greek;
and at last the gout determined him, at forty years of age,
to abandon a military life. He soon afterwards settled at
Agen, where he married, and began to apply himself serious¬
ly to his studies. He learned first the French tongue, which
he spoke perfectly in three months; and then made himself
master of the Gascon, Italian, Spanish, German, Hungarian,
and Sclavonian ; but the chief object of his studies was po¬
lite literature. Meanwhile, he supported his family by the
practice of physic. He did not publish any of his wrorks
till he was forty-seven years of age, when he soon gained
a great name in the republic of letters. He had a graceful
person, and so strong a memory, even in his old age, that
he dictated to his son two hundred verses which he had
composed the day before, and retained without writing
them down. He was so charitable, that his house was as
it were an hospital for the poor and sick ; and he had such
an aversion to lying, that he would have no correspondence
with those who wrere given to that vice ; but, on the other
hand, he had much vanity, and possessed a satirical spirit,
which created him many enemies. He died of a reten¬
tion of urine in 1558. He wrote in Latin, 1. A treatise on
the Art of Poetry, and, 2. Exercitations against Cardan, which
works are much esteemed; 3. Commentaries on Aristotle’s
History of Animals, and on Theophrastus on Plants; 4.
Some treatises on Physic; 5. Letters, Orations, Poems,
and other wrorks, in Latin.
Scaliger, Joseph Justus, one of the most learned cri¬
tics and writers of his time. He was the son of the former,
and was born at Agen, in France, in 1540. He studied in
the college of Bordeaux; after which his father took him
under his owm care, and employed him in transcribing his
poems. By this means he obtained such a taste for poetry,
that before he was seventeen years old he wrote a tragedy
upon the subject of GSdipus, in which he introduced all
the poetical ornaments of style and sentiment. His father
having died in 1558, he went to Paris the year following,
with a desire to apply himself to the Greek tongue. For
this purpose he for two months attended the lectures of
Turnebus; but finding that in the usual course he should
be a long time in gaining his point, he shut himself up in
his closet, and by constant application for two years gained
a perfect knowledge of that language. After this he ap¬
plied to the Hebrew, which he learned by himself with great
facility. He made no less progress in the sciences; and
his writings procured him the reputation of one of the great¬
est men of that or of any other age. He embraced the
reformed religion at twenty-two years of age. In 1563, he
attached himself to Louis Casteignier de la Roche Pozay,
whom he attended in several journeys ; and, in 1593, he was
invited to accept of the place of honorary professor of the
university of Leyden, which he complied with. Fie died
of a dropsy in that city in 1609. He was a man of great
temperance, was never married, and was so close a student
that he often spent whole days in his study without eating;
and though his circumstances were always very narrow, he
constantly refused the presents that were offered him. He Scalping
published many works, the principal of which are, 1. Notes I!
on Seneca’s Tragedies, on Yarro, Ausonius, Pompeius Fes- ,ltia"
tus, &c.; 2. His Latin Poems ; 3. A treatise de Emenda-.
tione Temporum; 4. Eusebius’s Chronicle, with Notes; 5.
Canones Isagogici; and many other works. The collections
entitled Scaligeriana were collected from his conversations
by one of his friends ; and being ranged into alphabetical
order, were published by Isaac Yossius.
SCALPING, in military history, a barbarous custom, in
practice among the Indian warriors, of taking off the tops
of the scalps of the enemies’ skulls with their hair on. They
preserve them as trophies of their victories, and are re¬
warded by their chiefs according to the number of scalps
which they bring in.
SCANDAR1EH, a village of Irak Arabi, situated on a
canal which forms a communication between the Tigris and
Euphrates, 120 miles north-west of Bassorah.
SCANDERBEG, the surname of George Castriot, king
of Albania, a province of Turkey in Europe, dependent upon
the Ottoman empire. He was delivered up with his three
elder brothers as hostages, by their father, to Amurath II.
sultan of the Turks, who poisoned his brothers, but spared
him on account of his youth, being likewise pleased with
his juvenile wit and amiable person. In a short time he
became one of the most renowned generals of the age;
and revolting from Amurath, he joined Hunniade Corvin, a
most formidable enemy of the Ottoman power. He de¬
feated the sultan’s army, took Amurath’s secretary prisoner,
and obliged him to sign and seal an order to the governor of
Croia, the capital of Albania, to deliver up the citadel and
city to the bearer of that order, in the name of the sultan.
With this forged order he repaired to Croia, and thus re¬
covered the throne of his ancestors ; and maintained the in¬
dependency of his country against the numerous armies of
Amurath and his successor Mahommed II. who was obliged
to make peace with this hero in 1461. He then proceeded
to the assistance of Ferdinand of Aragon, at the request of
Pope Pius II., and by his assistance Ferdinand gained a
complete victory over his enemy the Count of Anjou. Scan-
derbeg died in 1467.
SCANDEROON, a seaport of Syria, on a bay in the
south-eastern part of the Mediterranean. About half a mile
south is an octagonal castle, well built of hewn stone, called
the Castle of Scanderberg, or Alexander. It is surrounded
by walls, which are now low; but each side is defended by
a tower. To the north is an old square tower, w’hich is in¬
accessible on account of the morass. It is now reduced to
a village of 185 houses, which ow7es all its importance to
its road, the only one in Syria affording good anchorage,
but still subject to sudden squalls. The village is extremely
unhealthy,, as is indicated by the sallow looks of the inha¬
bitants. It is never exempt from a pestilential fever, wThich
is occasioned by putrid exhalations from the neighbouring
marshes during the heats of summer. It is thirty miles
north of Antioch, and seventy north-west of Aleppo. Long.
36. 15. E. Lat. 36. 36. N.
SCANDINAVIA, a general name for the countries of
Norway, Sweden, and Denmark, anciently under the domi¬
nion of one prince. The inhabitants of these countries, in
former times, were excessively addicted to w ar. From their
earliest years they applied themselves to the military art,
and accustomed themselves to cold, fatigue, and hunger.
Even the very sports of youth and childhood were danger¬
ous. They consisted in taking frightful leaps, climbing
up the steepest rocks, fighting naked with offensive wea¬
pons, and wrestling with the utmost fury; so that it was
usual to see them grown up to be robust men. and terrible
in the combat, at the age of fifteen. At this early age the
young men became their own masters, which they did by
receiving a sword, a buckler, and a lance. The ceremony
Ida.
S C A
iidina- was performed at some public meeting. One of the nrin-
ia'^ j cipal men of the assembly named the youth in public"; af¬
ter which he was obliged to provide for his own subsistence,
and was either now to live by hunting, or by joining in
some incursion against the enemy. Great care was taken
to prevent the young men from too early connexions with
the female sex; and indeed they could have no hope to
gain the affection of the fair, but in proportion to the courage
and address they had shown in their military exercises.
Accordingly, in an ancient song, we find Bartholin, king
of Norway, extremely surprised that his mistress should
prove unkind, as he could perform eight different exercises.
The children were generally born in camps ; and being
inured from their infancy to behold nothing but arms, effu¬
sion of blood, and slaughter, they imbibed the cruel dis¬
position of their fathers, and when they broke forth upon
other nations, behaved rather like furies than like human
creatures.
The laws of this people, in some measure, resembled
those of the ancient Lacedaemonians. They knew no vir¬
tue but bravery, and no vice but cowardice. The greatest
penalties were inflicted on such as fled from battle. The
laws of the ancient Danes declared such persons infamous,
and excluded them from society. Among the Germans,
cowards were sometimes suffocated in mud; after which
they were covered over with hurdles, to show, says Taci¬
tus, that though the punishment of crimes should be pub¬
lic, there are certain degrees of cowardice and infamy which
ought to be buried in oblivion, !• rotho king of Denmark
enacted by law, that whoever solicited an eminent post
ought upon all occasions to attack one enemy, to face two,
to retire only one step back from three, and never to make
an actual retreat till assaulted by four. The rules of jus¬
tice were themselves adapted and warped to these preju¬
dices. War was looked upon as a real act of justice, and
force was thought to be an incontestable title over the
weak, a visible mark that God had intended them to be
subject to the strong. They had no doubt but that the
intentions of the Deity had been to establish the same de¬
pendence among men that takes place among inferior crea¬
tures ; and, setting out from this principle of the natural
inequality among men, they had from thence inferred that
the weak had no right to what they could not defend. This
maxim was adopted with such rigour, that the name of di¬
vine judgment was given not only to the judicial combat,
but to conflicts and battles of all sorts; victory being, in
their opinion, the only certain mark by w'hich Providence
enables us to distinguish those whom it has appointed to
command others.
Lastly, their religion, by annexing eternal happiness to
the military virtues, gave the utmost possible degree of vi¬
gour to that propensity which these people had for war,
and to their contempt of death, of which we shall now give
some instances. We are informed that Harold, surnamed
Blaatand, or Blue-tooth, a king of Denmark, wrho lived in
the beginning of the ninth century, had founded on the
coast of Pomerania a city named Julin or Jomsburg. To
this place he sent a colony of young Danes, bestowing the
government on a celebrated warrior called Palnatoko. In
this colony it wras forbidden to mention the word fear, even
in the most imminent dangers. No citizen of Jomsburg
was to yield to any number of enemies, however great.
The sight of inevitable death was not to be taken as an
excuse for showing the smallest apprehension. And this
legislator really appears to have eradicated from the minds
of most of the youths bred up under him all traces of that
sentiment so natural and so universal, which makes men
think on their destruction with horror. Nothing can show
this better than a single fact in their history, which de¬
serves to have a place here for its singularity. Some of them
having made an irruption into the territories of a powerful
VOL. XIX.
S C A 673
Norwegian lord, named Haquin, were overcome in spite of Scandina-
the obstinacy of their resistance, and the most distinguish- v>a-
ed among them being made prisoners, were, according to^*-Y""*"/
the custom of those times, condemned to death. The news
of this, far from afflicting them, was on the contrary re¬
ceived with joy. The first who was led to punishment
was content to say, without changing countenance, and
without expressing the least sign of fear, “ Why should
not the same happen to me as did to my father ? He died,
and so must I.” A warrior named Thorchill, who was to
cut of! the head of the second, having asked him what he
felt at the sight of death, he answered, “ that he remem¬
bered too well the laws of Jomsburg, to utter any words that
denoted fear.'’ The third, in reply to the same question,
said, “ he rejoiced to die with glory, and that he preferred
such a death to an infamous life like that of Thorchill’s.”
The fourth made an answer much longer and more extra¬
ordinary. “ I suffer with a good heart, and the present
hour is to me very agreeable. I only beg of you,” added
he, addressing himself to Thorchili, “ to be very quick in
cutting off my head; for it is a question often debated by
us at Jomsburg, whether one retains any sense after being
beheaded. I will therefore grasp this knife in my hand ;
if, after my head is cut off, I strike it towards you, it will
show I have not lost all sense ; if I let it drop, it will be a
proof of the contrary. Make haste, therefore, and decide
the dispute.” Thorchill, adds the historian, cut off his
head in a most expeditious manner; but the knife, as might
be expected, dropt from his hand. The fifth showed the
same tranquillity, and died rallying and jeering his enemies.
The sixth begged of Thorchill that he might not be led
to punishment like a sheep : “ Strike the blow in my face,”
said he; “I will sit still without shrinking; and take no¬
tice whether I once wink my eyes, or betray one sign of
fear in my countenance; for we inhabitants of Jomsburg
are used to exercise ourselves in trials of this sort, so as to
meet the stroke of death without once moving.” He kept
his promise before all the spectators, and received the blow
without betraying the least sign of fear, or so much as
winking with his eyes. The seventh, says the historian,
wyas a very beautiful young man, in the flower of his age.
His long hair, as fine as silk, floated in curls and in ringlets
on his shoulders. Thorchill asked him what he thought of
death. “ I receive it willingly,” said he, “ since I have
fulfilled the greatest duty of life, and have seen all those put
to death whom I would not survive. I only beg of you one
favour, not to let my hair be touched by a slave, or stained
with my blood.”
Neither was this intrepidity peculiar to the inhabitants
of Jomsburg. It was the general character of all the Scan¬
dinavians, of which wre shall only give this further instance.
A warrior, having been thrown upon his back in wrestling
with his enemy, and the latter finding himself without his
arms, the vanquished person promised to wait, without
changing his posture, till his antagonist fetched a sword to
kill him; and he faithfully kept his word. To die with
arms in his hand was the ardent wish of every free man;
and the pleasing idea which they had of this kind of death
led them to dread such as proceeded from old age and dis¬
ease. The history of ancient Scandinavia is full of in¬
stances of this way of thinking. The warriors who found
themselves lingering in disease often availed themselves of
their few remaining moments to shake off life, by a way
that they supposed to be more glorious. Some of them
would be carried into a field of battle, that they might die
in the engagement. Others slew themselves. Many got
this melancholy service performed by their friends, who con¬
sidered it as a most sacred duty. “ There is, on a mountain
of Iceland,” says the author of an old Iceland romance, “ a
rock so high that no animal can fall from the top of it and
live. Here men betake themselves when they are afflicted
4 Q
674
S C A
Scanning and unhappy. From this place all our ancestors, even with¬
out waiting for sickness, have departed into Eden. It is
il
Scapula.
useless, therefore, to give ourselves up to groans and com¬
plaints, or to put our relations to needless expenses, since
we can easily follow the example of our fathers, who have
all gone by the way of this rock.” When all these methods
failed, and at last when Christianity had banished such bar¬
barous practices, the disconsolate heroes consoled them¬
selves by putting on complete armour as soon as they found
their end approaching.
SCANNING, in Poetry, the measuring of verse by feet,
in order to see whether or not the quantities be duly ob¬
served. The term is chiefly used in Greek and in Latin
verses. Thus an hexameter verse is scanned by resolving
it into six feet; a pentameter, by resolving it into five feet;
and so of the rest.
SCANTLING, a measure, size, or standard, by which
the dimensions of things are to be determined. The term
S C A
enjoying the fruits of his treachery. Scapula’s Lexicon
was first printed in the year 1570, in 4to. It was afterwards
enlarged, and published in folio; and it has gone through se¬
veral editions, while the valuable work of Stephens has never
been reprinted. Its success is, however, not owing to its su¬
perior merit, but to its moderate price and commodious size.
Stephens charges the author with omitting a great many
important articles. He accuses him of misunderstanding
and perverting his meaning, and of tracing out absurd and
trifling etymologies, which he himself had been careful to
avoid. Dr Busby, so much celebrated for his knowledge
of the Greek language, and his success in teaching it, wyould
never permit his scholars at Westminster school to make
use of Scapula.
SCAPULAR, or Scapulary, a part of the habit of se¬
veral religious orders in the Church of Rome, worn over
the gown as a badge of peculiar veneration for the blessed
Virgin. It consists of two narrow slips or breadths of cloth
is particularly applied to the dimensions of any piece of covering the back and the breast, and hanging down to the
timber, with regard to its breadth and thickness.
SCAPE-GOAT, in Jewish antiquities, the goat which
was set at liberty on the day of solemn expiation/ Some say
that a piece of scarlet cloth, in form of a tongue, was tied
upon the forehead of the scape-goat. (Hoffmann, Lex. Univ.
in voc. Lingua.) Many have been the disputes among the
feet. The devotees of the scapulary celebrate its festival
on the 10th of July.
SCARBOROUGH, a town on the shore of the German
Ocean, in the lathe of Pickering, in the north riding of the
county of York, and 216 miles from London. This town is
distant about five leagues north-west from Flamborough
nterpreters concerning the meaning of the word scape- Head. It has a harbour, which is dry at low water, and of
goat, or rather of Azazel, for which scape-goat is put in our late has been so improved as to afford shelter, in all gales
version of the Bible. Spenser is of opinion that Azazel is
a proper name, signifying the devil or evil daemon. Among
other things, he observes that the ancient Jews used to
substitute the name Samael for Azazel; and many of them
have ventured to affirm, that at the feast of expiation they
were obliged to offer a gift to Samael to obtain his favour.
Thus also the goat sent into the wilderness to Azazel, was
understood to be a gift or oblation. Some Christians have
been of the same opinion. But Spenser thinks that the
genuine reasons of the ceremony were, that the goat load¬
ed with the sins of the people, and sent to Azazel, might
be a symbolical representation of the miserable condition
of sinners; that God sent the goat thus loaded to the evil
daemons, to show that they were impure, thereby to deter
the people from any conversation or familiarity with them ;
and that the goat sent to Azazel, sufficiently expiating all
evils, the Israelites might the more willingly abstain from
the expiatory sacrifices of the Gentiles.
SCAPEMENT, in clock-work, a general term for the
manner of communicating the impulse of the wheels to the
pendulum. See Clock and Watch Work.
SCAPULA, John, the reputed author of a Greek lexi¬
con, studied at Lausanne. His name is recorded in the
annals of literature, neither on account of his talents, nor
learning, nor virtuous industry, but for a gross act of dis-
ingenuity and fraud which he committed against an emi¬
nent literary character of the sixteenth century. Being
of wind upon the coast, to vessels capable of bearing the
ground. The ancient pier has been extended, and form¬
ed into a new harbour, which may be resorted to when the
old harbour is crowded, and where are placed dolphins and
mooring rings. A lighthouse has been erected upon the
pier, which is kept burning from half flood to half ebb, as
a direction to vessels entering in the night.
Though the harbour of Scarborough is thus useful as a
protection for the smaller class of vessels, the trade of the
port is not extensive. The chief exports consist of bacon
hams, butter, and corn; and the chief imports are coals,
timber, flax, and iron, with wine, gin, brandy, and rum,
from the places of their growth, and groceries from Lon¬
don. The only manufactories are those connected with
shipping, such as cordage and sail-cloth. The building
of ships forms some occupation, but it is a fluctuating and
precarious employment.
The chief importance of Scarborough arises from its be¬
ing a most agreeable bathing-place, to which strangers re¬
pair in the summer. Besides the inducement to sea-bathing,
many resort to it on account of its mineral springs, called
the Spa.
The situation and view of Scarborough, either from the
land or the sea, is striking and picturesque. The castle,
on an extensive site, now in ruins, stands on a promontory
running into the sea, and rising to the height of more than
300 feet above it. It was built in the reign of King Ste-
employed by Henry Stephens as a corrector of his press phen, in 1136, and must have been then a place of unas
while he was publishing his Thesaurus Linguee Grcecce, sailable strength, extending over an area of nineteen acres,
Scapula extracted those words and explications which he the walls of which can be still traced, and having within it
reckoned most useful, comprised them in one volume, and a copious well of water. The keep is at present in toler-
published them as an original work, with his own name. able preservation. It is a square Norman building,
The compilation and printing of the Thesaurus had cost feet in height, and had formerly an embattled parapet
Stephens immense labour and expense; but it was so much
admired by those learned men to whom he had shown it
and seemed to be of such essential importance to the acqui¬
sition of the Greek language, that he reasonably hoped his
labour would be crowned with honour, and that the money
he had expended would be repaid by a rapid and extensive
sale. But before his work came abroad, Scapula’s abridg¬
ment appeared, which, from its size and price, was quickly
purchased, while the Thesaurus itself lay neglected in the
author’s hands. The consequence was a bankruptcy on
the part of Stephens, while he who had occasioned it was
The
walls are about twelve feet in thickness, cased with squared
stones ; and the mortar having been, according to ancient
custom, in a fluid state, has become more durable than even
the stone of the building.
The town confers the title of earl upon the family of
Lumley. It returns two members to the House of Com¬
mons, as heretofore. By the municipal reform law it is
now divided into two wards, in which are chosen six aider-
men and eighteen councillors. The population (taken in May,
when no visiters are in the town) amounted in 1801 to 6409,
in 1811 to 6710, in 1821 to 8188, and in 1831 to 8760.
trdona
S C A
SCARDONA, a seaport town of Dalmatia, situated on
the eastern bank of the river Cherca. It has been taken
and retaken several times by the Turks and Venetians, the
latter of whom ruined the fortifications and its principal build¬
ings in 1537.
SCARIFICATION, in Surgery, the operation of mak¬
ing several incisions in the skin by means of lances or other
instruments, particularly the cupping instrument.
SCARP, in Fortification, is the interior talus or slope of
the ditch next the place, at the foot of the rampart.
Scarp, in Heraldry, the scarf which military command¬
ers wear for ornament. It is borne somewhat like a bat-
toon sinister, but is broader and continued out to the ed^es
of the field, whereas the battoon is cut off at each end.
SCARPA, Antonio, was born in Lombardy between
the years 1746 and 1750. He early distinguished himself
as an anatomist and surgeon, and his works, in both these
branches of science, have spread his reputation throughout
all Europe. For many years he occupied the chairs of clini¬
cal and operative surgery in the school of Pavia ; and when
he became emeritus professor, he was really the director
of the faculty of medicine in the university which he so
greatly contributed to render celebrated. Scarpa was an
exact as well as a laborious observer, and did more than
most men of his time to advance the progress of surgery.
Surgical anatomy, which has given a particular direction
to the researches of surgeons, owes its first development to
the labours of Scarpa, and forms, in some sort, the distinc¬
tive character of his productions.
His works are not altogether free from faults. They re¬
commend themselves more by the beauty than by the pre¬
cision of their style; but the excellence of the precepts
which his writings convey, and the judicious and original ob¬
servations on which they are based, have placed several of
them in the rank of classical books, and have led to their
translation into most of the languages of Europe.
Scarpa commenced his career as an anatomist, but after¬
wards directed his attention principally to the practice of
surgery; and if he sometimes maintains opinions that are
paradoxical, if his theories and his precepts are at times
hardly defensible, we still recognise, even in his errors,
the views of a great master, and thoughts w'hich direct the
reader to useful reflection.
Uniting to the love of science an exquisite taste for the
fine arts, the author has illustrated his writings with en¬
gravings, which are models of exactness, elegance, and pu¬
rity. The plates which represent the nerves of the heart, and
those which accompany the treatises on hernia and aneu¬
rism, are among the most perfect productions of this kind.
Scarpa is author of a number of writings, many of them
inserted in the journals of Italy, and on local subjects
which are little known. His principal works are, 1. Ana-
tomicae Disquisitiones de Auditu et Olfactu, Pavia, 1789, in
folio; 2. Tabulae Neurologicae ad illustrandam Historiam
Cardiacorum Nervorum, Pavia, 1794, in folio ; 3. Commen-
tarius de Penitiori Ossium Structura, Leips. 1799, in 4to;
4. Sull’ Ernie, Memorie Anatomico-chirurgiche, Milan,
1810, in folio; 5. Riflessioni ed Osservazioni Anatomico-
chirurgiche sull’ Aneurisma, Pavia, 1804, in folio; 6. Sag-
gio di Osservazioni ed Esperienze sulle principali Malattie
degli occhi, Pavia, 1801, in 4to ; 7. Sul taglio Ipogastrico
per 1’Estrazione della pietra daila Vesica Orinaria, Milan,
1820, in 4to; 8. Sullo Scirro e sul Cancro, Milan, 1821,
in 4to ; 9. Memoria sulla Ligatura delle principale Arterie ;
10. Lettera sulla Ligatura temporaria delle grosse Arterie
degli arti, Milan, 1823, in 8vos 11. Saggio di Osservazioni
sul taglio R®tto-vesicale per 1’Estrazione della pietra dalla
Vesica Orinaria, Pavia, 1823, in 8vo ; 12. Esame della
terza Memoria del Professore Vacca sul taglio Retto-vesi-
cale, Milan, 1824, in 8vo; 13. Memoria sull Idrocele del
Cordone Spermatico, Pavia, 1823, in 4to.
S C A
SCARRON, Paul, a famous burlesque writer, was the
son of a counsellor in parliament, and born at Paris about
tie end of the year 1610, or in the beginning of the suc¬
ceeding year. His father having married a second time,
le was compelled to assume the ecclesiastical profession.
At tne age of twenty-four he visited Italy, where he freelv
indulged in licentious pleasures. After his return to Paris,
he persisted in a life of dissipation, till a long and painful
disease convinced him that his constitution was almost worn
out. At length, when engaged in a party of pleasure at the
age of twenty-seven, he lost “ the use of those legs which
danced so gracefully, and of those hands which could paint
and play on the lute with so much elegance.” In the year
1638 he was attending the carnival at Mens, of which he
was a canon. Having dressed himself one ’day as a sa¬
vage, his singular appearance excited the curiosity of the
children of the town. They followed him in multitudes,
and he was obliged to take shelter in a marsh. This wet
and cold situation produced a numbness which totally de-
pi ived him of the use of his limbs; but notwithstanding
this misfortune he continued gay and cheerful. He took
up his residence at Paris, and by his pleasant humour soon
attracted to his house all the men of wit about the city.
The loss of his health was followed by the loss of his for¬
tune. On the death of his father he entered into a process
with his mother-in-law. He pleaded the cause in a Judi¬
cious manner, though his whole fortune depended on the
decision, and accordingly lost the cause. Mademoiselle de
Hautefort, compassionating his misfortunes, procured for
him an audience of the queen. The poet requested to have
the title of valetudinarian to her majesty. The queen
smiled, and Scarron considered the smile as the commis¬
sion to his new office. He therefore assumed the title of
“ Scarron, by the grace of God unworthy valetudinarian
to the queen.”
Cardinal Mazarin gave him a pension of five hundred
crowns ; but that minister having received disdainfully the
dedication of his Typhon, the poet immediately wrote a Ma-
zarinade, and the pension was withdrawn. He then at¬
tached himself to the Prince of Conde, and celebrated his
victories. He at length formed the extraordinary resolu¬
tion of marrying, and was accordingly, in 1651, married to
Mademoiselle d’Aubigne, afterwards Madame de Mainte-
non, who was then only sixteen years of age. “ At that
time,” says Voltaire, “ it was considered as a great acquisi¬
tion for her to gain for a husband a man who was disfigured
by nature, impotent, and very little enriched by fortune.”
When Scarron was questioned about the contract of mar¬
riage, he said he acknowledged to the bride two large in¬
vincible eyes, a very beautiful shape, two fine hands, and a
large portion of wit. The notary demanded what dowry
he would give her. Scarron immediately replied, “ The
names of the wives of kings die with them, but the name
of Scarron’s wife shall live for ever.” She restrained by her
modesty his indecent buffooneries, and the good company
which had formerly resorted to his house were not Jess
frequent in their visits. Scarron now became a new man.
He grew more decent in his manners and conversation ;
and his gaiety, when tempered with moderation, was still
more agreeable. But, in the mean time, he lived with so
little economy, that his income was soon reduced to a small
annuity and his marquisate of Quinet. By the marquisate
of Quinet, he meant the revenue he derived from his pub¬
lications, which were printed by one Quinet. He was ac¬
customed to talk to his superiors with great freedom in his
jocular style. In the dedication to his Don Japliet d’Ar-
menie, he thus addresses the king : “ I shall endeavour to
persuade your majesty that you would do yourself no in¬
jury were you to do me a small favour; for in that case I
should become more gay. If I should become more gay,
I should write sprightly comedies; and if I should write
675
Scarron.
676 S C E
Sceaux. sprightly comedies, your majesty would be amused, and
s-—v-—' thus your money would not be lost. All this appears so
evident, that I should certainly be convinced of it if I were
as great a king as I am now a poor unfortunate man.”
Although Scarron wrote comedies, he had neither time
nor patience to study the rules and models of dramatic
poetry- Aristotle and Horace, Plautus and Terence, would
have frightened him ; and perhaps he did not know that
there was ever such a person as Aristophanes. He saw an
open path before him, and he followed it. It was the
fashion of the times to pillage the Spanish writers. Scar¬
ron was acquainted with that language, and he found it
easier to use the materials which were already prepared,
than to rack his brain in inventing a subject; a restraint to
which a genius like his could not easily submit. As he
borrowed liberally from the Spanish writers, a dramatic
piece did not cost him much labour. His labour consisted
not in making his comic characters talk humorously, but in
keeping up serious characters; for the serious was a foreign
language to him. The great success of his Jodelet Maltre,
was a vast allurement to him. The comedians who acted
it eagerly requested more of his productions. They were
written without much toil, and they procured him large
sums. They served to amuse him. When the office of
historiographer became vacant, he solicited for it without
success. At length Fouquet gave him a pension of sixteen
hundred livres. Christina queen of Sweden having come
to Paris, was anxious to see Scarron. “ I permit you, ’ said
she to Scarron, “ to fall in love with me. The queen of
France has made you her valetudinarian, and I create you
my Iloland.” But Scarron did not long enjoy that title. Fie
was seized with so violent a hiccough, that every person
thought he would have expired. “ If I recover,” he said,
“ I will make a fine satire on the hiccough.” His gaiety
did not forsake him to the last. Within a few minutes of
his death, when his domestics were shedding tears about
him, “ My goods friends,” said he, “ I shall never make
you weep so much for me as I have made you laugh. ’ Just
before expiring, he said, “ I could never believe before that
it is so easy to laugh at death.” He died on the 14th of
October lt>60, in the fifty-first year of his age.
His works have been collected and published by Bruzen
de la Martiniere, in ten volumes 12mo, 1737. There are,
1. The /Eneid travestied, in eight books. It was afterwards
continued by Moreau de Brasey. 2. Typhon, or the Gi-
gantomachia. 3. Many comedies, as Jodclet, or the Mas¬
ter Valet, Jodelet Cuffed, Don Japhet d’Armenie, the Ri¬
diculous Heir, Every Man his own Guardian, the Foolish
Marquis, the Scholar of Salamanca, the False Appearance,
and the Prince Corsaire, a tragi-comedy. Besides these, he
wrote other pieces in verse. 4. His Comic Romance, in
prose, which is the only one of his works that deserves at¬
tention. It is written with much purity and gaiety, and has
contributed not a little to the improvement of the French
language. Scarron had great pleasure in reading his wmrks
to his friends as he composed them, which he called trying
his works. Segrais and another of his friends coming to
him one day, “ Take a chair,” said Scarron to them, “ and
sit down, that I may examine my Comic Romance.” When
he observed the company laugh, “ Very well,” said he, “ my
book will be well received, since it makes persons of such
delicate taste laugh.” Nor was he deceived. His romance
had a prodigious run. It w'as the only one of his works
that Boileau could submit to read. 5. Spanish novels trans¬
lated into French. 6. A volume of Letters. 7. Poems,
consisting of songs, epistles, stanzas, odes, and epigrams.
The whole collection abounds with sprightliness and gaiety.
SCEAUX, an arrondissement of the department of the
Seine, in France, to the south of Paris. It extends over
23,909 hectares, equal to 53,796 acres, or eighty-four square
miles, and is divided into four cantons, and these into forty-
S C E
three communes, which, in 1836, contained 87,708 inhabi- Scene
tants. The chief towm, which is of the same name, had for- i!^
merly a fine palace and park ; but the orangery only now „
remains. It has considerable manufactories of china, and v^"
contains 1670 inhabitants.
SCENE, in its primary sense, denotes a theatre, or the
place where dramatic pieces and other public-shows are ex¬
hibited. It does not appear that the ancient poets were at
all acquainted with the modern way of changing the scenes
in the different parts of the play, in order to raise the idea
of the persons represented by the actors being in different
places.
The original scene for the acting of plays was as simple as
the representations themselves. It consisted only of a plain
plot of ground proper for the occasion, which was in some
degree shaded by the neighbouring trees, the branches of
which were made to meet together, and their vacancies sup¬
plied with boards, sticks, and the like ; and to complete the
shelter, these were sometimes covered with skins, and some¬
times with only the branches of other trees newly cut down,
and full of leaves. Afterwards more artificial scenes, or
scenical representations, were introduced, and paintings
used instead of the objects themselves. Scenes were then
of three sorts ; tragic, comic, and satiric. The tragic scene
represented stately magnificent edifices, with decorations of
pillars, statues, and other things suitable to the palaces of
kings. The comic exhibited private houses with balconies
and windows, in imitation of common buildings. And the
satiric was the representation of groves, mountains, dens,
and other rural appearances ; and these decorations either
turned on pivots, or slid along grooves as those in our
theatres.
Scene is also a part or division of a dramatic poem. Thus
plays are divided into acts, and acts are again subdivided
into scenes; in which sense the scene is properly the per¬
sons present at or concerned in the action on the stage at
such a time. Whenever, therefore, a new actor appears, or
an old one disappears, the action is changed into other
hands ; and therefore a new scene then commences.
It is one of the laws of the stage, that the scenes be well
connected; in other words, that one succeed another in
such a manner as that the stage be never quite empty till
the end of the act.
SCENOGRAPFIY, from the Greek scene, and
yoaOri, description, in perspective, is a representation or a
body on a perspective plane ; or a description of it in all its
dimensions, such as it appears to the eye.
SCEPTIC, ffXTj-Tmxo;, from J consider, look
about, or deliberate, properly signifies considerative and in¬
quisitive, or one who is always weighing reasons on one side
and the other, without ever deciding between them. It is
chiefly applied to an ancient sect of philosophers founded
by Pyrrho, who, according to Laertius, had various other
denominations. FYom their master they were called Pyr-
rhonians; from the distinguishing tenets or characteristic of
their philosophy they derived the name of Aporetici, from
uTrootw, to doubt ; from their suspension and hesitation they
were called ephectici, from sxiyja, to stay or keep back ;
and, lastly, they were called zetetici, or seekers, from their
never getting beyond the search of truth.
That the sceptical philosophy is absurd, can admit of no
dispute in the present age; and that many of the followers
of Pyrrho carried it to the most ridiculous height, is not less
true. But wre cannot believe that he himself was so extra¬
vagantly sceptical as has sometimes been asserted, when we
reflect on the particulars of his life, which are still preserv¬
ed, and the respectful manner in which we find him men¬
tioned by his contemporaries and writers of the first name
who flourished soon after him. Jhe truth, as far as at tnis
distance of time it can be discovered, seems to be, that he
learned from Democritus, to deny the real existence of all
S C E
Sceptic, qualities in bodies, except those which are essential to pri-
—mary atoms ; and that he referred every thing else to the
perceptions of the mind produced by external objects, in
other words, to appearance and opinion. All knowledge of
course appeared to him to depend on the fallacious report
of the senses, and consequently to be uncertain ; and in this
notion he was confirmed by the general spirit of the Eleatic
School, in which he was educated. He was further con¬
firmed in his scepticism by the subtilties of the Dialectic
school, in which he had been instructed by the son of Stil-
po; choosing to overturn the cavils of sophistry by recur¬
ring to the doctrine of universal uncertainty, and thus break¬
ing the knot which he could not unloose. For being na¬
turally and habitually inclined to consider immoveable tran¬
quillity as the great end of all philosophy, he was easily led
to despise the dissensions of the dogmatists, and to infer
from their endless disputes, the uncertainty of the questions
on which they debated ; controversy, as it has often hap-
„ pened to others, becoming also with respect to him the pa¬
rent of scepticism.
Pyrrho’s doctrines, however new and extraordinary, were
not totally disregarded. He was attended by several scho¬
lars, and succeeded by several followers, who preserved the
memory of his notions. The most eminent of his followers
was Timon, in whom the public succession of professors in
the Pyrrhonic school terminated. In the time of Cicero it
was almost extinct, having suffered much from the jealousy
of the dogmatists, and from a natural aversion in the human
mind to acknowledge total ignorance, or to be left in abso¬
lute darkness. The disciples of Timon, however, still con¬
tinued to profess scepticism, and their notions were em¬
braced, privately at least, by many others. The school it¬
self was afterwards revived by Ptolemaeus a Cyrenian, and
was continued by iEnesidemus a contemporary of Cicero,
who wrote a treatise on the principles of the Pyrrhonic phi¬
losophy, the heads of which are preserved by Photius. From
this time it was continued through a series of preceptors of
little note to Sextus Empiricus, who also gave a summary
of the sceptical doctrine.
A system of philosophy thus founded on doubt, and cloud¬
ed with uncertainty, could neither teach tenets of any import¬
ance, nor prescribe a certain rule of conduct; and accord¬
ingly we find that the followers of scepticism were guided
entirely by chance. As they could form no certain judg¬
ment respecting good and evil, they accidentally learned
the folly of eagerly pursuing any apparent good, or of avoid¬
ing any apparent evil; and their minds of course settled
into a state of undisturbed tranquillity, the grand postula-
tum of their system.
In the schools of the sceptics we find ten distinct topics
of argument urged in support of the doctrine of uncertainty;
with this precaution, however, that nothing could be posi¬
tively asserted either concerning their number or their force.
These arguments chiefly respect objects of sense. They
place all knowledge in appearance; and as the same things
appear very different to different people, it is impossible to
say which appearance most truly expresses their real nature.
They likewise say that our judgment is liable to uncer¬
tainty from the circumstance of frequent or rare occurrence,
and that mankind are continually led into different concep¬
tions concerning the same thing, by means of custom, law,
fabulous tales, and established opinions. On all these ac¬
counts, they think every human judgment is liable to un¬
certainty ; and concerning any thing, they can only assert
that it seems to be, not that it is what it seems.
This doubtful reasoning, if reasoning it may be called,
the sceptics extended to all the sciences, in which they dis¬
covered nothing true, or which could be absolutely assert¬
ed. In all nature, in physics, morals, and theology, they
found contradictory opinions, and inexplicable or incom¬
prehensible phenomena. In physics, the appearances, they
S C H ■ 677
thought, might be deceitful; and respecting the nature of Sceptre
God and the duties of morality, men were, in their opinion, II,
equally ignorant and uncertain. To overturn the sophis-®c^a^^au*
tical arguments of these sceptical reasoners, would be no . y
difficult matter, if their reasoning were worthy of confuta¬
tion. Indeed, the great principle is sufficiently, though
shortly, refuted by Plato, in these words. “ When you sav
all things are incomprehensible,” says he, “ do you compre¬
hend or conceive that they are thus incomprehensible, or do
you not ? It you do, then something is comprehensible ; if
you do not, there is no reason we should believe you, since
you do not comprehend your own assertion.”
But scepticism has not been confined entirely to the an¬
cients and to the followers of Pyrrho. Numerous sceptics
have arisen also in modern times, varying in their princi¬
ples, manners, and character, as chance, prejudice, vanity,
weakness, or indolence, prompted them. The great object,
however, which they seem to have in view is to overturn,
or at least to weaken, the evidence of analogy, experience,
and testimony ; though some of them have even attempted
to show, that the axioms of geometry are uncertain, and its
demonstrations inconclusive. This last attempt has not
indeed been often made ; but the chief aim of Mr Hume’s
philosophical writings is to introduce doubts into every
branch of physics, metaphysics, history, ethics, and theolo¬
gy. It is needless to give a specimen of his reasonings in
support of modern scepticism. The most important of them
have been noticed in the articles Miracle, Metaphysics,
and Philosophy ; and such of our readers as have any
relish for speculations of that nature can be no strangers to
his Essays, or to the able confutations of them by Reid,
Campbell, Gregory, Beattie, and Stewart, who have like¬
wise exposed the weakness of the sceptical reasonings of
Descartes, Malebranche, and other philosphers of great fame
in the same school.
SCEPTRE, a kind of royal staff, borne on solemn occa¬
sions by kings, as a badge of their command and authority.
Nicod derives the word from the Greek a/t^rrgov, which, he
says, originally signified a javelin, which the ancient kings
usually bore as a badge of their authority, that instrument
being in very great veneration among the heathens. But
ffxri'Trrgov does not properly signify a javelin; it means a staff to
rest upon, from ctujcttw, innitor, I lean upon. Accordingly,
in the simplicity of the earlier ages of the world, the sceptres
of kings w'ere no other than long walking staves; and Ovid,
in speaking of Jupiter, describes him as resting on his
sceptre. The sceptre is an ensign of royalty of greater an¬
tiquity than the crown. The Greek tragic and other poets
put sceptres in the hands of the most ancient kings they in¬
troduce. Justin observes, that the sceptre, in its original,
was a hasta, or spear. He adds, that, in the most remote
antiquity, men adored the hastce or sceptres as immortal
gods ; and that it w as upon this account that, even in his
time, they still furnished the gods with sceptres. Neptune’s
sceptre is his trident. Tarquin the Elder was the first who
assumed the sceptre among the Romans. Legendre tells
us, that, in the first race of the French kings, the sceptre
was a golden rod, almost always of the same height with
the king who bore it, and crooked at one end like a crozier.
Frequently, instead of a sceptre, kings are seen on medals
with a palm in their hand.
SCHAFFHAUSEN, one of the cantons of Switzerland.
It is bounded on the north, east, and west, by the grand
duchy of Baden ; and on the south by the Rhine, which
divides it from the cantons of Thurgau and Zurich. It is
only T20 square miles in extent, in which are comprehended
three cities, four market-towns, and thirty-five villages. It
contains 28,050 inhabitants, who, except about 200 Roman
Catholics, adhere to the reformed church. The force to be
contributed to the general confederation is fixed at 4G6 men,
and the payment in money at 9320 francs. The chief article
678 SCII SC H
Schamachi of cultivation is wine, which, though not of the best quality,
II finds a ready sale in the other cantons, and hence the hills
c are mostly covere(i vineyards. Corn is raised about
- -‘/'y ' equal in amount to the consumption, and the meadows feed
many cows, which produce much good butter. The river
Rhine receives all the streams of the canton. The capi¬
tal is the city of the same name, about one mile above the
natural cascade of the Rhine. It is an antique-looking
town, with a narrow street and large houses ; it is also walled,
and has a citadel. There are three churches, a council-house,
and several hospitals ; and it contains 7000 inhabitants, who
carry on cotton-weaving, calico-printing, and make caps,
hats, and hosiery. Long. 8. 32. E. Lat. 47. 42. N.
SCHAMACHI, the capital of the province of Shirvan,
in Persia, once large, populous, and commercial, but now
ruined, and its remains entirely covered with thick brush¬
wood. The modern city is called New Schamachi, and
is situated in a plain on the river Aksisi, about thirty
miles from the Kur, and nearly the same distance from the
Caspian. It is built in a square form, each side of which is
eight hundred paces long; and the walls are in tolerable re¬
pair, built of unburned brick, and surrounded with a very
broad and deep ditch. It is supposed to have contained
6000 inhabitants previous to its capture during the late war
by Aga Mahommed. It was desolated by this tyrant, and
has not recovered from its fallen state. Long. 48. 45. E.
Lat. 40. 27. N.
SCHANCK, Cape, a rocky point, with three rocky islets
lying off it, on the south coast of New Holland. It is the
west point of the principal entrance into Western Port.
Long. 144. 53. E. Lat. 38. 30. S.
SCHANTARSKIJA, three islands off the eastern coast
of Asiatic Russia, in the Sea of Okhotzk. Long. 138. to 139.
E. Lat. 55. 15. to 55. 30. N.
SCH AREDSJE, or Zaka, an island in the Persian Gulf,
near the coast of Arabia, about thirty miles in circumfer¬
ence. Long. 54. 15. E. Lat. 25. N.
SCHASBURG, a city in the Austrian duchy of Sieven-
burgen, the capital of a circle of its own name. It is situated
on a hill near the river Kokel, consisting of two towns, one
of which is surrounded with walls, and the other a kind of
suburb. It contains four Lutheran churches, with a Catholic
and a Greek one, 1230 houses, and 7100 inhabitants, chiefly
of the Saxon race. There is a Lutheran college, and consi¬
derable manufacturing industry employed in making cotton
and linen goods. Long. 23. 43. E. Lat. 46. 10. 9. N.
SCHAUENBURG, a province of the principality of
Hesse-Casel, in Germany, adjoining to Hanover, Lippe-
Detmold, and Lippe-Schauenburg. It is 193 square miles
in extent, a poor sandy district, except on such parts as are
near the river Weser, which are of moderate fertility. It
comprehends five towns and 130 villages and hamlets, with
28,600 inhabitants, whose chief occupation, besides that of
agriculture, is the spinning of flax. It produces some good
coal, and abundance of wood. It is divided into three baili¬
wicks, and the capital is the city of Rentelen, on the Weser,
containing 2850 inhabitants.
Schauenburg-Lippe, a small independent principality
in the north of Germany, between Hanover on the north
and north-east, Hesse-Casel on the east and south-east,
and the Prussian Westphalian province on the south-west
and the west. It extends over 210 square miles, and com¬
prehends two small cities, three market-towns, and 108 vil¬
lages, with a population of 23,128 persons, who all adhere
to the Lutheran church, except 3600 Calvinists and about
100 Roman Catholics. The revenues of the prince amount to
about L.21,500, wholly drawn from his domains, no taxes
of any kind being demanded; and as the reigning prince
was in his minority during the time of the greatest suffering
in this part of Germany, his guardian managed so prudently
as to leave him without any debt. The principality is bound
to provide a force of 240 men to the German confedera- Scbazk
tion. The face of the country is undulating, but there are no li
hills of great height, and all are capable of cultivation. It. Scheelt,:
rises gradually from the right bank of the Weser, into which
run all the streams of the principality. It has one large
lake, the Steinhuder, nearly fifty miles in compass, on which
is a strong fortress used as an arsenal, and it is most abun¬
dantly stocked with fish. It has some valuable mineral
springs ; one near Stadthagen is resorted to for curative pur¬
poses. There are some valuable coal-mines worked, which
belong to the prince, and are said to form one quarter of
his revenue. There are many flocks of sheep, some yield¬
ing fine wool from the native races having been crossed by
merinos. The soil produces more corn than is consumed ;
and it, with wool, flax, wood, and coal, are the chief objects
of trade. The capital is Buckeberg, a city of 4220 inhabi¬
tants, on a gradual ascent from the Weser, and six miles
from Minden.
SCHAZK, a city of Russia, the capital of a circle of the
same name, within the province of Tambov. It is 737
miles from St Petersburg, on the river Schazk. It is old and
ill built, and contains eight churches, only three of stone,
1011 houses, with 6800 inhabitants, chiefly making hempen
goods, and cultivating that plant. Long. 41. 49. E. Lat. 54.
26. N.
SCHECHE SURE, or Surde, a small island in the Per¬
sian Gulf, with a village on the southern coast, where water
and provisions may be obtained. Long. 54. 30. E. Lat. 26.
8. N.
SCHEDUAN, an immense naked rock in the Red Sea,
eight miles long and five broad, at nearly an equal distance
from the coasts of Asia and Africa. Lat. 27. 35. N.
SCHEDULE, a scroll of paper or parchment, annexed
to a will, lease, or other deed, containing an inventory of
goods, or some other matter omitted in the body of the
deed. The word is a diminutive of the Latin scheda, or
Greek a leaf or piece of paper.
SCHEELE, Charles William, was born on the 19th
of December 1742, at Stralsund, where his father had kept
a shop. When he was very young, he received the usual
instructions of a private school; and was afterwards ad¬
vanced to an academy. At a very early age he showed a
strong desire to follow the profession of an apothecary, and
his father suffered him to gratify his inclinations. With Mr
Bauch, an apothecary at Gottenburg, he served his ap¬
prenticeship, which was completed in six years. He re¬
mained, however, some time longer at that place, and it was
there that he so excellently laid the foundations of his
knowledge. Among the various books which he read that
treated of chemical subjects, Kunckell’s Laboratory seems
to have been his favourite. He used to repeat many of the
experiments contained in that work privately in the night,
when the rest of the family had retired to rest. A friend
of Scheele’s had remarked the progress which he had made
in chemistry, and had asked him by what inducements he
had at first been led to study a science in which he had
gained such knowledge. Scheele replied, “ The first cause,
my friend, arose from yourself. Nearly at the begin¬
ning of my apprenticeship you advised me to read Neu¬
man’s Chemistry, from the perusal of which I became eager
to make experiments myself; and I remember very well
how I mixed together, in a conserve-glass, oil of cloves and
fuming acid of nitre, which immediately took fire. I see
also still before my eyes an unlucky experiment which I
made with pyrophorus. Circumstances of this kind did but
the more inflame my desire to repeat experiments.” After
Scheele’s departure from Gottenburg in the year 1765, he
obtained a place with Kalstrom, an apothecary at Malmo.
Two years afterwards he went from thence to Stockholm,
and managed the shop of Mr Scharenberg. In 1773, he
changed this appointment for another at Upsal, under Mr
S C H
fWi | ^heele.
Loock. Here he was fortunately situated, as, from his ac¬
quaintance with learned men, and from having free access
to the university laboratory, he had opportunities of in¬
creasing his knowledge. At this place also he happily
commenced the friendship which subsisted between him and
Bergman. During his residence at this place, Prince Henry
of Prussia, accompanied by the Duke of Sudermania, vi¬
sited Upsal, and chose this opportunity to see the acade¬
mical laboratory. Scheele was accordingly appointed by
the university to exhibit to them some chemical experi¬
ments. This office he undertook, and showed some of the
most curious processes in chemistry. The two princes asked
him many questions, and expressed their approbation of the
answers which he returned to them. The duke asked him
of what country he was, and seemed to be much pleased
when Scheele informed him that he was born at Stralsund.
At their departure they told the professor, who was present,
that they should esteem it a favour if he would permit the
young man to have free access to the laboratory as often as
he chose to make experiments.
In the year 1777 Scheele was appointed by the Medical
College to be apothecary at Koping. It was at that place
that he soon showed the world how great a man he was,
and that no place or situation could confine his abilities.
When he was at Stockholm he showed his acuteness as a
chemist, as he discovered there the new and wonderful acid
contained in the fluor spar. It has been confidently as¬
serted that Scheele was the first who discovered the nature
of the aerial acid, and that whilst he was at Upsal he made
many experiments to prove its properties. This circum¬
stance might probably have furnished Bergman with the
means of treating this subject more fully. At the same
place he began the series of excellent experiments on that
remarkable mineral substance manganese ; from which in¬
vestigation he was led to make the very valuable and inte¬
resting discovery of oxymuriatic acid. At the same time
he examined the properties of ponderous earth.
At Koping he finished his Dissertation on Air and Fire;
a work which the celebrated Bergman most warmly recom¬
mended in the friendly preface which he wrote for it. The
theory which Scheele endeavours to prove in this treatise
is, that fire consists of pure air and phlogiston. According
to more recent opinions, if inflammable air be phlogiston,
water is composed of these two principles. Of these opi¬
nions we may say, in the words of Cicero, “ Opiniones tam
yariae sunt tamque inter se dissidentes ut alterum profecto
fieri potest ut earum nulla, alterum certe non potest ut plus
una vera sit.” The author’s merit in this work, exclusive
of the encomiums of Bergman, was sufficient to obtain the
approbation of the public; as the ingenuity displayed in
treating so delicate a subject, and the many new and valu¬
able observations which are dispersed through the treatise,
justly entitled the author to that fame which his book pro¬
cured him. It was spread abroad throughout every coun¬
try, became soon out of print, and was reprinted, and trans¬
lated into many languages. The English translation is en¬
riched with the notes of that accurate and truly philosophical
genius Mr Richard Kirwan.
Scheele now diligently employed himself in contributing
to the Transactions of the Academy at Stockholm. He
first pointed out a new way to prepare the salt of benzoin.
In the same year he discovered that arsenic, freed in a par¬
ticular manner from phlogiston, partakes of all the proper¬
ties of an acid, and has its peculiar affinities to other sub¬
stances.
In a Dissertation on Flint, Clay, and Alum, he clearly
overturned Beaume’s opinion of the identity of the siliceous
and argillaceous earths. He published an Analysis of the
Human Calculus. He showed also a mode of preparing
mercurius dulcis in the humid way, and improved the pro¬
cess of making the powder of algaroth. He analysed the
S C II 679
mineral substance called molybdena, or flexible black lead. Scheele.
He discovered a beautiful green pigment. He showed us—v-**'
how to decompose the air of the atmosphere. He disco¬
vered that some neutral salts are decomposed by lime and
by iron. He decomposed plumbago, or the common black
lead. He observed, with peculiar ingenuity, an acid in milk,
which decomposes acetated alkali; and in his experiments
on the sugar of milk, he discovered another acid, different
in some respects liom the above-mentioned acids and the
common acid of sugar. He accomplished the decomposi¬
tion of tungsten, the component parts of which were before
unknown, and found in it a peculiar metallic acid united
to lime. He published an excellent dissertation on the dif¬
ferent sorts of ether. He found out an easy way to pre¬
serve vinegar for many years. His investigation of the
colouring matter in Prussian blue, the means he employed
to separate it, and his discovery that alkali, sal ammoniac,
and charcoal, mixed together, will produce it, are strong
marks of his penetration and genius. He found out a pe¬
culiar sweet matter in expressed oils after they have been
boiled with litharge and water. He showed how the acid
of lemons may be obtained in crystals. He found the white
powder in rhubarb, which Model thought to be selenite,
and which amounts to one seventh of the weight of the root,
to be calcareous earth united to the acid of sorrel. This
suggested to him the examination of the add of sorrel. He
precipitated acetate of lead with it, and decomposed the
precipitate thus obtained by the vitriolic acid, and by this
process he obtained the common acid of sugar; and by
slowly dropping a solution of fixed alkali into a solution of
the acid of sugar, he regenerated the acid of sorrel. From
his examination of the acids contained in fruits and berries,
he found not one species of acid alone, viz. the acid of le¬
mon, but also another, which he denominated the malaceous
or malic acid, from its being found in the greatest quantity
in apples.
By the decomposition of Bergman’s new metal, siderite,
he showed the truth of Meyer’s and Klaproth’s conjecture
concerning it. He boiled the calx of siderite with alkali
of tartar, and precipitated nitrate of mercury by the middle
salt which he obtained by this operation. The calx of mer¬
cury which was precipitated was found to be united to the
acid of phosphorus, so that he demonstrates that this calx
was phosphoretted iron. He found also that the native
Prussian blue contained the same acid. He discovered, by
the same means, that the perlate acid, as it was called, was
not an acid sui generis, but the phosphoric united to a small
quantity of the mineral alkali. He suggested an improve¬
ment in the process for obtaining magnesia from Epsom
salt; and he advises the adding of an equal weight of common
salt to the Epsom salt, so that an equal weight of Glauber’s
salt may be obtained; but this will not succeed unless du¬
ring the cold of winter. These are the valuable discove¬
ries of this great philosopher, which are to be found in the
Transactions of the Royal Society at Stockholm. Most of
his essays have been published in French by Madame Pi-
cardet and M. Morveau of Dijon. Dr Beddoes also has
made a very valuable present to his countrymen of an Eng¬
lish translation of a great part of Scheele’s dissertations, to
which he has added some useful and ingenious notes.
Viewing Scheele as a philosopher, we must judge of him
from his many and important discoveries. What concerns
him as a man we are informed of by his friends, who affirm
that his moral character was irreproachable. It was mat¬
ter of remark, that his chemical apparatus was neither neat
nor convenient; his laboratory was small and confined ; nor
was he particular in regard to the vessels which he employ¬
ed in his experiments, so that we may justly wonder how
such discoveries and such experiments could have been
made. He understood none of the modern languages ex¬
cept the German and Swedish; and he had not the advan-
S C H
680
S C H
Sclieiner tage of being benefited by the early intelligence of disco-
li veries made by foreigners, but was forced to wait till the
^ ~ e“m:_ ‘ intelligence was conveyed to him in the slow and uncertain
channel of translation.
It was often wished that he would quit his retirement at
Koping, and move in a larger sphere. It was suggested
to him that a place might be procured in England, which
might afford him a good income and more leisure; and in¬
deed latterly an offer was made to him of an annuity of
L.300 if he would settle in this country. But death put an
end to this project. For half a year before this melancholy
event his health had been declining, and he himself wras
sensible that he would not recover. On the 19th of May
1786 he was confined to his bed ; on the 21st he bequeath¬
ed all of which he wras possessed to his wife, who was the
widow of his predecessor at Koping, and whom he had
lately married; and on the same day he departed this
life. Thus, in less than two years, the world lost Bergman
and Scheele, of whom Sweden may justly boast, as philoso¬
phers who were beloved and lamented by all their con¬
temporaries, and whose memory posterity will never cease
to revere.
SCHEINER, Christopher, a German mathematician
and astronomer, eminent for being the first who discovered
spots on the sun, was born at Schwaben, in the territory of
Middleheim, in 1575. He first discovered spots on the sun’s
disk in 1611, and made observations on these phenomena
at Rome, until at length reducing them to order, he pub¬
lished them in one volume folio in 1630. He wrote also
some smaller things relating to mathematics and philoso¬
phy, and died in 1660.
SCHELDT, a river which rises on the confines of Pi¬
cardy, and runs north-east by Cambray, Valenciennes,
Tournay, and Oudenarde, and receiving the Lis at Ghent,
runs east by Dendermond, and then north to Antwerp.
Below this city it divides into two branches, one called
the Wester Scheldt, which separates Flanders from Zea¬
land, and discharges itself into the sea near Flushing ; and
the other called the Oster-Scheldt, which runs by Bergen-
op-Zoom, and afterwards between the islands Beveland and
Schowen, and a little below falls into the sea.
SCHELESTADT, an arrondissement of the department
of the Lower Rhine, in France, extending over 257,945
acres, equal to 403 square miles. It is divided into eight
cantons, and these into 114 communes, with a population,
in 1836, of 134,887 persons. The capital is the city of the
same name, situated on a canal connected with the river 111.
It is well built and strongly fortified, and contained in the
same year 9700 inhabitants, who make hats, hosiery, clocks,
wax-lights, and much potash. Long. 7. 26. E. Lat. 48.
17. N.
SCHEME, a draught or representation of any geometri¬
cal or astronomical figure or problem, by lines sensible to
the eye, or of the celestial bodies in their proper places for
any moment. It is otherwise called a diagram.
SCHEMNITZ, a city of the kingdom of Hungary, in the
province of the Hither Danube, and the capital of a circle
to which it gives the name. It stands on a lofty situation,
2170 feet above the level of the sea, in a district abound¬
ing in mines, and at the source of the river Schemnitz. It
is wildly built, some of the streets being separated from
others by rocks, woods, and gardens, especially in the ex¬
tensive suburbs, the population of which equals that within
the rvalls. It contains one Lutheran and four Roman Catho¬
lic churches, 1720 houses, with 20,450 inhabitants. It has
establishments for education, of both religions; and also a
mining academy, with five professors and 150 students. It is
the great seat of the operations of mining; and gold, silver,
copper, iron, arsenic, and sulphur are procured and pre¬
pared for sale, the value of w hich is said to exceed L.200,000
annually. Long. 18. 48. 45. E. Lat. 48. 47. 45. N.
SCHERZO, a short musical composition, generally in
3 Seller:
time, of a light and playful style. In more modern sym¬
phonies, quartets, trios, sonatas, &c. the scherzo takes the
place of the older minuet, but is of a much more rapid
movement. Some excellent examples of the scherzo are
to be found in Beethoven’s works ; among others, one in
his second Symphony, op. 36, in D major.
SCHIECHS, or Scheichs, is a name which is applied by
the Arabs to their nobles. “ Among the Bedouins,” says
Niebuhr, “ it belongs to every noble, whether of the highest
or the lowest order. Their nobles are very numerous, and
compose in a manner the whole nation ; the plebeians are
invariably actuated and guided by the schiechs, wrho super¬
intend and direct in every transaction. The schiechs and
their subjects are born to the life of shepherds and soldiers.
The greater tribes rear many camels, which they either
sell to their neighbours, or employ them in the carriage of
goods, or in military expeditions. The petty tribes keep
flocks of sheep. Among those tribes which apply to agri¬
culture, the schiechs live always in tents, and leave the cul¬
ture of their grounds to their subjects, whose dwellings are
wretched huts. Schiechs always ride on horses or drome¬
daries, inspecting the conduct of their subjects, visiting
their friends, or hunting. Traversing the desert, where the
horizon is wide as on the ocean, they perceive travellers at
a distance. As travellers are seldom to be met with on
those wild tracts, they easily discover such as pass that wray,
and are tempted to pillage them when they find their own
party the strongest.”
SCHIEDAM, a city of the Netherlands, in the province
of South Holland. It stands on the river Schie, near to its
junction with the Maas; is well built, and contains five
churches, a good exchange and towrn-house, and 1520 dwel¬
lings, with (in 1832) 11,588 inhabitants. The chief trade
is distillation. It has 200 distilleries employed in making
gin, in which are consumed annually 300,000 quarters of
corn. A great number of pigs are fattened, and their flesh
converted into bacon. Long. 4. 18. E. Lat. 51. 55. N.
SCHILLER, John Christopher Frederick von, was
born at Marbach, a small town in the duchy of Wiirtem-
berg, on the 10th day of November 1759. It will aid the
reader in synchronizing the periods of this great man’s life
with the corresponding events throughout Christendom, if
we direct his attention to the fact, that Schiller’s birth nearly
coincided in point of time with that of Robert Burns, and
that it preceded that of Napoleon by about ten years.
The position of Schiller is remarkable. In the land of his
birth, by those who undervalue him the most, he is ranked
as the second name in German literature ; everywhere else
he is ranked as the first. For us, who are aliens to Ger¬
many, Schiller is the representative of the German intellect
in its highest form ; and to him, at all events, wdiether first
or second, it is certainly due, that the German intellect
has become a known power, and a power of growing mag¬
nitude, for the great commonwealth of Christendom. Luther
and Kepler, potent intellects as they were, did not make
themselves knowm as Germans: the revolutionary vigour
of the one, the starry lustre of the other, blended with the
convulsions of reformation, or with the aurora of ascend¬
ing science, in too kindly and genial a tone to call oft’ the
attention from the wrork which they performed, from the
service which they promoted, to the circumstances of their
personal position. Their country, their birth, their abode,
even their separate existence, was merged in the mighty
cause to which they lent their co-operation. And thus at
the beginning of the sixteenth century, thus at the begin¬
ning of the seventeenth, did the Titan sons of Germany de¬
feat their own private pretensions by the very grandeur of
their merits. Their interest as patriots was lost and con¬
founded in their paramount interest as cosmopolites. W hat
S chilli
SCHILLER.
Schiller
they did for man and for human dignity eclipsed what they
llad designed for Germany. After them there was a long in-
terlunar period of darkness for the land of the Rhine and the
Danube. The German energy, too spasmodically excited,
suriered a collapse. Throughout the whole of the seventeenth
century, but one vigorous mind arose for permanent effects
in literatuie. This was Opitz, a poet who deserves even
yet to be read with attention, but who is no more worthy
to be classed as the Dryden whom his too partial country-
men have styled him, than the Germany of the Thirty Years’
War of taking rank by the side of civilized and cultured
England during the Cromwellian era, or Klopstock of sit¬
ting on the same throne with Milton. Leibnitz was the
one sole potentate in the fields of intellect whom the Ger¬
many of this century produced ; and he, like Luther and
Kepler, impresses us rather as a European than as a Ger¬
man mind, partly perhaps from his having pursued his self¬
development in foreign lands, partly from his large circle
of foreign connections, but most of all from his having writ¬
ten chiefly in French or in Latin. Passing onwards to the
eighteenth century, we find, through its earlier half, an ab¬
solute wilderness, unreclaimed and without promise of natu¬
ral vegetation, as the barren arena on which the few insipid
writers of Germany paraded. The torpor of academic dul-
ness domineered over the length and breadth of the land.
And as these academic bodies were universally found har¬
nessed in the equipage of petty courts, it followed that the
lethargies of pedantic dulness were uniformly deepened by
the lethargies of aulic and ceremonial dulness ; so that, if
the reader represents to himself the very abstract of birth¬
day odes, sycophantish dedications, and court sermons,
he will have some adequate idea of the sterility and the
mechanical formality which at that era spread the sleep of
death over German literature. Literature, the very word
literature, points the laughter of scorn to what passed under
that name during the period of Gottsched. That such a
man indeed as this Gottsched, equal at the best to the com¬
position of a Latin grammar or a school arithmetic, should
for a moment have presided over the German muses, stands
out as in itself a brief and significant memorial, too certain
for contradiction, and yet almost too gross for belief, of the
apoplectic sleep under which the mind of central Europe at
that era lay oppressed. The rust of disuse had corroded
the very principles of activity. And, as if the double night
of academic dulness, combined with the dulness of court
inanities, had not been sufficient for the stifling of all native
energies, the feebleness of French models (and of these
moreover naturalized through still feebler imitations) had
become the law and standard for all attempts at original
composition. The darkness of night, it is usually said,
grows deeper as it approaches the dawn ; and the very
enormity of that prostration under which the German in¬
tellect at this time groaned, was the most certain pledge to
any observing eye of that intense re-action soon to stir and
kindle among the smouldering activities of this spell-bound
people, i his re-action, however, was not abrupt and the¬
atrical : it moved through slow stages and by equable gra¬
dations: it might be said to commence from the middle of
the eighteenth century, that is, about nine years before the
birth of Schiller ; but a progress of forty years had not car¬
ried it so far towards its meridian altitude, as that the sym¬
pathetic shock from the French Revolution was by one
fraction more rude and shattering than the public torpor
still demanded. There is a memorable correspondency
throughout all members of Protestant Christendom in what¬
soever relates to literature and intellectual advance. How¬
ever imperfect the organization which binds them together, it
was sufficient even in these elder times to transmit reciprocally
from one to every other, so much of that illumination which
could be gathered into books, that no Christian state could
be much in advance of another, supposing that Popery op-
681
VOL. XIX.
v TT810 IT communication, unless only in those Schiller.
points which depended upon local gifts of nature, upon the  v—-
genius of a particular people, or upon the excellence of its
institutions. These advantages were incommunicable, let
the freedom of intercourse have been what it might: Eng¬
land could not send off by posts or by heralds her iron and
coals; she could not send the indomitable energy of her
population ; she could not send the absolute security of
property ; she could not send the good faith of her parlia-
ments. These were gifts indigenous to herself, either
through the temperament of her people, or through the ori¬
ginal endowments of her soil. But her condition of moral
sentiment her high-toned civic elevation, her atmosphere
of political feeling and popular boldness,—much of these
she could and did transmit, by the radiation of the press to
the very extremities of the German empire. Not only were
our books translated, but it is notorious to those acquainted
with German novels, or other pictures of German society,
that as early as the Seven Years’ War (1756-1763) in fact
from the very era when Cave and Dr Johnson first made the
pai 1 i amen tar y debates accessible to the English themselves,
most of the German journals repeated, and sent forward as by
telegraph, these senatorial displays to every village through¬
out Germany. From the polar latitudes to the Mediter¬
ranean, from the mouths of the Rhine to the Euxine, there
w7as no other exhibition of free deliberative eloquence in
any popular assembly. And the Luise of Voss alone, a me¬
trical idyll not less valued for its truth of portraiture than
oui ow n \ icar of \\ akefield, will show, that the most se¬
questered clergyman of a rural parish did not think his
breakfast equipage complete without the latest report from
the great senate that sat in London. Hence we need not
be astonished that German and English literature were
found by the french Revolution in pretty nearly the same
condition of semi-vigilance and imperfect animation. That
mighty event reached us both, reached us all, we may say
(speaking of Protestant states), at the same moment, by the
same tremendous galvanism. The snake, the intellectual
snake, that lay in ambush among all nations, roused itself,
sloughed itself, renewed its youth, in all of them at the same
period. A new world opened upon us all; new revolutions
of thought arose; new and nobler activities were born;
“ and other palms wrere won.”
But by and through Schiller it was, as its main organ,
that this great revolutionary impulse expressed itself. Al¬
ready, as we have said, not less than forty years before the
earthquake by which France exploded and projected the
scoria of her huge crater over all Christian lands, a stirring
had commenced among the dry bones of intellectual Ger¬
many ; and symptoms arose that the breath of life would
soon disturb, by nobler agitations than by petty personal
quarrels, the death-like repose even of the German univer¬
sities. Precisely in those bodies however it was, in those
as connected with tyrannical governments, each academic
body being shackled to its own petty centre of local des¬
potism, that the old spells remained unlinked ; and to them,
equally remarkable as firm trustees of truth, and as obstinate
depositories of darkness or of superannuated prejudice, we
must ascribe the slowness of the German movement on the
path of reascent. Meantime the earliest torch-bearer to
the murky literature of this great land, this crystallisation
of political states, was Bodmer. This man had no demoniac
genius, such as the service required ; but he had some taste,
and, what was better, he had some sensibility. He lived
among the Alps ; and his reading lay among the alpine
sublimities of Milton and Shakspeare. Through his very
eyes he imbibed a daily scorn of Gottsched and his mon¬
strous compound of German coarseness with French sen¬
sual levity. Fie could not look at his native Alps, but he
saw in them, and their austere grandeurs or their dread re¬
alities, a spiritual reproach to the hollowness and falsehood
4 R
682
S C H I L I, E R.
Scbiller. 0f that dull imposture which Gottsched offered by way of
s v ' substitute for nature. He was taught by the Alps to crave
for something nobler and deeper. Bodmer, though far be¬
low such a function, rose by favour of circumstances into
an apostle or missionary of truth for Germany. He trans¬
lated passages of English literature. He inoculated with
his own sympathies the more fervent mind of the youthful
Klopstock, who visited him in Switzerland. And it soon
became evident that Germany was not dead, but sleeping ;
and once again, legibly for any eye, the pulses of life be¬
gan to play freely through the vast organization of central
Europe.
Klopstock, however, though a fervid, a religious, and
for that reason an anti-Gallican mind, was himself an abor¬
tion. Such at least is our own opinion of this poet. He was
the child and creature of enthusiasm, but of enthusiasm not
allied with a masculine intellect, or any organ for that ca¬
pacious vision and meditative range which his subjects de¬
manded. He was essentially thoughtless, betrays every¬
where a most effeminate quality of sensibility, and is the
sport of that pseudo-enthusiasm and baseless rapture which
we see so often allied with the excitement of strong liquors.
In taste, or the sense of proportions and congruences, or
the harmonious adaptations, he is perhaps the most defec¬
tive writer extant.
But if no patriarch of German literature, in the sense of
having shaped the moulds in which it was to flow, in the
sense of having disciplined its taste or excited its rivalship
by classical models of excellence, or raised a finished stand¬
ard of style, perhaps we must concede that, on a minor
scale, Klopstock did something of that service in every one
of these departments. His works were at least Miltonic in
their choice of subjects, if ludicrously non-Miltonic in their
treatment of those subjects. And, whether due to him or
not, it is undeniable that in his time the mother-tongue of
Germany revived from the most absolute degradation on
record, to its ancient purity. In the time of Gottsched,
the authors of Germany wrote a macaronic jargon, in which
French and Latin made up a considerable proportion of
every sentence nay, it happened often that foreign words
wTere inflected with German forms; and the whole result
was such as to remind the reader of the medical examina¬
tion in the Maluds Imaginaire of Moliere,
Quid poetea est a faire ?
Saignare
Baignare
Ensuita purgare, &c.
Now is it reasonable to ascribe some share in the resto¬
ration of good to Klopstock, both because his own writings
exhibit nothing of this most abject euphuism (a euphuism
expressing itself not in fantastic refinements on the staple
of the language, but altogether in rejecting it for foreign
words and idioms), and because he wrote expressly on the
subject of style and composition.
Wieland, meantime, if not enjoying so intense an accep¬
tation as Klopstock, had a more extensive one; and it is
in vain to deny him the praise of a festive, brilliant, and
most versatile wit. The Schlegels showed the haughty
malignity of their ungenerous natures, in depreciating Wie¬
land, at a time when old age had laid a freezing hand upon
the energy which he would once have put forth in defend¬
ing himself. He was the Voltaire of Germany, and very
much more than the Voltaire ; for his romantic and legen¬
dary poems are above the level of Voltaire. But, on the
other hand, he was a Voltaire in sensual impurity. 1 o work,
to carry on a plot, to affect his readers by voluptuous im¬
pressions,—these were the unworthy aims of Wieland ; and
though a good-natured critic would not refuse to make some
allowance for a youthful poet’s aberrations in this respect, ScliillJ
yet the indulgence cannot extend itself to mature years. An
old man corrupting his readers, attempting to corrupt them,
or relying for his effect upon corruptions already effected,
in the purity of their affections, is a hideous object; and
that must be a precarious influence indeed which depends
for its durability upon the licentiousness of men. Wie¬
land, therefore, except in parts, will not last as a national
idol; but such he was nevertheless for a time.
Burger wrote too little of any expansive compass to give
the measure of his powers, or to found national impression ;
Lichtenberg, though a very sagacious observer, never rose
into what can be called a power—he did not modify his
age; yet these were both men of extraordinary talent, and
Burger a man of undoubted genius. On the other hand,
Lessing was merely a man of talent, but of talent in the
highest degree adapted to popularity. His very defects,
and the shallowness of his philosophy, promoted his popu¬
larity ; and by comparison with the French critics on the
dramatic or scenical proprieties he is ever profound. His
plummet, if not suited to the soundless depths of Shak-
speare, was able ten times over to fathom the little rivulets of
Parisian philosophy. This he did effectually, and thus un¬
consciously levelled the paths for Shakspeare, and for that
supreme dominion which he has since held over the Ger¬
man stage, by crushing with his sarcastic shrewdness the
pretensions of all who stood in the way. At that time, and
even yet, the functions of a literary man were very import¬
ant in Germany: the popular mind and the popular instinct
pointed one way, those of the little courts another. Mul¬
titudes of little German states (many of which were absorb¬
ed since 1816 by the process of mediatizing') made it their
ambition to play at keeping mimic armies in their pay, and
to ape the greater military sovereigns, by encouraging French
literature only, and the French language at their courts. It
was this latter propensity which had generated the anoma¬
lous macaronic dialect, of which we have already spoken as
a characteristic circumstance in the social features of lite¬
rary Germany during the first half of the eighteenth century.
Nowhere else, within the records of human follies, do we
find a corresponding case in which the government and the
patrician orders in the state, taking for granted, and abso¬
lutely postulating the utter worthlessness for intellectual
aims of those in and by whom they maintained their own
grandeur and independence, undisguisedly and even profes¬
sedly sought to ally themselves with a foreign literature,
foreign literati, and a foreign language. In this unexampled
display of scorn for native resources, and the consequent
collision between the two principles of action, all depended
upon the people themselves. For a time the wicked and
most profligate contempt of the local governments for that
native merit which it was their duty to evoke and to cherish,
naturally enough produced its own justification. Like Jews
or slaves, whom all the world have agreed to hold contemp¬
tible, the German literati found it hard to make head against
so obstinate a prejudgment; and too often they became all
that they were presumed to be. Sint Maicenates, non dee-
runt, Flacce, Marones. And the converse too often holds
good—that when all who should have smiled scowl upon a
man, he turns out the abject thing they have predicted.
Where Frenchified Fredericks sit upon German thrones, it
should not surprise us to see a crop of Gottscheds arise as
the best fruitage of the land. But when there is any latent
nobility in the popular mind, such scorn, by its very extremity,
will call forth its own counteraction. It was perhaps good
for Germany that a prince so eminent in one aspect as tritz
der einziger,1 should put on record so emphatically his in¬
tense conviction, that no good thing could arise out of Ger-
1 “ Freddy the uniquewhich is the name by which the Prussians expressed their admiration of their martial and indomitable, though
somewhat fantastic, king.
S C H I
Schiller, many. This creed was expressed by the quality of the
—v—^ French minds which he attracted to his court. The very
refuse and dregs of the Parisian coteries satisfied his hun¬
ger for French garbage; the very offal of their shambles
met the demand of his palate ; even a Maupertuis, so long
as he could produce a trench baptismal certificate, was
good enough to manufacture into the president of a Berlin
academy. Such scorn challenged a re-action : the contest
lay between the thrones of Germany and the popular intel¬
lect, and the final result was inevitable. Once aware that
they were insulted, once enlightened to the full conscious¬
ness of the scorn which trampled on them as intellectual
and predestined Helots, even the mild-tempered Germans
became fierce, and now began to aspire, not merely under
the ordinary instincts of personal ambition, but with a vin¬
dictive feeling, and as conscious agents of retribution. It
became a pleasure with the German author, that the very
same works which elevated himself, wreaked his nation
upon their princes, and poured retorted scorn upon their
most ungenerous and unparental sovereigns. Already, in
the reign of the martial Frederick, the men who put most
weight of authority into his contempt of Germans, Euler,
the matchless Euler, Lambert, and Immanuel Kant,—had
vindicated the pre-eminence of German mathematics. Al¬
ready, in 1755, had the same Immanuel Kant, whilst yet a
probationer for the chair of logic in a Prussian university,
sketched the outline of that philosophy which has secured
the admiration, though not the assent, of all men known
and proved to have understood it, of all men able to state its
doctrines in terms admissible by its disciples. Already, and
even previously, had Flaller, who wrote in German, placed
himself at the head of the current physiology. And in the
fields of science or of philosophy, the victory was already
decided for the German intellect in competition with the
French.
But the fields of literature were still comparatively bar¬
ren. Klopstock wras at least an anomaly; Lessing did not
present himself in the impassioned walks of literature; Her¬
der was viewed too much in the exclusive and professional
light of a clergyman ; and, with the exception of John Paul
Richter, a man of most original genius, but quite unfitted
for general popularity, no commanding mind arose in Ger¬
many with powers for levying homage from foreign nations,
until the appearance, as a great scenical poet, of Frederick
Schiller.
The father of this great poet was Caspar Schiller, an of¬
ficer in the military service of the Duke of Wiirtemberg.
He had previously served as a surgeon in the Bavarian
army ; but on his final return to his native country of Wiir-
temberg, and to the service of his native prince, he laid
aside his medical character for ever, and obtained a com¬
mission as ensign and adjutant. In 1763, the peace of
Paris threw him out of his military employment, with the
nominal rank of captain. But, having conciliated the duke’s
favour, he was still borne on the books of the ducal estab¬
lishment ; and, as a planner of ornamental gardens, or in
some other civil capacity, he continued to serve his serene
highness for the rest of his life.
The parents of Schiller were both pious, upright persons,
with that loyal fidelity to duty, and that humble simplicity
of demeanour towards their superiors, which is so often
found among the unpretending natives of Germany. It
is probable, however, that Schiller owed to his mother
exclusively the preternatural endowments of his intellect.
She was of humble origin, the daughter of a baker, and not
so fortunate as to have received much education. But she
was apparently rich in gifts of the heart and the under¬
standing. She read poetry with delight; and through the
profound filial love with which she had inspired her son,
she found it easy to communicate her own literary tastes.
Her husband was not illiterate, and had in mature life so
L L E R. 68<
laudably applied himself to the improvement of his own Schiller,
defective knowledge, that at length he thought himself ca- -v—
pab e of appearing before the public as an author. His
book related simply to the subjects of his professional ex-
peuence as a horticulturist, and was entitled Die Baum-
zucht im Grossen (On the Management of Forests). Some
m(r.ritj must suppose it to have had, since the public
called for a second edition of it long after his own death,
and even after that of his illustrious son. And although
he was a plain man, of no pretensions, and possibly even
o slow faculties, he has left behind him a prayer, in which
there is one petition of sublime and pathetic piety, worthy
to be remembered by the side of Agar’s wise prayer against
tne almost equal temptations of poverty and riches. At
the birth of his son, he had been reflecting with sorrow¬
ful anxiety, not unmingled with self-reproach, on his own
many disqualifications for conducting the education of the
caild. But at length, reading in his own manifold imper¬
fections but so many reiterations of the necessity that he
should lely upon God’s bounty, converting his very defects
into so many arguments of hope and confidence in heaven,
he prayed thus: ££ Oh God, that knowest my poverty in
good gifts for my son’s inheritance, graciously permit that,
even as the want of bread became to thy Son’s hunger-
stricken flock in the wilderness the pledge of overflowing
abundance, so likewise my darkness may, in its sad extre¬
mity, carry with it the measure of thy unfathomable light;
and because I, thy worm, cannot give to my son the least
of blessings, do thou give the greatest; because in my
hands there is not any thing, do thou from thine pour out
all things ; and that temple of a new-born spirit, which I
cannot adorn even with earthly ornaments of dust and
ashes, do thou irradiate with the celestial adornment of
thy presence, and finally with that peace that passeth all
understanding.”
Reared at the feet of parents so pibus and affectionate,
Schiller would doubtless pass a happy childhood ; and pro¬
bably to this utter tranquillity of his earlier years, to his
seclusion from all that could create pain, or even anxiety,
we must ascribe the unusual dearth of anecdotes from this
period of his life; a dearth which has tempted some of his
biographers into improving and embellishing ^ome puerile
stories, winch a man of sense will inevitably reject as too
trivial for his gravity or too fantastical for his faith. That
nation is happy, according to a common adage, which fur¬
nishes little business to the historian; for such a vacuity
in facts argues a condition of perfect peace and silent pros¬
perity. That childhood is happy, or may generally be pre¬
sumed such, which has furnished few records of external
experience, little that has appeared in doing or in suffer¬
ing to the eyes of companions; for the child who has
been made happy by early thoughtfulness, and by infantine
struggles with the great ideas of his origin and his desti¬
nation (ideas which settle with a deep, dove-like brooding
upon the mind of childhood, more than of mature life,
vexed with inroads from the noisy world), will not mani¬
fest the workings of his spirit by much of external acti¬
vity. The fallentis semita vitce, that path of noiseless life,
which eludes and deceives the conscious notice both of its
subject and of all around him, opens equally to the man
and to the child; and the happiest of all childhoods will
have been that of which the happiness has survived and
expressed itself, not in distinct records, but in deep affec¬
tion, in abiding love, and the hauntings of meditative power.
Such a childhood, in the bosom of maternal tenderness,
was probably passed by Schiller; and his first awaking to
the world of strife and perplexity happened in his four¬
teenth year. Up to that period his life had been vagrant,
agreeably to the shifting necessities of the ducal service;
and his education desultory and domestic. But in the year
1773 he was solemnly entered as a member of a new aca-
684
SCHILLER.
Schiller.
demical institution, founded by the reigning duke, and re¬
cently translated to his little capital of Stuttgard. This
change took place at the special request of the duke, who,
under the mask of patronage, took upon himself the severe
control of the whole simple family. The parents were pro¬
bably both too humble and dutiful in spirit towards one
whom they regarded in the double light of sovereign lord
and of personal benefactor, ever to murmur at the ducal
behests, far less to resist them. The duke was for them an
earthly providence ; and they resigned themselves, together
with their child, to the disposal of him who dispensed their
earthly blessings, not less meekly than of Him whose vice¬
gerent they presumed him to be. In such a frame of mind,
requests are but another name for commands; and thus it
happened that a second change arose upon the first, even
more determinarely fatal to the young Schiller’s happiness.
Hitherto he had cherished a day-dream pointing to the pas¬
toral office in some rural district, as that which would har¬
monize best with his intellectual purposes, with his love of
quiet, and, by means of its preparatory requirements, best
also with his own peculiar choice of studies. But this
scheme he now found himself compelled to sacrifice ; and
the two evils which fell upon him concurrently in his new
situation were, first, the formal military discipline and mo¬
notonous routine of duty ; secondly, the uncongenial direc¬
tion of the studies, which were shaped entirely to the at¬
tainment of legal knowledge, and the narrow service of the
local tribunals. So illiberal and so exclusive a system of
education was revolting to the expansive mind of Schiller;
and the military bondage under which this system was en¬
forced, shocked the aspiring nobility of his moral nature,
not less than the technical narrowness of the studies shock¬
ed his understanding. In point of expense the whole esta¬
blishment cost nothing at all to those parents who were pri¬
vileged servants of the duke: in this number wTere the pa¬
rents of Schiller, and that single consideration weighed too
powerfully upon his filial piety to allow of his openly mur¬
muring at his lot; while on their part the parents were
equally shy of encouraging a disgust which too obviously
tended to defeat the promises of ducal favour. This sys¬
tem of monotonous confinement was therefore carried to
its completion, and the murmurs of the young Schiller were
either dutifully suppressed, or found vent only in secret
letters to a friend. In one point only Schiller was able to
improve his condition ; jointly with the juristic department,
was another for training young aspirants to the medical pro¬
fession. To this, as promising a more enlarged scheme of
study, Schiller by permission transferred himself in 1775.
But whatever relief he might find in the nature of his new
studies, he found none at all in the system of personal dis¬
cipline which prevailed.
Under the oppression of this detested system, and by
pure re-action against its wearing persecutions, w'e learn
from Schiller himself, that in his nineteenth year he under¬
took the earliest of his surviving plays, the Robbers, be¬
yond doubt the most tempestuous, the most volcanic, we
might sayj of all juvenile creations anywhere recorded. He
himself calls it “ a monster,” and a monster it is; but a
monster which has never failed to convulse the heart of
young readers with the temperament of intellectual enthu¬
siasm and sensibility. True it is, and nobody wras more
aware of that fact than Schiller himself in after years, the
characters of the three Moors, father and sons, are mere
impossibilities; and some readers, in whom the judicious
acquaintance with human life in its realities has outrun the
sensibilities, are so much shocked by these hypernatural
phenomena, that they are incapable of enjoying the terrific
sublimities which on that basis of the visionary do really
exist. A poet, perhaps Schiller might have alleged, is en¬
titled to assume hypothetically so much in the previous po¬
sitions or circumstances of his agents as is requisite to the
basis from which he starts. It is undeniable that Shak-
speare and others have availed themselves of this principle, ^
and with memorable success. Shakspeare, for instance,
postulates his witches, his Caliban, his Ariel: grant, he vir¬
tually says, such modes of spiritual existence or of spiritual
relations as a possibility ; do not expect me to demonstrate
this, and upon that single concession I will rear a super¬
structure that shall be self-consistent; every thing shall be
internally coherent and reconciled, whatever be its external
relations as to our human experience. But this species of
assumption, on the largest scale, is more within the limits
of credibility and plausible verisimilitude when applied to
modes of existence, which, after all, are in such total dark¬
ness to us (the limits of the possible being so undefined and
shadowy as to what can or cannot exist), than the very
slightest liberties taken with human character, or with those
principles of action, motives, and feelings, upon which men
would move under given circumstances, or with the modes
of action which in common prudence they would be likely
to adopt. The truth is, that, as a coherent work of art,
the Robbers is indefensible; but, however monstrous it
may be pronounced, it possesses a power to agitate and
convulse, which wall always obliterate its great faults to the
young, and to all whose judgment is not too much deve¬
loped. And the best apology for Schiller is found in his
own words in recording the circumstances and causes un¬
der which this anomalous production arose. “To escape,”
says he, “ from the formalities of a discipline which was
odious to my heart, I sought a retreat in the world of ideas
and shadowry possibilities, wrhile as yet I knew nothing at
all of that human world from which I was harshly secluded
by iron bars. Of men, the actual men in this w orld below,
I knew absolutely nothing at the time when I composed my
Robbers. Four hundred human beings, it is true, were my
fellow-prisoners in this abode; but they were mere tauto¬
logies and reiterations of the self-same mechanic creature,
and like so many plaster casts from the same original sta¬
tue. Thus situated, of necessity I failed. In making the
attempt, my chisel brought out a monster, of winch [and
that was fortunate] the world had no type or resemblance
to show.”
Meantime this demoniac drama produced very opposite
results to Schiller’s reputation. Among the young men
of Germany it w'as received with an enthusiasm absolutely
unparalleled, though it is perfectly untrue that it excited
some persons of rank and splendid expectations (as a cur¬
rent fable asserted) to imitate Charles Moor in becoming
robbers. On the other hand, the play was of too powerful
a cast not in any case to have alarmed his serenity the Duke
of Wiirtemberg ; for it argued a most revolutionary mind,
and the utmost audacity of self-will. But besides this ge¬
neral ground of censure, there arose a special one, in a quar¬
ter so remote that this one fact may serve to evidence the
extent as well as intensity of the impression made. The
territory of the Grisons had been called by Spiegelberg,
one of the robbers, “ the Thief’s Athens.” Upon this the
magistrates of that country presented a complaint to the
duke; and his highness, having cited Schiller to his pre¬
sence, and severely reprimanded him, issued a decree that
this dangerous young student should henceforth confine
himself to his medical studies.
The persecution which followed exhibits such extraordi¬
nary exertions of despotism, even for that land of irrespon¬
sible power, that w7e must presume the duke to have relied
more upon the hold which he had upon Schiller through
his affection for parents so absolutely dependent on his
highness’s power, than upon any law's, good or bad, which
he could have pleaded as his warrant. Germany, however,
thought otherwise of the new tragedy than the serene cri¬
tic of Wiirtemberg: it was performed with vast applause
at the neighbouring city of Mannheim ; and thither, under
Schiller
I
S C H
Schiller, a most excusable interest in his own play, the young poet
~ ^ clandestinely went. On his return he was placed under
arrest. And soon afterwards, being now thoroughly dis¬
gusted, and, with some reason, alarmed by the tyranny of
the duke, Schiller finally eloped to Mannheim, availing him¬
self of the confusion created in Stuttgard by the visit of a
foreign prince.
At Mannheim he lived in the house of Dalberg, a man
of some rank and of sounding titles, but in Mannheim known
chiefly as the literary manager (or what is called director)
of the theatre. This connection aided in determining the
subsequent direction of Schiller’s talents; and his Fiesco,
his Intrigue and Love, his Don Carlos, and his Maria Stu¬
art, followed within a short period of years. None of these
are so far free from the faults of the Robbers as to merit a
separate notice ; for with less power, they are almost equally
licentious. Finally, however, he brought out his Wallen¬
stein, an immortal drama, and, beyond all competition, the
nearest in point of excellence to the dramas of Shakspeare.
The position of the characters of Max. Piccolomini and the
Princess Thekla is the finest instance of what, in a critical
sense, is called relief, that literature offers. Young, innocent,
unfortunate, among a camp of ambitious, guilty, and blood¬
stained men, they offer a depth and solemnity of impression
which is equally required by way of contrast and of final re¬
pose.
From Mannheim, where he had a transient love affair
with Laura Dalberg, the daughter of his friend the direc¬
tor, Schiller removed to Jena, the celebrated university in
the territory of Weimar. The grand duke of that German
Florence was at this time gathering around him the most
eminent of the German intellects; and he was eager to en¬
rol Schiller in the body of his professors. In 1799 Schiller
received the chair of civil history ; and not long after he
married Miss Lengefeld, with whom he had been for some
time acquainted. In 1803 he was ennobled ; that is, he
was raised to the rank of gentleman, and entitled to attach
the prefix of Von to his name. His income was now suffi¬
cient for domestic comfort and respectable independence ;
while in the society of Goethe, Herder, and other eminent
wits, he found even more relaxation for his intellect, than
his intellect, so fervent and so self-sustained, could require.
Meantime the health of Schiller was gradually undermin¬
ed : his lungs had been long subject to attacks of disease ;
and the warning indications which constantly arose of some
deep-seated organic injuries in his pulmonary system ought
to have put him on his guard for some years before his
death. Of all men, however, it is remarkable that Schiller
vas the most criminally negligent of his health ; remark¬
able, we say, because for a period of four years Schiller had
applied himself seriously to the study of medicine. The
strong coffee, and the wine, which he drank, may not have
been so injurious as his biographers suppose ; but his habit
of sitting up through the night, and defrauding his wasted
frame of all natural and restorative sleep, had something in
it of that guilt which belongs to suicide. On the 9th of
May 1805 his complaint reached its crisis. Early in the
morning he became delirious; at noon his delirium abated ;
and at four in the afternoon he fell into a gentle unagitated
sleep, from which he soon awoke. Conscious that he now
stood on the very edge of the grave, he calmly and fervently
took a last farewell of his friends. At six in the evening
he fell again into sleep, from which, however, he again awoke
once more to utter the memorable declaration, “ that many
things were growing plain and clear to his understanding.”
After this the cloud of sleep again settled upon him ; a sleep
which soon changed into the cloud of death.
This event produced a profound impression throughout
Germany. The theatres were closed at Weimar, and the
funeral was conducted with public honours. The position
in point of time, and the peculiar services of Schiller to the
S C H
685
German literature, we have already stated: it remains to Schio
add, that in person he w as tall, and of a strong bony struc- II
ture, but not muscular, and strikingly lean. His fore- Schle£el-
ead was lofty, his nose aquiline, and his mouth almost of ^^
Grecian beauty. With other good points about his face,
and with auburn hair, it may be presumed that his whole
appearance was pleasing and impressive, while in later
years the character of sadness and contemplative sensibility
deepened the impression of his countenance. We have said
enough of his intellectual merit, which places him in our
judgment at the head of the Trans-Rhenish literature. But
we add m concluding, that Frederick von Schiller was some¬
thing more than a great author ; he was also in an eminent
sense a great man ; and his works are not more worthy of
being studied for their singular force and originality, than
ns moral character from its nobility and aspiring gran-
^eu,r‘ (w. w. w.)
SCHIO, a city of the delegation of Verona, in Austrian
Lombaidy. It stands on the river Timanchio, and carries
on some large cloth manufactories, which produce excel¬
lent goods of various kinds. It contains 6950 inhabitants.
SCHIRAS, or Schirauz. See Shiraz.
SCHISM (from the Greek (iyjS’ui, a rent or fissure), in its
geneial acceptation signifies division or separation ; but it is
chiefly used in speaking of separations happening from di¬
versity of opinions among people of the same religion and
faith. Ihus w'e say the schism of the ten tribes of Judah
and Benjamin, the schism of the Persians from the Turks
and other Mahommedans, &c. Among ecclesiastical au¬
thors, the great schism of the West is that which happened
in the times of Clement VII. and Urban VI., which divided
the church for forty or fifty years, and was at length ended
by the election of Martin V. at the council of Constance.
I he Romanists number thirty-four schisms in their church,
and bestow the name of English schism on the reforma¬
tion of religion in this kingdom. Those of the church of
England apply the term schism to the separation of the non¬
conformists, viz. the presbyterians, independents, and ana¬
baptists, for a further reformation.
SCHISMA (ff^/ff^a), a small theoretical interval in music,
arising from the division of the monochord. Two
make up a dtnJis, or a XiT/xfia,
SCHISTUS, a name given to several kinds of stones.
See Mineralogy.
SCHITTUAR, or Shitwar, a small island in the Per¬
sian Gulf. Long. 53. 24. E. Lat. 26. 59. N.
SCHLEGEL, Frederick, an eminent German critic
and philosophical writer, was born at Hanover in 1772, of a
family which had already produced more than one writer
of ability. He was the third son of the family, being three
years younger than his distinguished brother, who is still
alive, Augustus William. In his earlier years he is said to
have displayed no remarkable genius. Though intended
for the mercantile profession, he received an admirable clas¬
sical education ; and ultimately prevailed on his father to
allow him to follow the bent of his own inclination, and to
devote himself to literature. He then began to devote him¬
self in earnest to study, which he pursued first at Gottingen
and afterwards at Leipsig. From the age of seventeen, as
he himself informs us, the writings of the Greek tragedians,
and of Plato, combined with Winkelmann’s enthusiastic cri¬
ticisms on art, formed the intellectual Morld in which he
lived. This admiration for the antique was increased by a
visit which he was enabled to pay to Dresden in 1789, where
he was for the first time enabled to contemplate, in their
marble forms, those gods, heroes, and sages, who had been
the companions of his thoughts. “ These firm indelible im¬
pressions,” he adds, “ were in succeeding years the firm en¬
during groundwork for my study of classical antiquity.”
As might be expected, his first literary effort, which ap¬
peared in 1794, took the direction of these his early studies.
686 '' S C H L E G E L.
Schlegi:!. It was a short Essay on the different Schools of Greek Poe- gend of the middle ages. In fact, it is neither as a lyiic nor Si-Meg,
v y—try, which appeared in the Berlinn Monatschrift, displaying as a dramatic poet that the name of Frederick Schlegel is "
not only an erudition of considerable depth and extent, but likely to be remembered. Goethe, at least, always appeared
an elegance of style and a clearness of classification less fre- to estimate the poetical talent of Schlegel at a low standard.1
fluently to be found among his countrymen. Two little Still he may fairly be admitted to possess a chaste classical
treatises followed, composed in 1795 and 1796; the Dio- diction, great harmony and flexibility of diction, with con-
tema, a view of the condition of the female sex in Greece; siderable tenderness, while in the poetical compositions
and a parallel between Caesar and Alexander, which, how- which he wrote on patriotic subjects there appears real
ever, wTas not published till twenty-six years afterwards. In feeling and enthusiasm. In boldness and originality of con-
this wrork we trace the first indications of that talent which ception his poetry is unquestionably deficient; and, on the
was afterwards so conspicuously displayed in the field of whole, it may be said that the philosophical element pre-
philosophical and critical history. ponderates in the character of Frederick Schlegel, nearly
A more important work, entitled the Greeks and Romans, as much as the poetical does in that of his brother,
appeared in 1797, which was highly praised by Heine. But the study of the poetry and literature of the west
It was followed two or three years afterwards by a His- was near about to be exchanged for that of the eastern na-
tory of Greek Poetry, in which, taking Winkelmann’s Flis- tions. Following in the footsteps of Sir William Jones, and
tory of Art as his model, he has thrown into criticism an filled with the idea of the important additions which might be
imaginative and poetical tone, which, combining as it did made to Europe by naturalizing in Germany the results of
with profound learning and breadth of philosophical views, Indian research, and of the still greater benefits which he
succeeded in bringing before the mind the true spirit of conceived might be derived from the pursuit of Indian h-
antiquity, with a freshness and distinctness of portraiture terature, philosophy, and antiquities, in an enlarged, philo-
which mere erudition could not have effected. I he work, sophical, and at the same time religious spirit, he resolved
however, is incomplete. In the portion which is finished, to devote himself to the study of Sanscrit. Fie probably
but which was afterwards considerably modified, and in- overrated, on the whole, both the importance of the labom
corporated with another work, FYederick Schlegel reviews in which he was about to engage, and its piobable. interest
the Orpheic poetry, which he considers to be of the age to the public mind. With a view, however, to his intended
of Hesiod ; the Homeric poems, his criticism on which investigations, he repaired to Paris in 1802, accompanied
forms indeed the most important and the best executed part by his wife, the daughter of the celebrated Moses Mendel-
of the work ; the Hesiodic epos ; the middle epos, or the sohn, and, with the assistance afforded by the valuable stores
works of the Cydic poets; and, lastly, the productions of of the National Library, and the hints derived from those
the Ionic, fEolic, and Doric schools of lyric poetry. The distinguished orientalists, MM. de Dangles and Chezy, he is
portion of the work which treats of the lyric poets is un- said to have made considerable progress in the study of
finished; nothing indeed but a few fragments, full of pro- Persian and Sanscrit poetry.
mise, affording an imperfect idea of the style in which it would But he wTas by no mcaps so entirely absorbed in his new
have been executed. The strong hold, in fact, which the task as not to find time for other studies, having contrived
literary scepticism of Wolff had taken of the German mind, during his residence in France, which continued till 1805,
and the ardent application of his principles, not merely to to deliver a course of lectures on metaphysics, wdiich appear
the Homeric poems, but to all compositions claiming a re- to have met with but partial success; a result by no means
mote antiquity, appear to have discouraged Schlegel from surprising, when the lofty and Platonic character of Schlegel s
persevering, and the work accordingly was dropt. philosophy is contrasted with the strong material tendencies
In 1799 he published his Lucinde, a work, as Mrs Austin which had long encumbered the metaphysical views of the
describes it, “ of fancy, sentiment, and reflection,” in wdiich, French. During the same period he wrote a variety of
however, the very anti-platonic character of his descriptions articles on the early Italian, Spanish, Portuguese, and I ro¬
of love occasioned not a little scandal and censure. What vencal poetry; and published, in 1804, a collection of the ro-
the precise object of the author in this equivocal novel was, mantic poems of the middle ages, and a series of letters on
may admit of question, though, perhaps, it is not unaptly the different schools and epochs oi Christian painting and
characterized by a German critic as a fantastic and dreamy Gothic architecture, a work for which the temporary con-
attempt to exalt and sublimate sensual love. Certain it is, centration of the various treasures of modem art in the Pa-
that the public in general conceived, and not without some risian capital afforded ample materials. These letters, which
reason, that, like Hemse’s Ardinghello, it was an elaborate he afterwards revised and enlarged, form one of the most
effort to invest sensuality with grace, and to lavish a poetical pleasing of his compositions. He takes up the subject neailj
colouring on scenes and incidents of a very questionable wdiere Winkelmann had left it, and performs, in the same
character. Frederick Schlegel appears to have felt that spirit of love, the same service for the arts of the middle
the cold reception of this philosophical experiment was not ages, which that critic had done for those of antiquity,
without foundation ; for though he threatened the public in It was at this period of Frederick Schlegel’s life (1805)
the Europa with a continuation, the work remained a frag- that he took the step which occasioned so much surprise in
ment. In the year 1800 he established himself as a private some quarters, and such bitter hostility and censure i»
teacher in Jena, wdiere he delivered a course of philosophi- others, namely, his forsaking the tenets of the Protestant
cal lectures with success. His first poetical compositions, church, in which he had been brought up, and embracing
which appeared in the Athenaeum, seem to have been the Catholicism, as Count Stolberg had done a few years be-
productions of this period. In 1801 he published, in con- fore. His conversion was ascribed by Voss, who, in ad¬
junction with his brother Augustus W. Schlegel, two vo- dition to the rancour of religious opposition, was probably
lumes, entitled Characteristiken und Critiken, one of the influenced by the jealousy of literary rivalry, to the most
most popular and pleasing of his works. The second vo- unworthy and interested motives, as resulting entirely from
lume includes his Hercules Musagetes, an elegiac poem of a time-serving spirit, and the prospect of honours and pro-
some length; and in 1802 he published a tragedy, Alarcos, motion in the service of Austria, which Protestant Ger-
in which he has tried, with no remarkable success, to im- many was less likely to supply. Now that personal ani-
part the severe and gloomy simplicity of ^Eschylus to a le- mosity is at an end, it seems to be conceded that there is
1 Characteristics of Goethe, vol. i. p. 120.
S C H L
Schlegel. little reason to question the sincerity of Frederick Schle-
 ' gel’s change of religious belief. To his poetical and en¬
thusiastic mind, long occupied with the study of the reli¬
gion, monuments, and literature of the middle ages, Catho¬
licism presented many more attractive features than the ra¬
tionalizing and semi-infidel spirit which too generally per¬
vaded German Protestantism, in which, to use an expression
of Hegel, the disciples of Luther and Calvin had “ united on
a basis of nullity.” Of course the accession of such a con¬
vert was hailed with enthusiasm by the Catholic priesthood;
and his example was shortly afterwards followed by several
Protestants of rank or literary ability.
In 1808 appeared his work on the Language and Wis¬
dom of the Indians. The first part of this work is occu¬
pied with a comparative examination of the etymology and
grammatical structure of the Sanscrit, Persian," Greek, Ro¬
man, and German languages. The second traces the con¬
nection of the different religions and philosophical systems
that prevailed in the ancient oriental world. The last
consists of metrical versions from the sacred and didactic
poems of the Hindus. It cannot be denied that this work,
with all its learning and sagacity of conjecture, is yet a very
imperfect one. The px-ofounder learning of Jacob Grimm
has demolished many of the ingenious theories of Schlegel
as to the original monuments of the German language.
Much, too, has of course been added to Indian learning
since it appeared; many of its views have so completely
passed into commonly-received opinions, that they have
ceased to strike us as novelties; and other tnxths which are
there only hinted at, have been elucidated and confirmed.
But it had the merit of opening a comparatively new path in
Germany, and perhaps in other countries of Europe. “ Prior
to the publication of this work, the Semitic languages of the
East wTere alone, I believe, cultivated with much ardour in
Germany; its appearance had the effect of directing the
national energies towards an intellectual region, where they
were destined to meet with the most brilliant success; and
Germany may now boast with reason of her illustrious pro¬
fessors of Sanscrit. If France under the restoi’ation made
such progress in oriental literature; if England, roused
from her inglorious apathy, has at last founded an Asiatic
Society in London, and, more recently, the Boden profes¬
sorship at Oxford; these events are in a great degree attri¬
butable to the enthusiasm which this little book excited.”1
After Schlegel’s return from France, he proceeded in 1808
to Vienna, with the view, it is said, of completing from his¬
torical documents an unfinished drama on the subject of
.Charles V. In the following year he was appointed impe¬
rial secretary at the Archduke Charles’s head-quarters, and
contributed much, by his spirited proclamations, towai’ds
rousing the patriotic ardour of the country in the contest
against Napoleon. After the unfortunate issue of the wax-,
he resumed his literax-y activity, and in 1810 delivered his
course of lectures on modexm history. By many these lec¬
tures were considered as his masterpiece. They embodied in
a systematic form the various opinions and incidental views
which he had thrown oxit in his eaxdier essays, and contain¬
ed, in a more detailed form, the proofs of many of those po¬
sitions which he afterwards stated in a moi'e brief and ge¬
neral form in his Philosophy of History.
In 1812 Schlegel delivered, before a numerous and dis¬
tinguished audience in Vienna, his celebrated Lectures on
the History of Literature, the work by which he is best
known beyond the limits of his own country. Of course a
work which exhibits an outline of the literary history of the
world, and traces the influence of its various literatures on
one another, within the compass of two volumes, cannot
descend to much minuteness of detail, or delineate, with that
EGEL. ' - 687
precision which would be desirable, the characteristics of Schlegel.
individuals. \ et, in addition to the broad and striking views v ^*~v ***** ^
which the History of Literature exhibits, to the skill and
sagacity with which it traces the divergence and reunion
of the various streams of literature, as if the whole had been
contemplated from some vast elevation in which their mu¬
tual relations were visible as on a map, and to the general
spirit of candour and impartiality whiclx pervades the work,
it may be added, that some of Schlegel’s brief sketches of
the great ornaments of literature are among the happiest
specimens of pregnant and characteristic delineation which
are to be met with in any language. The style, too, of the
woric is elegant and enthusiastic without being extravagant.
Yet some deductions must be made, both from the impar¬
tiality of the work, and from the soundness of its views. It
is difficult to conceive on what grounds of sound criticism
the Lusiad of Gamoens can be exalted above the Jerusalem
of Tasso ; and still more how the ‘‘ romantic witchery” of
the drama of Calderon, rich and fantastical as it is, can ever
be placed on the same level with the profound imagination
which combines with this romantic beauty in the theatre of
Shakspeare. English literature, with the exception ofShak-
speare, can hardly be said to be appreciated at all. French
literature, at least after the time of Corneille, is treated with
great injustice ; Pascal is passed over with a single word;
Malebranche is not mentioned at all. And indeed the litera¬
ture of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries is discussed
in a very perfunctory and unsatisfactory manner. Some of the
faults of the work are undoubtedly owing to the strong reli¬
gious bias of the author. For the Catholic literature of Spain
and Italy he shows an undue preference, with a correspond¬
ing coldness and indifference towards that of Protestant na¬
tions. “ Frederick Schlegel,” says Heine, in his lively work
on Germany, “ has examined all literatures from a lofty point
of view; but this high position of his is always on the belfry
of the Catholic Church ; and whatever ScMegel says, you
can’t help hearing the bells jingle about him, and now and
then the croaking of the ravens that haunt the old weather¬
cock.” “ Yet,” he adds, “ I know no better book of the
kind; and indeed I know not where one can procure such
a complete view of the literature of all nations, unless by
putting together the multifarious lucubrations of Herder.”
With the History of Literature the critical career of Fre¬
derick Schlegel may be said to have closed ; for a flattering
and somewhat exaggerated criticism on Lamartine’s Medi¬
tations Poetiques, which appeared in the Concordia, scarce¬
ly deserves to be noticed as an exception. From 1812 he
was much occxxpied with political and diplomatic employ¬
ments. Having acquired the friendship and confidence of
Prince Metternich, lie was employed by him in various di¬
plomatic missions; and for several years after the peace of
1814 he was one of the representatives of the coui't of Vienna
at Francfort. A pension, with letters of nobility, and the
title of aulic confessor, were conferred upon him by the
emperor. These diplomatic functions, of course, occasion¬
ed a temporary interruption to his literary pursuits; but
in 1818 he returned to Vienna, where they were resumed
with ardour. The years 1819 and 1820 were marked by the
simultaneous outbreak of revolutions in different countries in
Europe; by a wild republican spirit among the youth of Ger¬
many, leading, as in the case of Kotzebue, to the assassina¬
tion of those who were at the time considered as enemies
of their country; by the formation of associations for dis¬
seminating pernicious and anti-social doctrines, often coun¬
tenanced even from academical chairs ; in short, by evident
symptoms of a wide-spread conspiracy against the existing
forms of government and society. It was to counteract
this spirit, which preventive measures of force might con-
Life of Frederick Schlegel, prefixed to his Philosophy of History, by J. Burton Robertson, p. 26.
688 S C H
Schmalkal-trol but could not eradicate, that Frederick Schlegel, in
^er1, conjunction with his friend Adam Muller founded a reli-
gious and political journal, entitled Concordia, in which,
while opposing the irreligious and dangerous notions which
were abroad, he propounded not a few principles as to go¬
vernment, wdrich excite surprise when coming from such
a quarter, and addressed to the subjects of a government
supposed to be so attached to absolutism, and so bent on
maintaining the existing state of things, as the Austrian
government.
In 1827 he delivered at Vienna another course of Lec¬
tures on the Philosophy of Life, of which, indeed, an out¬
line had appeared in the Concordia for 1820. The work
is of great, nay even of startling originality, and deep in¬
terest, embracing questions of the most solemn importance,
which are discussed with a grave eloquence, and in a deep¬
ly religious strain of feeling, but strangely immethodical in
its arrangement, and, whether from the imperfection of their
expression, or the real obscurity of the ideas themselves, in
some parts scarcely intelligible. This work was almost im¬
mediately followed by another course of Lectures on the
Philosophy of History, which have lately been translated
into English, and which appear not unworthy of the reputa¬
tion of the author. Towards the close of the year 1828
Schlegel went to Dresden, where he delivered nine Lec¬
tures on the Philosophy of Language, in which he farther
developed and expanded those philosophical views which
he had already laid down in his Philosophy of Life. The
course, however, was interrupted by death. “ On Sunday
the 11th of January 1829, he was, between ten and eleven
o’clock at night, preparing a lecture which he was to de¬
liver on the following Wednesday, and had begun a sen¬
tence with the remarkable words, ‘ But the consummate
and perfect knowledge,’ when sickness suddenly arrested
his pen. From that illness he never recovered.”
We have already briefly expressed our opinion of the na¬
ture of Schlegel’s genius. It was philosophical and criti¬
cal, leather than poetical; but he had that species of poeti¬
cal imagination without which there can be no lofty or
useful criticism, which enables the critic to rise above ar¬
tificial and natural peculiarities, and to judge with truth
and certainty upon broad and universal principles. Even
when his criticism is imperfect or erroneous, it is often valu¬
able ; for it abounds in new and original views, excites the
mind to independent speculation, and teaches the habit of
viewing literature, the arts, and philosophy, not as isolated
subjects of study, but as acting and re-acting with the most
important influences upon each other. From his powerful
and inventive mind many of the speculations of his bro¬
ther appear to have been derived. In the study of the ori¬
ental languages and literature, the poetry of the Provencals,
and that of Spain, Frederick Schlegel led the way ; and in
the History of Literature will be found the germs of many
of those views which were developed at greater length by
his brother in his Dramatic Course. (w. w. w. w.)
SCHMALKALDEN, one of the provinces into which
the principality of Hesse Casel, in Germany, is divided. It
extends over 116 square miles. It is a hilly district, includ¬
ing part of the Thuringian Forest, some of the points of which
reach the height of 3100 feet. It is watered by several
small streams, all of which lose themselves in the river
Werra. The soil is mostly sandy and sterile, and rarely
produces more corn than suffices for a quarter of the con¬
sumption. The mines yield rock-salt and iron, and the lat¬
ter creates the chief employment of the inhabitants next to
agriculture. The province contains one city, four market-
towns, thirty-five villages, and twenty-four hamlets, with
24,500 inhabitants, mostly Protestants. The capital is the
city of the same name, situated on the small river Schmal-
kalde. It is interesting in an historical view, as having been
the place where the Protestant league was formed to secure
S C H
■ S'
religious liberty, at the commencement of the Thirty Years’Schnr den. ;
War in Germany. It is surrounded with walls and ditches ; ls
but is dilapidated, and scarcely capable of defence. It has
an ancient castle, three churches, several institutions for
education, 1050 houses, and 5100 inhabitants, whose chief
occupation is making ironmongery, cutlery, and weapons,
especially swords and bayonets. The salt-mines produce
about 12,000 quintals of refined salt. Long. 11. 1. E. Lat.
50. 44. 36. N.
SCHMIEDENBERG, a city of Prussian Silesia, in the
government of Reichenbach and circle of Hirschberg. It
stands on the river Yssel, at the foot of the Kahlenberg
Mountains, but is 1400 feet above the level of the sea. It
is an open place, of only two streets, more than two miles
in length, and contains 550 houses, with 4830 inhabitants,
who make some of the finest damask table-linens, and many
other kinds of goods. The mountain behind it rises to
3300 feet.
SCHffiNOBATES (from the Greek, a rope, and
fioow, I walk), a name which the Greeks gave to their
rope-dancers. By the Romans they were called funam-
buli. The schcenobates were slaves whose masters made
money of them, by entertaining the people with their feats
of activity. Mercurialis (Z)e Arte Gymnastica, lib. iii.) gives
us five figures of schoenobates, engraven after ancient stones.
SCHOLASTIC, something belonging to the school. .
Scholastic Divinity is that part or species of divinity
which clears and discusses questions by reason and argu¬
ments ; in which sense it stands in some measure opposed
to positive divinity, which is founded on the authority of
fathers, councils, &c.
SCHOLIAST, or Commentator, a grammarian who
writes scholia, that is, notes and glosses, upon ancient au¬
thors who have written in the learned languages.
SCHOLIUM, a note, annotation, or remark, occasional¬
ly made on some passage, proposition, or the like. This
term is much used in geometry and other parts of mathe¬
matics, where, after demonstrating a proposition, it is cus¬
tomary to point out how it might be done some other way,
or to give some advice or precaution in order to prevent
mistakes, or add some particular use or application thereof.
SCHOMBERG, Frederick-Armand, Duke of, a dis¬
tinguished officer, sprung from an illustrious family in Ger¬
many, and the son of Count Schomberg by an English lady,
daughter of Lord Dudley, was born in 1608. He was ini¬
tiated into the military life under Frederick-Henry prince
of Orange, and afterwards served under his son William II.
prince of Orange, who highly esteemed him. He then re¬
paired to the court of France, where his reputation was so
well known that he obtained the government of Grave¬
lines, of Furnes, and the surrounding countries. He was
reckoned inferior to no general in that kingdom, except
Marshal Turenne and the Prince of Conde ; men of such
exalted eminence, that it was no disgrace to acknowledge
their superiority. The French court thinking it necessary
to diminish the power of Spain, sent Schomberg to the as¬
sistance of the Portuguese, who were engaged in a war
with that country respecting the succession to their throne.
Schomberg’s military talents gave a turn to the war in fa¬
vour of his allies. The court of Spain was obliged to solicit
a peace in 1668, and to acknowledge the house of Bra-
ganza as the just heirs to the throne of Portugal. For his
great services he was created Count Mentola in Portugal;
and a pension of L.5000 was bestowed upon him, with the
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reversion to his heirs.
In 1673 he came over to England to command the army;
but the English being at that time disgusted with the
French nation, Schomberg was suspected of coming over
with a design to corrupt the army, and bring it under French
discipline. He therefore found it necessary to return to
France, which he soon left, and went to the Netherlands.
S C H
Schomberg. In the month of June 1676, he forced the Prince of Orario-e
/ to raise the siege of Maestricht; and it is said he was then
raised to the rank of Marshal of France. But the French
Dictionnaire Historique, whose information on a point of
this nature ought to be authentic, says that he was in¬
vested with this honour the same year in which he took
the fortress of Bellegarde from the Spaniards whilst servino-
in Portugal. ®
Upon the revocation of the edict of Nantes, when the
persecution commenced against the Protestants, Schom-
berg, who was of that persuasion, requested leave to retire
into his own country. This request was refused; but he
was permitted to take refuge in Portugal, where he had
reason to expect he would be kindly received on account
of past services. But the religious zeal of the Portuguese,
though it did not prevent them from accepting assistance
irom a heretic when their kingdom was threatened with
subversion, could not permit them to give him shelter when
he came for protection. The inquisition interfered, and
obliged the king to send him away. He then went to
Holland by the way of England. Having accepted an in¬
vitation from the Elector of Brandenburg, he was invested
with the government of Ducal Prussia, and appointed com-
mander-in-chief of the elector’s forces. When the Prince
ol Orange sailed to England to take possession of the crown
which his father-in-law James II. had abdicated, Schom-
berg obtained permission from the Elector of Branden¬
burg to accompany him. He is supposed to have been
the author of an ingenious stratagem which the prince em¬
ployed after his arrival in London, to discover the senti¬
ments of the people respecting the revolution. The stra¬
tagem was, to spread an alarm over the country that the
Irish were approaching with fire and sword. When the
prince was established on the throne of England, Schom¬
berg was appointed commander-in-chief of the forces, and
master of the ordnance. In April 1689 he was made knight
of the garter, and naturalized by act of parliament; and in
May following he was created baron, earl, marquis, and duke
of the kingdom of England, by the name and title of Baron
leys, Earl of Brentford, Marquis of Harwich, and Duke
of Schomberg. I he House of Commons voted to him
L.100,000 as a reward for his services. Of this he only re¬
ceived a small part; but after his death a pension of L.5000
a year was bestowed upon his son.
Augusf 1689 he was sent to Ireland to reduce that
kingdom to obedience. When he arrived, he found him-
self at the head of an army consisting only of twelve thou¬
sand foot and two thousand horse, while King James com¬
manded an army three times more numerous. Schom-
berg thought it dangerous to engage so superior a force,
and being disappointed in his promised supplies from Eng¬
land, he judged it prudent to remain on the defensive. He
therefore posted himself at Dundalk, about five or six miles
distance from James, who was encamped at Ardee. For
six weeks he remained in this position, without attempting
to give battle, while from the wetness of the season he lost
nearly the half of his army. Schomberg was much blamed
for not coming to action ; but some excellent judges ad¬
mired his conduct, as evincing great military talents. Had
he risked an engagement, and been defeated, Ireland would
have been lost. At the famous battle of the Boyne, fought
on the 1st of July 1690, which decided the fate of James,
Schomberg passed the river at the head of his cavalry, de¬
feated eight squadrons of the enemy, and broke the Irish
infantry. When the French Protestants had lost their com¬
mander, Schomberg went to rally and lead them on to
charge. While thus engaged, a party of King James’s
guards, which had been separated from the rest, passed
Schomberg, in attempting to rejoin their own army. They
attacked him with great fury, and gave him two wounds in
the head. As the wounds were not dangerous, he might
VOL. XIX.
S C H
689
School
soon have recovered from them ; but the French Protes-
tants perhaps thinking their general was killed, imme- II
diately filed upon the guards, and shot him dead on the Schurman
BnL, in St Patrick’s cathedral. Bishop' 
Burnet says Schomberg was “a calm man, of great ap¬
plication and conduct, and thought much better than he
Sri nhl°f U? JUdgm,?nt’ of exact Probity> and of a humble
ana obliging temper.
SCHOOL, a public place, in which the languages, the
arts, or sciences, are taught. Thus we say, a grammar
school, a writing school, and a school of natural philosophy.
The word is formed from the Latin schola, which, accord-
aa t0 1 .Canse> signifies discipline and correction. He
adds, that it was anciently used for all places where several
persons met together, either to study, to converse, or do
• SeeEDUCATiON and Universities.
oUtKJUJNEK, in nautical language, a small vessel with
two masts, whose main-sail and fore-sail are suspended from
gaffs, reaching from the mast towards the stern, and stretch¬
ed out below by booms, and whose foremost ends are hooked
to an iron, which clasps the mast so as to turn therein as
upon an axis, when the after-ends are swung from one side
of the vessel to the other.
SCHOUTEN’S Island, on the eastern coast of Van Die¬
men s Land, consists of lofty mountains separated by deep
SCHREVELIUS, Cornelius, a laborious Dutch critic
and writer, who has published some editions of the ancient
classics, more distinguished for their elegance than accuracv.
His Greek Lexicon is esteemed the best of all his works.*
He died in 1667.
SCHRYARI, an ancient wind-instrument of the bagpipe
kind, long disused. r
SCHUL1ENS, Albert, professor of Hebrew and of the
oriental languages at Leyden, and one of the most learned
men of the eighteenth century, was born at Groningen,
where he studied till the year 1706, and thence continued
Ins studies at Leyden and Utrecht. Schultens at length
applied himself to the study of Arabic, both printed and in
manuscript, m which he made great progress. A short
time afterwards he became minister of Wassenar ; and in
two years professor of the eastern tongues at Franeker.
At length he was invited to Leyden, where he taught He¬
brew and the Oriental languages with extraordinary repu¬
tation till his death, which happened in the year 1750. He
wrote many learned works, the principal of which are, 1. A
Commentary on Job, in two vols. 4to ; 2. A Commentary on
the Proverbs ; 3. Vetus regia Via Hebraizandi; 4. Animad-
versiones philologies et critics ad varia loca Veteris Testa-
menti; 5. An excellent Hebrew Grammar. Schultens dis¬
covered in all his works sound criticism and much learning.
He maintained against Gousset and Driessen, that in order
to have a perfect knowledge of Hebrew, it is necessary to
join with it not only the Chaldaic and Syriac, but more par¬
ticularly the Arabic.
SCHURMAN, Anna Maria, a most extraordinary Ger¬
man lady, was born at Cologne in 1607.- Her natural genius
discovered itself at six years of age, wdien she cut all sorts
of figures in paper with her scissars without a pattern. At
eight she learned in a few days to draw flowers in a very
agreeable manner. At ten, she took only three hours to
learn embroidery; and afterwards she was taught music
vocal and instrumental, painting, sculpture, and engraving,
in all of which she succeeded admirably. She excelled in
miniature-painting, and in cutting portraits upon glass with
a diamond. Hebrew, Greek, and Latin, were so familiar
to her, that the most learned men were astonished at it.
She spoke French, Italian, and English, fluently. Her
handwriting, in almost all languages, was so inimitable, that
the curious preserved specimens of it in their cabinets.
But all this extent of learning and penetration could not
4 s
690 S C H
Schwalmch protect her from falling into the errors of Labadie, the fa¬
ll mous French enthusiast, who had been banished France
Schwarz- p)r extravagant tenets and conduct. To this man she
Rudul- entirely attached herself, and accompanied him wherever he
stacit. went; nay even attended him in his last illness at Altena
v—in Holstein. Her works, consisting of De Vitae Humanae ter-
mino, Dissertatio de Ingenii Muliebris ad doctrinam et me-
liores litteras aptitudine, and her Letters to her learned cor¬
respondents, were printed at Leyden in 1648, but enlarged
in the edition of Utrecht, 1662, in T2mo, when they ap¬
peared under the following title: A. M. Schurman Opuscula
Hebraea, Graeca, Latina, Gallica, Prosaica, et Metrica. She
likewise published at Altena, in Latin, a defence of her at¬
tachment to Labadie, whilst she was with him in 1673. She
died in Friesland in 1678.
SCHWABACH, a city of the kingdom of Bavaria, in
the circle of the Rezat, situated on a river of the same name.
It is the seat of the provincial courts of law, and of the boards
of administration. It contains one reformed and two Lu¬
theran churches, two Catholic chapels, and a Jews’ syna¬
gogue, with 650 houses, and 6960 inhabitants, who are em¬
ployed in various manufactures, principally in spinning cot¬
ton and making hosiery, but also in producing cutlery, pa¬
per, and toys of wood and of ivory.
SCHWARTSBURG-SONDERHAUSEN, asmall so¬
vereign principality in Germany, taking its first name from
an ancient castle, and the second from its capital. It is
360 square miles in extent, is divided into seven bailiwicks,
which comprise twelve towns and cities, 83 villages, 8600
houses, and 51,767 inhabitants, all adhering to the Luthe¬
ran confession except 200, who are Catholics. The revenue
of the prince, chiefly derived from domains, amounts to
L.40,000, and the expenditure is nearly equal to it, including
interest on the public debt, which does not exceed one year’s
income. The contingent fixed to the German confedera¬
tion is a force of 450 men. By a decree issued in 1830, an
assembly of the states is provided, which, with the prince,
is in future to make or alter the laws, and to regulate the
finances. It is generally a hilly and woody district. It pro¬
duces, by the help of extensive cultivation of potatoes, a lit¬
tle more corn than it consumes, and the surplus of it, with the
produce of the forests, form the chief articles of trade. Much
flax is grown, and there are some inconsiderable mines of
iron, and these two articles afford some employment. The
capital is Sonderhausen, with 3600 inhabitants, and the city
of Arastad has 4800; the others are small places.
SCHWARZBURG-RUDOLSTADT,asovereign prin¬
cipality in Germany. It is 400 square miles in extent, and is
divided into eleven bailiwicks, which comprise eight cities
and towns, 155 villages, 10,281 houses, and 60,000 inha¬
bitants, all professing Lutheranism, except 150 Catholics
and about the same number of Jews. The income of the
state is L.32,500, arising partly from domains, besides which
the prince has estates in Holstein, which are his private pro¬
perty. The debt amounts to about two years’ income, but
by a sinking fund is gradually diminishing. The contin¬
gent of force to the German confederation is fixed at 539
men. The greater part of the territory is on the Thurin-
gian Hills, but between them are valleys of considerable
fertility, especially that through which the Saale passes,
and in which the capital, Rudolstadt, stands; but much of
the land is poor, and scantily rewards the labour of the hus¬
bandman. It does, however, with the aid of potatoes, which
are extensively cultivated, yield sufficient bread-corn, chief¬
ly rye, for the subsistence of the inhabitants. Flax is ex¬
tensively grown; but the mines afford more employment,
yielding iron and lead, and some earths well adapted for
making pottery-ware, all of which, with the addition of
glass manufactories, give subsistence to the labouring classes.
There are two cities, viz. Rudolstadt with 4000, and Fran-
kenhausen with 3900 inhabitants.
S C H
u ii
SCH WATZ, a town of the Austrian province of Tyrol, in ScLatz n
the circle of Innspruck. It stands on the river Inn, and r ||
having been destroyed in the course of hostilities during ^chyz- 3
the year 1809, has been since rebuilt. It has again become l~ c
a seat of the cotton manufacture, and of the fabrication of e
iron and cutlery goods and copper ware, mines of the latter ! t
being near to it. The population in 1837 amounted to ; •
7500, and has now grown to upwards of 10,000. Long. 12.
34. E. Lat. 47. 32. N. I c
SCHWEIDNITZ, a city of Prussian Silesia, in the go-
vernment of Reichenbach, the capital of a circle of the r
same name, which extends over 203 square miles, and con- j q
tainsthreeothertownsandseventy-one villages, with 41,300 I (
inhabitants. It stands on the river Weistrig, at the foot of r
a lofty hill. It was the strongest fortification on the fron- j l(
tier, but having been taken by the French in 1807, has not i(
since been restored. It contains two Catholic and two Lu- , ,j
theran churches, one of the former of which has the high- ! (
est tower in Germany. It has a gymnasium, military store- e
house, and barracks now unoccupied, and 700 houses, l(
with 11,600 inhabitants, who carry on extensive manufac- >
tures of woollen, silk, and linen goods. Long. 16. 31. 25.
E. Lat. 50. 47. 8. N. .j
SCHWEINFURT, a city of the kingdom of Bavaria,
in the circle of the Upper Maine, the capital of an exten- j; n
sive bailiwick of the same name. It stands on the river |.
Maine, which protects it on one side, and is defended by
fortifications on the other parts. It is not well built, the
streets being narrow and crooked. It contains a fine pa- j
lace, eight churches, 780 houses, and 7100 inhabitants, who
are occupied in various small branches of manufactures.
Long. 9. 44. E. Lat. 50. 10. N.
SCHWERIN, a city, the capital of the grand duchy of e
Mecklenburg-Schwerin, in Germany. It is finely situated, l(
part being on the side of the lake of Schwerin, and part on j
an island on that lake, the two parts being connected by .
bridges. It contains the palace of the grand duke, with
gardens, which exhibit more taste than the residence. It
is fortified, but very imperfectly. It contains one Catholic
and three Lutheran churches, the various appendages of a
capital for a small state, 1100 houses, and 12,880 inhabi¬
tants, who have various manufactures adequate to the do¬
mestic consumption. Long. 11. 26. E. Lat. 54. 43. N.
SCHWETZ, a town of West Prussia, in the government
of Marienwerder, the capital of the circle of the same name, t
which extends over 537 square miles. It stands on the
Vistula, at the spot where the Schwartzwasser falls into that
stream, and contains an old castle, and 260 houses, with 2260
inhabitants. Long. 18. 22. 15. E. Lat. 53. 24. 10. N.
SCHWYZ,a canton of Switzerland, which gives its name
to the whole confederation. It is bounded on the north by ,j
Zurich, on the north-east by St Gall, on the east by Gla-
rus, on the south by Uri, and on the west by Lucerne and
Zug. It extends over 344 square miles, and comprises
six towns, twenty-seven communes, and 36,390 inhabi¬
tants, who all adhere to the Roman Catholic church. It
furnishes a contingent of 602 men to the force of the con¬
federation, and a contribution of 3010 francs yearly. The
government is a pure democracy. The surface is inter¬
sected by a chain of mountains in the form of an arch, on
both sides of which are some beautiful and moderately fer¬
tile valleys; and the mountains in summer afford excellent
pasturage for cattle, which is the chief object of trade. It
neither produces nor consumes much corn, and of what it
does use, a part is obtained by the sale of cattle and of ,
cheese. The most remarkable of the mountains is the
Righi, 5680 feet, on whose summit is a tavern, where visi¬
ters are accommodated. The chief river is the Sihl, which
conveys to the Limmat all the waters of the several brooks
that are formed from the mountains. The capital of the
canton has the same name. It stands between the Righi
S C I
Sciagraphy and Myten Mountains, and has a fine council-house, a church,
Scio and ^ monastery, and contains 4790 inhabitants, who have
very little commerce of any kind except what is created by
* the visits of tourists. Long. 8. 33. E. Lat. 47. 1. N.
SCIAGRAPH!, or Sciography, the profile or vertical
section of a building, used for showing the inside of it.
Sciagraphy, in Astronomy, is a term made use of by
some authors to signify the art of finding the hour of the
day or night by the shadow of the sun, moon, or stars.
SCICLI, a city of the island of Sicily, in the province
of Noto. It stands on a river of the same name, in a hol¬
low way between two lofty rocks which terminate in the
sea near the small harbour of Petershaven. It is in a hu¬
mid atmosphere, but contains 10,500 inhabitants, who are
industriously employed in various manufactures of cloth,
pottery-ware, and leather.
SCIENCE, in Philosophy, denotes any body of doctrines
deduced from self-evident principles.
SCIGLIANO, a city of Italy, in the Neapolitan province
of Calabria Citeriore. It is situated in a valley on the great
road, is defended by a castle, and contains 5620 inhabitants,
who are employed in making mattresses and blankets.
SCILLY, a group of islands off the coast of Cornwall,
from which they are distant about thirty miles. These
islands are supposed by some to have been the Cassiterides
or Ten Islands with which the Phoenicians traded; but that
is a disputable point. There are six islands of this group
that are inhabited, but they are all in one parish, that of St
Mary, in which is the parish church. There are a few small
islands, or rather bare rocks, with no inhabitants, among
which is that which gives its name to the whole group. The
island of St Mary contains more inhabitants than all the
others, and the town on it is the only one. In 1831 it con¬
tained 1311 inhabitants. It has a harbour, a church, and
strong fortifications. On the island of St Agnes is the im¬
portant lighthouse, which is of the highest value to ships
approaching the channel in wintry or foggy weather. There
is likewise on it a small church. The cultivation of these
islands is imperfect, and does not, in common years, pro¬
duce more than a bare sufficiency of food for the popula¬
tion, which is consequently on the decline; appearing by the
census of 1821 to have amounted to 2614, and by that of 1831
to 2465. In unfruitful seasons the greatest distress for food
has been experienced, though in all seasons fish is the com¬
mon aliment. These islands are dangerous to approach, and
have been fatal to many ships, as well as to Admiral Shovel
and a part of his fleet in the beginning of the last century.
There are establishments of pilots ready to assist vessels,
and they often conduct vessels into the harbour of St Mary,
through intricate and hazardous passages. There are said to
be several Druidical remains on these islands. The popula¬
tion in 1831 was, St Mary, 1311; Tresco, 470; St Agnes,
289 ; St Martins, 230; Bryher, 128 ; and Sampson Isle, 37.
SCINDAPSOS, a four-stringed musical instru¬
ment, according to Athenaeus (lib. iv. c. 25).
SCIO, an island of the Mediterranean, not far from the
coast of Smyrna, and one of those classed as the Sporades.
It was known to the ancients by the name of Chios, and
by the Turks is now called Sakez-Adassi. It is situated
between the parallels of 38° 8' and 38° 30', and between
the meridians 25° 50' and 26° IP, thus being in length
twenty-two and in breadth twenty-one geographical miles.
It is separated from the shore of Anatolia by a strait, called
sometimes the Strait of Bianca, and sometimes that of Scio,
which is seven leagues long, and has a depth of water of
twenty fathoms. The road, or, as it is called, the Great
Port, has depth for ships of the greatest draught of water;
and near to it is the harbour of Fin or Delfyn. To the
south of this last port, at about two leagues distance, is the
capital of the island, the city of Scio, which, in spite of the
dreadful disasters which it has endured, still exists. It was
SCI 691
omit by the Genoese wEen they possessed the island. It is Scio.
wholly constructed of stone or brick, and was till recently "—v '
much cleaner in its appearance than most towns in this part
of the world. Mr Galt, who visited it in 1810, says, that
the houses are built in the Italian style, with lofty pyramidal
roofs. Except in the particular of dress, and with the ex¬
ception of the streets where the shops are situated, every
thing about Scio has the appearance of a town in Christen¬
dom. Ihe shops are well filled, many of them with those
gorgeous stuffs of woven gold and silver which are but
rarely to be seen even in London. This was one of the
principal manufacturing seats of the Turkish empire ; and
silks, which rival in beauty and elegance the richest of
r ranee and Italy, are produced in the looms of Scio. In
the town are about ninety places of worship belonging to
the Greek and Roman persuasions. There is a cathedral,
a respectable building, adorned with modern paintings. Al¬
most the whole of the lower class are silk weavers and emr
broiderers. Many of the villas in the neighbourhood of
the town are large buildings, with attached pleasure-grounds
and beautiful gardens.”
At a later period the city contained about 5000 houses,
and the inhabitants were estimated at 25,000 persons. Be¬
sides the city, there were on the island seventy-six large
villages, containing Armenians, Turks, and Greeks. The
latter were calculated by none below eighty, but bv some
at a hundred thousand. ”
A traveller, Mr Laurent, wEo visited the island in 1818,
says, “ All the ideas which fancy can form of an earthly
paradise seem realized here; the face of the country, itself
most fruitful, is cultivated with the greatest assiduity, and
every part presents rich vineyards intermingled with fruitful
trees. The valleys are intersected with paths shaded by trees,
spreading over the traveller’s head their luxuriant branches,
bending in the seasons under the weight of lemons, oranges,
and pomegranates. The inhabitants seem willing to join
their efforts to add to the charms of their island; by all the
foreigner is welcomed, and the traveller hears the salute of
the peasant, kale emera, kale espera, good day, or good even¬
ing, as he passes along.”
Among the productions of the island, wine is one of much
celebrity when drank on the spot; but, from the delicacy
of its flavour, it suffers by removal. The corn produced is
not equal to more than two months’ consumption ; the fruits,
which are the chief means of subsistence, are the finest in
the Levant; the figs are of an incredible size, and the le¬
mons and oranges exported are said to have risen to the
value of L.25,000. Mastic gum is an article of great im¬
portance, and the shrub from which it exudes was very ex¬
tensively cultivated. The other articles of export were cot¬
ton wool, silk, terebinth, wrought silks, and tanned hides.
Literature was more cultivated in Scio than in any other
of the Greek islands ; and no priest officiated there who had
not been a member of the college.
The richest of the inhabitants were merchants at the
head of considerable houses, with commercial establish¬
ments under the management of partners in Odessa, Ve¬
nice, Fiume, Trieste, Leghorn, Genoa, Marseilles, Vienna,
and London. They lived here in elegantly-furnished houses,
were hospitable to strangers, and in the enjoyment of a de¬
gree of ease and freedom which was nowhere else to be
witnessed within the other territories under the dominion
of the Turks.
The favourable circumstances in which the people lived
was in a great part owing to the power over the island
having been granted to a sultana, a sister of the sultan, who,
satisfied with a sum of money annually collected by the
people among themselves, left them almost to their own
religion, laws, manners, and occupations; but she is said
to have prided herself on the superiority of those under her
sway to any other Turkish subjects.
692
S C I
SCI
Scio. It was owing to this state of things that, when the revolu-
tionary movements among the other Greeks in the Turkish
dominions were commenced, no disposition was felt in Scio
to embark in the same course. There was a small Turkish
garrison in a fortress under an aga, to whom the people
gave assurance that no disposition to revolt existed among
them; and some of the most respectable heads of families
gave themselves as hostages for the pacific and tranquil con¬
duct of their countrymen. The Turkish fleets never mo¬
lested them, but passed by to subdue the other islands then
in a state of insurrection. One of the insurgent Greek lead¬
ers, however, with a fleet entered the harbour, and landed a
body of troops to attack the arsenal, in which the small gar¬
rison of the Turks was collected. In the attack on the fort,
the Sciotes of the lowest classes, in spite of the remonstrances
of their primates, joined their fellow-Christians. The fort
was taken, and the garrison, as well as all the Turks in the
city, were put to the sword.
Soon afterwards, in 1822, whilst the island was under the
dominion of the rabble and the small body of insurgent
Greeks, the Turkish fleet entered the harbour, upon which
the invaders escaped from the superior force. As the popu¬
lace had joined them in spite ofthe remonstrances of the prin¬
cipal inhabitants, the latter, in number above two hundred,
repaired on board the ship of the Capitan Pasha, with the
most solemn assurance of their innocence, and the most un¬
qualified submission to the Porte. The admiral received
them with great civility, expressed himself willing to forget
all that had passed, and ordered coffee and a variety of re¬
freshments. He soon landed, taking with him a force of
10,000 men, a few of whom were regular troops, but the far
greater number were volunteers, under no control, who had
been induced to embark from the capital by the promise of
plunder. Then consequently began a general massacre of
the men, with the plunder of the houses, and the capture
of the women, girls, and boys, as slaves, to be sold by the
captors to the harems for the gratification of the natural and
the unnatural vices of the Turks. The details given by
eye-witnesses who escaped were such as to harrow up the
soul. Every house and every garden were strewed with
corpses ; beneath the orange-trees, on the sides of the foun¬
tains, on the rich carpet, and on the marble pavement, lay
the young, the beautiful, and the aged, in the midst of their
loved and luxurious retreats. Day after day passed, and,
lying as they fell, alone or in groups, no hand bore them
to their graves, while survivors yet remained to perish. At
last, when all was over, they were thrown in promiscuous
heaps into large pits.
Twenty thousand persons are computed to have thus
perished during the few days the massacre lasted. A few
were happy enough to escape and pass the barrier of rocky
mountains, and thus for a time were secure; and a few
were received into boats or vessels on the coast, and thus
were rescued from immediate destruction. The greater
number, especially the younger women and boys, were made
objects of plunder by the volunteers; they were mingled to¬
gether as indiscriminately as a flock of sheep, were driven
into the ships, and were thus transported to the capital, where
they were exposed to sale like cattle, and a very few were
redeemed by their friends, who, privately, it being unlaw¬
ful for a Greek to buy a Greek, purchased them through
Turkish agents.
Those who had delivered themselves up to the Capitan
Pasha were removed to a solitary prison, and there, in spite
of Lord Strangford’s intercession, were, after he had thought
their lives secure, all decapitated. Even the Sciotes in Con¬
stantinople were not spared, but in a short time were plun¬
dered and put to death. The English ambassador exerted
himself in the cause of humanity, but no diplomatic person¬
age of the other states of Europe interfered in behalf of these
wretched sufferers.
SCIOPPIUS, Gaspar, a learned German writer of the Sciopi is.
seventeenth century, was born at Neumark, in the Upper ^^ v«-'
Palatinate, on the 27th of May 1576. He studied at the
university with so much success, that at the age of sixteen
he became an author, and published books, says Ferrari,
which deserve to be admired by old men. But his disposi¬
tions did not correspond with his genius. Naturally passionate
and malevolent, he assaulted without mercy the characters
of eminent men. He abjured the system of the Protestants,
and became a Roman Catholic, about the year 1599; but
his character remained the same. He possessed ail those
qualities which fitted him for making a distinguished figure
in the literary world ; imagination, memory, profound learn¬
ing, and invincible impudence. He was familiar with the
terms of reproach in most languages. He was entirely ig¬
norant of the manners of the world. He neither showed
respect to his superiors, nor did he behave with decency to
his equals. He was possessed with a frenzy of an uncom¬
mon kind, being a perfect firebrand, scattering around him, as
if for his amusement, the most atrocious calumnies. Joseph
Scaliger, above all others, was the object of his satire.
That learned man having drawn up the history of his own
family, and deduced its genealogy from princes, was se¬
verely attacked by Scioppius, who ridiculed his high preten¬
sions. Scaliger in his turn wrote a book entitled the Life
and Parentage of Gaspar Scioppius, in which he informs
us that the father of Scioppius had been successively a
grave-digger, a journeyman stationer, a hawker, a soldier, a
miller, and a brewer of beer. These statements inflamed
Scioppius with greater eagerness to attack his antagonist.
He collected all the calumnies that had been thrown out
against Scaliger, and formed them into a huge volume, as
if he had intended to crush him at once. He treated with
great contempt the king of England, James I., in his Eccle-
siasticus, and in his Collyrium Regium Britannia Regi
graviler ex oculis labor anti rnunere missum, that is, An
Eye-salve for his Britannic Majesty. In one of his works
he had the audacity to abuse Henry IV. of France in a most
scurrilous manner, on which account his book was burned
at Paris. He was hung in effigy in a farce which was re¬
presented before the king of England, but he gloried in his
dishonour. Provoked with his insolence to their sovereign,
the servants of the English ambassador assaulted him at
Madrid, and corrected him severely; but he boasted of the
wounds he had received. He published more than thirty
defamatory libels against the Jesuits; and, what is very
surprising, in the place where he declaims with most viru¬
lence against that society, he subscribes his own name with
expressions of devotion : “ I Gaspar Scioppius, already on
the brink of the grave, and ready to appear before the tri¬
bunal of Jesus Christ, to give an account of my works.”
Towards the end of his life he employed himself in study¬
ing the Apocalypse, and affirmed that he had found the key
to that mysterious book. He sent some ol his expositions
to Cardinal Mazarin ; but the cardinal did not find it con¬
venient to read them.
Ferrari tells us, that during the last fourteen years of his
life he shut himself up in a small apartment, where he de¬
voted himself solely to study. The same writer acquaints
us, that he could repeat the Scriptures almost entirely by
heart; but his good qualities were eclipsed by his vices, for
his love of slander, and the furious assaults which he made
upon the most eminent men, he was called the Cerberus of
literature. He accuses even Cicero of barbarisms and im¬
proprieties. He died on the 19th of November 1649, at
the age of seventy-four, at Padua, the only retreat which re¬
mained to him from the multitude of enemies whom he had
created. Four hundred books are ascribed to him, which
are said to discover great genius and learning. The chief
of these are, 1. Verisimilium Libri iv. 1596, in 8vo; 2.
Commentarius de Arte Critica, 1661, in 8vo; 3. De sua ad
S C L
Seioptic Catholicos Migratione, 1660, in 8vo; 4. Notationes Critics
Sclavonia. in Phae0drum’ in Pnapeia, Patavii, 1664, in 8vo; 5. Susnec-
^rum Sectionum Libri v. 1664, in 8vo; 6. Classicum Belli
Sacn, 1619, in 4to ; 7. Collyrium Regium, 1611, in 8vo ; 8.
Grammatica Philosophica, 1644, in 8vo; 9. Relatio ad lie¬
ges et Principes de Stratagematibus Societatis Jesu, 1641,
in 12mo. This last-mentioned work was published under
the name of Alphonso de Vargas.
SCIOPTIG, oi Scioptric Ball, a sphere or globe of
wood, with a circular perforation, where a lens is placed. It
is so fitted that, like the eye of an animal, it may be turned
round every way, and is used in making experiments in a
darkened room.
SCIP10, Publius Cornelius, a renowned Roman ge¬
neral, surnamed Africanus for his concpiests in that country.
His other signal military exploits were, his taking the city
of New Carthage in a single day; his complete victory over
Hannibal, the Carthaginian general; and the defeat of Sy-
phax king of Numidia, and of Antiochus in Asia. He was
as eminent for his generous behaviour to his prisoners as
for his valour. He died 180 b. c. aged about fifty-one.
Scipio, Lucius Cornelius, his brother, surnamed Asiati-
cm for his complete victory over Antiochus at the battle of
Magnesia, in which Antiochus lost fifty thousand infantry
and four thousand cavalry. A triumph, and the surname
of Asiaticus, were the rewards of his valour. Yet his un¬
grateful countrymen accused him, as well as his brother,
of peculation, for which he was fined; but the public sale
of his effects proved the falsehood of the charge, for they
did not produce the amount of the fine. He flourished about
190 b. c.
Scipio, Publius ^Pmilianus, was the son of Paulus /Emi-
lius, but being adopted by Scipio Africanus, he was called
Scipio Africanus junior. He showed himself worthy of
adoption, following the footsteps of Scipio Africanus, whom
he equalled in military fame and public virtues. His chief
victories were the conquest of Carthage and Numantia; yet
these signal services to his country could not protect him
from an untimely fate. He was strangled in his bed by
order of the Decemviri, who dreaded his popularitv, 129 b. c.
aged fifty-six.
SCIRO, an island of the Archipelago, to the west of My-
tilene, to the north-east of Negropont, and to the south¬
east of Sciati. It is fifteen miles in length and eight in
breadth. I he vines form the beauty of the island, and the
wine is excellent; nor do the natives want wood. There
is but one village, and that is built on a rock, which runs
up like a sugar-loaf, and is ten miles from the harbour of
St George. The inhabitants are Greeks.
SCIROCHO, or Sirocco, a name generally given in
Italy to every unfavourable wind. In the south-west it is
applied to the hot suffocating blasts from Africa ; and in the
north-east it means the cold bleak winds from the Alps.
SCLAVONIA, a province of the Austrian empire, still
occasionally dignified with the name of kingdom. It is
bounded on the west by Croatia, on the north and east by
Hungary, from which it is separated by the river Drave,
and partly by the Danube, and on the south by Turkey,
the river Save separating it from the territories of the sul¬
tan. I he shape of this province is long and narrow, and
it contains a superficies of about 5000 square miles. A
chain of lofty mountains, which rises in Croatia, intersects
it in its whole length from east to west. This elevated
ridge is covered with forests, containing the finest oak and
other valuable trees; but a proper water conveyance is want¬
ing to render this natural product of the soil a valuable ar¬
ticle of export. The rest of the country consists of fine
plains, wdth a fertile soil, and a climate which, although
mild, is cooler than might be expected under the parallels
of forty-five and forty-six. This is to be attributed to the
presence of the forest-covered mountain chain just mention-
SCO
ed. During dry years the open parts of the mountainous
tracts are barren ; in favourable years they produce excel-'
lent crops of wheat, barley, flax, hemp, and madder. The
climate of the plains is sufficiently genial for the cultivation
of maize, silk, and the fruits of the south of Europe. Lime-
s one, su p mr, coal, salt, and some ferruginous substances,
are amongst the most abundant mineral treasures of Sclavo-
maj but these have not yet been thoroughly investigated.
Much of the mountain chain yet remains unexplored. The
manufactures are too insignificant to require specific notice;
those of glass and potash appear to be the most important.
The exports consist of corn, tobacco, nuts, plums, hides,
wax, honey, and madder; the imports are chiefly iron, salt,
and oil. Domestic weaving and knitting is universally prac¬
tised, so that few of the finer fabrics of Great Britain or
r ranee are required, especially amongst a people the bulk of
whom live in mud-huts. The transit trade is of more im¬
portance, in consequence of the three threat rivers, the Da¬
nube, the Drave, and the Save, which directly or indirectly
communicate with a large tract of country.
Under the Romans, Sclavonia formed a part of Pannonia,
and derived its present name from a tribe of Sclavi or Slavi,
who settled here m the sixth or seventh century. Subsequent-
y, the V onetians, having acquired an ascendency over Dalma¬
tia, extended their acquisitions to this country. In the tenth
century it came under the dominion of Hungary, to which
it remained subject, until, in the year 1526, it was overrun
and subdued by the Turks. It was finally subjected to the
liouse of Austria by the peace of Carlowitz, which was ra-
tified in 1699. I he country remained divided into military
districts until 1 / 45, but since that time a beginning has been
made towards giving some of them a civil constitution. These
form three counties. The military district, or generalate,
consists of Brod, Peterwardin, andGradisca. It is under a
military government, at the head of which is the command¬
ing general in Sclavonia, who resides at Peterwardin. The
counties are subject to the kingdom of Hungary, each hav¬
ing its governor and vice-governor. Although Sclavonia has
undergone a material improvement since its annexation to
Austria, yet the population is not characterized either by
industry, or by that degree of intelligence necessary to turn
the natural advantages of the country to good account. The
Sclavonians proper, or aborigines, do not now form the ma¬
jority of the inhabitants ; they are largely intermixed with
Magyars, Wallachians, Gypsies, Germans, Greeks, Jews, and
Armenians. I here are but few Protestants in the country.
1 he most numerous religious denominations are the Roman
Catholic, the Greek Catholic, and the Greek non-united
Church. The population in 1831 amounted to 370,000,
which is about eighty-five inhabitants to every square mile.
SCONE, a village of Scotland, now chiefly remarkable
for being the place where the kings were anciently crown¬
ed. Kenneth II. upon his conquest of the Piets in the ninth
century, having made Scone his principal residence, de¬
livered his laws, called the Macalpine laws, from a tumulus,
named the Mote Hill of Scone. The old palace was begun
by the Earl of Gowrie, but was completed by Sir David
Murray of Gospatrick, the favourite of King James VI. to
whom that monarch had. granted it; and the new possessor,
in gratitude to his benefactor, put up the king’s arms in
several parts of the house. During the middle ages of the
Scottish monarchy Scone wTas the occasional residence of
the kings; and it was here that they were crowned, sitting
on the famous stone called the stone of Dunstaffnage or stone
of Scone, which, if the ancient chronicles may be believed,
was the pillow on which Jacob slept when journeying through
the plains of Luz. Edw ard I. carried it off, to the great
mortification of the Scotch, who looked upon it as a kind of
palladium. The abbey and palace were demolished by a
mob from Dundee at the Reformation. Charles II., before
the battle of Worcester, was crowned in the chapel at Scone.
693
Scone.
694
SCO
SCO
The old pretender resided here for some time in 1715,
and his son paid it a visit in 1745. On the site of the
ancient palace a splendid edifice has been reared by the
Earl of Mansfield, who represents the old family of Stormont.
In the modern structure much of the old furniture has been
preserved, particularly a bed that belonged to James VI.,
and another of which the curtains were wrought by the
fair hands of Queen Mary when a prisoner in Lochleven
Castle. The old market-cross stands in the midst of the
pleasure-grounds. The modern village is regularly built,
and of a neat appearance.
SCORE, or Partition, in Music. Either of these terms
means that written or printed arrangement of different
parts for voices or instruments, or for both, by which the
structure of any piece of music, consisting of a number of
such parts, is brought successively under the eye, measure
after measure, so as to enable the student of composition
to study the work, or the conductor of an orchestra to ac¬
company the whole suitably on the piano-forte or organ,
or instantly to perceive and correct errors in the perform¬
ance, especially during rehearsals. In a score or partition,
all the. staves required in any given page for the different
parts should be marked with their proper clefs, &c., and,
on the left margin, with the names of the different voices
or instruments, and then braced together at the left side,
while at every bar of the measure a straight line is drawn
down the page, from the top of the highest stave to the
bottom of the lowest. For the sake of perspicuity, in every
partition the same number of staves ought to be used from
beginning to end on every page, even where many bars of
rests occur in this or that part; and also the clefs, &c. ought
to be marked on every page, as well as the names of the
different voices or instruments. The general neglect of
these simple precautions renders many partitions extremely
confused and perplexing to their readers. In the article
Music, we have used the word partition in preference to
the word score, for various reasons; and especially as we had
already the word partition used in the sixteenth century by
an English writer of eminent musical authority, in the vei*y
sense in which we employ it. Thomas Morley, in his
“ Piaine and easie Introduction to practicall Musicke,” edi¬
tion of 1597, page 34, has stamped the word partition as
an English musical term. He says, “ and to the ende that
you may the more easily understand the contryving of the
parts, and their proportion one to another, I have set it
downe in partition.” He then gives the example, part un¬
der part, in partition.
SCORIA, or Dross, amongst metallurgists, is the recre¬
ment of metals in fusion, or, more determinately speaking,
is that mass which is produced by melting metals and ores.
When cold, it is brittle, and not dissoluble in water, being
properly a kind of glass.
SCORIFICATION, in Metallurgy, is the art of redu¬
cing a body, either entirely or in part, into scoria.
SCOT, Michael of Balwirie, a renowned Scottish worthy
of the thirteenth century. This singular man made the
tour of France and Germany, and was received with some
distinction at the court of the Emperor Frederic II. Having
travelled enough to gratify his curiosity or his vanity, he re¬
turned to Scotland, and gave himself up to study and con¬
templation. He was skilled in languages; and, considering
the age in which he lived, wTas no mean proficient in phi¬
losophy, mathematics, aud medicine. He translated into
Latin, from the Arabic, the history of animals by the celebrat¬
ed physician Avicenna. He wrote a book concerning the
Secrets of Nature, in which he treats of generation, physiog¬
nomy, and the signs by which we judge of the tempera¬
ments of men and women. We have also a tract of his on
the Nature of the Sun and the Moon. He there speaks of
the grand operation, as it is termed by alchymists, and is ex¬
ceedingly solicitous about the projected powder, or the phi¬
losopher’s stone. He likewise wrote what he calls Mensa
Phiiosophica, a treatise replete with astrology and chiro¬
mancy. He was much admired in his day, and was even v
suspected of magic ; and he had Roger Bacon and Cornelius
Agrippa for his panegyrists.
Scot, Reginald, a judicious writer in the sixteenth cen¬
tury, vras the younger son of Sir John Scot of Scotshall, near
Smeethe, in Kent. He studied at Hart Hall in the Univer¬
sity of Oxford; after which he retired to Smeethe, where he
lived a studious life, and died in 1599. He published the
Perfect Platform of a Hop-Garden; and a book entitled
the Discovery of Witchcraft, in which he showed that all
the relations concerning magicians and witches are chime¬
rical. This work was not only censured by King James I.
in his Dcemonology, but by several eminent divines; and
all the copies of it that could be found were burned.
SCOTAL, or Scotale, is where any officer of a forest
keeps an ale-house within the forest, under colour of his
office, making people come to his house, and there spend
their money for fear of his displeasure. We find it men¬
tioned in the charter of the forest, “ Nullus forestarius fa-
ciat Scotallas, vel garbas colligat, vel aliquam collectam fa-
ciat.” The word is compounded of scot and ale, and, by
transposition, is otherwise called aleshot.
SCOTALES were meetings formerly held in England
for the purpose of drinking ale, of which the expense was
paid by joint contribution. Thus the tenants of South
Mailing, in Sussex, which belonged to the Archbishop of
Canterbury, wrere, at the keeping of a court, to entertain the
lord or his bailiff with a drinking, or an ale; and the stated
quotas towards the charge were, that a man should pay
threepence halfpenny for himself and his wife, and a widow
and cottager a penny halfpenny. In the manor of Ferring,
in the same county, and under the same jurisdiction, it was
the custom for the tenants named to make a scotale of six¬
teen pence halfpenny, and to allow out of each sixpence a
penny halfpenny for the bailiff.
f^rirnmnn cnntsilfpc in tavprns. flt. whlC*ll tllG cl6r£?V WGl'G
See
Scot!
not to be present, are noticed in several ecclesiastical canons.
They were not to be published in the church by the clergy
or the laity; and a meeting of more than ten persons of
the same parish or vicinage was a scotale that was generally
prohibited. There were also common drinkings, which
were denominated leet-ale, bride-ale, clerk-ale, and church-
ale. To a leet-ale probably all the residents in a manorial
district were contributors; and the expense of a bride-ale
was defrayed by the relations and friends of a happy pair,
who were not in circumstances to bear the charges of a wed¬
ding dinner. This custom prevails occasionally in some
districts of Scotland even at this day, under the denomina¬
tion of a. penny bride-ale, and was very common about half
a century ago. The clerk’s-ale was in the Easter holidays,
and was the method taken to enable clerks of parishes to
collect their dues more readily.
Scotia, in Architecture, a semicircular cavity or channel
between the tores in the bases of columns.
SCOTISTS, a sect of school divines and philosophers,
so called from their founder Joannes Duns Scotus, a Scot¬
tish cordelier, who maintained the immaculate conception of
the Virgin, or that she was born without original sin, in op¬
position to Thomas Aquinas and the Thomists. As to phi¬
losophy, the Scotists were, like the Thomists, Peripatetics;
only distinguished by this, that in each being, as many dif¬
ferent qualities as it had, so many different formalities did
they distinguish, all distinct from the body itself, and making
as it were so many different entities; but these were meta¬
physical, and as it were superadded to the being. The Sco¬
tists and Thomists likewise disagreed about the nature of the
divine co-operation with the human will, the measure of di¬
vine grace that is necessary to salvation, and other abstruse
and minute questions, which it is needless to enumerate.
695
history
OF SCOTLAND.
Scotland. Sect. I—Roman Period.
A. D. 85 to It will not be expected that in such a sketch of the history
446. of Scotland as is alone suited to this work, we should enter
into the great controversy concerning the origin of the Scottish
people, a subject upon which much needless acrimony, and
many unprofitable volumes, have been thrown awav.1 It
will be more suitable to mark the progress of the «reat
events in our national history, and to pass over its minor
features; to fix the attention upon results rather than to per¬
plex it with details ; to establish a series of points by which
an intelligent reader may guide his memory and direct his
studies; and occasionally to note those authors from whose
pages he may fill up the picture.
Julius Cae- It is well known, that our first authentic knowledge of
comes from Julius Caesar. Fifty-five years before
Christ 55 ?e C,hnsJian era’ this extraordinary man invaded the island
from Gaul; but his operations were attended with little suc¬
cess, his stay was brief, and it is certain that he knew nothino-
of Scotland. It was not till nearly a century and a half after
Caesar’s descent, and during the reign of the emperor Ves-
Julius pasian, that Julius Agricola, at the head of a Roman army,
Agricola, penetrated into the northern parts of Britain. The details
of his various campaigns, the resistance which he encoun¬
tered, and the vestiges of his progress which yet remain, have
furnished matter of laborious investigation to our antiquaries.
Among their conflicting accounts, it seems certain that he
first pushed his conquests as far as the Friths of Forth and
Clyde; that in succeeding campaigns he penetrated north¬
wards ; and that in his last great expedition, during which
his army was accompanied by a numerous fleet, which sailed
along the coast, he was opposed by a barbarian chief named
Galgacus. A sanguinary battle was fought between this
leader and Agricola, the exact site of which has been keenly
disputed. I here seems to be little doubt, however, that
pieviously to its occurrence the Roman general had passed
the Frith of T ay, and that although victorious over the fierce
and undisciplined multitudes which opposed him, he ex¬
perienced a check which compelled him to desist from
any further aggression. Two great events marked the last
years or the government of Agricola. He explored the
northern coasts of Scotland by his fleet; and to him the Ro¬
man world, in all probability, owed its first certain know¬
ledge that Britain was an island. He endeavoured, in the
.gricola second place, to secure his conquests from future attack by
aves Bli- a chain of forts connecting the Friths of Forth and Clyde.
'd r- ?Jav^nS completed these defences, he was recalled by the
^ jealousy of Domitian, and left Britain in the year 85.
adi ian. From this time till the reign of Hadrian, a period of thirty-
six years, we hear little of the Romans, either in southern
D. 121 or northern Britain. Early in the second century, (a.d. 121),
161, this emperor in person made an expedition into Scotland;
and about twenty years later, Lollius Urbicus, the Roman Scotland
governor under the emperor Antoninus, distinguished him-CT^
byJ11e ““ago and ability winch he displayed against Lollins Ur-
the turbment and warlike tribes which inhabited the north- bicus.
ern parts of the island. Two facts, however, are admitted
by the Roman writers, which demonstrate how uncertain
was the tenure by which these masters of the world held
their northern possessions in Britain. The emperor Hadrian
apparently distrusting the sufficiency of the line of forts al¬
ready formed by Agricola, constructed a wall or fortified ram¬
part from the Tyne to the Solway. It has been supposed by
some antiquaries, that the emperor entirely abandoned to the
barbarians the wide country between this new defence and
the more ancient Vallum which united the Friths of Forth
and Clyde ; but the discovery of a succession of coins along
the line of this last rampart, belonging to the intermediate
emperors, appears to indicate the contrary.2 3 4 From the adop¬
tion of this measure it is however evident, that the courage
and successes of the barbarians had given much annovance
to the Romans; and this is corroborated by the second fact to
which we allude, namely, that between the period of Hadrian’s
death and the succession of Antoninus Pius, (a.d. 138), the
wall between the Forth and Clyde had been so completely
destroyed, that Lollius Urbicus entirely reconstructed it.
This fact is proved by inscriptions, which the reader may
consult in Horsley’s Britannia Romana? During the
remaining years of his government, this able officer devoted
himself to opening up the country by roads; to the construc¬
tion of various camps and fortalices, of which the site has
been traced with much industry and success by the latest
writer on the subject; and to the introduction of those use¬
ful arts which were best calculated to raise and humanize
the character of the northern barbarians. His administration
in Britain appears to have terminated with the death of his
master, Antoninus Pius, a.d. 161.
From this period till the beginning of the third century, Severn-,
all is dark in Britain. But in the year 207, the emperor Se- A. D. 207.
verus received intelligence that the Caledonians had invaded
the Roman provinces; and with a vigour and alacrity which,
considering the distance of the seat of war, and the barren
prize to be contested, is not easily explained, he hastened
in person to reduce the insurgent Caledonians. This expe¬
dition, making every allowance for the exaggeration with
which the exploits of an emperor were usually recorded,
must have been an extraordinary one. In the comparatively
civilized country which extended between the walls ofHadrian
and Antoninus, he could meet with little opposition; but when
he left this last line of defence, and conducted his army into
the wild regions beyond the Frith of Forth, ultimately pene¬
trating into Moray, we must suppose him to have encounter¬
ed very formidable obstacles. The savage and uncleared state
of the country, the extent of the forests, the unhealthy and
1 The reader is referred to Innes’s Critical Essay on the ancient Inhabitants of Scotland, as the best work yet written on this subject.
Its arrangement is defective ; but its good sense, and the authenticity of the documents upon which its deductions are founded, are highly
praiseworthy. Pinkerton’s Dissertation on the Scythians or Goths, Dr. Jamieson’s Dissertation on the Origin of the Scottish Lan¬
guage, and the first volume of the ponderous work of Chalmers, entitled Caledonia, may be consulted with the greatest advantage. In
their pages, the critical student who may desire to pursue the subject, will find ample references to all the noted works upon this question.
“ Chalmers’s Caledonia, p. 116.
3 Horsley’s Britannia, Rom. 1. i. c. 10; Innes’s Critical Essay, vol. i. p. 12. The remains of the wall are popularly called Grim’s
Dyke. Grym in Welsh and Cornish, signifies strong, and is used perhaps metaphorically, as Chalmers conjectures, lor a “ strength or a ram¬
part.” Caledonia, vol. i. p. 129.
4 We may here refer the critical reader to Chalmers’s dissertation on the actions of Lollius Urbicus, contained in the first volume of his
Caledonia.
696
SCOT L A N D.
Scotland, interminable marshes, the mountainous ranges which presen t-
ed such formidable obstacles to the march of a regular army,
Severus. the rivers, of which the fords were unknown, and the want
A.D. 207. 0f subsistence for his troops, except what he carried along
with him, must have combined to throw infinite difficulties
in his way. The classical writers who have described his
His great campaign inform us, in general terms, that he was obliged
northern to fell the forests, to drain the marshes, to open up the
expedition. country by roads, and to construct bridges ; and they affirm
that the Roman emperor did not retrace his steps till he
had proceeded so far north, that the soldiers remarked the
extraordinary length of the days and shortness of the nights,
in comparison with those of Italy.1 There seems good rea¬
son to believe that the spot where the Roman eagles termi¬
nated their flight in this memorable expedition, was the pro¬
montory separating the Cromarty and the Moray Friths.
Here, according to Chalmers, the Caledonians sought for
peace, surrendered their arms, and relinquished a portion of
their country.2 The critical student must pardon the vague¬
ness of these expressions, as the historians of the time do
not enable us to be more definite.
Death of Severus retired to York in a feeble state of health; but
Sevmis at it was not to repose upon his laurels, for scarcely had he
York. reached that station when news arrived that the Caledonians
A. D. 211. were again in arms. Irritated by disappointment and disease,
he determined instantly to renew the war; intrusted the
leading of the army to his son Caracalla; and issued orders
to spare neither age nor sex. But death happily arrested
these inhuman projects. The emperor expired at York,
and the son does not appear, on any good evidence, to
have executed the orders of the father.
Previously to his celebrated northern campaign, Severus
is said to have reconstructed the rampart originally built by
Hadrian between the Tyne and the Solway ; a circumstance
from which there arises a strong presumption that the Cale¬
donians had encroached upon the Roman provinces, and re¬
gained much of the intermediate country between the walls
of Hadrian and Antoninus.
A.D. From this period, (a.d. 211),which marks the commence-
211 to 156. ment of the third, to nearly the middle of the fifth century,
(446), the Romans appear to have abandoned all thoughts
Decay of of extending their conquests. The vast fabric of their empire
the Roman was now, as is well known, in a state of melancholy feeble-
po'ver. negs an(j decay. attacked on every side by those fierce tribes
who were destined to destroy it; and unable to retain pro¬
vinces far nearer and more important than those in Britain.
For some time, however, an effort was made to defend the
northern Romanized Britons from the repeated incursions
of the Caledonians. In the commencement of the fourth
Oenstans. century, (a.d. 306), Constans revisited Britain for this
A- D. 306. purpose ; in the year 368, after a sanguinary and destruc¬
tive invasion of the barbarians, a temporary tranquillity was
restored by the arms of Theodosius; in 398, Stilicho, alarmed
by new excesses and increasing weakness in the northern
provinces, sent such effectual aid as enabled the Roman go¬
vernors once more to repel the enemy; and, lastly, in the
Honorius. year 422, the emperor Honorius, having in vain endeavoured
A.i). 422. to rouse the provincial inhabitants to a vigorous effort in
Theodo-
their own defence, sent a legion to their assistance, by whose Scotkl.
efforts the fortifications of the two walls were repaired, and
the barbarians once more driven back into their more north¬
ern seats. But this was the last relief which could be wrung
by her miserable children from a parent who was herself ex¬
piring ; and it secured for them but a brief period of tranquil¬
lity. Imperial Rome, with a tardy and ostentatious justice,
conferred freedom on the southern Britons ; and restoring a A.D 3.
country which she was no longer able to hold, informed them
that henceforth they must trust to their own efforts for the
defence of their independence. Having given this parting
advice to men who appear to have been little able to follow
it, the Romans abandoned Britain for ever.
Sect. II—The Pictish Period.
' Caledonia, vol. i. p. 186, 187.
2 The son of Severus is indeed affirmed to have fought on the banks of the Carron with the heroes of Ossian; but much has yet to be
proved before we venture to transplant these shadowy contests into the field of history.
3 Including the half of Northumberland, the eastern portion of Roxburghshire, all Berwickshire, and East Lothian.
4 Caledonia, vol. i. p. 62.
5 It ought however to be stated, that some grave doubts hang over the genuineness of this early writer. Dr. Stukeley’s account of
him is vague, and the story told by Professor Bertram regarding his discovery of the manuscript and the map is still more suspicious. I have
abstained from giving from Chalmers the exact limits of the possessions held by the last sixteen tribes, who inhabited the whole ex¬
tent of country beyond the Forth to the extremity of Caithness. The research and erudition which he has displayed is entitled to all
praise ; but it is difficult to believe that the boundaries of these remote, fierce, and wandering aborigines should be ascertainable with as much
precision after the lapse of eighteen centuries as the marches of Middlesex or Yorkshire. Two points, however, and these of leading im¬
portance, Chalmers conceives that he has established : the first, that Britain, from its extreme southern to its most remote northern point,
was peopled from Gaul; and the second, that the aborigines over the whole island were a Celtic race.
In the brief sketch which has been given of the Roman A.D. -!j
dominion in north Britain, which extended from the year to 843.
85 to 446, a period of little more than three centuries and ^ ^
a half, we have seen that the Romanized Britons were con-gllm tII||
stan tly exposed to the invasions of their more northern neigh¬
bours, who threatened at last to wrest from them the whole
of the country, which had been fortified by Roman skill and
mainly defended by Roman soldiers. The question now
arises, who were these fierce and indomitable tribes ? And
to this inquiry, in which antiquaries have spilt almost as
much ink as the Romans did blood, the research of a labo¬
rious writer enables us to give a satisfactory answer. It
appears from the investigation of Chalmers that “ at the
epoch of Agricola’s invasion, the ample extent of north
Britain was inhabited by one-and-twenty tribes, who were
connected by such slight ties as scarcely to enjoy a social
state. These were the Ottadini, who appear to have
occupied the whole extent of coast from the southern Tyne
to the Frith of Forth ;3 the Gadeni, whose seats lay in
the interior country, from the Tyne on the south to the
Frith on the north; the Selgovce, whose western boundary
was the Dee, and their southern limit the Solway Frith; the
Novantes, who inhabited the midland and western parts of
Gallowray; and the Damnii, who possessed the shires of Ayr,
Renfrew, and Stirling, with a portion of Dunbarton and
Perth. Such were the five tribes,” says this author, “which
occupied, during the first century, that ample region ex¬
tending from the Tyne and the Solway on the south, to the
Forth and the Clyde on the north, varying their limits with
the fluctuations of war, conquest, or internal dissensions,
during the succession of many ages.”4 Beyond the Forth we
find the Horestii, the Venricones, theTaixali, theVacomagi,
the Albani, the Attacotti, the Caledonii, the Cantse, the Logi,
the Carnabii, the Catini, the Mertse, the Carnonacae, the
Creones, and the Epidii. The names of these twenty-one
original tribes, which are taken from Chalmers, are by him
transcribed from the account of Ptolemy, checked by the
ancient treatise and map of Richard of Cirencester.4 Of the
manners of this ancient people, it is impossible, in the ab¬
sence of all authentic documents, to speak writh certainty.
From the general account given by Caesar, they were little
removed in the scale of social life or of civil government
1
SCOT
Scotland, from the rudest savages. They led a pastoral life, living
on the milk of their flocks, or the produce of the chase ;
they were polygamous and idolatrous ; their religion, which
was Druidical, was stained with human sacrifices; and their
rude form of civil government was intimately connected
with their religion. They were armed with slight shields,
short spears, and daggers; and sometimes fought in small
cars, which were drawn by little spirited horses. They
raher burrowed in huts than lived in houses, went naked
from choice, were brave to excess, capable of enduring all
sorts of privation and fatigue, and had such loose ideas of
property, that Dio does not hesitate to call them robbers.
This character, with the exception of their Druidical form
of worship, exhibits little more than the general features
of every savage people; and there seems no reason to be¬
lieve that the lapse of three centuries created any great
change in those fierce and indomitable tribes which, inha¬
biting the more northern parts of the island from the Forth
to Caithness, and latterly wresting from the Romans the
provinces which they had subdued, were never brought
under the yoke, or humanized by the arts of that great
people.
A.D. 446. At the period of the Roman abdication, we find that
The Piets, north Britain was inhabited by the descendants of the
Caledonian clans which we have enumerated, who, under
the name of Piets or Picti, became for four centuries the
predominating nation in Scotland. Among these we must
be careful to distinguish the five Romanized tribes who pos¬
sessed Valentia, or the country between the walls of Agri¬
cola and Antoninus, not as a race of different descent, but of
improved civilization, while their fiercer brethren beyond
the Forth bore fresh upon them all the stamp of barbarian
life. The name of Picti is conjectured to be derived from
Peithi, a British word which characterises those that are
without, or the people of the open country.1 *
It would be a vain, and in a sketch of this nature, an idle
labour, to enter upon the obscure and sanguinary annals of
the Pictish period; an era upon which, to use a quaint ex¬
pression of Chalmers, archaeology is loquacious, and history
silent. From an ancient manuscript, first printed by Innes,3
and which had belonged to Lord Burleigh, this author has
given us a list oftheir kings, fromDrefet, who succeeded in the
middle of the fifth century, (a. d. 451), to a prince named
Bred, who died about the middle of the ninth century, (a. d.
843). During the four centuries which elapsed between the
accession of the first and the last of these monarchs, thirty-
eight Pictish kings are enumerated. Of their authentic
history there is scarcely a vestige; but the blank has been
filled up by the fables of Boyce, which unhappily were
afterwards embalmed in the elegant Latinity of Buchanan.
Hise of the ®ome P0ints in this period, however, have been ascer-
bnt'dom oftained, and they are well worthy of notice. We have already
Strathclyd. seen, that on the entire abdication of Britain by the Romans,
the five tribes which inhabited Valentia were declared inde¬
pendent. They were no longer provincial subjects of Rome,
but a free, though an effeminate people. The constant at¬
tacks of the Piets rendered it necessary for them to unite
in their own defence; and from this union arose a new king¬
dom, denominated by ancient authors sometimes the Reg-
num Cumbrense, or more frequently the kingdom of Strath¬
clyd. It appears to have included the present Liddesdale,
Teviotdale, Dumfries-shire, Galloway, Ayrshire, Renfrew,
Strathclyde, the midland and western parts of Stirlingshire,
with the largest portion of Dunbartonshire.3 “ The metro¬
polis of this kingdom,” says Chalmers, “ was Alelyd, a city
which they still retained when the pen dropt from the hand
of the venerable Bede, in 734, and which is situated on the
north bank of the Clyde, at the influx of the Leven. The
Thirty-
eight Pic¬
tish kings.
From
Drest to
Bred.
LAND. 697
descriptive name of Alclyd, which signifies the rocky height Scotland,
on the Clyde, was applied to the bifurcated rock, on the
summit of which these associated Britons had a strong hill Origin of
fort, which formed a secure residence for their reguli or Bunbartom
kings. I o this fortress the Scoto-Irish subsequently applied
the name of -Dm?*-Briton, signifying the fortress of the Bri¬
tons, an appellation which, by an easy transition, has in mo¬
dern times been converted into Dunbarton.4 Among the
little kings who reigned over Strathclyd, there are none
whose names or exploits are worthy of preservation, with
the single exception of the semi-poetic Arthur. It is sad King
that the severer hand of history should strip this glorious Arthur.
“ Childe” of his many-coloured robes, and reduce him to the
cold reality of a Cumbrian Pendragon. At the commence¬
ment of the sixth century, Arthur, the chief militaryleader
or Pendragon of the Cumbrian Britons, expelled his sovereign,
Huail or Hoel, from Strathclyde, and commenced a reign of
which it is impossible to separate the facts from the fictions
with which they have become incorporated.
But the Pictish period is not only distinguished by the The
rise of a new kingdom, it is marked by the arrival in Scot- Saxons in
land of a new people, the Saxons, a race of Gothic origin, ®c°tlan51'
who invaded and finally effected a settlement in Lothian. ' ’
This remarkable event, so important in its remote conse¬
quences upon our national history, took place in the middle
of the fifth century (a. d. 449). It was not difficult for the
Saxons, a people who certainly were far their superiors in
courage and in arms, to subdue the feebler race of the Ot-
tadini. They do not at first appear to have attempted to
push their conquests to the northward of the Forth, but
contented themselves with the occupation of a portion of
the province of Valentia. After the lapse of a century, how¬
ever, Ida, one of the boldest and most adventurous of the a.D. 547.
sons of Woden, landed at Flamborough, and brought an Ida.
important accession to the strength and numbers of his
countrymen. It was by this great chief that the Saxon
kingdom of Northumbria was founded ; nor was he arrested Northum-
in his victorious career, till he had extended his dominions bria f'ound-
from the Humber to the Forth. Ida was succeeded in theed.
Northumbrian kingdom by Aella, and Aella by Ethelred, Aella.
under whose reigns occurred no event of importance ; but
Edwin his successor, who came to the throne in the begin¬
ning of the seventh century, appears to have added essen¬
tially to the extent of the Saxon conquests, and to have im¬
pressed not only the southern Britons, but his fiercer and
more northern neighbours the Piets, with the terror of his Edwins-
arms. There appears little doubt that Edinburgh or Ed-burgh or
winsburgh, the present capital of Scotland, owes its founda- Edinburgh,
tion to this energetic Saxon chief.5
Hitherto, in speaking of the northern inhabitants beyond
the Forth, we have designated them by the single appellation
of the Piets. We must now mark the arrival of a different
people, although probably sprung from the same ancient
stock.
At the commencement of the fourth century, we find that The Scots,
the ruling or dominant people in Ireland were the Scots, a
Celtic race; and although there is no sufficient evidence
that they had formed any permanent settlement in Britain
previously to the abdication of the island by the Romans, it is
certain that in the year 360 they invaded the Roman pro¬
vinces in that kingdom, and were repelled by Iheodosius. ^
In the beginning of the sixth century, three Irish chiefs, A. j.<. 503-
Loarn, Fergus, and Angus, sons of Ere, king of Dalriada,
by which we are to understand the province of Ulster, led
a colony into the ancient province of the British Epidii, and
effected a settlement upon the promontory of Kentire.6 As Scots
far as any light is afforded by the Irish annals, in this occu- settle m
pation of Kentire the Scoto-Irish met with but feeble opposi- tu"tire-
s Innes’s Critical Essay, vol. ii. Appendix.
* Caledonia, vol. i. p. 254. 6 Ibid. 274.
4 T
1 Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. i. p. 203.
3 Caledonia, vol. i. pp. 237, 238.
VOX.. XIX.
4 Caledonia, vol. i. p. 238.
598 SCOTLAND.
Scotland, tion; and a long period of obscurity succeeds, in which little as primate, became an object of the utmost love and vene- Scothd,
more is distinguishable, except the fact that a series of ration among the barbarous tribes, and fierce and warlike1
Scoto-Irish kings, or reguli, are found in Scotland, from the princes whom he had called from darkness into light. At
commencement of the fifth century, (503), when Fergus that time his monastery was perhaps tiie chief seminary of
held the throne, till the accession of Kenneth, the son of learning in Europe. It was from this nursery, that not only
\lpin, who reigned from the year 836 to 843, under whom all the monasteries, and above three hundred churches which
the ascendancy of the Scoto-Irish or Scotch, appears to have
been established. Upon this portion of our history we are
tempted to transcribe the following observations of Chal-
A.D.
503-843
brightly amidst the surrounding gloom, namely, the con¬
version of northern Britain to Christianity.
Conversion Already the Romanized Britons of the South had re
to Christi- ceiVed the true faith, and the Scoto-Irish appear to have
anity.
been converted to Christianity by St. Patrick, previously
to their establishment in Kentire. St. Ninian, himself a
Briton, though educated as a monk at Rome, had, in the
commencement of the fourth century, founded a monastery
in Galloway; and in the sixth century, St.Kentigern signa-
lizedhimself by his pious labours among the Britons ofStrath-
Columba.
A.D.. 521.
Piets.
Constantine and Ungus, successively kings of thePicts. His •
grandson was Kenneth Macalpin, a prince of great hardi¬
hood and ambition, who succeeded to his paternal throne
in 836. On the death of Uven, the Pictish monarch, in
839, Kenneth asserted his claim to the Pictish throne, in
right of his grandmother, Urgusia. The feeble state of the
with twelve of his friends, in a boat of wicker work which nation, and the incapacity of the true heir, combined to fa-
was covered with hides, he set out upon his benevolent vour his ambitious designs; and after a struggle of three
mission, and landed in the Island ofHy, or Iona, which was years, he succeeded in uniting the two crowns in his own
situated near the confines of the Scottish and Pictish terri- person.5 The observations ot Chalmers upon this event,
tories. The difficulties which he had to encounter on his first and the important consequences which it drew after it, are
arrival, were of the most formidable kind. He found a peo- well worthy of notice. “ During such confusions,” says this
pie so barbarous that his life was attempted ; the king, when author, “ amidst a rude people, whose forms of government
the holy man first approached his residence, ordered its were little fixed, and whose laws were less regarded, the
gates to be shut against him; the priests, who were druids, loss of a battle, or the death of a king, was an adequate
and possessed much influence, employed all their eloquence cause of an important revolution. Of all these events, Ken-
to counteract his efforts ; and the nature of the country, neth dexterously took advantage ; and finding a feeble corn-
woody, mountainous, and infested with wild beasts, rendered petitor, he easily slept into the vacant throne. In his per-
travelling most dangerous and painful.2 It is also said that son a new dynasty began. The king was changed, but the
at first the saint required an interpreter to make himself government remained the same. The Piets and Scots, who
intelligible, although after a short residence he appears to were a congenial people, from a common origin, and spoke
have found little difficulty in conversing with the barbarians, cognate tongues, the British and Gaelic, readily coalesced;
But none of these obstacles was sufficient to baffle the zeal and yet has it been asserted by ignorance, and believed by cre-
courage of Columba; and so blest were his labours, so rapid dulity, that Kenneth made so bad a use of the power which
the effects produced by the example of his virtues, that in he had adroitly acquired, as to destroy the whole Pictish
a few years the greater portion of the Pictish dominions people in the wantonness of his cruelty. To enforce the
was converted to the Christian faith ; churches were erect- belief in an action which is in itself unknown, and so incon-
ed, monasteries established, in various places, and Columba, sistent with the interest of a provident sovereign, requhes
1 Caledonia, vol. i. p. 276.
3 Smith's Life of St. Columba, pp. 18, 19.
2 Smith’s Life of St. Columba, pp. 6 to 17 inclusive.
Caledonia, vol. i. pp- 299—302. 5 Caledonia, vol. i. p. 304.
1
he himself had established, were supplied with learned pas¬
tors, but which also gave divines to many of the religious
establishments among the neighbouring nations.3 Columba
died in the year 597, in the seventy-seventh year of his A.D. :i7.
“ In the records of time, there scarcely occurs a period of age ; a man not less distinguished by his zeal and labour in
history so perplexed and obscure, as the annals of the Scoto- the dissemination of the gospel, than by the simplicity of his 0 Ul,i,a*
Irish kings and their tribes. The original cause of this ob- manners, the sweetness of his temper, and the holiness of
scurity is the want of contemporaneous writing. An ample his life.
field was thus left open for the contests of national emula- We have already observed, that it would be foreign to theDisapiar-
tion. Ignorance and ingenuity, sophistry and system, have object of this historical sketch, to involve our readers in the^,c^ ‘j e
all contributed to make what was dark still more obscure, dark and wholly uninteresting annals of the Pictish kings. 1C s*j
The series and genealogy of the kings have been involved But one remarkable event must not escape our notice, we
in peculiar perplexity by the contests of the Irish and Scot- mean the disappearance of the Pictish people after the
tish antiquaries, for pre-eminence in antiquity, as w'ell as in middle of the ninth century. Ihere seems every reason to
fame. And Cimmerian darkness has overspread the annals believe, that the story of the total extermination of the Piets
of a people too restless for the I’epose of study ; too rude for by the sword of the victorious Kenneth Macalpin, is a fable
the elaboration of writing.”1 After such an acknowledg- invented at a later period, and certainly supported by
ment, it would be idle labour to follow this indefatigable nothing approaching to contemporary evidence. A more
inquirer into the twilight-history of these times; but this rational and intelligible account ascribes this event, not to
period is distinguished by one great event which shines the destruction, but to what may more correctly be deno-
" ' ’ ’ minated the absorption of the Piets by the predominating
nation of the Scots. Both were probably a people of the
same race, speaking a similar language, and little different
in their manners and civil government. Both were ani¬
mated by the emulation of outstripping each other in power
and extent of territory ; and this led to protracted struggles,
in which the Piets maintained their independence with dif¬
ficulty, and the Scots, gradually enlarging their dominions,
acquired a predominating influence. Such being the re¬
lative condition of the two nations, an event took place
clyde; but the conversion of the northern Piets was reserved which united in one person the claim to the Pictish and the
for St. Columba. This great and good man was born in Ire- Scottish throne.4
land, in the year 521. His descent was royal, and his educa- Achaiusor Eocha, king of the Scots, who died in the year Kenn i
tion was at first carefully conducted under the best masters 826, had married Urgusia, a Pictish princess, the sister ofMacain.
Conversion which his native island, long before this converted to Christi- ^TT"""C —a.iujo.
of the anity, could supply. Of these the most noted was St. Ciaran,
Northern tjie ap0Stie 0f the Scoto-Irish of Kentire ; and from him, in
all probability, Columba imbibed his first desire to introduce
the gospel into the desolate and barbarous dominions of the
A.D. 568. northern Piets. It was in the year 568, that embarking
SCOT
Scotland, stronger proofs than the assertions of uninformed history, or
the report of vulgar tradition. The Piets continued through¬
out the succeeding period (from 843 to 1097) to be men¬
tioned by contemporary authors, though they were govern¬
ed by a new race, and were united with a predominant
people.”1
Sect. Ill—The Scottish Period.
A.D. The union of the two nations of the Piets and the Scots,
ftp-1097 under one powerful prince, forms the commencement of the
third great division of Scottish history, which extends from
the middle of the ninth century (843) to the expiration of
the eleventh (1097), a period of two centuries and a half.
Extent of For ages before the time of this union, the Pictish do-
tbe Pictish minions were confined by the Forth on the south, Drum-
®cot‘ alban on the west, and the German Ocean on the east and
Ls. nS" nort^ ; whi^e at t^e Periotl °f its occurrence the Scots pos¬
sessed the whole western coast, from the Clyde to Loch
Torridon, with the extensive kingdom of Argyle, which
stretched its arms from the Clyde on the south to Loch
Eir and Loch Maiee on the north, and reached from the sea
on the west to Drumalban2 on the east. These extensive
dominions were now united ; the name of Scotia, as marking
the whole kingdom, gained ground over that of Pictavia;
and from the tenth century (934), when the Saxon Chro¬
nicle first mentions Scotland as invaded by Athelstan, this
distinctive appellation for the kingdom of North Britain gra-
ually gained ground till it excluded every other.
It has been observed by Sir Walter Scott, “ that the de¬
scendants of Kenneth Macalpine pass us in gloomy and ob¬
scure pageantry, like those of Banquo in the theatreand
it might have been added, that the impression left upon
the mind by the perusal of their various reigns is as sha¬
dowy and unsubstantial. To fatigue and perplex the rea¬
der, by a detail of historical passages, which led to no great
results, is not the purpose of this sketch, but to mark the
features which prominently distinguish the period. Nor were
these either few or unimportant.
Invasions 1. The first event which demands our notice, is the com-
jj’tlie mencement of those invasions by the Danes, which for se-
anes• veral centuries continued to be the greatest scourge of Scot¬
land. It was under the reign of Constantine, the second
monarch in succession from Kenneth, that these fierce pi¬
rate leaders, known under the name of Vikinghr, or sea-
kings, first made their appearance in North Britain. Hav¬
ing established a settlement in Ireland, they soon became
acquainted with the commodious havens of the Scottish
A.D. 866. coasts ; and after a partial visit in 866, a more formidable
Anlaf and armament sailed from Dublin, under Anlaf and Ivar, in
870. During this invasion, they took Alcluyd, or Dunbar¬
ton, ravaged the whole extent of North Britain, and re¬
turned glutted with slaughter and booty to Ireland. These
sea-wolves having once tasted blood, were not slow to re¬
turn. Thrice under the same reign were their vessels seen
on the coasts of the devoted country, in 871, 875, and 876 ;
and at last, in 881, the Scottish monarch met his death on
the banks of the Forth, in an ineffectual attempt to defend
his people, and repel their ravages. Reappearing under
I'deaten the reign of Donald, who succeeded to the throne in 893,
^Donald, they were defeated on the banks of the Tay, in the vici¬
nity of Scone, and again, in 904, repulsed by the same
prince, who lost his life, after he had slain their leader.
This, however, did not prevent their return in 907, and af¬
terwards, in 918, under the reign of Constantine the Third,
who, with the assistance of the northern Saxons, encoun-
L A N D. ggc)
tered and repulsed them at I inmore; a check which appears Scotland,
for a considerable period to have given repose to the king-
In 961, under the reign of Indalf, who had succeeded to The Danes
the throne in 953, the Vikinghr made a descent in the bay repeatedly
of Cullen, in Banffshire; and this monarch with difficulty >nva(Ie
defeated them in a desperate action, in which he lost his Scotland-
life. In 970, Kenneth the Third, who is represented as aA.D. 970.
monarch of extraordinary vigour and ambition, succeeded
to the throne, and under his reign the Danes reappeared
with a numerous fleet in the Tay ; but after a sanguinary
struggle, in which they at first succeeded, were ultimately Kenneth
defeated by the bravery of the Scots, commanded by Ken- the Third
neth in person. This contest, which appears to have been defeats
attended with an enormous loss on both sides, took place at E.hem at
Luncarty, where many tumuli still remain, to mark the field Luncai ty’
of battle.3
After this the country enjoyed a quiet of nine years ; but Danes de¬
in 1003, the Norsemen, who had now for some time perma-fitted at
nently settled themselves in Orkney, again made theirMortlach
appearance in great strength upon the coast of Moray. They b.vI'v^al<'olrj1
seized and fortified the promontory known by the name oI'a^dTuTo
the Burgh-head of Moray, where they found a commodious
harbour, and from which, in 1010, they led an army to plun¬
der that fertile region. But they were met and defeated
with great slaughter by Malcolm the Second, in the battle
of Mortlach, where the king, in gratitude for his victory,
endowed a religious house, which became the seat of the
earliest Scottish bishopric.
These repeated repulses checked and disheartened the Treaty be-
pirate kings; but they disdained to relinquish the contest.'ween Mal-
Their last efforts appear to have been made on the coast of^olrn a,ld
Angus and Buchan, where they were repulsed in succes- a dToU
sive conflicts, fought at Aberlemno, Panbride, and Slaines j,'ir)ai de-
Castle. At length a convention, or pacific treaty, was en- parture of
tered into between Malcolm, and Sweno, king of Denmark, the Danes,
in the year 1014, which was followed by the evacuation
of the Burgh-head of Moray, and the final departure of
the Danes. Thus, after a severe struggle, which at various
intervals, and with various success, appears to have con¬
tinued for nearly a century and a half, (866 to 1014),
the energy of the Scots ultimately triumphed over the ef¬
forts of the Norsemen ; and while the Danish rovers esta¬
blished themselves in some of the finest countries in Eu¬
rope, and in England alternately fixed themselves as perma¬
nent settlers, or extorted an odious tribute as the price of
their absence, Sweno, though one of their most powerful
princes, found himself at last compelled to desist from the
contest.
2. The second event of importance which marked this pe- Acquisi-
riod, was the enlargement of the Scottish provinces of Mai-1‘011 of
colm the First, by the pacific acquisition of Cumberland j
from Edmund the Saxon king of England. Against this j^ajcolin
young prince, the Danes, who had established themselves ti,e p'Jrbf<
in the northern part of his dominions, declared war, and
calling the Norwegians to their assistance, threatened to
subdue the whole country. Edmund opposed them with
great courage and success, reduced Northumberland, then
a Danish province, and next turned his arms against Cum¬
bria, or Cumberland. After wasting this little country, then
inhabited by the Britons, under their king or chief leader,
Dunmail, the English prince, aware perhaps of the diffi¬
culty of retaining his new acquisition, delivered it up to
Malcolm the First, under the condition that he would be¬
come his associate (medwertha) in war, or, as the terms are
explained by Matthew of Westminster, “ that he would de-
1 Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. i. p- 333.
2 Drumalban, the ridge of mountains which separates the rivers running into the sea on the west coast of Inverness-shire and Aigvu
from those which run into the sea of Norway. Macpherson’s Geographical Illustrations.
3 Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol.i. p.394, 395. .
700
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
Kenneth
III.
A.D. 970
Conquest
of Strath-
clyd.
Acquisi¬
tion of Lo
thian by
Malcolm
II.
A.D.1018.
fend the northern parts of England from the invasions of
his enemies, whether they came by sea or by land.”1 It is to
be remembered, that this transaction was entered into be¬
tween two independent princes, the one of Saxon, the other
of Celtic race, more than a century before the feudal usages
or tenures were introduced into England by the Normans ;
an observation which might have been deemed unneces¬
sary, had not some ingenious Writers affected to detect in
the stipulations of Malcolm the acknowledgment of feudal
dependence. In this manner did Cumbria, in the middle
of the tenth century, become a portion of the Scottish do¬
minions.2
3. This treaty was followed by the reigns of Indulf, Duf,
and Culen, a dark and sanguinary period, occupied by do¬
mestic war and civil commotion; but under Kenneth the
Third, who came to the throne in 970, occurred another
event of no little moment in the history of the country. This
was the conquest of the ancient British kingdom of Strath-
cluyd by the arms of that monarch. We have seen this in¬
dependent state arise, in the middle of the fifth century,
from a union of the Romanized British tribes, who, on the
desertion of the island by the Romans, were drawn together
by the ties of common danger and mutual defence. From
this time, (446), they had, under various reverses and mul¬
tiplied attacks, enjoyed a precarious independence for up¬
wards of five centuries; nor did they permit themselves to
be incorporated in the Scottish monarchy without a deter¬
mined struggle. The arms and the energy of Kenneth,
however, were successful; and one of those gleams of ro¬
mantic light, which sometimes soften the gloomy annals of
these ages, fell on the ruins of Strathcluyd. Dunwallon,
the last of its kings, after exhibiting the utmost courage
and resolution in defence of his people, assumed the reli¬
gious habit, travelled to Rome, and died a monk.3
The last prominent feature which marks this period, was
the further enlargement of the Scottish dominions, by the
acquisition of Lothian, hitherto a part of England. It took
■ place in 1016, under the reign of Malcolm the Second, the
son of Kenneth the Third, to whose conquest of Strath¬
cluyd we have just alluded. It was this same Malcolm whose
courage we have seen victorious over the Danes at Mort-
lach, and to whose convention with Sweno Scotland owed
its freedom from the ravages of the pirate kings. In the
.beginning of the eleventh century, (1018), this warlike
prince engaged in hostilities with Ughtred, earl of Nor¬
thumberland. Their forces met at Carham, near Werk, on
the southern bank of the Tweed, and a sanguinary battle
was fought, which effectually checked the Scottish prince.
Ughtred, however, having been assassinated, was succeeded
by his brother Eadulph, a feebler ruler, who, from a dread
of a second invasion, was induced to purchase the friendship
of Malcolm, by the cession of the whole of Lothian.4
Such are the great features which distinguish the early
history of Scotland, from the middle of the ninth to the com¬
mencement of the eleventh century, (843 to 1018), and
upon which it is both wiser and easier to fix the mind than
to crowd and burden it with lists of barbarous and forgot¬
ten kings. We see a people, still rude, ignorant, and, ex¬
cept for the sweetening influences of Christianity, little re¬
moved from savage life ; but we find them able not only to
vindicate their freedom against those incessant and cruel
invasions, which broke, and for a time subdued the neigh¬
bouring country of England, but animated by an ambition
which, under successive princes, largely extended their do¬
minions, by the successive acquisitions of Cumberland,
Strathcluyd, and Lothian. Nor is the remaining portion of
the Scottish period, from 1018 to 1097, unmarked by some Scot kd.
great events. In 1031, under the reign of Malcolm the Se-
cond, Canute, the Danish king of England, invaded Scot- A.D.J31.
land. This prince, the most powerful monarch of his time,
as he possessed not only England, but Denmark and Nor¬
way, led an army against Malcolm. The cause of the war Malcci
is involved in much obscurity. It was however connected U*
with some claim or dispute regarding Cumberland, and it
terminated in Malcolm retaining the possession of that pro¬
vince, and performing the conditions upon which it had been
transferred to him.5
In the historical romance of Boyce, and the classical pages
of Buchanan, Malcolm the Second figures as the first and
one of the greatest of Scottish legislators. It was referred for
the learning and acuteness of Lord Hailes to detect his
apocryphal laws as the forgery of a much later age.
Malcolm the Second, whose severe and vigorous reign
had been marked by many sanguinary domestic feuds, not
necessary to be detailed, was succeeded in 1033 by his
grandson Duncan, the “ gracious Duncan” of Shakspeare,
whose imperishable drama is founded upon a fictitious nar¬
rative, which Holinshed copied from Boyce. Let us for a
moment, in a spirit rather of homage than of criticism, dis¬
entangle the dross of fact from the ore of fiction. Lady
Macbeth was the Lady Gruoch, and had regal blood in her
veins. She was the grand-daughter of Kenneth the Fourth.
Ller husband, Macbeth, was the son of Finlegh Maormor, or
the supreme ruler of Ross. The real wrongs of the Lady
Gruoch, the root of her implacable revenge, were even
more deep than those of her mighty counterpart. She had
seen her grandfather Kenneth dethroned by Malcolm, her
brother assassinated, and her husband burned, griefs amply
sufficient to turn her milk to gall. Macbeth, on the other
hand, had wept a father slain also by Malcolm; and thus
revenge and ambition were equally roused in both their bo¬
soms. The purpose which had been arrested by the superior
vigour and courage of Malcolm, was executed on his more
feeble grandson. Duncan, in 1039, was assassinated at
Bothgowanan, near Elgin ;6 and Macbeth seized the san¬
guinary sceptre, which he held with a vigorous- grasp for
fifteen years, until he was defeated and slain by Macduff, in
1054.
On his death, a contest for the throne arose between
Lulach, the son of the Lady Gruoch, and great-grandson of
Kenneth the Fourth, and Malcolm Ceanmore, great-grand-
of Malcolm the Second ; and this struggle terminated in son
1057, by the defeat of Lulach, and the accession of his ri¬
val, Malcolm, who was contemporary with Edward the Con¬
fessor.
The accession of Malcolm Ceanmore to the Scottish throne Malcoltf :
was soon afterwards followed by an event, which, although III.
taking place in the sister country, produced the most important
effects upon the history of Scotland. This was the invasion
and conquest of England by the Normans, and the establish¬
ment of an entirely new dynasty in that country. The first
consequence of this change was favourable to Malcolm, as Malcolr
it led to his marriage with a Saxon princess, whose charac- marries
ter had a marked and favourable influence upon the ruder Margan
manners of her husband and his people. This lady was 51,stel °‘
Margaret, who was the sister of Edgar fiStheling. It is import-
ant to trace her lineage. Canute, the Danish king of Eng¬
land, had banished Edwin and Edward, the children of Ed¬
mund Ironside, the last of the pure Saxon dynasty, for Ed¬
ward the Confessor was half a Norman. They found a re¬
treat in Hungary, where Edwin died; but from this coun¬
try Edward, in 1057, was recalled by Edward the Confes-
1 Matthew of Westminster, p. 367. Brady’s Compleat History of England, p. 120. 2 Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. i. p. 389.
3 Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. i. p. 389, 393. 4 Ibid. vol. i. p. 402. Simeon of Durham, apud Twysden, vol. i. p. 81.
5 Ibid. vol. i. p. 402. 6 Ibid. vol. i. p. 405.
Scotland, sor.
Tins prince had three children, a son, Edgar, com¬
monly called Edgar ^theling, the heir of the Saxon line
and two daughters, Margaret and Christian. On the con¬
quest of England, the nobles of Northumberland, who were
principally of Danish origin, led by two chiefs, named Maer-
leswegen and Gospatric, becoming disgusted at the Norman
tyranny, fled to the court of Malcolm, taking with them Ed¬
gar and his two sisters. Edgar was weak, almost to imbe¬
cility ; and in the event of his dying, or being found inca¬
pable of filling the throne, his claims as heir of the Saxon
line descended to his sister. She was beautiful, accom¬
plished, and pious ; and a union which perhaps, at a dis¬
tance, had been suggested to Malcolm by ambition, on a
nearer view was perfected by love.
Invasion of The marriage of the Scottish monarch was soon followed
England, by an invasion of England, in which Malcolm mercilessly
ravaged the bishopric of Durham. The manner in which
this predatory inroad was conducted marks the ferocity of
the times. Malcolm and his subjects were Christians; yet
even the churches were destroyed and burnt, while the un-
happy persons who had fled to them for sanctuary were mas¬
sacred, or consumed in the flames. During the occurrence
of these savage scenes ift England, Gospatric, one of the
most powerful of the Northumbrian barons, whose assistance
William the Conqueror had secured, swept through Mal¬
colm’s territory of Cumberland, and laid waste the country
in a miserable manner, upon which the Scottish prince re¬
turned home, leading captive, says an English historian, such
a multitude of young men and maidens, “ that for many
years they were to be found in every Scottish village, nay,
even in every Scottish hovel.”1
There seems to be little doubt that this expedition of Mal¬
colm was intimately connected with the determined stand
made against William the Conqueror by the Northumbrian
earls who had carried Edgar dStheling into Scotland. Combin-
A.D.1069. jng in ] 069 with their brethren, the Danes, who brought a
powerful fleet to their assistance, they advanced as far as
York, where they put the Norman garrison to the sword;
and here it is probable they expected to be joined by Mal¬
colm, but being disappointed in their hope, they made peace
with W illiam, who had the address to dissolve the confede¬
racy. Malcolm alone continued faithful to the cause of the
Saxon prince ; and, though deserted by his confederates, yet
by invading England fulfilled his agreement.
This inroad led to a dreadful retaliation on the part of
William. “ To punish the revolt,” we use the words of Lord
Hailes, “ and to oppose a wilderness to the invasions of the
Danes, he laid entirely waste the fertile country which lies
between the Humber and the Tees.” “ At this time,” says
William of Malmesbury, “ there were destroyed such splen¬
did towns, such lofty castles, such beautiful pastures, that
had a stranger viewed the scene he might have been moved
to compassion, and had one inhabitant been left alive, he
would not have recollected the country.” Of this fine dis¬
trict the inhabitants seem to have been almost wholly exter¬
minated. Many who escaped the sword died of famine,
many sold themselves for slaves, while those of higher qua¬
lity, Norman as well as Saxon, sought an asylum in Scot¬
land, and found at the court of Malcolm a favourable re-
. ception.
William having secured peace at home, prepared an ar-
I072.an lnmanmnt against Scotland, and in 1072 he invaded that coun¬
try, both by sea and by land. Malcolm wisely met superior
power by an offer of submission. He sought and obtained
peace, gave hostages, and performed homage. So far all
is certain; but a question arises, for what was this homage
performed ? The answer may be given in the words of one
SCOTLAND.
:oi
William
the Con-
fjueror re-
of the most able inquirers upon the subject: “ According to Scotland.
e general and most probable opinion, this homage was
done by Malcolm for the lands which he held in England.”2
e have already met with Gospatric, the powerful Nor- Gospatric
thumbnail earl who fled from the Conqueror to the court settles in
ot Malcolm, bringing with him the heir of the Saxon line, Scotland,
with his sisters. Proving treacherous to Malcolm, Gos¬
patric obtained from William the government of Northum-
berland; but on his return from his successful expedition
against Malcolm, the Norman conqueror, from jealousy or
disgust, degraded his Northumbrian ally, who once more
fled to the Scottish king. Malcolm, on his part, not only
forgave him, but presented him with the lands and castle
of Dunbar, and the castle of Cockburnspath. He who
eld these estates, lying on the borders between the two
countries, might be said to have the keys of Scotland
at his girdle; and the circumstance is worthy of remem¬
brance, not only as marking the origin of a potent fami¬
ly, destined to act a leading part in the future history of
the country, but as indicating the policy of Malcolm, who,
conscious of the inferiority of his own Celtic race, manifest¬
ed a wise anxiety to prevail on strangers, whether Nor¬
mans, Danes, or Saxons, to settle in his dominions.
The remaining portion of the reign of this energetic A.D.
prince (1079-1093), is chiefly distinguished by a struggle 1079-1093.
with William Rufus, who, upon the death of the’ Conqueror, William
had succeeded to the English throne. This prince appears R11!118,
to have withheld from Malcolm part of the English posses¬
sions to which he claimed a right; and with the view of
compelling a surrender of them, the Scottish king invaded
England, and penetrated as far as Chester, on the Were.
Rufus led against him a superior force; and Malcolm, aware
of his approach, prudently declined a contest, and by a time¬
ly retreat, secured his plunder and his captives.
d his appears to have taken place in May 1091; and in Rufus in-
the autumn of the same year, the Norman prince, having vades Scot-
equipped a fleet, and levied a numerous land force, led his11an<1,
army in person against Scotland. He continued his march 1<J91'
to the shores of the Forth ; but here his progress was stayed,
in consequence of his receiving intelligence thathis fleethad
been destroyed by a tempest. There were no vessels to trans¬
port his troops across the Forth. The Scots, with a policy which
they early learned, and repeatedly practised, had driven away
their cattle, and cleared the country of its provisions ; and at
this crisis, when his soldiers were perishing from famine, Mal¬
colm led his army against the English, crossed the Forth,
and advanced into Lothian; a territory originally, as we have
seen, acquired from the Angles, and therefore esteemed a
part of England, although now subject to the Scottish king.
Here having chosen a strong position, he encamped, and
avoiding a battle, harassed the enemy, proposing to cut off
his supplies, and expel him by famine. While both parties
were thus situated, Edgar TEtheling, now with Rufus, and Ro¬
bert, the king’s brother, exerted themselves to conciliate
a peace. The English monarch, notwithstanding his fiery
temper, knew how to bend his fury to his interest; and
Malcolm, perceiving that he could obtain his purpose by
treaty, wisely preferred this to the risk of a battle. It is Peace be-
important to mark the conditions of the agreement. Wil- tween Mal-
liam Rufus, we find, consented to restore to Malcolm twelve
manors, wdiich the Scottish prince had held under the Con¬
queror, and to make an annual payment to him of twelve
marks of gold.3 Malcolm, on his part, consented to do
homage to William, and to hold his lands under the same
tenure of feudal service and obedience to him, as he had
formerly paid to his tather the Conqueror.
Here pausing for a moment upon a subject which has
1 Simeon of Durham, 201. Translated by Lord Hailes, vol. i. p. 1.
3 Simeon Dunelm., apud Twysden, vol. i. p. 216.
a Hailes’s Annals, vol. i. p. 13.
i.
702
Scotland.
Question
of homage.
SCOTLAND.
New dis¬
putes be¬
tween
Malcolm
and Rufus,
A.D. 1092.
Death of
Malcolm,
A.D. 1093.
given rise to some discordant opinions, and which, now
that the bitterness of national rivalry is at an end, may, we
trust, be calmly considered, we would remark that, taking
the testimony of English historians as our guide, all as yet
seems clear, as to the much debated subject of homage.
Simeon of Durham expressly declares that Malcolm agreed
to obey William Rufus on the same conditions as those on
which he had obeyed William the Conqueror. Under the Con¬
queror it is certain that Malcolm held twelve manors in Eng¬
land. These Rufus had seized; but he now restored them,
and Malcolm renewed his obligation of homage. On a former
occasion when, as we have seen, the Scottish king, in 1072,
paid his homage to the Conqueror in person, the ground
upon which he paid it is equally clear. Previously to the
battle of Hastings, the Scottish monarchs had obtained
from the Saxon kings some possessions in England. This
was before the introduction of the strict feudal tenures,
which came in with the Normans; but there is no doubt
that these possessions were held under the condition of aid¬
ing the Saxon princes in repelling the incursions of the
Danes.1 When William the Conqueror established him¬
self in England, Malcolm, as we have seen, considered him
as a usurper of the rights of his brother-in-law, Edgar JEthe-
ling ; and, on this ground, as well as perhaps from an indis¬
position to embrace a system which must have been new to
him, he had at first refused to pay his homage for the lands
he held in England. Circumstances, however, made him
change this resolution. Theprevailing power of William, the
acquiescence of the English under his government, and the
inactivity and imbecility of Edgar JEtheling, his brother-in-
law, induced him to desist from a conflict in which he ceased
to have an interest. A more intimate acquaintance with
the feudal tenures introduced into England taught him that,
in the acknowledgment of superiority for the lands which he
held in that country, there was no sacrifice of dignity as an
independent monarch, and as all idea of restoring Edgar
was abandoned, he paid his homage to the conqueror.2
The point of homage seemed thus prudently settled ; but
the proud and fiery temper, which appears to have been an
infirmity of both princes, soon led to a new contest between
Malcolm and Rufus. A jealousy of the incursions of the
Scots had formerly led the Conqueror to build two strong
castles, the one at Durham, the other at Newcastle. To
these his successor now added a third at Carlisle ; a barrier
which, however necessary, might possibly be considered as
encroaching on the freedom of the lands which Malcolm
held in Cumberland. A dispute arose, and a personal in¬
terview between the two kings having been considered the
best mode of settling their differences, Malcolm repaired to
Gloucester, where Rufus met him and proposed that he
should do homage in presence of his English barons. This
the Scottish monarch refused; although he was ready, he
said, to perform his homage on the frontiers of both king¬
doms, as had been the ancient usage. The reply was angrily
received, and the two kings having parted with expressions
of defiance, Malcolm assembled an army, and advancing
with a speed whetted by the indignity with which he had
been treated, burst into Northumberland, which he wasted
with fire and sword. Sweeping onwards to Alnwick, he
was about to possess himself of the castle, when the Scot¬
tish army was attacked by Robert de Mowbray. In the
battle which ensued Malcolm was slain, and Edward, his
eldest son, shared the fate of his father.
We have already observed that the mild and gentle dispo¬
sition of his queen, St. Margaret, had an admirable influ- Scot! d.
ence over the fierce and impetuous character of this prince.
Of her life we have an interesting account from the pen of
Turgot her confessor; and we cannot resist borrowing a few
touches from this early specimen of biography. When
the king set out on his last expedition against England,
Margaret was suffering from a fatal and lingering complaint. Dead f
She only lived to hear of the death of her husband and her St-
son. Her last moments are thus described by that faith- Saret- i
ful minister, who related what he saw: “During a short
interval of ease, the queen devoutly received the communion.
Soon after, her anguish of body returned with redoubled
violence ; she stretched herself upon her couch and calmly
waited for the moment of her dissolution; cold, and in the
agonies of death, she ceased not to put up her supplications
to heaven. These were some of her words: ‘ Have mercy
upon me, O God; according to the multitude of thy tender
mercies blot out mine iniquities ; make me to hear joy and
gladness, that so the bones which thou hast broken may re¬
joice.’ At that moment,” continues Turgot, “ her son, Ed¬
gar, returning from the army, approached her couch. ‘ How
fares it,’said she, ‘with the king and my Edward?’ The youth
stood silent. ‘ I know all; I know all. By this holy cross,
by your filial affection, I adjure you to tell me the truth.’
He answered, ‘ your husband and your son are both slain.’
Lifting up her eyes and her hands to heaven she then said,
‘ Praise and blessing be to thee, Almighty God, that thou
hast been pleased to make me endure so bitter anguish in
the hour of my departure, thereby, as I trust, to purify me
in some measure, from the corruption of my sins; and thou,
Lord Jesus Christ, who, through the will of the Father, hast
enlivened the world by thy death, oh deliver me.’ While
pronouncing the words ‘ deliver me,’ she expired.’3
“ In reviewing the reign of Malcolm the Third,” says Lord Chara t
Hailes, “ we may discern a character of steady persevering I
courage. From his early youth to his last invasion of Eng- ' ]
land, his conduct was uniform. He maintained his throne
with the same spirit by which he won it. Though he was
the ruler of a nation uncivilised, and destitute of foreign
resources, and had such antagonists as the Conqueror and
William Rufus to encounter, yet, for twenty-seven years,
he supported this unequal contest, sometimes with success,
never without honour. That he should have so well assert¬
ed the independency of Scotland is astonishing, when the
weakness of his own kingdom, and the strength and abili¬
ties of his enemies are fairly estimated.”4
Malcolm’s eldest son had fallen, as we have seen, with his Donal
father. His remaining sons, Ethelred, Edmund, Edgar,
Alexander, and David, were all under age ; and his brother A D
Donald, who, on the usurpation of the throne by Macbeth,
had taken refuge in the Hebrides, appears to have remain¬
ed in that distant retreat during the whole reign of the late
king. These islands were then independent of the Scot¬
tish crown. They were inhabited by a warlike race, whose
chiefs yielded to the Norwegian king a fluctuating subjec¬
tion ; and many of these leaders having joined him, Donald,
with a powerful fleet, invaded Scotland and seized the
crown ; but it was for a very brief season. Duncan, a son
of Malcolm, but illegitimate as is generally believed, had, in
1072, been delivered to William Rufus as a hostage for his
father’s fidelity. He had received his education at the
Norman court, and having been knighted by the Eng¬
lish monarch, was retained in his service. With permission
of William, he now invaded Scotland, and assisted by a band
2 hf1!hi^ac'count 'ohe^ expedition of William Rufus into Scotland, and in the remarks on the disputed point of the homage, we have
been induced to treat the subject a little more in detail, availing ourselves ot some manuscript notes 0 ^ ^ ate avl , AjCP ’ • i fe(i
of great research and judgment. This seemed the more necessary, as the subject of Rufus s invasion o co an , an a co » s p
homage, has been considered by high authority as one involved in extreme obscurity. , , , rp,,,--. ap
3 Hailes’s Annals, vol. i. pp. 40, 41, 4to edit. We have availed ourselves of Lord Hades’s translation of the passage from Tu g
scribing the queen’s death. 4 Ibid. vol. i. pp. 25, 26, 4to edit.
SCOTLAND.
Duncan,
Donald.
Edgar.
Scotland, ofEnglish and J^oi-mAn ^cmurei-s expelled Donald Bane.' Piets, who died in n
He’m- hl,S t,urn’ f^r a reign of little more than a year, was ed Northumberland and ^ P/'!nCe’ a aPPears’ had invad- Scotland.
1"nran- assassinated, and Donald once more ascended the throne AtheS ,nT- c u ^ upon hls return was overtaken by
from which, in 1097, he was again expelled bv WiE fol ^
Rufus, who dispatched Edgar ^theling with a powerful army day ” says the hisW order batt^ against the nextthe Church.
into Scotland. By this prince the aged usurped was defeat^ spe^dLTmost ^ betook himself to prayer,^- 843-
and Edgar, the son of Malcolm and Margaret the nenhew time kJL,. i r 1 ^ nigbt in that exercise. A little 1097'
i W Edgar iEtheling’ aSCended tbethrone/ This eventtol Lat the anost? " Slumber’ il seeraed to him
A,D. 1097. place in the close of the eleventh century; and, with the him of the Sorv8 ^^ by him and assured
captivity and death of Donald Bane, who is the last of the did much encourage thenT10™? t0 the army’
race Scoto-Irish kings, the Scottish period expires. the ioinin^ of thp hnttl ti* ^be ^lstory a^eth that, in
And here, after having passed over a portion of our his- in the form of the Ett^ .appeared in the air a cross
tory which extends from the middle of the ninth to the as presently they glve b^k^b f the enemies
end of the eleventh century, let us pause to say a few words killed Himo-ns^tn '^•'belstan himself being
on the condition of the church, the state of the laws and gave to thPTb,’ r 1 TrS ^ thankful»ess for the victory,
the manners of the people. To every critical student of dfvers Lh k n°W caIIed St* Andrews,
this period one thing appears certain. Throughout its whole gold and of hi« 1Ces’ basons, the image of Christ in
extent, we find the predominant people a Celtic race The wi e a olo f K i ' Vf™ m silver‘ He gav^ bke-
laws were Celtic, the government Celtic, the usages and Andrew « ^ beaten,go]d for preserving the relics of St.
manners Celtic, the church Celtic, the language8 CeltL forn clttle anSwh t0SpiritUabty the tithe ad
“If,” says Chalmers, “ Malcolm Canmore, a Celtic prince* from’ answering hpfwplf the,reabn’ exempting them
who did not arrogate the character of a lawgiver had been annoint the nr ■ ? Ay jemPoral JudSe 5 farther, he did
disposed to effect a considerable change in this Celtic sys- nizance of tluTpi^ d? be the badge and cog‘
tem, he would have found his inclination limited by his im- which as lono- ^ f-k /i ^ a m tbe^ Wars and otherwise,
potence. The Scottish kings, during those times,Teem “t by tt LtTfs^taST St0°d’ WaS ““ “d “
to have possessed legislative power. Whenever thev acted Thicevfrort ^ i . ‘ ,
as legislators, they appear have had some eoadiutorst the earliest tradWonTsf^natlTirbtmo
a 1 xT. 1- 7:'’r J aie io unaer-
n Chief C1V1 ruler of a districtJ or some bishops.”
We shall see, when we pursue our inquiry into a later period,
that the children and grandchildren of this Celtic monarch
wnon f lla-tT f 1 , „
r.,. rr  ; : J 6 upimuii or me auttien-
tidty °f king Hungus s devotion. The following list of the
ocottish bishoprics, according to the date of their founda-
wSn^^317=e;e; mlS^^ ^^1°“ '' “ “
“smTe«Tons0.1’POSed “ Gall4W‘y “d 'n by “^approximation to the truth, itZ be af”
T ’ • ^ • tamed fiom authentic sources, than as fixing the exact years
or the prpc-inn J
insurrections. ro.„ ^ +
e. . £ T , • „ . , tamed trom aut,
State of Looking now first to that most important and interesting of the erection.
eChurch. point, the state of the church, we have already seen that, at
the commencement of the Pictish period in 446, Christiani¬
ty had been introduced into North Britain. Of the exact
constitution, discipline, and orders in the early Scottish
church, from the conversion of the Scots to the commence¬
ment of the Scoto-Pictish period (843), much has been writ¬
ten; and it is well known that the advocates of episcopacy
and the supporters of presbyterianism have each endeavour¬
ed to deduce, from an examination of these remote ages,
irrefragable arguments for their peculiar opinions. Into this
A.U.
1. See of the Isles  447
2. See of Galloway  450
3. See of Glasgow  560
4. See ofDunkeld  729
5. See of St. Andrews.. 892
6. Mortlach, afterwards
Aberdeen 1010
A.D.
7. See of Ross 128
8. See of Brechin 1150
9- See of Caithness.... 1150
10. See of Dunblane....! 160
11. See of Moray 1162
12. See of Argyle 1200
discussion i, nm ,oWeTT only&b^K Esl'T gt ”,'°bs™’nth*
mth general results, and clare not embark in controversy; keld, St. Andrews, and Mortlac^X
but we may be permitted to observe, from the authentic belong to the period of which w^ now treat from 843 ^
monuments which still remmn in our own times, and it seems 1097; although the remaining sees are added to afford to
aneip111 f° ^ c0nclusi0n>that the primitive and most the reader some idea of their comparative antiquity “ The
ancient form of church government in Scotland was episco- united kingdom of thePicts andScots ’’savsChlwrc «1
the Sent ^ ^ ^ ^ RcL and formed unller the le^tn Te
into I tk- HC t t" b!i,hoPric Lindisferne extending far times nor the circumstances of this formation can be clearly
MSP Tn*"' KIn ‘l:,self’tbe reli8ious houses of Mel- ascertained amid the gloom which hangs over theScotican
, Jh» I'"8 'I’Jy,mn.ShT’fferham> an(l Abercorn, church during the Scottish period. We mL easily sun-
been long established. In Galloway, the bishopric of pose that those ecclesiastical districts were gradually esta-
fallen In™’ TT T” lave seen fountled St. Ninian, had Wished subsequent to the great epoch of 843. They were
LookinTbevond tewZTTTX f‘I'T"™'1' “"‘“T Pretty 86«'6d ^ ^ Scottish period tC^
. ° d , hriths, we find that, at the same period, they were inconveniently large. They were established hv
l™nte„t' S h7Ten ie,“Td WSCi?leS0fC0- Private P”80118’ rath6r 'ha" by pobilTamSy bBhu that
ouTtTtetltl hL T 8.7e7na ceTMaCalf!,n’r’;i' pari8h6S exi8ted durin« 1116 r6iS" of Malcolm Canmore, is
Scots reir,nL l,L T the.rellc8 0£thlf aP“stl1e of t ie certain from unquestionable records. Thus, in the charter
1,18 rellcs ,rom '“"a to Dunkeld where he of David the First to the monasterv of Dunfermline, this
fsiqf hiitcn ^o16!1 became not only the seat of a bishop, monarch uses these words: Preterea pater mens (his
primLoftlpSnTlT a T St-^ndrews> *0 seat of the father was Malcolm the Third,) et mater mea dederunt
mini ii e Scottish church. I here is an ancient legend ecclesiae Sanctae Trinitatis/iaroc/ijam totam de Fotheriff2
Ek f bVott‘swood {wm the register of St. Andrews, It seems equally certain,” he continues, “ that when churches
of foimdin^ir"11 18 5® be attached to it, gives the honour were erected, parishes laid out, and parochial duties stated-
g the see of St. Andrews to Hungus king of the ly performed, ecclesiastical dues must have been incident-
1 Spottiswood’s History of the Church of Scotland, p. 23.
Chalmers’s Caledonia, vol. i. p. 432.
704
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
Tithes.
Ecclesias¬
tical coun¬
cils.
The Cul-
dees.
Laws, man
ners, and
language.
Tanistry.
ally paid. In the charters of Alexander the First, and of
David, tithes are mentioned as if they were familiarly
known, and had been long established. It is clear that
tithes were paid to the clergy during the reign of Malcolm
Canmore, and probable that such ecclesiastical dues were
payable as early as the commencement of the tenth century
FqiO') when Constantine the king, and Kellach the bishop,
solemnly vowed to observe the faith, discipline, and rights
of the churches.”1 During the reign of Malcolm Can-
more, according to the high authority of Innes, several na¬
tional councils were held in Scotland for the establishment
of ecclesiastical discipline, and the reformation of the rude
and fierce manners of the people. Some extracts from the
canons passed in these councils are inserted by Lurgot, the
confessor of Malcolm’s pious consort St. Margaret, in the
interesting life which he has given us of this princess.a
Durino- this obscure period, we meet with frequent men¬
tion of an order of religious men named Culdees, who first
appear in the beginning of the ninth century. They seem
to have been a kind of secular presbyters or monks, the
Gaelic term Culdee meaning a recluse or hermit. With
the exception of the form of the tonsure and the rule of
Observing Easter, they professed the same rites and cere¬
monies as the rest of the church. It has been erroneously
pretended that the Culdees rejected bishops, bo far was this
from being the case, that we have repeated instances ot the
colleges of these Celtic monks having been instituted and
ordained by the bishops themselves, while they, wherever
they had a college about the see, possessed a vote in the
election of the bishop.4 Of this distinct order, we hnd that
there existed in North Britain, during the Scottish period,
religious houses at Abernethy, Dunkeld, St. Andrews, Dun¬
blane, Brechin, Mortlach, Aberdeen, Monymusk, Lochle-
ven, Portmoak, Dunfermline, Scone, and Kirkcaldy.’
It remains to say a few words on the laws, manners, and
language of the Scottish period. To affect to speak with
certainty Upon the laws which regulated the government,
restrained the crimes, or directed the succession of a fierce
and barbarous people who have left no written muniments,
would betray presumption and ignorance. As far as can be
Coniectilfed, we find the crown neither strictly hereditary
nor strictly elective, but directed in its descent by what has
been termed the law of Tanistry; an institution by which the
person in the family of the reigning prince who was judged
best qualified, whether son, brother, or even more remote
relative, was chosen under the name of Tamst, to lead the
army during the life of the king, and to succeed to him after
his death. Chalmers has asserted, that, at this era, the te¬
nure of land throughout the country determined with the
life of the possessor; an opinion requiring some modifica¬
tion as it indicates a state ot barbarism even greater than
is discovered by the few glimpses of light which sometimes
shoot athwart this twilight of our history. By a custom
which the Scots evidently brought with them from Ireland,
denominated in Irish gabhail-cine, meaning literally fa¬
mily settlement, it appears, that the fathers of families di¬
vided their lands among their sons, sometimes in equal,
sometimes in unequal portions, and strictly excluded females
from any share in this appropriation. As to their legisla¬
tive code, there seems to be little doubt that the nearest
approach we can make to the laws or usages of Celtic Scot- Scot id.
land, must be by the study of such fragments as remain to
us of the brehon laws of Ireland. “ This brehon law,” says Luws.j
Cox, “ was no written law, it was only the will of the bre¬
hon or lord; and it is observable that their brehons or judges,
like their physicians, bards, harpers, poets, and historians, had
their offices by descent and inheritance. These hereditary
judges or doctors,” continues he, “ were but very sad tools.
The brehon, when he administered justice, used to sit on a
turf or heap of stones, or on the top of a hillock, without a
covering, without clerks, or indeed any formality of a court
of judicature.” This state of law, observes the author of Ca¬
ledonia, may be traced among the Scoto-Irish in Scotland
till recent times. Every baron had his mote-hill, whence
justice was distributed to his vassals by his baron bailie.6
There seems to be little doubt that Malcolm, from his mar¬
riage with a Saxon princess, and his frequent intercourse
with the Saxon and Norman people, was an admirer of their
superior civilization, and anxious to introduce their usages
among his own ruder subjects. But that he succeeded to
any material degree is extremely problematical; and the no¬
tion that he introduced the complicated system of the feudal
law into Scotland, has been long ago exploded.
In a rapid sketch of this nature, little room can be given Mam s of
to any detailed description of the manners of the people the pi ole.
during the Scottish period. The natural state of the Celtic
tribes in Scotland was similar to that which we find existing
among them in Ireland, namely, a state of constant war; and
to those who consider how slow is the progress of improve¬
ment, and how strong the principle of imitation and tradi¬
tion among a savage people, it will be no subject of won¬
der that we find little change produced by the lapse of cen¬
turies upon the manners of the ancient British, whether we
look to Wales, Ireland, or North Britain. Their marriages,
their mode of burial, their dress, their war cries, were simi¬
lar. Armorial bearings, during this whole period, were un¬
known ; seals, and coined money they had none; and it has
been remarked by Chalmers, that the Gaelic people of Scot¬
land borrowed their very terms for the several denomina¬
tions of money from the Scoto-Saxon inhabitants. Thus,
the Gaelic feorling, farthing, is from the Saxon fe or things
the Gaelic peighin, a penny, is from the Saxon penig.
In those rude ages of which we now write* stones oi me- jnau^ d
morial were frequently employed, and many of them still stone
remain; yet as they are found without inscriptions, and only
occasionally ornamented by rude hieroglyphics, the memory
of the events which they describe has perished, and the ne d
is left open to antiquarian conjecture. Inaugural stones also
were used by them, upon which not only the Irish and Scot¬
tish kings were placed on their accession to the crown; but the
chiefs of septs or petty reguli, vvere accustomed on the same
to take the oaths to their vassals, when they succeeded to
the power of the former chief. To the same class of in¬
augural stones belongs, as is well known, the famous coro¬
nation stone of Scotland. 1 radition reports this smgu ar
relic to have been brought from Ireland by Kenneth; it was
undoubtedly carried off from Scone by Edward the hirst,
who inserted it into a chair, which he placed before the shrine
of Edward the Confessor in Westminster Abbey. It is al¬
most impossible to speak with any precision ot t le state
‘ Innes, p. 785. Chronicle. Codex Colbertinus. See also Innes, 603. of thlTscottfsh church, from allud-
* And here having spoken of St. Margaret, we c^nnotrefrarnin thesebrief lovc of Malcolm for St. Margaret, and
ing to a beautiful picture preserved by this same worthy Bishop rurf^’ ™ * rpmiipr nf her CeUic husband. “ Malcolm,” says he, (we use
the influence which the mild piety of the Saxon princess acquired over the fiery temper 01 her . . h adrn0nitions. Whatever she
Lord Hailes’s translation), “ respected the religion of his spouse, her favourite volumes,
loved or disliked, so did he. Although he could not rea , le ie<ll‘e ? • f ^ devotion. She instructed him to pass the
in:* Xo*;rr diS„«i <* ^ > -. *»,»-
ligious, and such signs of deep compunction in a layman. dalles, vo . i. p. • s QiajmerS) voi i. p. 434
♦ Goodal s Introduction to the History and Antiquities of Scotland, p. 117.
6 Caledonia, vol. i. p. 308.
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, of society in this remote period, yet a few incidental gleams
I'ght are reflected from the lives of the early saints.
Manners. Thus, in Adomnan’s life of Columba, which was written
only eighty years after the saint’s death, we find fre¬
quent mention of houses of wattle, similar probably to those
which the Constable Richard de Moreville, in a charter of
the twelfth century, denominates claice niscatce.1 Even the
abbey of Iona was built of the same rude materials. The
clothing of the monks seems to have been often composed
of the skins of beasts, though latterly they had woollen stuffs
and linen ; the first probably manufactured by themselves,
the linen imported from the continent. Venison, fish, milk,
flesh, and wild fowl, were the common food of the people.
“ The monks of Iona,” says Chalmers, “ w ho lived by their
labour, cultivated their fields, and laid up corn in their gar¬
ners.” But it is to be recollected that the monks were every
where, for ages, the improvers themselves, and the instruc¬
tors of others in the useful arts. Even Iona had its orchards
in the rugged times of the ninth century, till the vikinghr,
or pirate kings, ravaged and ruined all. Looking to their
shipping, we find that their little vessels were constructed
by covering a keel of wood and a frame of wicker w ork
with the skins of cattle and of deer. These were denomi¬
nated currachs. Afterwards they were enlarged and made
capable of containing a respectable crew. It was in a ves¬
sel of this description, a wicker boat covered with hides, that
Columba, accompanied by twelve of his friends, embarked
from Ireland, in the year 563, and landed in Iona. With
these few remarks, we close the Scottish period of our na¬
tional history.
Sect. IV.—Scoto-Saxon Period.
A.D.1097- We have already seen, that the death of Malcolm Can-
13U6. more at Alnwick gave rise to a temporary usurpation of
the throne by Donald his brother, that he was expelled
by Duncan, an illegitimate son of Malcolm, who had been
educated at the court of William Rufus; and this Duncan
having been assassinated, Edgar Atheling led an English
army into Scotland, and placed Edgar, the son of Malcolm
Canmore, on the throne.
Alexander Edgar’s reign was brief, pacific,and of little interest; but his
AD II succ®ssor» Alexander the First, the eldest surviving son of
b Malcolm, was a prince of a powerful and vigorous character.
From his accession to the throne, in the commencement of
the twelfth century, (1106), to the death of Alexander the
Third (1285), in the close of the thirteenth, a period little
short of two centuries, the nation was progressive and pros¬
perous in a degree unequalled during the whole course of
its future history. Under a succession of six monarchs,
Alexander the First, David the First, Malcolm the Fourth,
William the Lion, Alexander the Second, and Alexander
the Third, it maintained its independence against foreign
aggression, and not only preserved the integrity, but extend¬
ed the boundaries of its dominions. Its commerce, its ma¬
nufactures, its agriculture, and all the arts which improve
and humanize an ignorant and fierce people, were encour¬
aged; and throughout tins long period, in the personal cha¬
racters of each of these successive princes, though varying
in their shades, there was that ingredient of energy and
boldness which communicated itself to their people, and
maintained the nation at the standard to which each ruler
in his turn had raised it.
A D.] 106- Let us for a moment pursue our system, and like a tra-
1283. veller gazing from a mountain height, and noting the land¬
marks of a new country, endeavour to detect the leading
and influential events in this division of our national his¬
tory. In the character of Alexander the First, every
thing seems to have been in excess; but happily the qua-
705
lities which were so overcharged, were most of them of Scotland,
the better sort. He is traditionally remembered by the
epithet of the fierce; and though humble and courteous Alexander
to his clergy, whom he deemed entitled to this homage as f" A
Gods servants, not his, he was, to use the words of an an- ^ ^
cient and authentic writer, “ terrible beyond measure to
his subjects. Ihe leading event of his reign was the
struggle which he maintained for the independence of the Strugple
Scottish church against, the pretended rights claimed, first for the in-
by the see of York, and afterwards by that of Canterbury. dePe"dfnce
On the election of Turgot, a monk of Durham, to the bishop- °.f Sco*‘
ric of St. Andrews (1109,) the archbishop of York insist- lUunC,>
ing on his having the right of consecrating him. To this
the Scottish king declared he would never agree; and a
compromise having taken place, by which the point was left
undecided, Alexander, on the death of Turgot, altered his
ground, and chose for his successor Eadmer, a monk ot
Canterbury. The same right of consecration, and founded
on the same ground of the alleged dependence of the Scot¬
tish church upon the primacy of England, was now advan¬
ced by Canterbury; but it was still more haughtily and pe¬
remptorily refused by Alexander. A compromise again
took place. Eadmer accepted the ring from the king, and
took the pastoral staff' from the altar, as if receiving it from
the Lord; but finding his authority weakened, and the coun¬
tenance of the monarch withdrawn from him, he intimated
his resolution of repairing to Canterbury for advice. This
Alexander violently opposed, declaring that as long as he
lived, the bishop of St. Andrews should never be subject to
that see. Nor did he fail here, as in all his other enter¬
prises, to keep his word; Eadmer remained an elected but
unconsecrated bishop. At length weary of the contest, and
trammelled in his usef ulness, he desired permission to resign,
restored the ring to the king, replaced the pastoral staff on
the high altar, and returned to Canterbury. Robert, prior
of Scone, was elected to fill the vacant see, and the king’s
determined efforts to maintain the independence of the
Scottish church were crowned with success. It had con¬
tinued for fourteen years, and Alexander survived its ter- Death 0f
mination only a single year. He died in 1124, leaving no Alexander
children by his wife Sybilla, a natural daughter of Henry I.
the First, and was succeeded by his brother, David the
First.
Edgar, the brother of this prince, had, on his death-bed, David I.
bequeathed to him that portion of Cumberland which was A-D. 1124.
possessed by the Scottish kings. The legacy had two good
effects. It called the young prince early to the cares and
labours of administration ; and it removed him from Scot¬
land to a country where he became acquainted with a
more advanced civilization and with better regulated govern¬
ment. These advantages were not thrown away upon
David. His natural dispositions were excellent; his love of
justice, his capacity for labour, his sense of the national ho¬
nour and independence, his affection to every class of his
people, his tenderness to his children, his piety to God,
were all so conspicuous in his character, that Buchanan, an
axithor who cannot be suspected of adulation, pronounces
him the perfect exemplar of a good king; and the progress
made by the country during the twenty-nine years of his
reign goes far to justify the assertion.
His reign was contemporary with that of Henry the First War with
and of Stephen in England, and it opened with many diffi- Stephen,
culties. The question of the independence of the church
was again started; and before it could be brought to a
termination, the forcible seizure of the English crown by
Stephen, who deposed Matilda, the daughter of Henry the
First, involved him in a war with that usurper. During
the life of Henry the First, David and Stephen had sworn
1 Liber de Melrose, vol. i. p. 95.
VOL. XIX.
4 u
706
SCOTLAND
Scotland-
Battle of
the Stand¬
ard.
A. D. 1138,
C haracter
of David I.
Death of
Prince
Henry.
A. D. 1152,
Death of
David I.
A. D. 1153
Malcolm
IV.
to maintain the right of Matilda; and the Scottish monarch,
in obedience to his oath, invading England, compelled the
barons of the northern portion of that kingdom to swear
fealty to this princess. His efforts however were more
honourable than successful; and after a war which lasted
three years, David was ultimately defeated in the great
battle of the Standard, fought on Cutton Moor, in the
neighbourhood of Northallerton. Peace was now con¬
cluded, and the terms to which Stephen consented, indicate
that, although defeated, the Scottish king was but little
humbled.
The earldom of Northumberland, with the exception of
the two castles of Newcastle and Bamborough, was ceded
to Prince Henry, David’s eldest son. As an equivalent for
these fortresses, lands were granted to him in the south of
England; the barons of Northumberland were to hold their
estates of Henry the Prince of Scotland, reserving their
fealty to Stephen; and in return, David and all his people
became bound to maintain an inviolable peace with Eng¬
land.
The remaining years of the reign of this wise monarch
were pacific and prosperous. The war had convinced him
that the English were far superior to his people in arms and
discipline; it had been undertaken in fulfilment of his oath
to Henry, not from any love of conquest, and having satis¬
fied his conscience, he devoted his life to the arts of good
government. “ During the course of his sage administra¬
tion,’’ says Lord Hailes, “ public buildings were erected, towns
established, agriculture, manufactures, and commerce pro¬
moted. The barbarities of his people in their invasions of
England, had affected him with the deepest anguish, and
believing that religion was the only agent which could hu¬
manize and improve the savage multitudes whom he had
led, but could not restrain, he endowed the church with
new privileges, enriched it with extensive grants of land,
founded various bishoprics, built many monasteries, and
exhibited in his own person so fine an example of royal
greatness, chastened and purified by Christian humility and
devotion, that it could not fail to have the best effects up¬
on his people.”
Towards the close of his reign, it was his misfortune to
lose his eldest son, Prince Henry, just as he had reached
manhood, and exhibited many of the excellent qualities of
his father. The blow sunk deep into his heart; but David’s
first care had been for his people, and he roused himself to
provide for the pacific succession of his grandson, Malcolm,
a child in his twelfth year. By his orders, this boy, the
son of Prince Henry, was carried in a progress through
his dominions, to receive the homage of the barons and
the people, and was solemnly proclaimed heir to the crown.
Having performed this wise but mournful duty, the
aged king within a year followed his son to the grave. It
is a remarkable and beautiful circumstance, that he was
found dead in an attitude of devotion. “ His death had been
so tranquil,” says Aldred, who knew him -well, “ that you
would not have believed he was dead. He was found with
his hands clasped devoutly upon his breast in the very
posture in which he seems to have been raising them to
heaven.”
The reign of Malcolm the Fourth, which lasted only
twelve years, offers little for our observation. It began with
those evils which so invariably attend a minority; war with¬
out, and insecurity within the kingdom. Somerled the thane
of Argyle, strengthened by the naval powers of the Isles,
invaded Scotland, and for some years continued to harass
the country by repeated attacks, which at length terminat¬
ed in an amicable agreement. The transactions of Malcolm
with Henry the Second of England impress us with an un¬
favourable notion of this young prince. It had been a pro¬
mise of the English monarch made to David the First, in
1149, that if he succeeded to the crown of England, he
would cede to Scotland for ever the territory between the Scotfid.
Tyne and the Tweed. Instead of insisting on this, Malcolm, •**"v%*'
overreached by the superior sagacity of Henry, or betrayed Maloi
by the treachery of his councillors, abandoned to England1^’
Lie wVinlo nncuQccjinrvo i>i f tw, .wi—f .1 — ....t ,1 A. D. |53-
his whole possessions in the northern counties, and received
in return the honor of Huntingdon; a measure which created ^"l
universal discontent in the nation. These feelings of dis¬
gust wrere imprudently increased by an expedition of the
young prince into France, where he joined the army of
Henry, claimed from him the distinction of knighthood,
and outraged the feelings of national jealousy, by forgetting
his station as an independent prince, and fighting under the
banner of the English monarch. A deputation from the
Scots was sent into France to remonstrate against this con¬
duct, nor did they hesitate in bold language to reproach
their king for the desertion of his duty. Galloway rose
into rebellion; the inhabitants of Moray about the same
time threw off their allegiance; and Somerled the thane
of Argyle invaded the country with a formidable fleet. Al¬
though the obstinacy of the king had brought these disas¬
ters upon himself, his energy and decision met and overcame
them. He hurried from France, conciliated his nobles, in¬
vaded and subdued Gallow-ay, repulsed Somerled, and after
suppressing the rebellion in Moray, adopted the extraor¬
dinary measure of dispossessing its ancient inhabitants, com¬
pelling them to settle in more distant parts of his dominions,
and planting new colonies in their room. These energetic
measures were his last, for he died immediately after, at an
early age, and was succeeded by his brother William the
Second, son of Henry, prince of Scotland, and grandson of
David the First.
The administration of this prince presents us with the Williai
longest reign in the range of Scottish history, extending c^e L'|
from 1165 to 1214, nearly half a century. In this protract- ^
ed division, the most important event was, the disgraceful
surrender of the national independence to Henry the Se¬
cond in 1174, and its recovery by William in 1189. Both
transactions require our serious notice. It was the weak¬
ness of William to be guided by impulse. Smitten w ith an ad¬
miration for the warlike qualities of Henry the Second, and
uninstructed by the misfortunes of his predecessor Malcolm,
he first courted this prince, and being disappointed in his
object of procuring from his justice the restitution of Nor¬
thumberland, he imprudently defied him. War ensued; and
the king of the Scots having advanced with his army to Aln¬
wick, was surprised, made prisoner, and shut up in the cas¬
tle of Falaise in Normandy. His impatience under capti¬
vity, and the longing of the barons and clergy for their king,
led to a pusillanimous treaty, which will ever remain a blot
upon the national honour. With consent of his barons and
clergy, given at Valogne on the 8th of December 1174, Wil¬
liam agreed to become the liegeman of Henry for Scotland,
and all his other territories; to deliver up to the English
monarch the castles of Roxburgh, Berwick, Jedburgh,
Edinburgh, and Stirling; to give his brother David and some
of his chief barons as hostages, and to receive in return his
liberty. In this treaty, it is remarkable, that while little
care was shown as to the independence of the people, a pru¬
dent, and, as it has been well denominated, a memorable
clause wras introduced, which left entire the independence
of the Scottish church; and this clause, the bishops and
clei'gy took the first opportunity of asserting before the Papal
legate in a council held at Northampton (1176).
On his return to his dominions, William appears to have Returnf >
devoted himself with much energy and success to the cares Scotian^
of government. His dominions were weakened and dis¬
tracted by repeated insurrections in Ross and in Galloway.
In these wild and remote districts, the native chiefs claimed
almost a royal sway; and the people, ferocious in their ha¬
bits, and jealous of all intercourse with England, wrere
ready, upon the slightest provocation or encouragement, to
SCOTLAND.
707
Scotland, rise in rebellion. A pretender to the crown also appear-
ed in Galloway, in the person of Donald, the grandson of
William Duncan, commonly called the bastard king of Scotland,
the Lion. This adventurer having seized Ross, and wasted Moray,
William led an army against him; nor was it till after a des¬
perate struggle that Donald fell near Inverness, and by his
death restored tranquillity to the country.
The Scot- We have already seen how firmly the Scottish church had
ush Church renounced the idea of any dependence upon the metropolitan
declared in-seesof York or Canterbury; we have adverted to that care-
1188 ^ reservati°n °f their rights at the moment when the king
' and the nobles bartered away what was not theirs to gives
the national independence. In this resolute conduct the
clergy were supported by the king; and in 1188, Clement
the Third pronounced a solemn decree, by which he de¬
clared the “ church of Scotland to be the daughter of Rome,
and immediately subject to her; and that to the Pope alone,
or his legate de latere, should belong the power of pronoun-
cingany sentenceof excommunication against that kingdom.”
The king. This important declaration was soon followed by another
dom reco- event still more memorable, in which the kingdom recover-
(Terid in" ec^ ^ts in(lePendence. On the death of Henry the Second,
J!e Richard Coeur de Lion, his successor, then intent upon col¬
lecting money for his expedition to the Holy Land, invited
the king of Scotland to his court, and upon William’s en¬
gagement to pay to him the sum of ten thousand merks,
agreed to restore his kingdom to its independence, reserv¬
ing the homage formerly due by the Scottish kings for the
lands which they held in England. The instrument by
which this transaction was completed, declares, that Richard
had delivered up to William king of Scots, his castles
of Roxburgh and Berwick, had granted to him an ac¬
quittance of all obligations which had been extorted from
him by Henry the Second, in consequence of his captivity,
and had ordained the boundaries of the tw o kingdoms to be
re-established as they existed at the date of William’s im¬
prisonment. The Scottish king wTas at the same time put
in possession of all his fees in the earldom of Huntingdon;
and all the charters of homage done to Henry the Second
by the Scottish barons were delivered up, and declared to be
cancelled for ever. We are to ascribe it to the wise regula¬
tions of this treaty, and the fidelity with which they were
observed on both sides by its authors and their successors,
that for a century after its date, there occurred no national
quarrel or hostilities between the two countries. The re¬
maining portion of the reign of William demands little no¬
tice. During the latter years of it, the succession of John
to his brother Richard the First threatened to dissolve the
pacific relations between the two countries; but war was
happily averted, and the Scottish monarch reserved his
energies for the pacification of his own realm, disturbed by
a rebellion in the northern counties. In 12)4, the king died
at Stirling, after a reign of forty-eight years, the longest,
as already stated, in Scottish history. His name of William
the Lion was probably owing to the circumstance, that, be¬
fore his time, none of the Scottish kings had assumed a coat
armorial. The Lion rampant first appears upon his shield,
grander William was succeeded by his son Alexander, a youth of
seventeen, to whom the Scottish barons had sworn homage in
' ‘ ^ 1201, and w ho was one of the wisest of our kings, whether
we regard the justice of his administration, the season¬
able severity with which he subdued all internal commo¬
tions in his kingdom, the firmness exhibited in his main¬
tenance of the rights of the church, or the w isdom, forbear¬
ance, and vigour which marked his policy towards England.
His reign was one of constant action, and full of incident.
It commenced with his joining the English barons who re¬
sisted the tyranny of John. This conduct drew down upon
him and his kingdom a sentence of excommunication (1216);
but the papal terrors appear to have been little dreaded at
this time; and in 1218, Honorius not only abrogated the
sentence pronounced by his legate, but confirmed the liber- Scotland,
ties of the Scottish church. "
On the accession of Henry the Third to the English Alexander
throne, Alexanaer, who was occupied with quelling the re- II. marries
peated insurrections in the northern parts of his dominions, the Prin-
showed every disposition to cultivate amity with England; J°ani™
and his marriage to the princess Joanna, sister of Henry,ot bnglaml-
had a favourable effect in strengthening the ties between
the two monarchs.
One of the striking features w hich mark the reign of this Increase in
monarch, is the gradual increase that is to be observed in the power
the power of the nobles, and the corresponding decrease in the°l fhe no¬
authority of the crown; but if this had injurious effects upon liLes- . ,
the general prosperity of the kingdom, and distracted it En^d
by internal private feuds, it encouraged a feeling of inde- A U. 12'44.
pendence, and fostered that warlike spirit, which proved
the best safeguards against the encroachments of their
more powerful neighbours. This was strikingly shown on
the occurrence of a rupture between England and Scotland
in 1244. Some time before this, Alexander had claimed
fi-om Henry, in right of inheritance, the counties of Nor¬
thumberland, Cumberland, and Westmoreland; and although
the English king did not grant him his full demand, he ad¬
mitted its justice, by transferring to him an equivalent in
certain lands, which he accepted in full of all claims. For
these lands the Scottish king did homage ; and both mo¬
narchs remained on friendly terms for some years, when
jealousies suddenly arose, and Henry, alleging that homage
had been unjustly withheld, led an army against Scotland.
Under these threatening circumstances, the Scottish king,
although he had recently experienced the resistance of his
nobles to bis personal requests, found himself strongly sup¬
ported by the same barons against the meditated attack of
England. They raised in a short time an army of a hun¬
dred thousand foot, and a thousand horse, and this demon¬
stration of the national strength had happily the effect of
restoring peace without bloodshed. It is worthy of notice,
that when a papal legate visited Scotland under this reign,
and held a provincial council in the capital, the king mani¬
fested the same jealousy of such a proceeding as had been
exhibited by his predecessors. He seemed afraid lest the
admission of a papal messenger, whose message regarded
England alone, should be deemed derogatory to the inde¬
pendence of the Scottish church; and although, at the re¬
quest of the nobility of both countries, he consented to his
coming into the kingdom, he declined a personal meeting,
and stipulated that this permission should not be drawn
into a precedent.
Having engaged in a maritime expedition against Angus Death of
of Argyle, one of those petty island chiefs, whose dubious Alexander
allegiance, in those remote times, oscillated between Nor- IL ^
way and Scotland, Alexander had conducted his fleet as far ^ C(.es ~1(^'
as the Sound of Mull, when he was seized with a fever, and ^ ^]exaju
died in a small island there named Kerraray, in the 35th ^ jjj.
vear of his reign. He was succeeded by his son, Alexan¬
der the Third, a boy in his eighth year; and the king¬
dom, which had enjoyed under his father’s wise and vigor¬
ous administration, an uncommon degree of prosperity, be¬
came immediately exposed to the many evils of a minority.
Two parties divided the nobility; the one led by Walter
Comyn, earl of Menteith, the other by Durward the high
Justiciar; and Henry the Third secretly wrote to the Pope,
requesting him to interdict the coronation of the young
king. Scotland, he said, was a fee of England, Alexander
his vassal, and his permission as superior had not been ob¬
tained. The Pope appears to have rejected his demand
with promptitude, as derogatory to the rights of a sovereign
Prince; and the ceremony of the coronation was performed
at the abbey of Scone, the coronation-oath being read first
in Latin, and afterwards in Norman-French.
Alexander soon afterwards, in fulfilment of a former treaty,
708
SCOTLAND.
] ntrigues
of Henry
III. with
Scotland.
Scotland, espoused Margaret, the youthful daughter of Henry, at
York, and exhibited a spirit and intelligence superior
Alexander ^jg years, in refusing to pay homage for his king-
ill. mar- ^om 0f Scotland. “I came,” said he to the artful mo-
Prmcess 11 arch who made the proposal; “ I came into England on
Margaret ofa j°yfu^ anf^ pacific errand, not to answer to an arduous
England, question, which belongs to the states of my kingdom.” He
at the same time made no objection to take the oath of
fealty for the lands which he held in England.
Defeated in this attempt to overreach a minor sove¬
reign, Henry commenced a series of intrigues with the
Scottish nobles, with the object of obtaining an entire
control over the affairs of the sister kingdom ; and the
country was divided and distracted by two factions, the one
acting under English influence, and the other more honestly
contending for the freedom of their prince and the inde¬
pendent administration of the government. These scenes
of civil faction and foreign interference continued till the
monarch, having arrived at manhood, and developing a
character of much energy and judgment, took the reins
into his own hand, and compelled his nobility to respect
the laws and support his measures.
Haco, king Scarcely had this happy change occurred, when the
cf Norway, kingdom, which had already suffered from the vicinity of
defeated at ^ £eets 0f Norway, w^as threatened with invasion by
A D li:>63 Haco, one of its most warlike princes. The dispute
which led to this menace originated in a circumstance al¬
ready noticed; the precarious homage paid by the petty
piratical chiefs of the Western Isles, wTo, as circumstances
pressed on the one side or the other, acknowledged a feu¬
dal dependence on Scotland or on Norway. To support
them in their independence on Alexander, Haco made a
descent on the western coast of Scotland with a mighty
fleet, but sustained a signal defeat at Largs, and on his
return with the shattered remains of his ships, sickened
and died at Orkney. The results of this victory w'ere
highly favourable to Scotland. It fixed the chiefs of the
Western Isles in their allegiance, secured to Alexander
the homage of the king of Man, and convinced Norway
that Scotland was not to be so easily subdued or overawed
as its piratical princes had anticipated.
Death of The remainder of this reign was prosperous, as far as the
Alexander circumstances of the kingdom are considered, but unfortu¬
nate for the monarch, who found himself suddenly deprived
by death of all his children. His eldest son, Alexander,
died soon after his marriage, and his only daughter Mar¬
garet, the wife of Eric, king of Norway, was cut oft* in
childbed, leaving an infant daughter, Margaret, commonly
called the Maiden of Norway, the heiress of the Scottish
throne. These calamities induced the king, who was a
widower, to make a second marriage. Having selected
loleta de Coney, daughter of the Count de Dreux, the
nuptials were celebrated at Jedburgh; and the nation, under
a wise monarch still in the prime of life, flourishing at home
and at peace abroad, looked forward to a long season of
prosperity, when all its hopes were overcast in a moment.
Alexander, w hen riding in a dark night, on the brink of a
dangerous rocky ledge near Kinghorn, was precipitated
from the top to the bottom, and killed on the spot.
Death of The death of the king was deeply lamented, and not
the Maiden without cause, for he left the kingdom in most difficult cir-
of Norway. cumstances, exposed to the ambition and attack of Edward
the First, one of the ablest princes who had ever reigned in
England, and its happiness at home dependant upon the
precarious life of an infant. To fill the cup of Scotland’s
calamity, this child, Margaret, the Maiden of Norway, when
on her passage from that country to take possession of her
throne, sickened and died in Orkney; and on her death
arose that celebrated competition for the Scottish crown,
which threatened to plunge the kingdom into all the miser¬
ies of civil war.
III.
A.D.12 5.
The moment was favourable to the designs of Edwrard Scotl d.
the First, who determined to make himself master of Scot-
land. While in that country the various competitors col- A.D i8o.
lected their forces and prepared to support their claims, ^es'sioi
the English monarch having given orders for assembling t *•
the strength of his kingdom by a certain day, invited the
nobility and clergy of Scotland to meet him at Norham,
for the purpose of deliberating upon the succession to the
crown. It has been made a subject of dispute, whether
Edward was invited by the Scottish people to be umpire in
the contest for the crown, or whether he proposed him¬
self as judge, and the subject is involved in some obscurity.
It is by no means improbable, that English intrigue and
a regard to their own interest, had induced some of the
competitors, if not to invite, at least most readily to accept
the mediation of the English monarch; but it is equally
true, and the point is of far greater importance, that there
is no evidence to prove that there was any invitation of
this kind, either by the people of Scotland, or even by
a majority of its nobles and clergy. Be this as it may, Edwa
the competitors for the crown, with a large proportion ofacts a™-
the nobility and clergy of Scotland, accepted the medi- ^
ation of Edward, and met this monarch at Norham, (Mav A '
1291).
Of these claimants for the crow n the two principal were Claimnf
John Balliol and Robert Bruce. It was quite apparent that ®race 1(*
the question lay between them, the rights of the other com- a 10
petitors being evidently inferior to theirs. The title of these
two chiefs arose out of the circumstance, that on the death of
all descendants of Alexander the Third, the crown reverted
to the descendants of David, earl of Huntingdon, brother
of king William the Lion. This David left three daugh¬
ters, Margaret, the eldest, who married Alan, lord of Gal¬
loway ; Isabella, the second, who married Robert Bruce, fa¬
ther to the competitor Robert Bruce, lord of Annandale ;
and Ada, the third daughter, who married John de Hast¬
ings. It was evident, therefore, that the question lay be¬
tween Balliol and Bruce. Balliol pleaded that he was en¬
titled to the crown as the descendant of the eldest daughter,
being great-grandson to David, earl of Huntingdon. Bruce
admitted that he sprung from the second daughter, but
contended that, being grandson of the earl of Huntingdon,
and therefore a degree nearer, his claim was superior.
Edward’s scheme against the independence of Scotland Con(k of
was now ripe for execution; and announcing his determina-Edwa^.
tion to give a just decision, he, to the dismay of many pre¬
sent, required the Scottish barons to swear fealty to him as
their Lord Paramount. It was in this character alone, he
said, that he was entitled to give, and as such alone that
he would pronounce, a judgment. The scene which now
ensued was a humiliating one. The right of Edward was
admitted; and Bruce, Balliol, the remaining competitors, the
barons and the clergy, set their hands to an instrument, in
which they acknowledged that the English king was feudal
superior of Scotland. There can be little doubt that they
knew this claim of Edward to be untenable upon any ground
of truth or justice, but they saw it ready to be enforced by
a determined prince at the head of the whole strength of
his dominions, and they did not dare to resist it. Edward,
accordingly, having received their oaths of homage, pro¬
ceeded to investigate the contending claims, and awarded
the crown to John Balliol.
It was probably part of the plan of the English monarch Heim es
to quarrel with his vassal king. It is at least certain, that°c0 al
he availed himself of the earliest appearance of spirit and re¬
sistance in this unfortunate prince to summon him, in terms of
reproach and indignity, to his court in England, and at last
goaded him and his people into what he termed rebellion.
In the war w hich ensued, Edward found it an easy matter to
overrun a kingdom unprepared to resist so formidable an
enemy. The town of Berwick was carried by storm;
Edward’s
juceess.
Rise of
Wallace.
Scotland. Dunbar, the key of the borders, surrendered; Balliol was
-'taken prisoner and sent to the Tower; while the English
prince concluded what he deemed the conquest of Scot¬
land, by removing from Scone to Westminster the sacred
stone upon which the long line of its kings had been
crowned and anointed. But at this sad moment Scotland,
which in vain looked for a deliverer amongst its feudal
nobles, found one in a man of far inferior rank.
William Wallace was the son of Sir Malcolm Wal¬
lace, who held the estate of Ellerslie, near Paisley. Hav¬
ing been outlawed by the English for an alleged mur¬
der, committed on one by whom he had been grievously
injured, he fled into the fastnesses of his country, and
assembling round him a small band of followers, who were
weary of their servitude, commenced that kind of pre¬
datory warfare, which led from one success to another,
till he saw himself at the head of a formidable force.
With this he boldly descended into the low country,
and aftei having defeated the English in the sanguinary
battle of Stirling, was soon after chosen Governor of Scot¬
land. This title he only accepted as acting in the name of
John Balliol, whom he had always acknowledged as his here¬
ditary king. Into the exploits and career of this great
man it is impossible, within our limits, to enter; but mak¬
ing every allowance for the passionate admiration of his
countrymen, and regarding him as reflected in the cold
glass of history, rather than invested with the brilliant hues
of romance, there will still be found all that constitutes a
heroic character, if the accomplishment of the greatest re¬
sults with the most confined means, an entire devotion to
his country, a contempt of power for its own sake, unex-
tinguishable hatred of oppression, and a personal courage
which nothing could shake for a moment, were ever en¬
titled to such an epithet.
It was however impossible for Wallace, with all his
great qualities, to reconcile the Scottish nobles to his en¬
vied elevation, or to compose the feuds and jealousies which
divided and weakened their efforts. Edward, who had been
absent in Flanders when his officers were defeated at Stir¬
ling, hurried back to England, and once more invading
Scotland at the head of an immense army, encountered and
defeated Wallace in the battle of Falkirk. The> result of
this victory was the temporary subjugation of a country,
whose allegiance expired the moment its invaders retired.
Wallace voluntarily resigned the office of Governor, Robert
Bruce and John Comyn were chosen Guardians, and for
five years the war was continued with various success ; but
Edward, who in this interval had thrice invaded the king¬
dom, by these unceasing efforts and superior numerical
strength, at last subdued the spirit, and appeared to have
completed the conquest of this devoted people. The Guar¬
dians submitted and were pardoned; sentence of outlawry
was pronounced against Simon Fraser and the few followers
ofWallace who still held out; andat last this great chief him¬
self was betrayed into the hands of the conqueror, and exe¬
cuted at London. It was at this crisis, which seemed to
seal for ever the fate and liberty of the Scottish people, that
a deliverer arose in the person of Robert Bruce.
Section V.
a. n. 1306 to 1436.
Nothing could be more extraordinary, or apparently
more unpropitious to the cause of freedom, than the cir¬
cumstances which led to this great result. Robert Bruce,
earl of Garrick, and grandson of the competitor for the crown,
had acted a dubious and interested part during the years
that Wallace, and the few patriotic barons who adhered to
him, made their stand for the independence of their coun¬
try. He inherited, with vast landed estates, the right to
SCOTLAND.
709
Battle of
Falkirk.
A.D. 1298
Wallace
1 executed.
: jeign of
fobert
I huce.
the crown possessed by his grandfather; but, had he urged Scotland.
s claim, it might ha.ve been at the risk of the forfeiture
these possessions, which made him one of the most power- Reign of
u barons in Scotland ; and, although, in his early career, Rn|ee.
we can detect occasional outbreaks of the patriotic feeling, l306-
6 Preserved Ins allegiance to Edward the First, and appears
to have been treated with confidence by that monarch.
I lie injuries inflicted on the country seem at last to have Murder rf
aroused both Bruce and Comyn, and they formed a secret Comyn
agreement to rise against the English. But Comyn’s heart 7 ’
failed him. He betrayed the purpose to Edward, and meet¬
ing Biuce, who bad been made aware of his treachery, in
the. church of the Grey friars at Dumfries, that proud baron
reviled him as an informer, and stabbed him to the heart
on the steps of the high altar. He was instantly proclaim¬
ed a traitor by Edward, excommunicated as a sacreligious
murderer by the Pope, a price set upon his head; and from
the first and most influential noble in the kingdom, he felt
that he must either assert his right to the crown, and trust
to Ins sword for its defence, or be content to sink into the
condition of an outlaw and a fugitive. His decision was Bruce pro-
instantly taken. He rode with his little band to Scone, and claims him-
was there solemnly crowned; but being aware of the ad-selfking.
vance of an English army, he hastily concentrated his forces, A-D-1306.
and after ravaging Galloway, marched against Perth, then
in possession of Edward.
But the early portion of Bruce’s career was disastrous ; He is at
and those military talents, which afterwards conducted him first unfor-
through a course of unexampled victory, were nursed amidtunate.
incessant defeat and hardship. He was put to flight at
Methven, his small army dispersed, and he himself driven an
almost solitary wanderer through Lennox and Kintyre, to
seek an asylum in Rachrin, a little island on the northern
coast of Ireland. Here he remained during the winter,
unaware of the execution of his faithful followers, who
had fallen into the hands of Edward; of the imprisonment
of his queen and daughter, and the extraordinary severity
with which the English monarch seemed determined to
rivet the fetters upon his native country.
In the spring he passed over from Rachrin to Arran, ac- Bruce de-
companied by his brother Edward Bruce, Sir James Dou- feats the ’
glas, and about three hundred men. His own castle of English at
Turnberry, on the coast of Garrick, was then occupied by Lou(lon
Lord Percy, an officer of Edward. Bruce attacked it, put
the English garrison to the sword, and, after a variety A'JJ'1307
of minor enterprises, in which, although often repulsed,
he and his followers gained experience and confidence,
he ventured, although at the head of only six hundred
spearmen, to meet the earl of Pembroke, with three thou¬
sand cavalry, at Loudon Hill, (May 1307). The result of
this conflict, owing to the admirable dispositions of Bruce,
was the entire defeat of the English ; and from this point,
the crisis of his fortune, to the hour when the liberty of his
country was for ever secured on the field of Bannockburn,
the career of this extraordinary man presented an almost
continued series of success.
It was perhaps fortunate for Scotland that he was opposed, Bruce’s
not by Edward the First, who had died when on his march w^se P°fic7"
to Scotland, (1307), but by his son, Edward the Second, a
prince of far inferior talent; yet the military resources of
England were so formidable, and the barons who wielded
them such experienced leaders, that Bruce, who had to strug¬
gle against domestic enemies, as well as foreign invasion, may
well be praised for the admirable judgment with which he
wielded the strength of his little kingdom. It was his policy
to avoid a general battle, and to starve and distress the for¬
midable armies which England repeatedly sent against him,
by wasting the country, retiring slowly before his enemies into
the woods and fastnesses, and when they were compelled
by famine or the season to retreat, by hanging on their rear,
and cutting them off in detail Convinced that, from the
710
SCOTLAND.
Robert
Brace.
Scottish
infantry.
Battle of
Bannock-
peace ; but he would consent to treat only on the footing Scotia
of an independent king, and the offer was rejected.
From 1314 to 1328, an interval of nearly tburteen years, Rober
the war was continued with almost uninterrupted success Brucei
on the part of the Scots ; while a series of reverses were
endured by England, which are chiefly to be ascribed to ‘ !
the pusillanimous character of the monarch, and the great
military ability not only of Bruce, but of the officers whom
he had trained, Sir James Douglas, Randolph earl of Mo¬
ray, the young steward of Scotland, and many others. It
may convey some idea of Bruce’s incessant occupation in
the field, when it is mentioned, that during this interval,
England was twelve times invaded, either by the king in
person, or by his officers, its border counties were exposed to
ravages, and on frequent occasions the fires which marked the
Scottish march were seen burning beside the gates of York ;
nor were the Scottish king’s proposals fora peace accepted,
till the English districts, which were compelled to purchase
safety by the payment of a heavy tribute, threatened in
Scotland, poverty of Scotland, it was in vain to attempt to rival the
mounted chivalry of England, he turned his whole atten¬
tion to the formation and discipline of his infantry. They
were armed with a spear eighteen feet in length, a sword
and battle-axe at their girdle, a short cut-and-thrust dag¬
ger, a steel bonnet, and a back and breast-piece buckled
over a tough leather jerkin. They were trained to form
sometimes in squares, sometimes in circles, more or less
deep, according to the nature of the ground and of the
service. Such was the main army of Bruce, his pikemen ;
but after he had restored peace and security to his kingdom,
and began in his turn to act upon the offensive, he often
employed the only kind of cavalry which Scotland could
raise, the border prickers, who, lightly armed, mounted
on hardy little horses, and carrying as their provisions a
bag of meal slung at their saddle-bow, darted upon the
richest districts of England, or stripped them of their wealth,
and scoured like a whirlwind across the border, ere the
force of the country could be raised in its defence.
To pursue the details of his obstinate contest with Eng- their misery, to throw themselves into the arms of Scotland. The ui
land, is impossible. It was during the first years a war of de- At last, on the first of March 1328, an English parliament as-concl11 H-
A* D 1314 fence> in which Bruce struggled for existence. This secured, sembled at York. Bruce was acknowledged king of Scotland, ‘t8
it became aggressive ; but his efforts were confined to the Scotland itself recognised as a free and independent kingdom,
recovery of his dominions out of the hands of those Scottish and peace established, after a sanguinary war of twenty years,
barons who had embraced the service of the enemy, or his This great consummation was not long survived by him Death
castles from the English governors to whom they had been to whom, under God, the result was chiefly due. The Br,lce-
entrusted. At last, when Edward the Second, at the head king, whose constitution had been broken by the fatigues-^'^1^
of an army a hundred thousand strong, composed cf the and exposure of his early life, began to droop soon after he
flower of his kingdom, and led by his most experienced
officers, had penetrated into the country, Bruce found him¬
self driven from his favourite maxim, and compelled to
hazard a battle. On the field of Bannockburn, near
Stirling, thirty thousand Scottish foot, and five hundred
horse, led by the king in person, and under him command¬
ed by Douglas, Randolph, and the Steward of Scotland, en¬
countered and entirely defeated the formidable array of Eng¬
land. Edward fled from the field to Dunbar, and the broken
remains of his army, in dispersed bodies, made their retreat
in much disorder into England, (June 24, 1314).
In this memorable victory it may be said, without ex¬
aggeration, that a lesson in the history of liberty was taught,
not only to Scotland, but to the world; to every people who
have felt the misery of servitude, or tasted the sweets of
saw the liberty of his country permanently established; and
he died at Cardross on the 7th of June 1329.
The death of Bruce was a severe trial to Scotland. His David
only son David, who succeeded him, was a bov of six years hegei- °f
- - ’ - - - • - Randcui.
freedom. It proved that a country may be, as Scotland
was under Edward the First, brought by oppression and
cruelty to the very brink of despair; its cities sacked, its
fields laid waste, till famine was the consequence ; its best
leaders executed or imprisoned, its hearths left desolate,
its very offerings of praise proscribed, and its refuge in re¬
ligion attempted to be cut off; but that, till exterminated,
a free-born people cannot be said to be subdued.
Effects of The immediate effects of this great victory upon the spirit
the^ victory 0p ^ respectiVe countries, were not less remarkable. It
convinced the Scots, that, with a good heart and skilful
leaders, their squares of infantry, with their long pikes,
were a match for the English horse, however superior in
arms and numbers; it taught the king, that what he had
most to dread was the discharge of the English bowmen;
and admonished him, that, however complete had been the
defeat, however glorious the consequences of the victory,
his favourite military maxim, to avoid a general battle, was
still his best and safest course. It affords a striking view
of the character of this great man, that his success at Ban¬
nockburn led neither to presumption, nor, much as he had
old ; and while the nation was thus exposed to ah the
evils of a long minority, Edward the Third, one of Eng¬
land’s most warlike monarchs, was just commencing his ca¬
reer, which soon developed uncommon talents, and great
ambition. Randolph indeed, who was chosen Regent, and
the good Sir James Douglas, with other veteran officers,
still remained ; but Douglas was slain in Spain, whither he
had proceeded on his way to Jerusalem with his master’s
heart; and the earl of Moray only survived the death of
Bruce for three years. To add to these calamities, the
monarchs who successively filled the Scottish throne, and
at Bannock,
burn.
on whose personal character, in these rude times, much of
the success and vigour of the government depended, were
little similar to their great predecessor. From the death of
Bruce till the reign of James the First, the first prince who in
any measure was worthy of a comparison with him, a period of
nearly a century elapsed,1 in which the sceptre passed into
the hands of three princes, David the Second, Itobert the
Second, (the first sovereign of the house of Stewart, being
the son of the Steward of Scotland, by Marjory, Bruce’s
only daughter,) and, lastly, Robert the Third. Contem¬
porary with these Scottish princes were Edward the Third,
Richard the Second, Henry the Fourth, and Henry the Fifth,
all, with one exception in Richard, wise, warlike, and fortu¬
nate monarchs. The odds, therefore, were infinitely against
Scotland, a country far inferior in its population and re¬
sources to England, and torn by domestic feuds; and yet
against reiterated attacks it maintained the contest for its
liberty. Unable to descend into minute detail, we take
a summary of the larger portion of this calamitous in¬
terval of Scottish history, from another work. “ A period
of sixty-four years elapsed between the death of Robert
uffered, and deeply as he had been injured in his tender- Bruce and the birth of James the First, during which time,
est relations, to a cruel retaliation. On the contrary, it although torn by anarchy and domestic faction, the coun-
was followed up by Bruce with an immediate proposal for try maintained a remarkable struggle for its liberty. It
1 We date not from the birth of James, but his return from captivity in England. It may be proper to mention, that the authorities
for this sketch, from Alexander the Third to the reign of Mary, are the same as those followed by Mr. Tytler, in his History of Scot¬
land, now in the course of publication.
Scotland.
|» David II.
1371.
Robert II.
■ the first of
the house
of Stewart.
Robert III
»n indolent
prince.
fames I.
i long n
lority,
too.
was in tins period, eight times invaded by a foreign force :
it was betrayed and deserted by David the Second! the un¬
worthy son and successor of Bruce ; it saw, on many occa¬
sions, the most powerful of its nobles enlisted under the
banner of its enemies ; it had to struggle against the mili¬
tary genius and political talents of Edward the Third, and
Kenry the Fourth and Fifth; and yet, with limited resources,
and divided councils, so tenaciously did the people clino- to
their liberty, that, though sore oppressed, they were never
conquered. Amid almost constant war, and its dreadful
accompaniments, famine and the pestilence, they still pre¬
served their freedom, preferring the prospect of living in a
country reduced by repeated invasion to a solitude or a
desert, or even the last alternative of being totally exter¬
minated, to the most flattering offers of being united to
England, when coupled with the condition that they should
renounce their national independence.”1 We have above al¬
luded to the degeneracy of David the Second, whose long
reign of forty-two years was divided into a minority, the
greater part of which was passed in France ; a captivity in
Eng and, the result of his calamitous defeat in the battle of
Durham ; and a train of subsequent reverses all occasioned
by his headstrong character and devotion to his selfish plea-
sures. But the darkest stain upon David, was his intrigues
with Edward the Third, in which he hesitated not to sacri-
fice the independence of the country, to swear homage to
the English prince for his kingdom of Scotland, and even
to propose to his parliament, that the order of succession
solemnly settled by his heroic father, should be altered in
favour of an English prince. It is needless to say that so
degrading a proposal w^as indignantly repelled, and that the
death of the prince who had offered the insult was regard¬
ed as a national deliverance.
In Robert the Second, who succeeded him as the first of
the house of Stewart, and his son, Robert the Third, the
nation, though still exposed to the repeated attacks of En^-
Jand, experienced a short breathing time, owing to the death
of Edward the Third, and the incapacity of Richard the Se¬
cond ; but neither of these Scottish princes possessed the
vigour or the talents requisite to wield the sceptre with suc¬
cess, in the midst of the difficulties by which they were sur¬
rounded. The second Robert came to the crown when age
had chilled his vigour; and his son and successor, Robert
the Third, was of too indolent and gentle a character to hold
his part against a fierce feudal nobility, led by his brothers,
the Earls of Fife and Buchan, the first a man of great ambi¬
tion, the second a monster of crime, who gave himself up to
every species of lust and rapine, and has been traditionally
remembered as “ the Wolf of Badenoch.”
All this led to great disorder. The king, unwilling to
■burden himself w'ith the cares of government, devolved the
administration upon his son, the duke of Rothsay, a young
man of violent passions, though of considerable ability, who
had made himself particularly obnoxious to his uncle, the
eail of Fife. This led to a fatal collision. Fife, whose au¬
thority was increased by his being made duke of Albany,
proved too strong for the young prince. His father, the
king, was persuaded that the excesses of his son required
restraint, and the unhappy youth was hurried to Falkland,
and shut up in a dungeon, where he was intrusted to the
care of two ruffians, who starved him to death. It was at
first reported that he had been cut off by a dysentery; but
the horrible tale of his sufferings soon after transpired. “ A
poor woman in passing through the palace garden, had been
attracted by his groans, and had found means to support
him by thin cakes which she slid into the grated window
of his prison, and it is said by her own milk, conveyed
through a reed; but she was detected, and put to death by
his keepers ; and after fifteen days, the body of the miserable
SCOTLAND.
711
InPtheeextremit'ili"fa|.State '°Z St°cking t0 be ^nbed.
own flesh ” f £ S6 h“d and torn his~~.^
i i r Lrt’ deP! essed by this calamity, and inca- James I.
pable of exert,™, committed the whole cares of the stover,,,
ment to the duke of Albany; and the power of thafdlril
the” S'of by an0tier event which completely brok?
death Thk was HS’ “• T probabl!' tbe cause of his
death. Ibis was the seizure by the English of his eldest
son James, then a youth in his fifteenth year, and on his
thTcountrv1 " TlCe' Th6 COnse(luences were very fatal to
the country. I he prince was carried to the Tower; the
father did not long survive the captivity of the son • and on
hts death, which took place in Mtfe, brother” the duke
of Albany, succeeded to the prize which had long been the
domCt °f 118 ambltlon’ the undisputed regency of the king-
1 Life of James the First, pp. 203, 204, in Lives of Scottish Worthies.
The young king, James the First, was a captive and p
widThim” Frbkytoo wel], "'e raiue ot tb« p« s
with him. For nineteen years he was detained in England ; of Albany,
and, during this long interval, Albany became the uncontrol-
ed governor of Scotland. It has been suspected that the in¬
ti igues of this able and unprincipled man with the English
monarch, had led to the seizure of the young king. That they
prolonged the period of his captivity, there can be no doubt.
np!LVKlhlC rr ^ beSi poUcy of the reSent t0 cultivate He culti-
peace with England, and to conciliate Henry the Fourth, vates peace
as this prince could at any time put a termination to his au-with Eng-
thority by restoring James to his kingdom ; and the sameland-
desire to retain the power which he had so nefariously usurp-
e , induced Albany to cultivate the friendship, and overlook A. D.] 424.
the crimes and excesses of the great feudal barons. All
tins led to dreadful confusion in Scotland, which, although
treed for a time from the incessant invasions of its more
powerful neighbour, was torn by private war, whilst the lives
and property of its people were exposed to the attack of
e very unprincipled feudal baron who sheltered himself under
the protection of the regent.
This miserable state of things was at length terminated James I.
by tiie return of James to his dominions; a prince whose returns to
character presented a striking contrast to that of his father h'® country,
and grandfather. During the nineteen years in which iieAiD*1424-
had been unjustifiably detained in that country, he enjoy¬
ed advantages which almost repaid him for his captivity.
Henry the fourth, a prince who well understood the art
of government, had made it his generous care that James
should receive an excellent education; and he had the
advantage of being instructed in war, by accompanying
his victorious successor, Henry the Fifth, to France. On
his return to his own dominions, he was in the prime
and the vigour of manhood. His character, formed in the Character
school of adversity, was one of great power. He found his of James I.
kingdom a scene of lawless excess and rapine ; a condition
to which it had been reduced from the want of a firm hand
to restrain oppression and enforce the laws. Since the
death of Bruce the power of the aristocracy had been on
the increase, while that of the crown had proportionally
lost ground, and fallen into contempt. His object, as can James’s
be clearly discerned through the history of his brief reign, principles
was to restore the kingly authority, to rescue the commons of govern-
from oppression and plunder, to give security to property,ment-
encouragement to the industry and pacific arts of his peo¬
ple, and to compel his barons to renounce their ideas of in¬
dividual independence, and become good subjects.
The regency of Albany, his uncle, and of his son Mur¬
doch, who had succeeded him, was naturally and justly re¬
garded by James as little else than a long usurpation. He James’s ex-
was mortified that Albany, against whom, as the murderer treme seve-
of his brother, he entertained the deepest resentment, rity t0 tl>e
should have escaped his merited punishment: and the roval1)01186 of
      - Albany.
5 Lives of Scottish Worthies, vol. ii. p. 242.
S'
712
SCOTLAND.
James I.
Execution
of Duke
Murdoch,
and the
Scotland, vengeance fell with a proportionably heavier force upon
Murdoch, his son and successor; nor is it possible to deny
that James’s retribution was cruel and excessive. Murdoch,
the duke of Albany, his two sons, the earl of Athole, and
Alexander Stewart, with his father-in-law, the earl ot
Lennox, a venerable nobleman, eighty years of age, were
tried, condemned, and executed. James, the duke s young¬
est son, having escaped, collected a band of freebooters, and
Earls of pter sackmg and plundering Dunbarton, took refuge in
Athole and Ireland . but five 0f hig men fe}l into the king’s hands, and
were torn in pieces by wild horses. So horrid a punish-
ment, and the exterminating severity exhibited to all con¬
nected with the house of Albany, can admit of no justifica¬
tion ; and there is every reason to believe, that the early
and miserable death of the monarch, is to be traced to the
deep feelings of revenge with which some of his nobles
from that moment regarded him. Neither is it possible to
believe that the king in this instance carried along with
him the feelings of the people. Yet looking at the state
of things in Scotland, it is easy to understand his object.
It was his intention to exhibit to a nobility, long accus¬
tomed to regard the laws with contempt, and the royal au¬
thority as a name of empty menace, a memorable example
of stern and inflexible justice, to convince them that a great
change had already taken place in the executive part of
the government; to furnish also a warning to the people,
of the punishment which awaited those who imagined that
fidelity to the commands of their feudal lord was paramount
to the ties which bound them to obey the laws of their
country.
f Having given this severe and sanguinary lesson, the next
Scotland in efforts of the monarch were addressed to the internal ad-
relation to ministration of his kingdom. From without he had nothing
England to dread ; he was at peace with England, and his mainage
with Jane Beaufort, the niece of Cardinal Beaufort, had,
from her near relationship to the English monarch, strength¬
ened the ties between the two countries. France was the
ancient ally of Scotland ; and the Netherlands profited too
much from the Scottish trade not to be anxious to preserve
the most friendly relations. The king could therefore
direct his undivided attention to his affairs at home. His
great principle, and it was one worthy of so wise a prince,
seems to have been a determination to govern the country
through the medium of his parliament. Of these convoca¬
tions of the national legislature, which had been rarely held
under the regencies of the two Albanys, no less than thir¬
teen occurred during his brief reign, which, dating from
his return in 1424, lasted only thirteen years. It is to him
that Scotland owes the first clear recognition of the princi¬
ple of representation by the election ot the commissaries for
shires; it was by him that one of the greatest improve¬
ments was introduced into the administration of justice, by
the institution of a court of law known by the name of the
Session. Nor was this all. Previously to his time, the
laws and the acts of parliament had been published in Latin,
and the great majority of the inferior judges to whom their
execution was entrusted, were unable to understand them.
Acts of To remedy this grievance, the king commanded the acts of
Parliament parliament to be drawn up in the spoken language of the
in the Scot- land ; an improvement so important, that it forms an era in
tish tongue. our legislation. Other points of almost equal interest oc¬
cupied his attention. By his personal presence in the High¬
lands, and by the military three which he brought along
with him, when he visited those remote disti icts of his do¬
minions, he introduced laws and order where there had
formerly been little else than feudal licence and contempt
for all authority. Although he cultivated the art-s of peace,
he did not forget that its surest preservative was an atten¬
tion to the military strength of his country. Weapon-thaw¬
ings, or military musters, were held periodically ; and hav¬
ing witnessed, when resident in England, and in the war ot
and the
continent.
The Ses¬
sion.
Weapon-
sha wings.
Henry the Fifth with France, the great superiority of the Scotian
English over the Scottish archers, lie made it his earnest
care that his subjects should cultivate this warlike accom- James 11
plishment. In many of the acts of the various parliaments
of this monarch, we can also trace an attention to the en¬
couragement of agriculture, to the interests of foreign trade
and domestic manufactures, to the state of his shipping
and navy, to the prices of labour, and the melioration of
the condition of the labourers of the soil, which clearly
demonstrates the high and important objects that occu¬
pied the king’s mind, although the means he employed were
not exactly those which should have suggested themselves
to the experience of a more advanced age. Amid these J3™8 ■
severer duties, James gave an example to his rude barons Jj
of the cultivation of intellectual accomplishments. He was
himself a poet ; and the king’s book, or King’s Quair,
composed during his captivity in England, is still read by
many with delight and enthusiasm. He was a reformer of
the language of his country ; he composed pieces of music,
and sang and accompanied himself on various instruments.
It is probable, however, that these employments were rather
the solace of his tedious confinement in England, than ob¬
jects of serious pursuit after his return.
Having so zealously devoted himself to the best interests James a
of his kingdom, James had the satisfaction to see his mea- sassmate
sures attended with success, and all seemed secure and
prosperous, when he suddenly became the victim of a dark
conspiracy. Under circumstances of extreme ferocity he Feb. 20
was assassinated in the monastery of the Blackfriars at 1436.
Perth, by Sir Robert Graham, the earl of Athole, and some
accomplices who had been dependants ot the house ot
Albany, The court was then at Perth, and James had
taken up his residence in the Dominican monastery beside
the town. The king was betrayed by his chamberlain, who
facilitated the entrance of the conspirators, by removing or
damaging the locks of the royal apartments. When the
alarm was given, it is said that alady who waited on the queen,
named Catherine Douglas, thrust her arm into the staple of
the door, and thus, before it was broken, heroically afforded
a brief interval in which the king contrived to conceal him¬
self in a small vaulted chamber, where for some time he
evaded discovery. The conspirators, under the idea that
he had escaped, had dispersed themselves through the palace,
and the unfortunate monarch might have been safe, if he had
not prematurely attempted to leave his concealment. Jhe
noise which he made recalled one of the ruffians, who shout¬
ed to his companions ; and springing down into the vault,
they threw themselves upon their defenceless victim and
murdered him, after a desperate resistance. Although consi¬
derable obscurity hangs over the ramifications of the plot
which ended thus fatally to the king, there exists no doubt
that it owed its origin to indignation at the fate of Albany,
and those deep feelings of feudal revenge which had been
long cherished by the friends of that unhappy house; afford¬
ing a terrible lesson to princes of the reaction which may
take place, when justice forgets her calmer mood, and pushes
her punishments beyond example into revenge.
The death of James the First was a severe calamity
the country, exposing it for the third time since the deat - J Ly,
of Bruce to all the evils of a long minority. His eldest AJ)1jj;. |y
son, who succeeded to the throne by the title ot James the
Second, was a boy only six years old; and althoug tie
character of the queen-mother was marked by considerable
talent and vigour, these qualities were feeble substitutes tor
the masculine wisdom, the determined courage, aru t ie
unwearied care of the husband whom she had lost. Her rs unis ^
duty was the arrest and punishment of his murderers; and roe"
this she executed with speedy and immitigable severity.
But the death of the king once more gave a licence, and ot¬
tered to the feudal nobles an opportunity of recovering their
power of which they were not slow to avail themselves.
1
713
In this me- Scotland.
SCOTLAND.
Graham, the pnnapd murderer of the late monarch, in lage of a more successful party in the state”
the midst of the cruel tortures which preceded his death l-mr-hoh, / y tn 1 1
had avowed that the day was at hand when the Scottish and I ivin^r ton -h e er6i Playecl by Crichton
nobles would venerate his memory for having rid them nf th^ n a ’ ' 0’ e^mJnS lt ^or tbe,r interest to crush James II.
a tyrant; and these proud and
remembered the magnitude of James’s plans, arid The sfeS burglblX sudden v " ™ sT them F° ^
and sometimes unjust severity with which he carried them —•..„ 7, g , 1 them a charge of treason,
into execution, could not but feel that now was the time to
and put them to instant death.
U1LU cacuuuuii, cuuiu noc out reel that now was the time to It was fnrhmnf^ thr ™ ,
recover the privileges which they had lost, and to provide domestic factions, its fbreign“Sitk,ns were of'VnacificJf'
crmchmente of the'erowm"' barner a«alnst e“- France, and ^ the Netherlands, Pbeing|'“»;b,“
rhi 0bservat7 is 7'!> «'« history of the country, young ktg! Is he .^“^0^^^
1 no'“"'S' dlj"ng ,h® re'«" “ monarch, but for the next years, developed a character of prudence vigour Zi Z
century It unfortunately happened, that with the excep- telligence, which appeared destined to restoref better smte
tion of James the Fourth, who on his accession was a youth of things to his kingdom. Having married the daughter of
of seventeen, Scotland was visited by a series of minorities the duke of Gueldres, he assumed the government and
m Ja™es the Second, James the Third, James the Fifth, selected as his principal councillor, Kennedy b"shop of St
Ind S’ an!lC d0"^^ ^ ^ 1436 Andrews, a prjlate 0Pf great vvisd^m Td l^egrityf lot
thlS;Pe!!°d of rnore.th1an a,century, rank as head of the church, invested him with an authority
ine extraordinary increase in the power ot the nobles, the to which the people, amid the general corruption, looked
diminished respect for the crown, and its proportionate with much reverence and affection. It was probably bv
weakness against attack and encroachment, are too promi- his advice, that James, whose passions were naturally vio-
nent features to escape notice. We see events, the same lent, and who viewed with indignation the arrogance of
in character, and merely varied in name and minor inci- the earl of Douglas, engaged in a systematic plan for the
reduction of his overgrown power. Without attempting
at once, and by any arbitrary exertion of strength, to de¬
prive this potent chief of his high offices, a measure which
might have been followed by extreme commotion, he
dents, occurring during the whole time: a monarch of
greater or of less energy, emerging from his minority, and
making an effort to recover the power which he had lost ;
a band of turbulent and selfish nobles leagued against him, ^       ^ i c winmuuuu ms
and only detached from their brethren, and persuaded to gradually withdVew from him his cTuntenancrand employ-
act with the crown, by an appeal to their interest and their ment; surrounded himself by able and energetic council-
‘ears- 1 hese remarks were strikingly exemplified in the lors, whom he promoted to the principal places of trust;
scenes which took place during the minority of James the and thus weakened the authority of the proud baron,
Second. _ rather by the formidable counterpoise which he raised
[inorityof ^ Immediately after his coronation, a struggle commenced against it, than by any act of open aggression. This con-
imes II. for the possession of the chief power in the government, duct was attended with the best results. The earl of
In a parliament held at Edinburgh, the queen-mother was Douglas, finding his consequence decreasing, and his power
entrusted with the custody of the young king, while Archi- on the wane, retired for a while from Scotland, and respect
bald earl of Douglas and duke of Touraine, was ap- o™  c  u ? i .1 ,• ■,
adful
e of
'tiand.
pointed lieutenant-general of the kingdom, a title probably
including all the powers of a military governor. In civil
matters the chief authority seems to have fallen into the
hands of the chancellor Crichton, who had the command
of Edinburgh Castle, in which the queen-mother, with the
young prince, had taken refuge soon after the murder of
her husband. This princess, however, soon found that
Crichton turned the possession of the royal person into an
engine for his own advancement, and refused to her that
frequent intercourse with her son which she had expected,
and to which she was entitled.
Having combined therefore with Sir Alexander Living¬
ston, a baron who had been in favour with the late king,
she contrived, by stratagem, to possess herself of the person
of the young king, whom she shut up in a large wardrobe
chest, and carried as her luggage to Leith, from whence she
for the character of the monarch increased with the feel¬
ing of security derived from an improved administration
of the government. During the absence of the chief,
James had time to reduce the minor barons who were his
dependants, to attach his own friends more powerfully to
his interest, and to concentrate a strength, which, on Dou¬
glas’s return from Italy, convinced him that he must consent
to play a second part to his prince. The result was what
might easily have been anticipated. A collision took place
between this haughty potentate and the young sovereign
whose commands he had so often defied. Douglas, natu¬
rally rash and fearless, had consented, under a safecon-
duct bearing the royal signature, to visit James in the
Castle of Edinburgh. After the royal feast, the king
remonstrated with his guest; disclosed to him the proofs A. D. 1451
he possessed of his combinations against the govern¬
ment ; reproached him for the frequent murders of his sub¬
hastened to Stirling Castle, which had been assigned to her jects committed by his order; and condescended to intreat
as a jointure-house. him to forsake such dangerous courses, assuring him of his
The kingdom was nowr divided between three factions, pardon and favour. Douglas, instead of embracing the Murder of
that of the queen and Livingston, who possessed the per- offer, replied to it with haughtiness and insolence ; and the Earl of
son of the king, Sir Alexander Crichton the chancellor, and James, losing all command of himself and braved to his J-)oufdi^
thirdly, the earl of Douglas, whose immense estates in Scot- face, drew his dagger and stabbed him to the heart. Fall- James '
ing at his feet, he wras instantly despatched by the nobles,
who, hearing the commotion, rushed into the apartment.
This atrocious murder was followed by a struggle be-A D. 1452.
tween the royal party and the friends and vassals of the un- Defeat of
fortunate baron, in which the king was completely success-
ful. Sir James Douglas, who succeeded his brother in the j)^Ug]asb»
earldom, attempted to brave the monarch, renouncing his james jj.
allegiance, and throwing himself into the arms of England;
but his projects against his country were defeated. He was
equally unfortunate in his alliance with the Lord of the
Isles, whose naval force he directed against the west of Scot¬
land,and hisforeign wealth and influence asduke ofTouraine,
rendered him by far the most formidable baron in the coun¬
try. From this moment to the period when James, having
attained majority, began to act for himself, an interval of
thirteen years, the history of the nation presents little else
than one uniform scene of civil anarchy and of unpunished
crime. “ The young monarch beheld his kingdom con¬
verted into a stage on which his nobles contended for the
chief power ; wdiilst his subjects were cruelly oppressed,
and he himself handed about, a passive puppet, from the
failing grasp of one declining faction, into the more irontute-
VOL. XIX.
4 x
714
SCOTLAND.
at RoX'
burgh.
James III.
Scotland, land; and at length, in a fruitless effort to regain his lost governor of the king’s person ; filled every office with his Scotland!
power by invading the Merse along with the earl of North- dependants ; married his eldest son, who was created earl of
James III. utnberland, he was totally routed by the earl of Angus, and A ^ LSnrr’a cictor • anrl a<-m,irorl an mnrh mflupiif®
driven a landless fugitive into England.
A.D.1460. The remainder of this reign was employed by the king in
Death of an endeavour to complete the work which he had begun ; by
James II. strengthening the power of the crown, and giving security
to the persons and property of his subjects ; by attaching to
his party the great and influential body of the clergy, carry¬
ing into effect various parliamentary enactments for the de¬
fence of the borders against the attacks of England, and
cultivating the warlike character of his people. Amid these
kingly cares, he unwisely suffered himself to be entangled
by the contests between the Yorkists and Lancastrians; and
having espoused the party of Henry the Sixth, levied an
army, and met his death by the bursting of one of his own
guns at the siege of Roxburgh. He was succeeded by his
son James the Third, a boy in his eighth year.
The death of a sovereign thus cut off in the prime of his
manhood and usefulness, leaving an infant successor, would
have been a deep calamity at all times, but it was especial¬
ly so at this moment. James the Second had with uncom¬
mon vigour and judgment reduced the overgrown power of could have been anticipated from the struggles of his t[ie kin^
his nobles; but he died before his plans were matured, leaving minority. The important isles of Orkney and Zetland dora>
the nation at war with England, the seeds of civil disunion had been acquired with the daughter of Denmark ; the ricn
lurking in his kingdom and ready to spring up, and the more town of Berwick, and the border fortress of Roxburgh, had
northern parts of the realm held by tierce chiefs, who were been occupied by the Scots ; the earldom of Ross had been
disnosed, on the slightest provocation, to throw off their al- annexed to the crown ; the independence and lioerty of the
A.D. 1461. legianee. With these island lords, Edward the Fourth en- Scottish Church established by the erection of St. Andrews
tered into a strict alliance ; and the banished Douglases,
now become English subjects, agreed to assist him in a con¬
federacy, the object of which was nothing less than the
conquest and partition of Scotland. It was to be expected
that the favour shewn by that country to the expatriated
monarch Henry the Sixth, should have deeply incensed his
rival.; but the facility with which he purchased his instru¬
ments, and found them in the ranks of the Scottish nobles,
who became the vassals of England, is a mortifying fact.
Energy of From these general remarks it is easy to anticipate the
the queen- history of this reign, and the scenes which it presented. In
7       7       
Arran, to the king’s sister ; and acquired so much influence James ill |
over the young king, rather, it would seem, by terror than
by love, that he appeared completely subservient to his
wishes. The decay of this family was as sudden as its rise.
A marriage had been negociated between the king and Mar¬
garet princess of Denmark, and scarcely was it conclud¬
ed, when a faction of the nobles, at the head of whom
was the monarch himself, suddenly attacked the Boyds, ar¬
raigned them of high treason, seized and confiscated their
large estates, and brought to the scaffold their principal
leader. A divorce was instituted against the earl of Arran
and his wife, the princess Mary, sister to the king ; aqd she
was compelled to give her hand to Lord Hamilton, a fa- Rise of ri
vourite of the young monarch. It was through this mar- L-mse of
riage that the family of Hamilton, which now rose into great
power upon the ruin of the Boyds, became, in the subse¬
quent reign of Mary, the nearest heirs to the crown.
James had now attained majority, and in assuming the James Hi
full administration of the government, he found his king- attains mt
dom more opulent, more secure, and more powerful, thanD^y^.
could have been anticipated from the struggles ~v 1':" aeo
mother.
into an archbishopric ; and, lastly, a marriage treaty with
England, by which the youngest daughter of Edward the
Fourth was betrothed to the king’s eldest son, seemed to pro¬
mise security and peace in this formidable quarter. If such
had already been the success of this reign, it seemed not
unreasonable to look forward to still greater prosperity in
after years; and yet the history of the country, from the
moment when the monarch attained his majority, presents
a melancholy contrast to this beginning. This reverse we
are inclined to ascribe partly to the personal qualities of
the king, partly to some changes in the power and dis-
to their minuter details it is impossible to enter. For a positions of the great body of the feudal nobles, which are
while the energy of the queen-mother supported the go- discernible at this period, not in Scotland only, but in all
vernment. On the news of the death of her husband, in¬
stead of giving herself up to unavailing grief, she repaired
with all speed to the camp before Roxburgh, carrying
with her her infant son, now king; him she presented to
the nobles, and urged them for him and his father’s sake
to press forward the siege. She was obeyed, and Rox¬
burgh was taken; but fatal disputes soon succeeded to
this success, and it required all the vigour of the queen,
with her chief minister, Bishop Kennedy, a man of high
the feudal kingdoms of Europe.
Some of our historians have represented James the Third Charort*'!
as a compound of indolence, caprice, and imbecility; but?LJames
their opinion seems rash and unfounded. His character1
was different from that of the age in which he lived, and
in some respects it was far beyond it. The times were
rude, warlike, and unintellectual. The king was fond of
repose, and addicted to a seclusion in which he might de¬
vote himself to pursuits which bespoke a refined .and cub
character and talent, to struggle against the difficultieswhich tivated mind: a passion for mathematics, and the study of
State of
the king¬
dom.
judicial astrology, a taste for architecture, a love for the
science and practice of music, and a generous disposition
to patronize the professors of literature and philosophy, ra¬
ther than to surround himself with a crowd of fierce retainers,
were the prominent features in the mind of this unfor¬
tunate prince; tastes which have been reprobated by con-
surrounded them. In the northern parts of the kingdom
all was unsettled ; and the earl of Ross espousing the cause
of Edward the Fourth, proclaimed himself king of the He¬
brides, while the earl of Angus, on whom, after the fall of
the house of Douglas, a large share of their pow^r had de¬
volved, undertook to support the party of Henry the Sixth, t . . ., -
contrary to the wishes of the queen and Bishop Kennedy, contemporary historians, but which, if duly regulated, were
Death of At this crisis, the young sovereign lost his motlua Mary of rather praiseworthy than the contrary. Unfortunately,
Mary of Gueldres ; and, after a few years, Bishop Kennedy followed however, this due regulation was wanting. James had the
Gueldres. hertothe srave; events which deprived the government of its weakness, not only to patronize, but to confer feudal rank,
A.D.1463. or rather of its only support. Yet amid all these com- and distinctions, hitherto appropriated to the nobles, upon
plicated dangers, it is remarkable, that for fifteen years, the professors of his favourite studies. Architects, rausi-
the interval occupied by the minority of this prince, the cians, painters, and astrologers, were admitted to the farm-
affairs of the country were prosperous. liar converse of the sovereign, while the highest no es
Rise of the On the death of Bishop Kennedy, the chief power in the found a cold reception or a positive denial of access. Is it
house of government had fallen into the hands of William Lord any subject of surprise, that a fierce nobility should ave
Boyd. Boyd, the high Justiciar, a baron hitherto little known, but been disgusted with such conduct, and that the kings war
whose power rose, in a few years, to a height which almost like brothers, the earls of Albany and Mar, should have een
rivaled that of the once formidable Douglases. He became regarded as the chief support of the state ?
i. a
SCOTLAND.
715
^ontest of
fames III.
vith his
withers,
Albany and
•l2r Scotland. But in studying the history of this reign, we shall detect
^ other causes of the sanguinary scenes in which it concluded.
;,i, fames HI. Not only were the feudal nobility of Scotland induced by
'Ton'6"tlie neglectan(l favouritism of the king to long for a change,
-^feudal but ^ is worthy ot'remark, that for some time previous to
pobdity of tllis period, the feudal nobility of Europe had been in a state
Europe. of extraordinary commotion and tumult; and events had
occurred which diminished in the eyes of the aristocracy
and of the people the respect entertained for the throne.
The revolution in England under Henry the Fourth, the sub¬
sequent history of that kingdom during the contest between
the houses of York and Lancaster, the political struggles in
France under Louis the Eleventh, the relative condition of
the greater nobles in Germany and of the rights of the im¬
perial crown under the emperor Sigismund, the dissensions
Vvhich divided the Netherlands, and the civil factions which
agitated the government in Spain, all combined to render
resistance so common, and so lucrative in the eyes of the
feudal nobility in Europe, that its frequency can be a sub¬
ject of little wonder ; and if, when we take into account the
frequent communication between Scotland and the conti¬
nent during the period of these commotions, we may easi¬
ly imagine their effect upon the still ruder and more inde¬
pendent nobility of that country. We have been tempted to
throw out these general observations, because the reign of
James the Third is in one respect most remarkable. It is
the era from which we may date the rise of a republican
spirit, and the first propagation of those popular princi¬
ples, of which the operation can be traced, in a greater or
less degree, through the whole course of its subsequent
history.
To return from such remarks to the events of this reign,
we find the king engaged in a contest with his two power¬
ful brothers, Albany and Mar. To the first had been en¬
trusted the wardenship of the east marches, the government
j * of Berwick, and the castle of Dunbar, the principal key of the
A.D.H79 kingdom ; and there seems no doubt that he had abused his
-1480. high powers to an extent which bordered upon treason.
Against Mar was brought a still more atrocious charge. He
had plotted, it was said, to cause the king’s death by magi¬
cal arts ; and being convicted by the evidence of his wizard
accomplices, was imprisoned, and, according to one account,
secretly executed. Another story ascribes his death to the
consequences of a fever, for which having a vein opened,
he in an excess of phrensy tore off his bandages and bled to
death. Against Albany the king proceeded with unusual
vigour. He attacked him in Dunbar, made himself master
of the fortress, and would have seized his person, but the
rebellious prince availed himself of the situation of the castle,
which was open to the sea, and fled first to England, and
afterwards to France.
At this moment, Louis the Eleventh wasat war with Edward
the Fourth, and he unfortunately possessed such influence over
the Scottish king, that he brought about a rupture between
James and Edward. It W’as a step signally impolitic. Al¬
bany, the king’s brother, returning from France, threw him¬
self into the arms of England ; the nobility were full of com¬
plaints against the government; the Lord of the Isles em¬
braced the interests of Edward ; and after along interval of
peace had softened the national animosity between the
kingdoms, it was a miserable sight once more to witness
the renewal of hostilities.
This contest led to some extraordinary scenes. Albany
havingopenlyavowedhis purpose todethrone his brother,as¬
sumed the title of Alexander king of Scotland, and entered
into a treaty with Edward, by which he basely consented to
sacrifice the independence and dismember some of the finest
portions of the kingdom. To effect his designs, he had the
address not only to secure the co-operation of the banished
earl of Douglas, with the Lord of the Isles and his north¬
ern vassals, but he detached from James’s service Angus,
Irar with
England.
t-D. 1480.
Gray, Huntly, Lennox, and many others of the leading Scotland,
nobility in Scotland. A conspiracy was formed against the '***m\s~*>*s
monarch and his favourites; the conjuncture of his assem-‘Gines HI.
bling his army, preparatory to his invasion of England, was i
deemed the most favourable moment for the execution of. 011 P11-<’y
their purpose ; and in the camp at Lauder its success washing
equally sudden and terrible. The nobles, led by Angus,
seized Cochrane, James’s favourite, wdio, from a mean sta¬
tion, had been promoted to high rank and enriched with
the earldom of Mar; they then broke into the king’s tent,
made him prisoner, arrested the band of ignoble associates
who shared his confidence, and proceeded to inflict summary
vengeance on them all. Cochrane was hanged over the bridge
of Lauder; Rogers, a musician, Hommel, Leonard, Preston
and others, shared his fate ; and the unfortunate monarch,
having been conveyed to the capital, was shut up in the
castle of Edinburgh. The result of this success was what
might have been expected. Albany, who all along had acted
from motives of personal ambition, having once possessed
himself of the king’s person, ruled the government at his
will.
But usurpation of the supreme powder was not the full B ase con-
extent of his treachery. He attached Edward the Fourth to duct of Li¬
llis service by the sacrifice of the national independence. In
a secret treaty, the English prince engaged to assist Al¬
bany, who hitherto had only assumed the title of lieutenant-
general of the kingdom, in placing the crown on his own
head ; and as the base price of this assistance, the new king
and his nobles agreed to withdraw^ their oaths from king
James, and to live under the sole allegiance of the king of
England. It may give us some idea of the low estate
which the nobles of Scotland had fallen, when w.e men-
ation, that not only the earl of Douglas, now banished
and living in England, but the earls of Angus, Buchan,
Athole, and many others, were willing parties to this wan¬
ton sacrifice of their country.
The plot, however, was defeated, and happily a party yet Parfy
remained among the nobles, who, though their vengeance against
had been directed against the king’s favourites, were friends Albany,
to the crown and to the country. They had joined Albany
with the object of sacrificing Cochrane and his associates,
but had been kept in ignorance of his ultimate intentions ;
and the moment these became apparent, they united with
the king and overwhelmed the opposite faction. And here,
in the manner in which Albany was treated, is to be found
the cause of all the subsequent misfortunes of the king.
His brother deserved punishment, and ought to have met with
no pity. He had been guilty of open and repeated treasons,
had levied war against his prince ; and imprisoned his royal
person, leagued himself with his enemies, sold the indepen¬
dence of his country, and assumed the title of king. His
guilt and ambition had seduced from their allegiance a large
party of the nobles ; and if ever there was a time in which
a great example was to be made, that time was now come.
Yet, instead of this wholesome severity, the duke of Albany Impolitic
was treated with a lenity for which it is impossible to ac- w
count. On acknowledging his manifold treasons, and lay-
ing down his office of lieutenant-general, he not only re¬
ceived a full pardon, but was permitted to retain not only
his vast estates, but his wardenship of the marches, and was
simply interdicted from coming within six miles of the court,
or continuing his illegal combination with Angus, Athole,
and Buchan.
Whether we are to ascribe this misplaced mercy to the A.D. 1483.
king’s attachment to his brother, or to a suspicion that he Renewed
was not strong enough to inflict a more exemplary punish-re''elll01i of
ment, it is difficult to decide; but the result demonstrated what A al!y‘
has been so often taught, the folly of a misplaced lenity. In
a few weeks Albany was again in rebellion. At his invita¬
tion, an English army invaded Scotland ; Dunbar, the most
important castle in the kingdom, as the key of the eastern
716
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, borders, was delivered up by this base person to the enemy,
v^v-^>uliile he himself fled into England, and organized with
James III. Edward the Fourth the plan of a more formidable invasion.
Scotlair
At this crisis occurred the death of the English monarch,
plot proceeded to its maturity, and thence hurried on to
its catastrophe with an appalling rapidity. ''-‘■"y-v
The two parties of the king and the conspirators first James [.
tried their mutual strength in a Parliament. It was pro-
tain 01 tilt: naigusii . r v Collisir l
and the seizure of the crown by Richard the Third ; events posed by the popular faction that an amicable adjustment I
of all disputes should take place between themselves and tije tW(
the sovereign, and that such barons as were still obnoxious parties,
to a charge of treason, should receive a full pardon. To
this the party of the king peremptorily refused their con¬
sent. James, aware of the unworthy conduct of his son, the
heir apparent, created his second son duke of Ormond, and
seemed to point him out as his successor. He at the same
time rewarded the principal barons who had espoused his
interest, and took decisive measures, by the appointment of
vigorous officers, to have the laws against treason severely
administered. These steps convinced his opponents that
their proceedings had been discovered ; and without giving
the monarch time to assemble an army, or even take mea-
which gave James an interval of rest, in which he acted
with unusual firmness and energy. Reassembled a parlia¬
ment at Edinburgh, in which the sentence of forfeiture was
pronounced against the duke of Albany and all his adhe¬
rents; he entered into an intimate alliance with Charles the
Eighth of France, and he concluded a truce with Richard
the Third, who was too much occupied with his own compli¬
cated affairs, to have leisure or inclination to continue the
war with Scotland. Thus strengthened, the king found it
no difficult matter to resist the last effort of Albany and
Douglas, who having once more invaded Scotland at the
head of a small force, were completely defeated at Loch-
Final de- maben; an event followed not long after by the death , _ , , , .
feat of Al-of Douglas, in the abbey of Lindores, where he had been sures for his personal defence, they threw off the mask, broke
bany. confined, and of Albany, who was slain in a tournament out into open rebellion, declared that James the ihird, by his
A. D. 1483. jn France. crimes and oppressions, had forfeited all title to the throne,
The Scot- It might have been expected that James, who was thus and proclaimed his son, by the title of James the Fourth,
tish nobles delivered from his most powerful enemies, would have been Even now, had not the king suffered himself to be r^,lsJe
renew their permitted to reign in peace. But he was destined to be by his paternal feelings, the conflict might have cone u ec
intrigues unfortunate ; and, although his nobles had refused to alter in his favour; for it is evident that a large class of the no-
the succession in favour of his ambitious brother, they soon bility, and the whole body of the people, were against these
after appear to have entered into intrigues with England nefarious proceedings. So strong was this feeling, that
for the purpose of placing the crown on the head of his
son, the prince of Scotland, who was then a youth in
his sixteenth year. Much obscurity hangs over the ori¬
gin of this conspiracy. Advances seem first to have been
made by the faction of the prince to Richard the Third,
who, although he was animated by an anxious desire to re¬
main at peace with Scotland, did not scruple to hold out
secret encouragement to James’s enemies. To what ex¬
tent such secret negociations proceeded, it is not easy to
discover; but after the death of Richard they were re¬
newed, and his successor, Henry the Seventh, showed as
little scruple as his predecessor in encouraging the malcon¬
tents.
Five years had now elapsed since the death of Cochrane
the king’s favourite, and the dreadful scenes exhibited in the
against
James
Causes of
the con-
James, who, on the advance of the rebels to the capital, had
taken refuge in the northern part of his kingdom, soon
found himself at the head of a formidable army, and ad¬
vanced instantly against the insurgents, whom he found
stationed at Blackness, near Linlithgow.
It was now the time for action, the time for a determin- a.D.144
ed execution of those laws which late years had seen so Weaknei’
constantly treated with contempt. But whether the affec-of Jame
tionate heart of the monarch sickened at the sight of his ^
subjects in mortal array against each other, or some symP‘judge(j if
toms of disaffection breaking out in his own force renderedJnity tot
him apprehensive of their fidelity, James not only consent-prince ai
ed to an accommodation, but offered terms to the prince his assoc
and his associates, which were culpably lenient. He per- ates,
mitted the son who had usurped his kingly name and pre-
camp at Lauder. Since that time a change appears to have rogative, and the subjects who had defied the authority of
against ^ in character> His devotion to study and the crown and the laws, to negociate with arms in their
I . ^ , i 1 1 1 *1 1 l   _ X* I F-rr I 1 »"\ t IV O /AT tho TT11C-
king.
retirement had given way to a sense of duty; he had exhibit
ed not only capacity for government, but unwonted resolu¬
tion in the attack and discomfiture of his enemies; and, al¬
though the impolitic lenity with which he had treated Al¬
bany was rather a weakness than a virtue, it was believ-
hands on a footing of equality. On the part of the mis¬
guided prince, now no longer a boy, no petition for forgive¬
ness, no expression of penitence was suffered to escape. In
the pacification at Blackness, the youth spoke throughout, Treaty o
not as a son conscious that he had offended, but as a sove- Blacknes
ed that he was now convinced of his error, and had resolved reign transacting a treaty with his equal. The treaty, in
that the laws against treason should no longer slumber or truth, was a triumph to the discontented nobles. I e
be despised. These reflections filled the barons who had prince and his friends who had encouraged him to resist-
been conspirators at Lauder with the greatest alarm. They ance, agreed to become obedient subjects on receiving the
were well aware that a sentence of treason hung over their king’s forgiveness, while the monarch not only consente
heads. They knew themselves guilty of aggravated offen- that their lives, honours, and estates, should be pieserved,
ces; they had imprisoned the king, usurped the government, but that the household of the heir apparent should be main-
and without regular trial or conviction, had put his favourites tained, and his friends and adherents supported with due
and councillors to death. As long as the chief power had dignity. It required little penetration to foresee that the
remained in their own hands, they felt tolerably secure, but tranquillity which was established on such
circumstances had once more restored the king to his wont- could not long subsist
ed authority ; and the dread of the retaliation which might
be inflicted, with the certainty that, at all events, their
power would be abridged, appears once more to have driven
them into rebellion. Such at least seems to be the most
probable way of accounting for the rise of that conspiracy
in which this unfortunate prince lost his crown and his life.
The worst feature in the story is the unworthy part acted
a foundation
It was a confession of weakness
pronounced at a time when firmness at least, if not severity,
was the only guide to the permanent settlement of the
convulsions which agitated the kingdom.
The consequences which any person of ordinary judg- Renewed
ment might have anticipated, were not long of occurring, rebellio11
James retired to his capital, his army was dismissed, thetheP’j"
whose valour had saved his crown, werearl
northern barons, wnuoc       ^
in it by his son, afterwards James the Fourth, over whom permitted to return to their estates, and James, anticipat
the malcontent barons gained a fatal influence, and who, ing a continuance of tranquillity, proceeded to rewar is
seduced by the prospect of a crown, lent himself a tool to friends and re-organize his court, when he receive inte i
the dethronement of his father. When once organized, the gence that his son the prince, with the same fierce barons
SCOTLAND.
"Yv
'Uisioi
Scotland, who had so lately sworn allegiance, were again in arras, and
more formidable numbers than before. In this emergen-
lames IV. cy, indeed, the king acted with courage and promptitude ;
A,D. 1488. but having disbanded the strongest division of his army,
which consisted of his northern barons and their vassals,
the force which he mustered was much inferior to that of
his opponents. It was therefore determined to await in the
capital the arrival of the northern barons ; but unfortun¬
ately this resolution was abandoned, and the monarch with
inferior numbers, attacked the insurgents, who were com¬
manded by the prince his son, at Sauchy Burn, within a
Defeat and1™'6 °f Bannockburn. The consequences proved most ca-
death of lamitous. The royal forces, after an obstinate struggle, gave
James III. way to their opponents ; and James, flying from the held,
at Sauchy. was murdered by an unknown hand, at a little hamlet call-
A.D.1488. e(j Mflt0Wn, a few miles distant from the field of battle.
He perished in the prime of life, and it is said his youthful
successor was seized with overwhelming remorse on being
James IV. informed of the miserable fate of his father. However this
iroclaimed may be, he wras immediately proclaimed king, and the ho-
717
ting-
Character
if James
:n.
;eneral
tserva-
ons.
u
mage of his barons, the early possession of a sceptre, and
the lustre of a court, soon stifled his repentant feelings.
The character of James the Third has been represented
by Boyce, Buchanan, and those writers who have been
contented to follow their authority, as a compound of weak¬
ness, wilfulness, and crime; a character contradicted by the
history of his reign. It must indeed be admitted, that
James’s indulgent treatment of his rebellious subjects, and of
the prince his son, partook of weakness, although there are
few father’s hearts in which he will not find an advocate;
but in other respects the best refutation of the ideal pic¬
tures of Buchanan is to be found in the real history of the
reign. James’s misfortunes are, in truth, to be attributed
more to the extraordinary circumstances of the times in
which he lived, than to any flagrant vices or defects in the
monarch himself. At this period, in almost every king¬
dom in Europe with which Scotland was connected, the
power of the great feudal nobles, and that of the sover¬
eign, had been arrayed in jealous hostility against each
other. The time appeared to have arrived when both
parties seemed convinced that they were on the con¬
fines of a great change; that the power of the throne
must either sink under the superior strength of the
greater nobles, or the independence and tyranny of these
feudal tyrants receive a blow from which it wTould not be
easy for them to recover. In the different countries of
Europe indeed, the result was not uniform, but in all the
same elements of faction were seen arrayed against each
other. Thus, in France, the struggle under Louis the
Eleventh had terminated in favour of the crown ; yet the les¬
son to be derived from it was not lost upon the Scottish
nobility, who were in constant communication with this
country. In Flanders and the states of Holland, they had
before them the spectacle of an independent prince deposed
and imprisoned by his son ; and in Germany the reign of
Frederic the Third, who was contemporary with James
the Third of Scotland, presented one constant scene of
struggle between the emperor and his nobility, in which
this capricious potentate was uniformly defeated.
There is yet one other observation to be made upon this
remarkable revolution, by which, for the first time in Scot¬
tish history, a king was solemnly deposed by a faction of his
own subjects. Although the barons who led the success¬
ful faction represented themselves as the friends of liber¬
ty, driven to a resistance of royal oppression, the middle
classes and the body of the people took no share in the
struggle. Many individuals belonging to these classes, who
were feudal vassals of the great lords, must no doubt have
been compelled to serve under them; but as far as they
were represented by the commissaries of burghs who sat in
Parliament, they appear in this struggle to have joined the
party of the sovereign and the clergy, by whom, during this Scotland.
reign, frequent efforts were made to introduce a more effec-
tual administration of justice, and a greater respect for pro-James IV.
perty and the rights of individuals.
A. D. 1488.
Laws, mingled with alternate threats and exhortations,
are to be found upon these subjects in the records of each
successive Parliament of this reign ; but the offenders
continued refractory, and these offenders were the very
men, whose offices, if conscientiously administered, ought
to have secured the rights of the great body of the people.
It was the nobles who were the justiciars, chancellors, cham¬
berlains, sheriffs; and these, it was well known, were often
the worst oppressors, partial and venal in their administra¬
tion of justice, severe in exacting obedience, and opposed
to every right which interfered with their own power.
Their privileges as feudal nobles came repeatedly into
direct collision with their duties as servants of the go¬
vernment, and they made no scruple to sacrifice the last
to the preservation of the first; duty to privilege and
self-interest. It is from this cause that we discern an
honourable distinction between the clergy and the feudal
nobles, in the struggle between the crown and the faction
by which it was attacked. In this contest, wherever the
greater offices in the government were in the hands of the
clergy, it will be found that they generally supported the
sovereign; when they were entrusted to the nobility they
almost uniformly combined against him.
When James the Fourth succeeded to the throne left James IV.
vacant by the murder of his father, he was in his seventeenth succeeds to
year; but his character at that early age had vigorously de- tl2rone-
veloped itself, and although it has sometimes been asserted,
there is no reason to believe that the prince had been an
unwilling assistant, or a passive tool in the hands of the
conspirators. Their first care was to hold at Scone the
ceremony of the coronation; their next to conclude a three
years’ truce with England, then under the government of
Henry the Seventh ; their third, to assemble a Parliament
and provide for their own safety, by the forfeiture of their
enemies and the rewards distributed to their friends.
And here it is not unimportant to mark the course which Artful eon-
they artfully pursued. If any party in the state were at this duct of th«
time liable to a charge of treason, itwas evidently the friends nobles-
of the young king, and not the barons who had continued
faithful to his father ; but the difference consisted in this, that
the treason of the prince’s party had been accompanied with
success, whereas the resistance of the friends of his father had
been overwhelmed, and himself dethroned and murdered.
They who now were in possession of the supreme power,
therefore boldly turned the tables, summoned their opponents
on a charge of treason, and as the facts were notorious, pro¬
nounced sentence against them. They next voted their
own acquittal in strong and significant terms ; and consider¬
ing under whose dictation the act was drawn up, it is diffi¬
cult to read, without a smile, the compliments pronounced
upon their treason, when they declare that their sovereign
lord, and his true barons, who served with him in the field,
were innocent of the late battle and pursuit, and had no
blame in exciting the disturbances which had terminated
so fatally.
The innocence of these barons was however far from A.D. 1489
being generally admitted; and the Parliament had scarcely
risen, when Lennox, Huntly, Marischal, and other power¬
ful chiefs, rose in arms to avenge the death of their king.
Lord Forbes, who had joined them, marched through the
country, bearing the bloody shirt of the unfortunate prince
suspended from a spear; and had it not been for the
promptitude with which their opponents met the enterprise,
the movements of Lennox, who advanced upon Stirling,
might have delivered the country from their domination.
But this chief, betrayed by some of his followers, was sur¬
prised and completely routed by Lord Drummond at Fal-
718
SCOTLAND.
Character
of James
IV.
Scotland, lamoss; Dunbarton, Lennox’s strongest bold, surrendered,
s--^V'-^,'and the defeat added new strength to the young king and
James IV. his friends.
A.D. 1489. Tranquillity being restored, James, as he approached
manhood, exhibited signs of considerable ability, and en¬
ergy in following up his purposes. Amid a love of plea¬
sure, which had never been restrained by early discipline,
and often hurried him into foolish and criminal excesses,
he did not so far forget himself as to neglect his higher du¬
ties. He cultivated amicable relations with England, re¬
newed the league with France, entered into a commercial
alliance with Denmark, and in a Parliament held in the ca¬
pital, directed his earnest endeavours to the establishment
of good order, and the administration of equal justice
throughout the kingdom. Happily the character of Henry
the Seventh, hi? caution, sagacity, command of temper, and
earnest desire for peace, were well calculated to check the
ardour and impetuosity of the Scottish prince; and for
twenty years, with the exception of a brief effort made by
James in favour of Perkin Warbeck, the country enjoyed
the blessing of repose.
This interval was wisely occupied by the monarch in
Twenty
years’
peace.
Occupa-
of the reducing the northern portion of his dominions to obedi-
king
ence, and in an attempt, by the frequent convocation of his
parliament, to promulgate useful laws, and, which proved a
more difficult task, enforce their observance. It was evi¬
dent, that as the king grew older, he became convinced
of the fatal errors of his early years, and upbraided himself
for having lent himself to a selfish and unprincipled faction,
who, unless he consulted their wishes and gratified their
ambition, might be disposed to treat him as they had treat-
James IV. ed his father. Aware that they were too powerful to be
recalls bis quelled, he prudently adopted a safer course, by gradually
father’s recalling to confidence and power the friends and ministers
councillors. 0f j^jg father. Among these, one of the ablest was An-
WoocTof drew Wood of Largo. This remarkable man, whose genius
Largo. f°r naval adventure was combined with a powerful intellect
in civil affairs, rose by degrees to be one of James’s most
confidential servants, and appears to have been almost ex¬
clusively trusted in his financial concerns. We find in him
many qualities apparently inconsistent, when judged by
modern notions. He was originally nothing more than an
enterprising merchant; but at this time all merchant ships
were armed, and generally acted on an emergency as ships
of war. Wood, therefore, in the course of a life devoted
to mercantile and commercial adventure, had become a
A.D. 1489.skilful naval commander; and in the commencement of
this reign, when the English privateers infested the narrow
seas and attacked the Scottish shipping, had signalised him¬
self by the capture of five vessels, and the subsequent de¬
feat of a second squadron, commanded by Stephen Bull a
London merchant. These successes endeared him to the
king, who had a passion for naval enterprise, and lost no
opportunity of encouraging such a taste in his nobles. The
advice of such a councillor as Wood, was of essential ser¬
vice to James. His travels in different countries had en¬
larged his mind, and made him ready to adopt their improve¬
ments in various points in which Scotland was behind her
neighbours. He had been an affectionate servant of the late
king; and to his advice we are perhaps to trace the coldness
and severity with which James now began to treat some of
the leaders in the late rebellion. Yet, while the monarch
endeavoured to keep their power in check, he showed his
prudence in abstaining from such severe measures as might
have driven them into open opposition; and combining
firmness with gentleness, he contrived to reconcile the op¬
posite factions among his nobles, and to maintain his own
authority over them all.
In the midst of these cares, the state of the Highlands
occupied his special attention, and the principles of his Scotian
policy were certainly wise and salutary. He endeavoured
by every means in his power to attach to his interests theJames h
principal chiefs of these remote districts; he contrived, 011 e
through them, to overawe and subdue the petty island princes 1118 ai1'
who affected independence ; he carried into their territories,
which had been hitherto too exclusively governed by their
own capricious and often tyrannical institutions, a more
regular and rapid administration of civil and criminal justice,
making them obedient to the same laws which regulated
his lowland dominions; and lastly, he repeatedly visited A.D.l
the Highlands in person. In 1490, on two different occa¬
sions, the king rode from Perth across the “ Mount,” a term
applied to the chain of mountains winch extends from the
Mearns to the head of Loch Rannoch, accompanied by his
chief lords and councillors. In 1493, be twice penetrated A.D.l
into the Highlands, and in the succeeding year thrice visit¬
ed the isles.
One of these voyages, undertaken in 1494, during the James’s
spring months, was conducted with great state. He was voyage
accompanied by his chief ministers, his household, and
considerable fleet, many of the vessels composing which 111
were fitted out by the nobles at their own expense. The
pomp of the armament was well calculated to impress up¬
on such wild districts an idea of the wealth and military
power of the prince; while the rapidity of his progress,
the success with which he punished all who braved his
power, his generosity to those who sued for mercy, his fami¬
liarity with the lower classes of his subjects, and his own
gay manners, increased his popularity, and confirmed the
ties of allegiance. On arriving in this voyage at Tarbert
in Kentire, James repaired the fort originally built there by
Bruce, established an emporium for his shipping, transported
thither his artillery, and by such wise and energetic pre¬
cautions, ensured peace to districts which formerly had de¬
rided the royal vengeance. The chiefs, aware that the king
could carry hostilities at a short warning into the heart of
their territories, submitted to a force which it would have
been vain to resist. One only, the Lord of the Isles, had Forfeitu
the folly to defy the royal vengeance, and soon repented of the L
his temerity. He was summoned to take his trial for trea-oftlie s
son, pronounced guilty, stripped of his almost regal power,
and his lands and possessions forfeited to the crown.
We must now advert for a moment to a singular episode Pe'km
in the history of the country. Perkin Warbeck, whose
mysterious story still oflers some field for historical seepti-™i(jc0
cism, after his first unsuccessful attempt upon the English A p 14;
crown, took refuge in Scotland in the year 1495. There
seems strong ground for suspecting that James, at the re¬
quest of the duchess of Burgundy, had embraced the inte¬
rests of this adventurer at a much earlier period than is gene¬
rally suspected ; but whether he really believed him to be the
prince whose name he assumed, or whether he was induced
to espouse his cause as a means of weakening England, is
not easily discoverable. It is certain, however, that in 1494.
the Scottish king had projected an invasion of England in
favour of the duke of York, and that the plan miscarried
by the treachery of Perkin’s friends. James iih
On the" arrival of the mysterious stranger at his court, v^ggr
James at once received him with royal honours, gave himjan(j w;ti
in marriage a lady connected with the royal family,1 collected Warbeck
an army, and, attended by Warbeck, invaded Northumber¬
land. But the proceeding was rash and impolitic; and its
author found, w ithin a short time, that the cause of Per¬
kin was unpopular in England, and the war unaccepta¬
ble to his owrn subjects. So deep was the national antipa¬
thy between the two nations, that the English no sooner
saw the claimant of the crown invading their country at
the head of a Scottish force, than they suddenly cooled in
i
in
% fi
k
k
liice,
1 Catherine Gordon, the daughter of the Earl of Huntly.
SCOTLAND.
719
i he
mi.
otland. their enthusiasm; and the desolating fury with which James
conducted hostilities) supported by a body of foreign mer-
ues IV. cenaries, completed their disgust. It was evident° to the
king that Henry the Seventh held his crown by a tenure
ID.1497. too firm to be shaken by so feeble a hand as Perkin’s ; and
ikin having drawn back his army, he soon after concluded a
ves truce with England, and refusing to deliver him to Henry,
iibnd. t00k measures for his quiet and amicable retreat from his
dominions.
Ties's Ihese negotiations having been concluded, James had
* con- leisure to attend to his affairs at home. He was aware that
to his the chief errors of his father’s reign were to be traced to
nllty> his neglect of the great body of his nobility. To reign
without their cordial co-operation was impossible, as long
as Scotland remained a feudal kingdom; and it was happy
for this prince that the course of conduct which his own
disposition prompted him to pursue, was the best calculated
to render him a favourite with this influential body. Under
the reign of his father the nobles had little intercourse with
their prince. They lived in gloomy independence at a dis¬
tance from court, resorted thither only on occasions of state
or counsel; and when parliament was ended, or the emer¬
gency had passed away, they returned to their castles full
of complaints against a system wdiich made them strangers
!to their sovereign and ciphers in the government,
ease of All this was happily changed under the present monarch,
oower Affable in his manners, a lover of magnificence, and a still
fi greater lover of mirth and pleasure, the prince delighted to
see himself encircled by a splendid nobility. He bestowed
upon his highest barons those offices in his household which
ensured their attendance upon his person; his court became
a scene of perpetual amusement, in which his nobles la¬
boured to surpass each other in extravagance and revelry;
and while they impoverished themselves, they became more
dependent upon the sovereign. In this manner the seclu¬
sion of their own castles became irksome to them; as their
residence on their estates was less frequent, the ties which
bound their vassals to their service were loosened; and the
consequences proved in every way favourable to the royal
authority.
James now turned his principal attention to his navy. It
is well known that at this moment the maritime enterprises
of the Portuguese, and the discoveries of Columbus, had
created a wonderful sensation throughout Europe. Even
the cautious and calculating spirit of Henry the Seventh
had caught fire at the triumphs of naval enterprise; and an
expedition which sailed from England under the command
of John Cabot, a Venetian merchant, and his son Sebastian,
was rewarded by the discovery of North America. These
successes roused the adventurous spirit of the Scottish king,
and as Scotland had hitherto been deficient in any thing
approaching to a navy, he became eager to supply the
want, and maintain his place with other continental king¬
doms. With this view, he paid great attention to his fish¬
eries, and to foreign commerce, the best nurseries of sea¬
men; and those enterprising merchants and hardy mariners
who had hitherto speculated solely on their own capital, found
themselves encouraged by the king and the government..
k'ng lo a former parliament, complaints had been made of the
Whis
%ies
M ivy,
5"l% * .  
fierce, ports, and that all stout vagrants rouna m tnese districts any or Scotland, James at once warmiy espoused me party James xv.
should be impressed, and compelled to learn the trade of of Louis, and although against the best interests of his king-anfi ^enry-
mariners. Among his merchants and private traders were dom, suffered himself to be drawn into the quarrel. The
many men of ability, whom the king treated with favour, history of the war is well known. Julius the Second hav-
He exhorted them to extend their voyages, to arm their ing, in conjunction with Ferdinand of Spain, gained all he
trading ships, to import artillery, and to build ships of force wished, by the league of Cambray, became alarmed at
at home. Nor was this all. He studied the subject of his the progress of the French in Italy, and to check their arms,
navy, and made himself personally familiar with its details; prevailed upon Henry the Eighth, whose imagination hac.
? of
avy.
he practised gunnery, embarked in little experimental voy- Scotland,
ages, conversed with his mariners, and visited familiarly at
t e houses of his merchants and sea officers, by whom his James IV.
fame was carried to foreign countries. All this was useful.
Ihe best foreign artizans being sure of a generous recep¬
tion, flocked to Scotland from France, Italy, and the Low
Countries ; and if the king’s credulity sometimes encourag¬
ed impostors, his enthusiasm also collected round him men
of real knowledge and experience.
While we advert to these laudable exertions of the king, rr •
the labours of an enlightened prelate for the dissemination ofAber-
ot useful learning, ought not to be passed over. Scotland, deen
at this period, possessed only two universities, St. Andrews, founded
founded in the beginning of the fifteenth century, and Glas- A-D-1491-
gow, founded in 1453. To these Elphinstone, bishop of Aber¬
deen, now auded a third. I he papal bull was issued in 1494,
but the buildings of King’s College were not completed till
about the year 1500. It supported professors of divinity,
of the civil and canon law, of medicine, and of classical litera¬
ture, in which its first principal, Hector Boece or Boyce, was
no contemptible proficient. Soon after this, James married Marriage of
the princess Margaret of England, daughter of Henry the the king,
Seventh ; a wise and politic alliance, although in the mar-AT). 1502.
riage treaty the diplomatic skill and penurious habits of her
father seemed to have gained a victory over the Scottish
commissioners.
From the public rejoicings that followed his nuptials, Northern
the king was called to repress a rebellion in the north, which rebellion,
appears to have been excited by an imprudent alteration A.D. 1505,
in the policy hitherto pursued in these quarters. This had1506-
led to a confederation of the Highland chiefs, who deter¬
mined to reinstate in his insular sovereignty the grandson
of the last lord of the Isles; and so deep was the discontent,
that it required the utmost efforts of the prince to restore
these remote districts to tranquillity. In this he at last
succeeded, divided them into new sheriffdoms, repaired and
garrisoned the castles in the hands of the crown, and sent
Wood and Barton, two of his best officers, with a small
squadron to co-operate with Arran, his lieutenant-general,
in reducing the insurgent chiefs. Having adopted these
measures, which were soon followed by the complete re-es-
tablishment of tranquillity, James, at the head of a consi¬
derable force, visited the border districts, and, assisted by
LordDacre, the English warden, compelled the Armstrongs,
Jardines, and other powerful septs, to forsake their habits
of plunder, and respect the laws. He then proceeded by
negotiations to strengthen his pacific relations with France,
and the Netherlands; while he prudently resisted the solici¬
tations of Pope Julius the Second, who endeavoured to
detach him from his alliance with Louis, and to induce him
to join the emperor and the Venetians in their attempt to
check the successes of the French in Italy.
Not long after this, occurred the death of Henry the a.D. 1509
Seventh, an event unfavourable to Scotland. The proud, Henry
capricious, and tyrannical character of his son and sue-VIII.
cessor Henry the Eighth, rendered him little qualified tosuccee^s.to
respect or preserve the pacific relations with that coun-
try, which had been wisely cultivated by his father; and it
au u luiuier parliament, complaints nau Deen maae or tne soon appeared that the Scottish prince, a spirited monarch,
want of boats to be employed in the fisheries, and of the jealous of his own dignity, and little accustomed to dictation,
wealth lost to the country from the few ships to be found was not disposed to submit to it from his brother-in-law.
in its sea-ports. It was now provided, that vessels of twenty Matters proceeded smoothly for some time ; but when Quarrel ba¬
tons and upwards, should be built in all the principal sea- Henry the Eighth engaged in war with France, the ancient tween
its found in these districts ally of Scotland, James at once warmly espoused the party James IV.
/-'./'I 4-rv 1 /~>o f li zv f vo r! xa T niiia o *-» rl olfl-»/-vnrpV» orroincf f 1a ^ VwacF i rvPlnc Lrirvrr_ cHlfl ii till TV •
720
SCOTLAND.
The Scot-
fieet dis¬
persed
Scotland, lately been dazzled by dreams of Edward the Third and
Henry the Fifth, to invade France. Louis, on the other
James IV. hand, negotiated with James the Fourth, and to embarrass
A.D. 1513. tj,e king of England, induced him to declare war against
Henry the Eighth. It was a fatal resolution ; but the Scot¬
tish prince was beloved by his people, and so popular with
the great body of his nobles, that his appeal to arms was
answered by the muster of one of the most numerous
and best equipped armies, and one of the most formidable
fleets ever fitted out by the country.
The fleet amounted to twenty-three sail, of which thir¬
teen were large ships, the rest small armed craft. Of this
armament the destination was Ireland, but its command was
entrusted to the earl of Arran, an officer of no experience
in naval affairs; and the result was its total dispersion and
discomfiture. The land army, on the other hand, which
was led by the king in person, amounted to a force little
short of a hundred thousand strong, with which James in¬
vaded England, and after some slight successes, encamped
in a strong position on the hill or rising ground of'Floddon,
one of the last and lowest eminences which detach them¬
selves from the range of the Cheviots. It was a strong
position, impregnable on each flank, and in front defended
by the Till, a deep and sluggish stream, which is tributary to
the Tweed.
Henry the Eighth, before passing with his army into
Defeat of
the Scottish France, had entrusted the defence of his kingdom to the
army at
Floddon,
9th Sept.
earl of Surrey, a brave and experienced officer, who lost no
time in collecting a force with which, although it did not
amount to half the number of the Scots, he did not hesi-
A-D. loio. ^ate to march against the king. But what he wanted in
numbers, Surrey supplied by military experience and cool¬
ness ; while James, blind, obstinate, and attending only
to the dictates of his personal courage, threw away his ad¬
vantages both of numbers and position. The result was one
of the most calamitous defeats ever experienced before or
since by Scotland. Surrey was permitted by the king to
cross the Till in the face of his army. Contrary to the re¬
monstrances of his veteran officers, he would suffer no one
to attack him; although the moment was so favourable
that, if Angus, Lindsay, and Huntly had been allowed to
charge with their men, nothing less than a miracle could
have saved the English earl. To the entreaties of Borth-
wick, the master of his artillery, he was equally obstinate.
Had the guns been brought to bear upon the enemy when
crossing the bridge of the Till, they must either have been
beaten back or thrown into such disorder as would have ex¬
posed them to immediate rout; but this too the king would
not suffer. With amazing folly he renounced the use of
his artillery, that arm of war which, with so great care
and expense, he had strengthened or rather created, at the
very moment it became serviceable, and might have saved
himself and his army. What James’s motive was in this,
unless the indulgence of some idle chivalrous punctilio, it is
impossible to discover; but its consequences were grievous.
Surrey completed his arrangements, passed the ford and the
bridge, marshalled his army at leisure, and placing his en¬
tire line between James and his country, advanced by an
easy ascent upon the rear of the Scottish army. Upon this
the king set Are to the huts and temporary booths of his en¬
campment, and descended the hill with the object of pre¬
occupying an eminence on which the village of Branksome
is built. His army was divided into five battles, some of
which had assumed the form of squares, some of wedges, all
being drawn up in a line about a bow-shot distance from
each other. The enemy were divided into two battles, each
of which had twro wings. The English van was led by lord
Thomas and lord Edmund Howard, Surrey himself com¬
manded the centre-of the host, Sir Edward Stanley and
lord Dacre the rear and the reserve. On the side of the
Scots, Huntly and Hume led the advance, the king the
centre, and the earls of Lennox and Argyll the rear. The Scotian
battle commenced at four in the afternoon, and after an ■
obstinate contest, which continued till nightfall, concluded James |
in the total defeat of the Scots. Among the slain was A.D. he!
the king himself, who, surrounded by a circle of his nobles,
had fought with desperate courage, besides thirteen earls,
and fifteen lords and chiefs of clans. The loss of common
soldiers was estimated at ten thousand men. Of the gentry it
is impossible to say bow many were slain. Scarcely a family
of note could say that they had not lost one or more rela¬
tives, w'hile some had to lament the death of all their sons.
Whether we regard this miserable slaughter of the sove¬
reign with the flower of his nobility and country, or look to
the long and sickening train of national calamities w'hich it
entailed upon the kingdom, it is not too much to pronounce
the battle of Floddon the greatest national misfortune ever
endured by Scotland.
The character of the unfortunate monarch who thusCharar.
perished in the prime of life, for James had not completed of Jame
his forty-second year, was marked by very contradictory 1 v-
qualities. Although devoted to his pleasures, wilful, and
impetuous, he was energetic and indefatigable in the ad¬
ministration of justice, a patron of all the useful arts, and
laudably zealous for the introduction of law and order into
the remotest parts of his dominions. The commerce and the
agriculture of the country, the means of increasing the na¬
tional security, the navy, the fisheries, the manufactures,
were all subjects of interest to him ; and his genuine kind¬
ness of heart, and accessibility to the lowest classes of his
subjects, rendered him deservedly beloved. Yet he plung¬
ed needlessly into all the miseries of w^ar, and his thirst for
individual honour, and an obstinate adherence to his own
judgment, led to the sacrifice of his army and his life, and
once more exposed the kingdom to the complicated evils of
a minority.
The news of defeat always flies rapidly, and the full ex-CoronaJ
tent of the national calamity soon became known in the capital, ^ Jamijl
which was seized with the utmost sorrow and terror. The
\m
A.D. 1
magistrates, with the forces of the borough, had joined the
king’s army, and many of them shared his fate; but the
merchants, to whom their powers had been deputed, acted
with much firmness and spirit. They armed the townsmen,
published a proclamation, enjoining the women who were
seen waiting in the streets to cease their lamentations, and
repair to the churches, where they might pray for their lords
and husbands, and took all the necessary precautions to de¬
fend the city in the event of any immediate attack. Soon
afterwards the welcome intelligence arrived that Surrey, hav¬
ing suffered severely in the battle, had disbanded his host,
and a breathing interval was allowed. The infant king was
crowned at Scone, the castle of Stirling appointed as his
residence, the government of it entrusted to lord Borth-
wick, and the archbishop of Glasgow, with the earls of
Huntly and Angus, selected to be the councillors of the
queen-mother, till a parliament should assemble. At the
same time suspicions seem to have arisen that too much
influence in the government ought not to be given to this
princess, whose near connection with England might sub-^^^
ject her to foreign influence ; and a secret message was dis-j^.^
patched to France inviting the duke of Albany, the next^
heir to the throne, to repair to Scotland and assume the of- prance.
fice of regent. ,
It was necessary, in the mean time, to consider the best State oi
schemes for the restoration of tranquillity and the preset va- c0
tion of order under the shock which a defeat so terrible had
given to the country ; and the prospect which presented it ¬
self, on taking a general view of the condition of the king¬
dom, was discouraging. The dignified clergy, a class o
men who w'ere undoubtedly the ablest and the best educat¬
ed in Scotland, from whose ranks the state had been
f 1
accustomed to look for its wisest councillors, wTere divid-
.fr.g
SCOTLAND
721
Gotland, ed mto factions among themselves occasioned by the va- gun by his father, that of keeping in pay a number of spies Scotland.
“STaZrr He^the,sTti8h"“w?r^r
gues ofthe various claiman's for these high prizes distracted the young king and his brother to Ihe English com t It
r,er the church and the council. There were evils also to be dread* may give us some idea of the loose principles of*,me o'
*• mo cd,rT ‘h.e charact®r and youth of the queen-mother. Mar- the leading men, that Angus and his uncle, Gaw n Do,°
r ft Hib,T rmed “ foTT’ *nd 1“ n0*«,lyiw«n‘y- sl^, who ranks higher as a poet than a politician, did no. he-
four. Her talents were excellent, as we know from thetesti- sitate to give their countenance to a plan which amounted
monyot such able judges as Surrey, Dacre, and Wolsey; but to nothing short of treason
,n some points she too nearly resembled her brother Henry In the midst of these scenes the duke of Albany arrived A,ri..l of
the Eighth. ^ he was hasty in her resentment, headstrong, from I- ranee, and assumed the regency; but unfortunately die Uukeof
and often ready to sacrifice her calmer judgment to her his determined predilection for the French interests Wa*« Albany-
?a!!1i0I!„0!::J!L?;!a!ure her th!rst,for, P°wer, or t)er- as unacceptable to many of the wisest and best men in the A\D* 1615-
sonal gratification she sometimes cared as little for the puri- country, ks the queen "and Angus’7 devotion to EnHand Hischarac-
a*   ^ cy it  i ~ t . , . b. ‘ter.
ty of the means by which these objects were accomplished. At this moment Scotland required an upright and"vigor-
eis made Soon after the death of the late king this princess gave birth ous governor, animated by a sincere love of his country
to a son, who was named Alexander, and created duke of and who could hold the balance with judgment between
• ivoss I and in a narlmm^nt. wnmn o IV or* L ^—4. 1:  _ t» . ah . n ,
-ent.
;en-mo-
mar-
the
lof
D. 1514. Ross; and in a parliament, which met after her recovery,
she was confirmed in the office of regent, and entrusted
with the custody of the young king and his brother.
At this moment the most powerful nobles in Scotland
were the earls of Angus, Home, Huntly, and Crawford.
Angus wielded the whole strength of the house of Douglas;
Home was chamberlain, and commanded the eastern bor¬
ders ; while Huntly and Crawford ruled the northern dis¬
tricts. The earl of Arran, in the mean time, arrived from
France along with the Sieur de la Bastie, who had been a
favourite of the late king, and brought a message from the
duke of Albany. Arran was nearly related to the royal
family, and entitled, by his high birth, and the office of Lord
High Admiral which he held, to act a leading part in the
government; but his talents were of an inferior order, and
unable to compete with the trying circumstances in which
the country was placed.
Scarcely had the queen recovered from her confinement
when she married the earl of Angus, a nobleman of great
accomplishments and personal attractions, but, in the words
of lord Dacre, “ childish, young, and attended by no wise
councillors.” Had the princess entered into a second mar¬
riage after due consultation had been held with the coun¬
cil assigned to her by parliament, and after a decent inter¬
val, no one could have blamed her. She was yet in the
bloom of her best years, and from her youth, as well as her
high rank and the important duties entrusted to her, she
required the protection of a husband; but the precipitation
with which she hurried into the match with Angus was
scarcely decorous, and certainly unwise, nor was it long be¬
fore she bitterly repented her choice.
The first effects of this unfortunate step was to increase
livided the bitterness of the pre-existing feuds amongst the nobles.
ac' Home and Angus marshalled themselves and their vassals
against each other; Arran, assisted by Lennox and Glen-
cairn, aspired to the regency ; Beaton, archbishop of Glas¬
gow, an intriguing prelate, supported the interests of Albany
and the French faction ; while Huntly, lord Drummond,
and the earl Marischal gave their influence to Angus and
the queen, who courted Henry the Eighth, and took the
name of the English party. At this unfortunate crisis the
country received a new blow in the death of Elphinstone,
who had been nominated archbishop of St. Andrews. For
the vacant primacy there were three competitors; Gawin
Douglas, uncle to the earl of Angus, Hepburn, prior of St.
Andrews, and Forman, bishop of Moray, respectively no¬
minated by the queen, the chapter, and the pope. These
ambitious ecclesiastics scrupled not to muster their armed
vassals, and to vindicate their claims by an appeal to the
sword, an indecent spectacle, which could not fail to lower
the church in the eyes of the people.
It was under this deplorable state of things that Henry
the Eighth carried to perfection a.base system already be-
VOL. XIX.
t s.
contending parties. But Albany was ignorant of the con¬
stitution, of the language, and of the manners of the coun¬
try. His family also made him an object of suspicion, his fa¬
ther having traitorously attempted to seize the crown. He
was the son of a French mother, had married a French wo¬
man, and having his chief estates in France, constantly
styled the French king his master; nor does it appear that
either his talents or his temper were calculated to counter¬
balance such disadvantages.
On his assumption of the government the effects of all Albany as-
this were soon perceived. The queen refused to give up the sumes the
custody of the infant monarch; Home, the chamberlain,80Vt“n|-
threw himself into the arms of England ; Angus, guidedment*
solely by selfishness and the ambition of becoming chief
ruler, deserted his wife, the queen. France, instead of as¬
sisting her ancient ally to defeat the intrigues of Henry the
Eighth, which were carried on by his able minister lord Dacre,
first betrayed strong symptoms of a change of policy, and
at length refused to renew the alliance with Scotland ; and
although Albany, amid these difficulties, acted with con¬
siderable spirit and ability, it was impossible for him to com¬
pose the jarring elements, or restore tranquillity and order
to the country.
Dissatisfied and dispirited, he retired for a few years to He returns
France, and returned to Scotland only to find the dangers10 France,
which threatened the kingdom more imminent, and the task
of encountering them more difficult. In his absence De la
Bastie, the person who enjoyed his chief confidence, and
to whom he had entrusted the offices of warden of the
marches and deputy governor, was murdered by the Homes
in the most savage manner. The Highlands and Isles, long
deprived of regular government, were torn by various fac¬
tions, and exhibited scenes of the wildest excesses. And
Angus, whose feudal power was far too great for a subject,
had acted in open defiance of the laws, and domineered in
the most tyrannical manner over all who dared to oppose
his commands. The arrival of Albany compelled this chief
to fly from the capital, and the regent exerted himself
with the utmost vigour to put down the despotism of the Dou¬
glases. He was forthwith reconciled to the queen, received Albany’s
from her the keys of the castle of Edinburgh, and with return,
them the custody of the young king; he assembled a par-A D. 15-21
liament, summoned the Douglases to answer a charge of
treason, and, although thwarted in his administration by the
intrigues of lord Dacre and the treachery and venality of
the Scottish nobles, he compelled Angus, his principal ene¬
my, to leave the kingdom.
It would be difficult, and if easy, uninstructive, to enter Stateof the
into the history of this period, when the country was torn kingdom,
by contending factions, and exposed to all the miseries inci¬
dent to a feudal minority. Albany’s worst enemies were lord
Dacre and the Anglo-Scotican party which he kept in his
pay. It was his policy to throw distrust and suspicion up-
4 x
lycjo
t
Scotland.
James V.
SCOTLAND.
A. D. 1522,
Wat with
England.
A. b. 1522,
Albany’s
second
visit to
France.
He returns
to Scot¬
land.
on every measure of the regent and the queen ; to represent
the regent as avaricious and tyrannical, to accuse him of a
design to seize the crown, and to insinuate that the king’s
life was not safe in his custody. All of these tales are to
be found in his correspondence with his master, Henry the
Eighth, and there can be little doubt that the greater por¬
tion of them were false, and the whole grossly exaggerated.
So at least we must judge from the conduct of the Scot¬
tish Parliament, which treated a message, soon afterwards sent
by Henry the Eighth, and founded upon these idle accusations,
with a calm and resolute denial. This monarch, acting up¬
on the impulse of the moment, and thwarted by the politic
measures of the Regent, had dispatched a herald, who con¬
veyed a severe reprimand to the queen, and, at the same
time, insisted that the Scottish nobles should instantly dis¬
miss Albany. Their reply to this haughty communication
was spirited and dignified. They derided the fears express¬
ed for the life of the young king, declaring that Albany was
a faithful servant of the country, and had been invited by
themselves to assume the regency. “ Here it is our plea¬
sure,” said they, “that he shall remain, nor shall he be per¬
mitted or enjoined to depart at the request of your grace,
or any other sovereign prince. And as to the threat of
hostilities, (thus they concluded their answer), if, because we
assert our own rights, we should happen to be invaded, what
may we do but trust that God will espouse our just quarrel,
and demean ourselves, as our ancestors have done before us,
who, in ancient times, were constrained to fight for the conser¬
vation of this realm, and that with good success and honour r”
This answer was followed, on the part of Henry, by an
immediate declaration of war. The earl of Shrewsbury, at
the head of the force of the northern counties, invaded Scot¬
land on the side of the Merse and Teviotdale; an English
fieet ravaged and laid waste the coasts of the Frith of Forth;
and Albany the Regent retaliated by breaking into England
at the head of a large army. He was driven to this solel)
by a desire to vindicate the national honour; for he seems
to have been conscious of the disadvantages which attended
a war with England, and he knew that the majority of the
nobles were animated by the same feelings. Under these
circumstances he wisely determined to follow Bruce’s prin¬
ciples as to war with this country, to avoid any protracted
invasion, not to hazard a general battle, and while he showed
a determination to maintain the independence of the country,
and to resist any foreign dictation, to evince at the same
time his readiness to conclude an honourable peace.
The same disposition being evinced by lord Dacre, the
minister to whom Henry entrusted the management of
Scottish affairs, a truce was concluded ; but Albany, on dis¬
banding his army and resuming his civil duties, found him¬
self surrounded with difficulties. Nothing indeed could be
more complicated or irksome, than the various contending
interests which he had to understand and reconcile. His
engagements with France prompted him to continue the
war with England; his better judgment admonished him to
remain at peace. Amid the universal corruption and selfish¬
ness which infected the body of the nobles, many of whom
were in the pay of England, he looked in vain for any one to
whom he could give confidence, or entrust with the execu¬
tion of his designs, while the queen-mother, with whom hehad
hitherto acted, betrayed him, and corresponded with Dacre.
The impossibility of overcoming these intricate evils with¬
out a more powerful military force than he could at present
bring into the field, induced the Regent once more to pass
into France, for the purpose of holding a conference with
Francis the First, on the best method of reducing the
English faction. A council of regency was appointed, con¬
sisting of Huntly, Arran, Argyll, and Gonzolles, a French
knight, in whom Albany placed great confidence ; and after
an absence of some months, during which the war again
broke out with great fury, he revisited Scotland, bringing
with him a fleet of eighty-seven small vessels, in which he Scotlam
had embarked a fine body of six thousand foreign troops.
With this strong reinforcement he hoped to gain a pre- James 1l
ponderating influence over the nobility, and to decide the w‘"
contest with England; but he was miserably disappointed. T
The presence of foreign troops, always unacceptable to a
people jealous of their rights, was particularly so to the Scots,
who were poor, and had to support the foreigners at a great
expense. This rendered the war unpopular with the great
body of the nation; the queen-dowager was devoted to Eng¬
land; and the nobles, although prepared to assemble an army
for the defence of the borders, were opposed to any invasion
of England upon a great scale, or to a war of continued ag¬
gression. As many of these barons, however, were at that
moment receiving pensions from France, the payment of
which any too decided demonstration might have interrupt¬
ed, they artfully concealed their repugnance. An army of
forty thousand men mustered on the Borough-moor beside
Edinburgh, and Albany, taking the command in person,
advanced to the borders; but on arriving at Melrose the
mask was dropped, the leaders showed symptoms of insubor¬
dination, the soldiers catching the infection, murmured
against the foreign mercenaries, and discontent gathering
strength, at last broke out in an open refusal to advance.
No entreaties or threats of the Regent could overcome this
resolution; and after a short season, news arrived that the
earl of Surrey, having assembled an army, was advancing
against them. The intelligence of his speedy approach
strengthened the Scottish nobles in their determination not
to risk a battle. So completely had the majority of them Albany rt
been corrupted by the money and intrigues of Dacre andtreats-
the queen-dowager, that Albany did not venture to place
them in the front, but formed his advance of the French
auxiliaries and his artillery, the single portion of this army
which had acted with spirit. To have attempted to fight
Surrey with these alone, would have been the extremity of
rashness, to have awaited the advance of the English earl
with an army which refused to proceed against the enemy,
might have rendered defeat inevitable. In these critical
circumstances, Albany, who has been unjustly attacked by
some ill-informed writers, adopted the only alternative which
was safe or honourable. He disbanded the Scottish portion
of his army, and he himself retreated with his French auxili¬
aries and his artillery to Eccles, from which, after a short
season, he returned to the capital, and here he assembled
the parliament.
Its proceedings, as might have been anticipated, were A Parlia-
distracted and impeded by mutual accusations and com- ment as-
plaints. The Regent could not conceal his animosity tosembe‘
those leaders who had so recently deserted him almost in
the presence of the enemy. The nobles recriminated ; they
blamed him for squandering the public treasure, and not¬
withstanding the inclement season of the year, insisted on
his dismissing the foreign troops, whose residence had be¬
come burdensome. All this wras calculated to disgust and
mortify the governor; and he requested permission to retire
once more to France, for the purpose of holding a conference
with Francis the First, and inducing him to grant him further
assistance against the designs of England. His request was
complied with, on the condition that if he did not return to
Scotland wdthin a limited period, the league with France,
and his owm regency, should be considered as at an end. In
the mean season, the custody of the king’s person was en¬
trusted to the lords Cassillis, Fleming, Borthwick, and
Erskine, while the chief management of affairs was com¬
mitted to a council, composed of the chancellor, the bishop
of Aberdeen, and the earls of Huntly and Argyll. Having Albany
made these arrangements, the duke of Albany quitted the1®®^®^.
kingdom, convinced, in all probability, of the impossibility ^ p 15-2
of reconciling the various factions and interests by which it
was torn in pieces. Although he gave hopes that his absence
Scotland.
ames V.
IA.D 1524.
ilevolution
(n the go-
einment.
Ingus re-
ims from
Vance,
lis base
induct.
should not exceed three months, there is strong reason for
behevmg that when he embarked it was with the resolution,
which he fulfilled, of never returning to Scotland
On the departure of Albany, it soon became’apparent
that a secret understanding had for some time been main¬
tained between two of the most powerful factions in the coun¬
try, and that his leaving the kingdom was the signal for
the breaking out of an important revolution. Tl”e chief
actors were the earl of Arran and the queen-mother, and
there is ample evidence that their proceedings were agree¬
able to England. The young king was now in his thirteenth
year, and his mother and Arran, having gained to their in¬
terest the peers to whom his person had been entrusted,
earned him from Stirling to Edinburgh, proceeded to the
1 alace of Holyrood, declared in a council that he had as¬
sumed the government, and issued proclamations in his
name. The peers of Margaret’s party then tendered their
allegiance, abjured their engagements lately made with
Albany, declared his regency at an end, and promised
to maintain henceforth the authority of their sovereign.
It was the evident object of the queen and Arran lo'ob-
tain, by this revolution, the entire command of the govern¬
ment. The measure was remonstrated against, in the strong¬
est manner, by the bishops of St. Andrews and Aberdeen.
They represented the utter folly of conferring the supreme
power on a boy of twelve years old, and they stated, with truth,
tnat Albany was still the Regent; but Margaret, supported
by her brother Henry the Eighth, who hoped, through her,
to govern Scotland, proved too strong for these prelates, and
for a while her schemes succeeded. It was, however, only
for a short season. Jealousies arose between her and Arran,
who, from his near relationship to the crown, aspired to the
chief power. The queen, whose lovefor Angus, her husband,
had long since turned into hatred, fixed her affections on
Henry Stewart, a son of lord Evandale, raised him to the
office of treasurer, and could she obtain a divorce, deter¬
mined to marry him; and Henry the Eighth, who began to
find her demands too importunate, and her obedience pro¬
blematical, recalled the earl of Angus from France, with
the design of making him an instrument in his projects for
tne reduction of Scotland. This baron appears to have in¬
creased in experience and talent for intrigue, by his resid¬
ence in that country, but not in public principle; and his first
step was to sell himself to Henry in a secret treaty, by which
he engaged to support the English interests in Scotland.
In return, he and his brother, Sir George Douglas, hoped,
by Henry’s aid, to place themselves at the head of the
government, and to be restored to the vast estates and pow er
which they had lost.
I he arrival of Angus in his native country, was the signal
for immediate hostilities between him and the queen-mother,
his wife, who had raised Henry Stewart to the office of
chancellor, and detested her husband, in proportion to the
progress of her avowed and indecent attachment to this
favourite. Hitherto she and her supporters, Arran, Lennox,
and the master of Kilmaurs, had been supported by pensions
from the English court, and in return, had favoured the
views of Henry the Eighth; but the principles of this venal
association were of course capricious and selfish, and the
arrival of Angus, who now wielded the power of the Doug¬
lases, threatened to break it to pieces.
The country, indeed, presented a miserable spectacle ; a
c minor sovereign deserted by those who owed him allegiance
^ and support, while his kingdom was left a prey to the ra¬
pacity of interested councillors, and exposed to the attacks
of a powerful neighbour, w hose object was to reduce it to
the condition of a dependant province. In such circum¬
stances it is certainly a matter of wonder that it retained
its liberty.
Three factions struggled for the pre-eminence, and tore
the country in pieces. The first was that of Albany, the late
SCOTLAND.
728
arable
regent, which was supported by French influence, and con- Scotland,
ducted by the chancellor Beaton; the second had for its leaders
ttie earl of Arran and the queen-regent, who held the king’s James v-
person, and possessed the chief executive power; at the head ^,325-
of the third were the earl of Angus and his able brother
George Douglas, who were wedded to the interests of the
English government. It is impossible, within our limits, and
it would be unmstructive, to enter into a detail of the con-
tinned plots and intrigues which constitute the sickening
iistory of this period. It soon became apparent that the An„us ol,
party of the queen-mother was the weakest. Arran, a ca- tains nos
pricious man, deserted her ; her private conduct rendered her session of
isreputabie in the eyes of the people; and soon afterwards a^6 king’s
coalition between Beaton the chancellor and Angus, carried Persor'-
the whole power of Albany’s party to a union with the house
of Douglas. Margaret sunk under this, and consented to a
negotiation. She resigned the custody of her son to a
council of peers nominated byparliament,and, stripped of her
power, consented to a reconciliation with Angus, her hus¬
band, in whom, along with the chancellor Beaton, the chief
power in the government now centered. A feeble effort
indeed was made by Arran to destroy the influence of the
united factions ; but the armed force with which he advanced
to Linlithgow was dispersed by the prompt attack ofDouglas,
and the address of this politic baron soon afterwards prevail-
ed on Arran to join his party.
The earl of Angus had now gained a complete triumph
oyer his enemies. He possessed the person of the young
king, he was assisted by the talents and experience of the
chancellor Beaton, he had witnessed the gradual decay of
the faction of Albany and the French monarch, and he
had been joined by Arran, who, although personally a weak
man, from his high birth and great estates possessed much
power. His first step was wise and temperate. A pacification
for three years was concluded with England; and it was
hoped that this might be followed by a marriage between
the young king and Henry’s daughter, the princess Mary
a measure which, if guarded so as to preserve the independ¬
ence of Scotland, might have been attended with the hap¬
piest results.
The country, so long distracted by border war and internal Decay of
anarchy, might now, under ajudicious administration, have French in.
looked forward to something like tranquillity. Had Angus £uence
been reconciled to the queen, his wife; had he been con-Scotland-
tented with his recovery of greater power than he had lost,
and been willing to administer the government with justice
and moderation; there was every reason to hope for the
maintenance of peace, security, and good order. The French
party in Scotland had completely sunk. Dr. Magnus, Henry’s
English minister, who, during his residence in Scotland, had
been an object of great jealousy to the people, was recalled;
and lord Dacre, whose money and intrigues for so many
years had corrupted the Scottish nobles, and introduced dis¬
union and treachery into all their councils, was removed by
death from the scenes of his mischievous activity. All these
things were favourable; and the well affected, who sighed
for the blessings of peace and good government, anticipated
a period of repose.
It was a vain expectation, destroyed by the precipitate Marriage
folly of the queen-mother, and the grasping ambition ofofthe
Angus. That powerful baron had hitherto aimed at onetllieen-rno
great object, which he now deemed himself on the very point ^ier^l ^
of attaining; to accomplish a reconciliation with his wife, the ^ e
queen-mother, and, possessing her estates, with the custody
of the young king’s person, to engross the whole power of
the government. At this crisis Margaret, so far from be¬
coming less hostile to Angus, gave herself up more incon¬
siderately than before, to her passion for Henry Stewart,
and procuring a divorce from a husband whom she hated,
espoused her paramour with a precipitation which disgusted
the people.
724
Scotland.
SCOTLAND.
This imprudent step determined Angus to change his
' ground, and a dread of some counter revolution threw him
James V. Up0n new and more violent courses. By a successful stroke
A. D. 1526. popcy? he procured the passing of an act of Parliament
Angus which annulled the authority of the secret council, the only
The^ecret power which stood between him and absolute dominion,
council an- At the same moment, the parliament declared that the
nulled. ‘ ' " ' ’ " ' "
The king’s
minority
country.
minority of the young king w as at an end, and that having
completed his fourteenth year, he was to be considered as an
independent sovereign. While the youthful monarch thus
nominally assumed the government, that provision which
entrusted the keeping of the royal person to certain peers
in rotation, remained in force; and as Angus had artfully
summoned the parliament at that precise time, when it be¬
longed to himself and the archbishop of Glasgow to assume
their periodical guardianship of the king, the consequence
of this state manoeuvre was to place the whole powTer of the
government in their hands.
A new secret council was nominated, composed solely of
the creatures of Angus ; the great seal was soon after taken
declared at from Beaton, the young king was watched with the utmost
an end. jealousy, and compelled to give his consent to every thing
proposed to him by his new masters. An act of parliament
was passed, granting a remission to the heads and followers
of this all-powerful taction for the crimes, robberies, or trea¬
sons, committed by them during the last nineteen years;
every office of trust or emolument in the kingdom was dis¬
posed of to the one or other of its supporters, and the an¬
cient tyranny of the house of Douglas once more attained a de¬
gree of strength which rivalled, or rather usurped the royal
powder. At this unhappy period, as has been observed in
another work, “ the borders became the scene of tumult and
confusion, and the insolence of the numerous vassals of this
great family was intolerable; murders,spoliations,and crimes
Miserable of varied enormity, were committed with impunity. The
state of the arm of the law, paralysed by the power of an unprincipled
faction, neglected to arrest the guilty ; the sources of justice
were corrupted; the highest and most sacred ecclesiastical
dignities became the prey of daring intruders, or were sold
to the highest bidder; and the young king, carried about
through the country by Angus, apparently in great state,
but merely a puppet in the hands of his masters, sighed in
vain over a captivity to which there appeared no prospect
of a termination.”1 An attempt indeed was made for his de¬
liverance, first by the laird of Buccleugh, one of the most
powerful of the border barons, and afterwards by the earl
of Lennox, who deserted the party of the Douglases, and
to whom the young monarch was much attached. But
Buccleugh was routed with considerable loss, and Lennox
defeated and slain.
These unsuccessful attempts only strengthened the power
of Angus. He entered into a more strict alliance with
, Henry the Eighth, obtained the friendship and support of
VIIL Beaton, the archbishop of St. Andrews, and unchecked by
General re-any 0pp0sition> ruie(1 ap things at his will. Nothing in-
markS' deed could be more miserable than the picture presented
by the country ; a monarch in captivity, a nobility in thral¬
dom, a people groaning under the most complicated oppres¬
sions, yet with their hands tied, and compelled by the mi¬
serable system under which they lived to serve their oppres¬
sors. It may be asked, what was the secret history of this
enormous power, this degraded and implicit obedience? The
answer is to be found in the fact, that the Douglases were
masters of the royal person; they could compel the king
to affix his signature to any deeds or letters which their ty¬
ranny or their caprice might dictate. Angus, the supreme
lord of all this misrule, was chancellor, and the great seal at
his command ; his uncle, Douglas of Kilspindy, was trea¬
surer, and commanded the whole revenues of the country;
Angus
courts
Henry
VIII.
the law, with all its terrible feudal processes of treason and Scotlai
forfeiture, could be wdelded by them at pleasure. So long ^’v,*
as the king remained in their hands, this powerful machinery James
was all theirs; the moment he escaped, the system broke
to pieces, and their pow'er was at an end.
Of all this James, who had now entered his seventeenth The ki»
year, was perfectly aware; and as every hour of his capti- escape
vity made the Douglases more hateful to him, his mind be¬
came intently occupied with projects for his escape. Nor
was it long ere he effected it. With an address superior
to his years, the king had either succeeded in lulling the
suspicions of his keepers, or a continuance of unchecked
power had made them careless. James was at Falkland.
Angus, Douglas his brothel*, and Archibald his uncle, were
absent on their private affairs; only Douglas of Pathhead, the
captain of the royal guard, remained. The young monarch
called for the park-keeper, and, as had been his wont, pro¬
posed to hunt next morning. Therefore, says a graphic
old chronicler,2 he “ caused him to warn all the whole tenants
and gentlemen thereabouts who had the speediest dogs, that
they would come to Falkland wood on the morn, to meet
hini at seven hours, for he was determined he would slay a
fat buck or two for his pleasure; and to that effect caused
warn the cooks and stewards to make his supper ready, that
he might go to his bed the sooner, and to have his desjeune
(breakfast) ready by four o’clock, and commanded James
Douglas of Pathhead to pass the sooner to his bed, and
caused bring his collation, and drank to James Douglas,
saying to him, that he should have good hunting on the
morrow, bidding him be early astir. Then the king went
to his bed ; and James Douglas, seeing the king in his bed,
wist that all things had been sure enough, and passed in like
manner to his bed. When the watch was set,” continues
Pitscottie, “ and all things in quietness, the king called on a
yeoman of the stable, and desired him bring one of his suits
of apparel, hose, cloak, coat, and bonnet, and putting them
on, stept forth as a yeoman of the stable, and was unper¬
ceived of the watches, till he had passed to the stables, and
caused saddle a horse for himself, and one led, and took two
servants with him, namely, Jocky Hart, a yeoman of the
stable, and another secret chamber boy, and leapt on horse,
and spurred hastily his journey to Stirling, and won there
by the breaking of the day, over the bridge, which he caus¬
ed to be closed behind him, that none without licence might
win that passage. After this he passed to the castle, and
was received there by the captain, who was very glad of his
coming, and prepared the castle with all things needful.
Then he caused shut the gates, and let down the portcullis,
and put the king in his bed to sleep, because he had ridden
all that night.”
Having thus regained his liberty, James’s first act was to Despai
summon a council, and issue a proclamation, interdicting
Angus and the Douglases from all approach within six miles S as s'
of the court, under pain of treason. Nor did they venture
to disobey it. On discovering the flight of the king, An¬
gus, Archibald, and Sir George, had hastily assembled a few
followers, thrown themselves on horseback, and were riding
to Stirling, when they were met by the herald, who read the
act, and commanded them in the king’s name to halt. For
a moment they hesitated, but it was only for a moment.
Their sovereign was free ; the weapons which but a day be¬
fore they had wielded with such irresistible force, weie now
ready to be employed against themselves. A single step
forward, and they were guilty of treason, their property and
their lives at the mercy of the crown. All this rose rapidly
and fearfully before them ; and aware how vain it would be
at such a moment to meet the power of their enemies, they
retreated to Linlithgow*.
The monarch, who now took the government into his own
Tvtler’s History of Scotland, vol. v. p. 201.
2 Lindsay of Pitscottie, pp. 218, 219.
SCOTLAND.
725
Scotland.
mthe ^
James V. acquired a consistency and vigour far superior to his aee. redncwl tl... ,r ."0 ?'■ rce >00ter> Joimnie Armstrong, and's-^%^sfc
? L)’ rr8' was t*le more t0 *1'8 credit, because the Douglases liad tlii i.'? n,ct 'V10 a 8tate a tranquillity. Scarcely was James V.
,”eS A,neglected his education ; and ihile they gave hfm no t ta™ ZT,? ’ Wl“un 0rkne>’s were ^eatened Jo be A.D.1528.
,keportunities of cultivating the qualities which m ght ha,^ ness ^d the th%rfel'i0n °f ^
  ™de him a blessing to his people, permitted him to indulge between the ear ^f a T *1 S,C,e"e a *erce stru««le
Hischarac-in that love of pleasure and tendency to dissipation which the most nnwerf.,1 T .J- ! '1"' Alexander of Isla, one of
“• IT “-perame„tandyUme„f.L Ha^ W
rP-Pfif-ahlialvrrvcnf   •l .i - . T J
assumes
govern¬
ment.
His
ter.
le-establishment of peace in both quarters; and the peo¬
ple, aware that the sceptre was once more in a firm hand,
readily and gratefully co-operated with their sovereign in all
his labours. °
his character, although it did not escape the pollution of
such a base system, survived it; and, with some great faults,
the king possessed at the same time not a few of the highest
qualities which became a wise and good prince. Strict and
scrupulously just, unwearied in his application to business, England and France were new „ a rr
earnest in his endeavours to remove the complicated bur- Eighth and Francis the V ? \ ? .aCe’ ani! He"ry the Foreign
dens which, under the tyranny of the late oligarchy, had in a strict alliance,polities,
oppressed the people; generous, though somewhat warm in
his temper, easy of access, a stranger to pride, and fond, al¬
most to a fault, of mingling familiarly with all classes of
his subjects; he soon rendered himself, young as he was,
an object of respect to his nobles, and of affection to his
people.
Principles The principles which regulated his future government
of James’s sprung naturally from the circumstances of his early life.
govern
ment
The sternest resentment against Angus and the house of
Douglas, was combined with a determination to assert and
regain the rights of the crown, and to abridge the power of
an aristocracy, which had grown intolerable during a long
minority. Towards his uncle, Henry the Eighth, it was
impossible that his feelings could be any other than those
of resentment and suspicion. It was by this prince that
there had been introduced into Scotland an organised sys¬
tem of corruption, of which his able and unscrupulous mi¬
nister, lord Dacre, had been the author. Many Scottish
nobles had become the pensioned agents of the English go¬
vernment ; paid informers swarmed in the court and through
the country. All idea of conquering Scotland by force of
arms had been long since abandoned ; but a more insidious
expedient was adopted, by which the English king, main¬
taining the Douglases in their usurped dominion, received
in return their homage and fidelity, and administered the go¬
vernment at his pleasure.
James’s great objects, which we can trace through the
whole remainirt^ period of his reign, were to put an end to
this system of foreign dictation; to restore its ancient and
constitutional prerogatives to the crown; to bridle the ex¬
orbitant power of the great nobles, raising up as a check
upon them the large and influential body of his clergy; to
encourage the mercantile and commercial classes of his
people ; and to facilitate the administration of the laws, and
insure equal justice to the lowest orders of the community,
’roceed. For the accomplishment of such ends, it was first neces-
igs against sary to exhibit a wholesome example of retributive justice
f Douglas uPon th°se who had been the greatest delinquents. It was
as‘ declared treason for any person to hold intercourse with
Angus, and every Douglas was commanded to leave the ca¬
pital on pain of death. Angus himself was commanded to re¬
main beyond the waters of the Spey, and required to deliver
his brother Sir George Douglas, and his uncle Archibald,
as hostages, for his answering to his summons of treason.
Having haughtily disobeyed these orders, a parliament as¬
sembled. He was proclaimed a traitor, and his lands no¬
minally divided among those nobles to whom James owed
his late success. It was easier, however, to promulgate
than to execute such decrees against so powerful a baron;
nor was it till after repeated attacks upon Tantallon, some
of them led by the king in person, that the arch-offender
was reduced, and compelled to seek an asylum in England.
James next directed his attention to the state of the bor¬
ders ; and in an expedition which was long remembered for
the vigour, dispatch, and severity of the royal vengeance,
which had for its object to bridle the increasing power of A.1). 15*29-
the emperor Charles the Fifth. Under these circumstan-1530.
ces’ Denry proposed a matrimonial alliance with Scotland,
and the design was encouraged by France ; while the em-
peior, jealous of the power which so near a connexion with
James might give to his enemies, offered in marriage to the
young prince his sister, the queen of Hungary, or his niece,
the daughter of Christiern, king of Denmark, with Norway
as her dowry. J
For the present, however, all these offers were declined, james nro-
and the monarch appeared wholly engrossed with the pro-motes bis
secution of his various plans for the melioration of his king- clergy,
dom. Finding himself thwarted by the nobles, he was com¬
pelled to adopt decided measures, and to promote the clergy
to those offices which had been filled by temporal barons.
Argyll was thrown into prison, the earl of Crawford stripped
of a large part of his estates; the determination that no
Douglas should ever bear sway in Scotland became a more
stern and obstinate principle than before; and while the
archbishop of Glasgow, the abbot of Holyrood, and the
bishop of Dunkeld, were principally consulted in affairs of
state, many of the nobles who had hitherto enjoyed the
royal confidence saw themselves treated with coldness and
distrust.
It was at this time, that the king carried into effect Commer-
two important measures, the one affecting the commer- cial treaty
cial interests of his kingdom, the other of still higher mo- with the
ment, as an endeavour to secure to all classes of his subjects Netber-
an equal and speedy administration of justice. A commer-
cial treaty between Scotland and the Netherlands had been A’LU532*
concluded by James the First, for the period of one hundred
years. It was now approaching its termination, and an em¬
bassy was dispatched to Brussels, which renewed the league
for another century. His second measure was the institution
of the College of Justice, a court consisting of fourteen institution
judges, one half selected from the spiritual, the other from of the Col-
the temporal estate, of which the idea is commonly believ-legeof Jus-
ed to have been suggested by the parliament of Paris. The t‘ce*
principal design of this new judicature was to put an end
to the delay and partiality arising out of the barons’ courts;
in other words, to remove the means of oppression out of
the hands of the aristocracy; but as it was provided, that
the king might at his pleasure send three or four members
of his council to give their votes, it was evident that the
subject was freed from one grievance, only to be exposed
to the hazard of another, whenever his rights might happen
to come in collision with the crown.
During these transactions, the Douglases and their ad- The Dou-
herents were driven upon violent and discreditable courses, glases sell
in proportion as their prospect of reconciliation to the kingt^emse^ves
became more hopeless and remote. The earl of Bothwell,
also a powerful border baron, whose excesses James hadia
severely punished, entered into a traitorous alliance with
Henry the Eighth, in which he engaged, if properly sup¬
ported, to dethrone his sovereign, and to “ crown the Eng¬
lish king in the town of Edinburgh within a brief time
726
SCOTLAND.
Scotland while the earl of Angus did not hesitate, in the extremity
resentment, to sell himself to England ; and in an ori-
Jat™‘s V- ginal writing which yet remains, engaged to “ make unto
A.D.1532. Henry the oath of allegiance, to recognise him as supreme
lord of Scotland, as his prince and sovereign.”1
War with In consequence of these base engagements, war was once
more kindled on the borders, and carried on by the Doug-
Heiu'y ° " lases and Henry’s captains with such desolating fury, that
VIII. and Jarnes was compelled to call out the whole body of the
the Don- fighting men in the country. These he divided into four
glases in- armies, to each of which in rotation the defence of the
vade the marches was entrusted. The measure effectually checked
< ountry. ^]le p0wer Qf English, and there was little prospect of
Bothwell fulfilling his threat, of crowning Henry in the ca¬
pital ; but peace seemed more distant than ever, and nothing
could be more deplorable than the picture presented by the
country. The flames of villages and granges, the destruc¬
tion of the fruits, and the cessation of the labour of the hus¬
bandman, the stoppage put to the enterprise of the merchant,
the increase among the people of the spirit of national an¬
tipathy, the corruption of the nobles by the money of Eng¬
land, the loss among such pensioned adventurers of all af¬
fection for the sovereign, and the decay of the healthy feel¬
ings of national independence ; all these lamentable conse¬
quences sprung out of the continuance of the war, and made
the king desirous of securing peace, even if it should be at
some sacrifice.
Peace with This he at length accomplished. James agreed that the
England. Douglases, by which was meant Angus, his brother George,
and his uncle Archibald, should remain unmolested in Eng¬
land, supported by Henry as his subjects, on condition that
Edrington castle, the only spot which they held in Scotland,
should be surrendered, and reparation made for any expe¬
dition which they or the English king might hereafter con¬
duct against Scotland. On these conditions a pacification
was concluded, for the period of the lives of Henry and
James, and a year after the death of him who first deceased ;
and soon after its ratification, the young monarch, whose
firmness and talent in the management of his government
made him an object of respect to the European princes, re¬
ceived the Garter from England, the order of St. Michael
from France, and the Golden Fleece from the emperor.2
James was now in his twenty-second year, and his mar¬
riage was earnestly desired by the country; but he had
hitherto shewn little inclination to gratify the wishes of his
people. With all his good qualities, he unhappily inherit¬
ed from his father an extreme devotedness to pleasure,
which had been rather encouraged than restrained by the
Douglases; and his passions getting the better of his pru¬
dence and principle, sought their gratification in low in¬
trigues, carried on in disguise, and in pursuit of which he
not unfrequently exposed his life to the attacks and revenge
of his rivals. It was now full time that he should renounce
these disreputable excesses; and having evaded an offer
made by the Spanish ambassador, of the hand of the prin¬
cess Mary of Portugal, and declined a similar proposal of
Henry the Eighth, who pointed to his daughter the prin¬
cess Mary, he dispatched an embassy to France, for the pur¬
pose of concluding a matrimonial alliance with that crown.
The Refor- It now becomes necessary to attend to a great subject,
miUion. (the rise of the Reformation in Scotland,) the principles of
which had been for some time silently making their pro¬
gress among the people, but which from this period exer¬
cised a marked and increasing influence over the history of
the government and of the country. It was now nearly six
years since Patrick Hamilton, abbot of Feme, the friend
and disciple of Luther and Melanchthon, having i-enounced
the errors of the Roman Catholic church, and embraced
the doctrines of these leading reformers, had been delated
of heresy, and condemned to the flames. The cruel sen- Scotland
tence was carried into effect at St. Andrews in 1528, under
the minority of James, and while the supreme power wasJames V
in the hands of the earl of Angus. On taking the govern-
ment into his own hand, James, although decidedly inimi¬
cal to the principles of Angus in all other things, unhappi¬
ly followed his determination to persecute those whom he
esteemed the enemies of the truth. David Straiton and
Norman Gourlay, who w-ere disciples of the reformation,
were tried for heresy, condemned, and brought to the stake,
on the 27th of August 1534 ; and the intolerant and cruel
conduct of tne king compelled some who had embraced
the same opinions to fly for safety to England.
About this time Henry the Eighth exerted himselfThe Po ;
to the utmost to prevail upon the Scottish king to imi-sendsa*’
tate his own conduct, and shake off the yoke of Rome. He messenge-
endeavoured to open his eyes to the tyranny of the pope’s10 James
usurpations, sent to him the treatise entitled the “ Doctrine
of a Christian Man,” and dispatched Dr. Barlow and Lord
William Howard to request a conference with his royal
nephew at York; but the remembrance of the injuries he
had sustained, resentment for Henry’s intrigues with his dis¬
contented subjects, and an attachment to the faith of his
fathers, indisposed James to listen to these overtures; and
when Paul the Third deputed his legate Campeggio to vi¬
sit Scotland, the embassy found it no difficult matter to con¬
firm the Scottish monarch in his attachment to the Catholic
church. At the same time he addressed him by the title
of which Henry had proved himself unworthy, Defender of
the Faith, and presented to him a cap and sword which had
been consecrated by the pope upon the feast of the nati¬
vity.
A parliament which assembled about this time, made A parlia-
two provisions which deserve attention. The importa-merit,
tion of the works of Luther, which had been proscrib- A. D. 1535
ed by a former act, was again strictly forbidden; any dis- s
cussion of his opinions, unless for the purpose of Pavingscr^e(j^ro
their falsehood, was prohibited; and all persons who posses¬
sed any treatises of the reformer, were enjoined, under the
penalty of confiscation and imprisonment, to deliver them
up to the ordinary within forty days. The second act, which
is well worthy of notice, related to the boroughs, in this dark
age the best nurseries of industry and freedom. Hitherto
feudal barons had been elected to the offices of magistrates
and superintendents over the privileges of these corpora¬
tions; an unwise practice, by which the provosts, aldermen,
or bailies, instead of being industrious citizens, interested in
the protection of trade, and the security of property, were
little else than idle and factious tyrants, who consumed the
substance and invaded the corporate privileges of the bur¬
gesses. A law was now made, that no person should be
elected to fill any office in the magistracy of the borough, but
such as themselves were honest and substantial burgesses,
and although not immediately or strictly carried into effect,
the enactment evinced the dawning of a better spirit.
War still continued between Francis the First and the The king
emperor, a circumstance which induced the French king tovisits
continue an amicable correspondence with England; andFra0C®„
being aware that Henry the Eighth was intent upon accom-^
plishing a marriage with Scotland, Francis did not care to
disgust this passionate monarch by any very speedy atten¬
tion to James’s desires to unite himself to a French princess.
To obviate this, the Scottish king himself took a voyage to
France, and landing at Dieppe, proceeded from thence in
disguise to the palace of the duke of Vendome. Here,
being received only as a noble stranger, he saw, for the first
time, but did not approve of his affianced bride, Marie de
Bourbon, the duke’s daughter, and transferred his affections
to Madeleine, the youngest daughter of the French king, to
1 MS. British Museum, Calig. B. I. 128.
u Diurnal of Occurrents in Scotland, p. 19.
SCOTLAND.
ie king.
Rapture
:etvveen
Scotland, whom he was soon after married in the church ofNotre Dame.
In the circumstances in which Scotland was then placed, the
J ames V. church of Home was inclined to consider this union as’one
j.D.Lm of great importance; and it has been noted that seven car-
/larriage0 dinals surroundeci t]ie altar. Nor were these anticipations
disappointed. James remained for nine months in France,
and having returned to his own kingdom, it was soon evi¬
dent that some great changes were on the eve of taking
place.
Francis the First, although still nominally at peace with
Henry, had become alienated from him by the violent and
Francis I. dictatorial tone which he assumed. The pope, who consi-
|’lir eniy dered his own existence as involved in the contest with Eng¬
land, had neglected no method by which he might first ter¬
minate the disputes between the emperor and the French
king, and then unite them in a coalition against Henry, as
the common enemy. We have already noticed the success
of the court of Rome in flattering the vanity of James; and
it appears that, in 1537, these intrigues were so far success¬
ful, that a pacification was concluded between Francis and
the emperor. From this moment the cordiality between
France and England was completely at an end, while every
argument which could have weight in a young and ardent
mind was addressed to James, to induce him to join the
projected league against Henry.
Nor had the conduct of Henry, during James’s absence in
lission of France, been calculated to allay those resentful feelings
ir Ralph which already existed between them. He had sent into
cotland ®cotlanti Sir Ralph Sadler, a crafty and able diplomatist,
for the express purpose of completing the system of secret
intelligence introduced, as we have seen, with pernicious
success by lord Dacre. This minister was instructed to
gain an influence over the nobility, to attach the queen-
mother to his interest, to sound the inclinations of the body
of the people on the subject of peace or war, an adoption of
the reformed opinions, or an adherence to the ancient faith.
The Douglases were still maintained with high favour in
England. Their power, although nominally extinct, was far
from being destroyed; their spies penetrated into every
quarter, and had even followed the young king to France,
whence they gave information of his most private motions;
finally, those feudal covenants, termed bonds of manrent,
still bound to their interest many of the most potent of the
nobles, whom the vigour of the king’s government had dis¬
gusted or estranged.
From this description we may gather the state of parties
at the return of James to his dominions after his marriage.
On the one hand was seen Henry the Eighth, the head
of the protestant reformation in England, supported in Scot¬
land not only by the still formidable power and unceasing
intrigues of the Douglases, but by a large proportion of the
nobles, and the talents of his sister, the queen-mother. On
the other hand stood the king of Scotland, assisted by the
united talent, zeal, and wealth of the Roman Catholic clergy,
the loyalty of some of the most potent peers, the co-opera¬
tion of France, the approval of the emperor, the affection of
the great body of his people, upon whose minds the doc¬
trines of Luther had not yet made any very general im¬
pression, and the cordial support of the papal court. The
course of events, into which we cannot enter minutely, but
which we shall touch in their principal consequences, illus¬
trated strikingly these opposing interests,
nes’s se- In the mean time, scarcely had the rejoicings ceased for
^mar- James’s return to his dominions with his youthful queen,
when it was apparent that she was sinking under a con¬
sumption, which in a short time carried her to the grave.
Although depressed by this calamity, the king did not per¬
mit it to divert his mind from that system of policy on
which he had resolved to act; and an embassy to France,
727
was entrusted to David Beaton, afterwards the celebrated Scotland,
cardinal, who requested for his master the hand of Mary of
uise, t e widow of the duke of Longueville, and sister to James V.
die cardinal of Lorraine. To this second union, the court of A-I)-1337-
Trance joyfully assented and the marriage took place at St.
Andrews, within a year after the death of the former queen.
At this moment the life of the king was twice endangered
by conspiracy ; and although much obscurity hangs over the
subject, both plots were probably connected with the in¬
trigues of the house of Douglas. At the head of the first was
the master of Forbes, a brother-in-law of Angus. The chief
actor in the second was the lady Glammis, his sister, who
only two days after the execution of Forbes, was accused
of an attempt to poison her sovereign, found guilty and con¬
demned to be burned; a dreadful sentence, the execution of
which she bore with the hereditary courage of her house-
An event now happened, which drew after it important
consequences. James Beaton, archbishop of St Andrews,
died, and was succeeded in the primacy by his nephew,
cardinal Beaton ; a man far his uncle’s superior in talent,
and still more devotedly attached to the interests of the
Roman Catholic church. It was to him, as we have seen,
that James had committed the negotiation for his second
marriage ; and so great appears to have been the influence
which he acquired over the royal mind, that the king hence¬
forth selected him as his principal adviser.
Beaton’s accession to additional power was marked by a Cardinal
renewed persecution of the reformers; and it is worthy of Beaton,
observation, that most of the converts to the reformed faith Perseeu-
belonged to the order of the inferior clergy. Keillor, Forret, tio,n of the
Sirason, and Beveridge, were arraigned before an ecclesi-
astical tribunal, and soon afterwards Kennedy and Russell,
out of which number three, Kennedy, Forret, and Russell,
suffered at the stake with great meekness and courage.
1 here can be little doubt that such inhuman executions
operated in favour, rather than against the progress of the
reformation.
The coalition between Francis the First and the empe- Another
ror was now completed under the auspices of the papal mission of
court; and Henry the Eighth, aware of the great efforts Sadierillt0
made to induce James to join the league against him, dis- ®cofiand'
patched Sir Ralph Sadler into Scotland. The object of
this able negotiator was to rouse James’s jealousy against
the increasing power of the clergy, to prevail upon him
to throw oft his allegiance to the pope, to imitate his ex¬
ample by suppressing the monasteries, and to urge him to
maintain the peace with England. To the last request the
Scottish king replied, that if Henry’s conduct was pacific,
nothing should induce him to join any hostile league against
him; but he assured Sadler that he found his clergy his
most loyal and useful subjects ; and although he would be
anxious to see a reformation in the general morals of this
body, he did not exactly see how that could best be eftect-
ed by renouncing the authority of his holy father the pope,
the terrestrial head of the church, and thus setting an exam¬
ple of rebellion and confusion.
James had for some time meditated an important enter- The king’s
prise, which he now executed ; a voyage to the most northern voyage to
parts of his dominions conducted by himself, and on a scale t*ie north,
such as had not been attempted by any of his predecessors.
His fleet consisted of twelve ships, fully armed and provi¬
sioned. He was attended by Beaton, and the earls ofHunt-
ly, Arran, and Angus ; and these barons bringing with them
their armed vassals, formed a force which, united to the
royal suite and attendants, was equal to a little army.
Lindsay, a skilful hydrographer, accompanied the expedi¬
tion, and his maps and charts, the first rude essays in this
science ever attempted in Scotland, are preserved at the
present day.1 The king first coasted Fife, Angus, and
1 In the Harleian Collection, British Museum.
728
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. Buchan; he next visited Caithness, crossed the Pentland
frith to the Orkneys, doubled Cape Wrath, steered for the
James V. Lewis, crossed over to Skye, circumnavigated Mull, swept
A.D.1540. a]ong tjie shores of Argyle, and passing Kintyre, inspected
Arran and Bute, whence he sailed up the Clyde to Dun¬
barton, where he concluded his labours.
The effects of this royal progress were salutary and deci¬
sive. The force with which James was accompanied se¬
cured a prompt submission to his commands, and inspired
these remote districts with a wholesome dread of the royal
name. Some of the fiercer and more independent chiefs, who
affected a show of resistance, were seized and confined in
irons on board the fleet; others, more gently treated, were
yet compelled to accompany the monarch as hostages for
the pacific behaviour of their followers; and all were con¬
vinced that any attempt to brave the power of the crown,
must for the present be vain and ruinous.
Conspiracy This exhibition of increasing energy in the king only
against the exposed him the more to the jealousy of those nobles whose
king’s life, power had been nourished by long intervals of license, and
who now clearly perceived, that unless they were prepared
to resign their rights, a struggle between them and their
sovereign could hardly be averted. A proof of this was
shown on James’s return to court from his northern voyage,
when a conspiracy against his life was detected, the third
which had occurred within no very long period. Like the
rest it is involved in obscurity; but the proof was considered
as sufficient, and its author, Sir James Hamilton, commonly
called the bastard of Arran, was tried, convicted and exe-
volved in debt, there is reason to believe he regarded the Scotland
overgrown possessions and extraordinary wealth of the
clergy with certain longings to appropriate some portion of Jaraes V
it towards the exigencies of the state. Yet, in the Parlia-
ment to which we have just alluded, it was made a capital
offence to argue against the supreme authority, or the spi¬
ritual infallibility of the pope; the discussion of religious
questions in private meetings was interdicted; a law was
passed against the demolition of the shrines and images
of saints; and it was evidently the opinion of the king
that the reformation should be made by the church itself,
within itself, and under the sanction of its head the pope.
Such seems to have been the feelings and the policy of Mutual ai
the sovereign. Those of another influential body in the state, mosity In
the clergy, are easily detected. To counteract the intrigues
of Henry the Eighth, and to check any incipient feelings of ;
favour towards the reformation, the great reliance of cardi- yjjj-
nal Beaton and the Roman Catholic party was in the pro¬
spect of a war with England. To accomplish this, they had
unfortunately ample materials to work upon. Henry the
Eighth was violent and dictatorial; James proud, and jeal¬
ous of his independence. The English king had espoused the
interests of the banished house of Douglas, and fomented
discontent among the rest of the Scottish nobles. James
was animated by an unrelenting animosity to the earl of An¬
gus, the head of the house of Douglas, and to all who bore
the name. Henry, instigated by the utmost hostility to the
Roman see, eagerly desired that his royal nephew should
imitate his example, suppress the religious houses, and pro-
cuted. It is said that the king was thrown into a state of claim his independence; but the instructions to his ambas-
great despondency and gloom by the discovery of this plot;
that it opened his eyes to the manifold dangers which sur¬
rounded a prince at variance with his nobles; and that he
began to feel that he was engaged in a contest in which
they might prove too strong for him.
Whatever credit we may attach to these reports, the
conduct of James gave decided proofs that he was deter-
James’s de-minecl to continue the struggle; and in a Parliament which   - , ^ . - . j...
cided mea- soon afterwards assembled in the capital, he strengthened his prematurely hurried into war. He was in debt, he suspect-es"
suies' own hands by annexing to the crown the whole of the He- ed the fidelity of his nobles, he was well aware that a feudal j|ivagion
brides, by which we are to understand the isles north and monarch at variance with his barons, the sinews of his
south of the two Kintyres. But this was not all. To these strength, was likely to be dishonoured and defeated. He ha
new acquisitions were added the Orkney and Zetland isles, lately lost his only children, Arthur and James, and he be-
A parlia¬
ment.
sador, Sadler, upon this subject, contained expressions so
personally insolent to James, that if obeyed, his mission
must have occasioned disgust rather than conciliation.
The English king requested a personal interview at York;
and James, after a promise to meet him, broke the appoint¬
ment with Henry, who had proceeded to that city in expec¬
tation of his arrival.
At this crisis, the Scottish king evidently dreaded being James ii
aly
many extensive lordships, Jedburgh forest, and the demesnes
of Angus, Glammis, Liddaldale, and Evandale.
In the want of contemporary evidence, it is difficult to
decide upon the strict justice of this sweeping measure. It
is possible that, by rigidly investigating the history of former
rebellions, and present treasons, James may have persuad¬
ed himself that he was entitled to the forfeiture of all these
large estates and principalities; but in such circumstances
it had been the practice of former monarchs to parcel out
the forfeited lands among his nobles who had preserved
their loyalty; and in the measure now adopted, of annexing
the whole to the crown, the aristocracy saw little else than
their own intended ruin. It was in vain that the measure
was followed by the publication of a general act of amnesty
for all former treasons. The earl of Angus, Sir George Dou¬
glas, and the whole of their adherents were excepted; and
men observed that while the king’s generosity was vague
and capricious, his aversion to those who had once injured
him, was stern and immutable.
It is not easy to discover James’s exact opinions regard-
conduct re- ing the progress of the reformed doctrines, which now began
garding the to create great alarm in the Roman Catholic clergy. On the
Reforma- 0ne hand he seems to have become convinced of the neces-
tion. sity for a reform in the church, and to have looked with a
severe eye upon the idleness, corruption, and ignorance of
The king’s
lieved that Beaton’s anxiety for war was dictated by selfish
motives, and influenced by his intrigues with Rome. Un¬
der these circumstances, public policy and personal feeling
alike made him dread any immediate hostilities with Eng¬
land, and he endeavoured by an embassy to avert the rup¬
ture; but Henry, from the moment of his disappointment
at York, would listen to no message of conciliation. War
was resolved on, the east and middle marches were put into
a state of defence, Berwick inspected, musters raised in the
north, and soon afterwards Sir James Bowes, with the force
of the east marches, marched across the border. The ba¬
nished Angus, his brother Sir George Douglas, and a large
body of the retainers of the Douglases, had joined him;
but they were encountered, and completely defeated by
Huntly and Home.
This, however, was merely a preliminary outbreak; and The an.
as such border outrages had frequently occurred without ^ (
drawing after them more serious consequences, James ®vert
made a last effort to avert the storm, by sending commis- |jtjeg>
sioners first to York, and afterwards to meet the duke o+
Norfolk, who, at the head of an army ot forty thousand men,
had crossed the Tweed, and already given many of the
granges and villages to the flames. It was in vain, how¬
ever, to attempt negotiation ; and aware that the crisis had
arrived, the Scottish king commanded Huntly and Home,
a large portion of the clergy. He encouraged Sir David upon whose fidelity he had most reliance, to watch the pi o-
Lindsay, whose satire upon the three estates contained a gress of Norfolk, while he himself assembled the main force
bitter attack upon the prelates; and being himself much in- of his kingdom on the Borough-moor near Edinburgh.
729
SCOTLAND.
icotland. With this army, which mustered thirty thousand strong, He had already lost his two sons, and clung to the hope Scotland,
he advanced to Fala-moor, and when encamped there, re- that his next might be a boy. But here too he was met by
^d 542 ce've><^ welcome intelligence that Norfolk, compelled disappointment; and wandering back in thought to the time
mes re ^ie wan^ sllPP^es an(^ the severity of the winter, was when the daughter of Bruce brought to his ancestor, the
lives on in full retreat. It was now the time to retaliate, and James - - - - - -
ir issued orders for an immediate invasion of England. But
he nobles the nobles felt their own strength. They had long regarded
•fuse to the measures of the court with distrust, some even with
indignation and a desire of revenge; they recalled to mind
vade
Ingland.
the proceedings of the monarch, the threatening attitude
lately assumed by the crown towards the whole body of the
aristocracy; and when commanded to cross the borders, they
haughtily and unanimously refused. It was in vain that
James, stung with such an indignity, threatened, remon¬
strated, and even entreated them, as they valued their own
honour and his, to proceed against the English. The feeling
of attachment to their prince, or revenge against the enemy
seemed to be completely extinguished in a resolution to as¬
sert their power, and procure a redress of their grievances;
and the sovereign was at last compelled to disband the army,
and return outbraved and defeated to his capital.
There can be no doubt that so mortifying a reverse sunk
deep into the heart of James, but his pride, and the natural
nd army, vigour of his character supported him. Though deserted by
he Scots the majority, he had still some powerful friends among
tirdy the nobles, the clergy were unanimously in his favour, and
it was resolved to make a second effort to re-assemble the
eassem-
es a se-
luted by
i.8 Eng-
k army for the invasion of England. Its success, though
.0.1542. partial, once more gave a gleam of hope to the monarch.
A force of ten thousand men was collected chiefly by the
exertions of Lord Maxwell; with this it was resolved to
break across the western marches, and the king took his
station at Caerlaverock, where he eagerly awaited the re¬
sult of the expedition. A distrust of his nobles, however,
still haunted him; and secret orders were issued, that as
soon as the army reached the river Esk, his favourite, Oli¬
ver Sinclair, should be intrusted with the chief command.
Nothing could be more unwise than this resolution. It was
received with murmurs of discontent; and when the new
general exhibited himself to the camp, and a herald at¬
tempted to read the royal commission by which he was ap¬
pointed, the wholtf army became agitated, disorderly, and
steward of Scotland, the dowry of the kingdom, he received
the intelligence with the melancholy remark, “ It cam wi’ a
lass, it will gang wi’ a lass“ It came by a girl, and will go
with a girl.” As he said this, a few of the most faithful of his
nobles and councillors stood round his bed; and as they
strove to comfort him, he stretched out his hand for them
to kiss, and regarding them with great affection, closed his
eyes, and placidly expired. He died in the thirty-fifth year
of his age, and the twenty-ninth of his reign.
Somewhat more than two centuries and a half had elapsed Mary, an
since the death of Alexander the Third had left the country infant eight
under circumstances of calamity and danger strikingly simi-^ay® old>
lar to those in wdfich it now found itself in losing James s'lcceedst0
the Fifth. Alexander had been bereft of all his sons, and1 e crowl1'
the crown descended to an only grand-daughter, the Maiden
of Norway. James had been visited by a like bereavement.
His sons, Arthur and James, had been cut off, and his only
daughter, Mary, an infant eight days old, was now queen.
On the death of Alexander, the kingdom saw itself exposed
to the ambitious designs of Edward the First, who imme¬
diately conceived the project of marrying the queen of Scot¬
land to his eldest son. On the death of James, Henry the
Eighth, a monarch far inferior in talent to Edward, but
equally ambitious, and, where the rights of others were con¬
cerned, still more unscrupulous, at once embraced the de¬
sign of marrying his son the prince of Wales to the infant
Mary. Edward, when disappointed of his first object by
the death of the infant queen, resorted to intrigue and force
to accomplish his purpose; and Henry having been baffled
in his ambition, not. indeed by the death, but by the betroth-
ment of Mary to the dauphin, resorted to the same weapons
to effect his designs. One point of the parallel, and that
the most mortifying of all, remains. In the days of Ed¬
ward, Scotland was basely deserted by her leading no¬
bility, and owed her liberty to the inherent love of free¬
dom and the persevering courage of her people. It was the
same under Henry the Eighth and Edward the Sixth.
The lapse of two centuries and a half found the great
almost mutinous. At this crisis, Dacre and Musgrave, two majority of the Scottish nobles as selfish, wavering, and
English officers, advanced to reconnoitre at the head of three unprincipled as their ancestors in the days oi Edward,—
hundred horse, and approaching near enough to perceive supported by the money of England, ready to sacrifice the
he king
jk of a
uken
art.
the condition of the Scots, boldly charged them. The
effect of this surprise was instantaneous and fatal. Ten
thousand Scots fled from three hundred English cavalry,
with scarcely a momentary resistance. In the panic the
greater number escaped, but a thousand prisoners were
taken, and among them many of the leading nobles, Cas-
sillis, Glencairn, Maxwell, Somerville, Gray, Oliphant, and
Fleming.
This second calamity completely overwhelmed the king.
independence of their country to their individual ambition ;
and if Scotland preserved her liberty as a separate kingdom,
which, by the blessing of God, she did, the agents selected
for her deliverance were the great body of her people, and
the numerous and influential classes of the clergy. From
these general remarks let us return to our historical sketch.
The rout at the Solway Moss, followed, as we have seen Intrigues of
it, by the death of the king, gave an alarming advantage to Henry with
    j ( ^    o Henry the Eighth. The earl of Angus, Sir George
He had eagerly awaited at Caerlaverock the first news from glas, and the numerous supporters of this house, still powei- g0jway
the army, and he anticipated a victory which should efface the ful though in banishment, had been long devoted to his in- j^osg
late dishonour, and restore the feelings of cordiality between terests, in the support of which they saw tie on y sure
himself and his barons. In an instant the hope was blasted, hope of their own restoration. To these were added the
and gave place to the most gloomy despondency. For prisoners of highest rank who wrere taken m t e ate is-
their unheard-of conduct, James could find no solution but graceful flight, lo them the Eng is monarc now pro
in the persuasion that his nobles had secretly conspired to posed an alternative, trying indeed, but in the choice ot
betray him to England, and to sacrifice the independence which no citizen of a free country ought to have hesitated,
of the kingdom to the gratification oftheir personal revenge. On the one hand, they were threatened with imprison-
This idea preyed upon his mind. The feeling that his army ment in the Tower, to which they had been conducted
had exposed themselves, their sovereign, and the Scottish immediately after theii being ta en. n le o er, ey
name to contempt, took entire possession of him. He became were promised freedom, an a return to t leir na i\e coun^
4 * I'* 1 (*  1 * ™ C*-/1 r»4-
name iu uuiitt:in Ji, unm ciiui c Mwracoojvn vn *******     ,  . .
the victim of a low fever, which had its seat in a wounded try, but coupled with extraordinary conditions. A bond
heart, and from a proud monarch, lately in the vigour of was drawn up which they weie required to sign. By
i i •  U ~ 1,- of of q if fLoir Qr'lrnnwlPntTP.n HonfV
his strength and the prime of his age, he sunk into a state
of silent melancholy. When in this hopeless condition, the
news arrived that his queen had given birth to a daughter.
VOL. XIX.
it they acknowledged Henry as lord superior of the king
dom of Scotland ; they promised to exert their influence to
procure for him the government of the kingdom, and the
4 z
730
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, resignation into his hands of all its fortresses ; they engaged
to have their infant queen delivered to his keeping; and
Mary they solemnly stipulated, that if the parliament of Scot-
A.D. 1542.}am| vesisted such demands, they would employ their whole
feudal strength to co-operate with England in completing
the conquest of the country. To this engagement they
were required to swear fidelity; and if they failed in ac¬
complishing the wishes of the king, the penalty was to be
their immediate return to their prisons in England. It must
have been apparent to the Scottish prisoners that such an
engagement virtually annihilated the existence of their
country as a separate kingdom; and yet it is mortifying to
add that it was embraced by the earls of Glencairn and
Cassillis, with the lords Maxwell, Somerville, and Oliphant.
These were among the chief prisoners taken in the rout
of Solway Moss; the rest were of inferior rank, and re¬
mained in captivity, while Angus, Sir George Douglas,
and the strength of their house, cordially co-operated with
Henry.1
A.D-1542. It was the policy of these lords on their return to Scot-
State of
parties m
Scotland.
Arrival of
the Dou-
land, to conceal the full extent of their engagements,
and to proceed with great caution. On their arrival they
found the country divided into two factions. On the one
side, was cardinal Beaton the chancellor, supported by the
queen-mother Mary of Guise, the whole body of the clergy,
the Roman Catholic nobility, and the interest of France.
On the other stood the earl of Arran, nearest heir to the
crown, a weak and indolent man, who leaned to the re¬
formed opinions; all the nobles who had forsaken the an¬
cient faith, the adherents of the house of Douglas, and many
who, ignorant of the unjust and degrading demandsof Henry,
considered a marriage with England, under due safeguards,
as a wise and politic step. As to the great body of the
people, by which we must chiefly understand the middle
and commercial classes, their feelings, as far as they can
be detected, were somewhat discordant. Many favoured
the reformation, and from hostility to the cardinal, gave a
virtual support to Henry the Eighth and the English fac¬
tion ; but their feeling of national independence w7as so
strong, that on the slightest assumption of superiority, it
was ready to exhibit itself in determined hostility.
Into the details of the struggles between these opposite
factions, it belongs not to our plan to enter. We must
glases and touc^ oniy t})e great leading events; but these, even in their
1 dsoners ^ most genera^ f°rm> are full of interest. On the death of
pus m s. king, Beaton produced a will which appointed him chief
governor of the realm, and guardian to the infant queen ;
but the paper was thrown aside as a forged instrument;
Arran, the nearest heir to the crown, was chosen governor;
and the cardinal having contented himself with securing
the interest mid support of France, prepared for a deter¬
mined struggle with his opponents. At this moment, the
Douglases "and the Solway prisoners arrived, of which party
Sir George Douglas, brother to Angus, and father of the
celebrated regent Morton, was the leader. Their first act
wras bold and successful. Beaten was arraigned of a trea¬
sonable correspondence with France, and hurried to prison; a
parliament was summoned for the discussion of the proposed
alliance with England; and as the governor, Arran, appeared
to be completely under English influence, it was confidently
expected that Henry’s schemes of ambition were not far
from their accomplishment. But they were defeated by
his own violent and intolerant conduct. Fie insisted on
having the cardinal delivered up to be imprisoned in Eng¬
land ; he upbraided the Douglases for their delay to surren¬
der the fortresses of the kingdom ; and instead of being con¬
tented with the proceedings of the parliament, which agreed
to the marriage between the Scottish queen and his son, he
expressed the most violent resentment, because the estates
Imprison
merit of
Cardinal
Beaton.
insisted that their country should preserve its liberties as a Scotlam
separate and independent kingdom.
Amidst these collisions the secret treachery of the Don-Mary-
glases and the Solway lords began to transpire. Beaton l5t
nearly about the same time recovered his liberty, and after
an ineffectual attempt to secure a matrimonial alliance with^ert ns,_
England on just and equal grounds, he placed himself and places hu'
the great party of which he became the leader in deter-self in o
mined hostility to Henry. A last effort, however, was made, position
and a Scottish embassy sought the English court. In a
personal interview, the ambassadors explained to the king
the conditions on which the country would agree to the
marriage. To their astonishment, the monarch, overcome
by passion, proclaimed himself lord paramount of Scotland,
and insisted that the government of that kingdom, and the
custody of its infant sovereign, belonged of right to him.
This disclosure, which was made in a moment of passion,
and against the earnest entreaties of the English faction,
produced an instantaneous effect. It was received in Scot¬
land, as had been predicted, with a universal burst of in¬
dignation. It gave the cardinal and the French party an
immediate ascendancy ; the governor, Arran, and his friends
joined their ranks ; and the people became so exasperated,
that Sadler, the English ambassador, could not safely shew
himself in the capital.
To counteract all these effects, Sir George Douglas exert- Treaty of
ed himself with indefatigable activity. Henry was prevailed maniape
upon to renounce the most obnoxious part of his demands, Kn5
i  • .1 *..j i  land.
Arran, with his characteristic caprice, deserted, his new
friends ; and in a convention of the nobles, which was not
attended by the opposite faction, the treaties of marriage
and pacification with England were finally arranged. Yet
although, as far as it was promulgated to the people, the
negotiation now concluded, preserved entire the rights and
liberties of Scotland, a paper has lately been discovered,
drawn up at the same time, and entitled a secret De¬
vice, in which the earls of Angus and Glencairn, with lord
Maxwell, Sir George Douglas, and the rest of their party,
once more tied themselves to the service of the English
king, and promised that, if he did not accomplish the full
extent of his designs, he should at least have the dominion
on this side the Forth.2
To fulfil this treaty, however, was found no easy matter. Treacher
It was averred by the opposite faction, that it had been of the ear
carried through by private influence, unsanctioned by theot A1™1
highest nobles, unauthorized by any parliament, contrary
to the wishes of the people ; and at this very crisis the car¬
dinal obtained possession of the person of the intant queen,
who had hitherto been strictly guarded by the governor
and the Hamiltons. To balance this success, Arran, whose
character had hitherto been only weak, became alarmed at
the success of the cardinal; and, flattered by a proposal of
the English king to make him sovereign of Scotland beyond
the Forth, declared his readiness to co-operate with an
English army for the entire subjugation of the country. In
the mean time, he held a convention of the nobles in the
abbey church of Holyrood, and in his character of governor
of the realm, ratified the marriage treaty with England, un¬
mindful of the protestations of Beaton and his party, that
they were no parties to such a transaction, and would not
hold themselves bound by a decision contrary to the opinion
of the majority of the nobles and the wishes of the people.
Henry the Eighth, enraged by this opposition, acted with yj0ien«
his wonted impetuosity and want of principle. He intrigued of tl>e
against the life and liberty of the cardinal, but his plots to English
get possession of the prelate were unsuccessful; he seized
the ships of the Scottish merchants which were in English
ports,a measure which was deeply resented; and he assumed
that tone of haughty defiance, which, when united to his
1 Sadler’s State Papers, vol i. pp. 69, 81.
* Tytier’s History of Scotland, vol. v. p. 399.
SCOTLAND.
hostile preparations, made it apparent that war could not be
long averted. France now offered her assistance to her an¬
cient ally. 1 he earl of Arran, ever wavering and irresolute
once more threw his whole influence into Beaton’s hands;
ana this minister, availing himself of an accession of strength,
provan m°ment would nofc act without Henry’s direct ap- Scotland.
-lenry en-
ourages an
:tempt to
isassinate
katon.
i nvasion by
ienry.
ttle of
icrara
iiir.
D. 1544
In the midst of these dark plots, a French fleet arrived Mary,
in Scotland with three thousand men. This led to decisive A- V-l544-
proceeded with a vigorous hand to sunnress hereVv'nml^n A Scottish army was assembled; but torn as pITlvf* of “
inculcate determined resistance to England. ’ wlm held^ dls*ensions’ aild betrayed by the Douglases, flgg"0
Henry, who was thoroughly unprincipled and carod nnt « r a .PrinciPa command, its operations were insigni-a.D.154.5.
whatmeans he used to rid himself of his opponents attemnted pu” ’ &nt ltjs.retreat almost immediate. This was follow-Hostilities
to remove the cardinal, by hiring h ^a .cruff]invf10? of the English, in which the earl ofcontinued.
and some of the opposite factiorto seL or ^S^natP v ’ f thf head ^ army’ whose numbers rendered
him; but he once more failed in this nefarious proiect and OPP°Sltl0n ruitless’ invaded Scotland, and after a desolating
foiled and irritated, let loose his vengeance°in the^ shapeTof TafsTwh L° T ^ ^ f°r three h-d-d
tsusrsr-taea ss" sis b=s ™
vaged the adjo.mng country with merciless cruelty, and istic letter, in which Henry, on receiving some French de
left upon land a considerable force, winch, in its retreat, setters into his service, enjoins them toflmw their attach'
was as remorseless in its devastations as the fleet had ment by some notable e^loit, such ^ the ‘‘ tmnnfa^oi
been in its attack. Such was Henry s mode of wooing, of slavimr the cardin il ” Hp ni tlio .• F i
which it was well observed by l„rd>erbert, that he^did
land on the west coasts; and having heard that Beaton, his
able and indefatigable enemy, meditated a visit to France
for the purpose of subsidising a large auxiliary force for the
continuance ot the war, he determined to make a last effort
to cut him off, and with this view, resumed with the laird
of Brunston the plot for his assassination.
Into the details of this remarkable conspiracy, and the Conspiracy
various parties whom Henry contrived to bring together for to assasshi-
the execution of his sanguinary purpose, we cannot here ate Beaton.
enter.2 Fanaticism of the sternest kind, which had been A-D-,54‘:i-
worked up into action by the cardinal’s cruel execution ofMur<?er
George Wishart, commonly called the martyr, united itself ^ Cjmin“
to more mercenary motives with some of the conspirators, i545;
and with others, to the desire of private revenge; and on the
morning of the 28th of May, a band of desperate men, who
are now known to have been in the pay of England, and
some of whom had been on former occasions urged by the
English king to the commission of the murder/broke into
the cardinal’s apartments in the castle of St. Andrews, beat
down the barricades with which the miserable man had at¬
tempted to defend the door, and putting him instantly to
death, hung out his naked and mangled body over the win-
dowofhis bed-chamber, in savage and brutal triumph. They
then seized the castle, dismissed unharmed the household
servants of the cardinal, sent off a messenger to the English
court to inform Henry of their success; and being soon after¬
wards joined by John Knox, and a considerable band of his
friends, who considered the death of Beaton as favourable to
the reformation, they determined to defend the castle for
Henry against any force which might be brought against
them.
These confident anticipations were, fora time, overthrown Death of
   v..~ ... by the death of Henry the Eighth, an event soon followed Henry
vasion of England, and to assist Scotland by an auxiliary by that of his rival Francis the First; but the accession ofViII.
force. Beaton, encouraged by this expected aid, having Edward the Sixth in England, and that of Henry the Second A“e.SSIon.
concentrated his party, prevailed upon the majority of the in France, did not materially alter the policy of either king-yj " au
nobles, in a convention held in the capital, to refuse dom towards Scotland. In England, the protector Somer-Measures
every advance of the English monarch, and to declare the set, who was placed at the head of the government duringof the
treaty ol peace and marriage at an end; while Henry, the minority of his royal nephew, considered himself bound Protector
enraged to the utmost pitch by this success, eagerly en- to enforce the observation of the marriage treaty between Somerset,
couraged a second plot of the earls of Cassillis, Angus, Edward and the young queen of Scots; while in France,
and Glencairn, for the murder of trie cardinal. The Henry the Second, devoted to the cause of the Catholic
king, however, enjoined Sir Ralph Sadler to propose the church, and directed in his affairs by the Guises, foresaw
assassination, as coming from himself, and the conspirators at once the necessity of an intimate union with Mary of
too much for a suitor, and too little for a conqueror.
It might have been expected that the rival leaders and
factions in the state, all of whom had suffered by this in¬
vasion, would have had their eyes opened to the necessity
of saving the country, by uniting their strength; but in
vain the cardinal strained every effort to effect so desir¬
able a result. Mutual jealousies, feudal quarrels, renewed
intrigues with England, private bonds or covenants among
themselves, all co-operated to destroy any cordial union;
and the earls of Lennox and Glencairn, two of the most
powerful of the Scottish barons, seized this opportunity to
sell themselves to Henry, and to conduct a hostile expedi¬
tion into the heart of Scotland.
It was at this moment, when all was gloom and despond¬
ency, that the earl of Angus, who, with his brother, had
been lately restored to his estates, and absolved in Par¬
liament from the sentence of treason, encountered and to¬
tally defeated Sir Ralph Evre and Sir Brian Layton at
Ancram Muir. These English leaders had procured from
Henry a grant of all they could conquer in Teviotdale and
the Merse, where Angus’s estates chiefly lay; and penetrat¬
ing at the head of five thousand men to Melrose, they not
only ravaged that district, but plundered the abbey, and
wantonly defaced the tombs of the house of Douglas; an
insult which Angus revenged in the most signal manner,
by attacking the English in their retreat, dispersing their
force, with the slaughter of eight hundred men, leaving Evre
and Layton dead on the field, and making a capture of one
thousand prisoners.
This victory, although resulting not from patriotic prin¬
ciple, but personal revenge, had a good effect in restor¬
ing confidence to the people; and it was followed up by the
resolution ot Francis the First to equip a fleet for the in¬
vasion of England, and to assist S< '
force. Beaton, encouraged by thi
J Lvrler’s History of Scotland, vol. v. pp. 388, 389.
* The whole of the plot, as it is to be traced in authentic letters in the State 'Paper-Office, will be found detailed in Tytler’s History
of Scotland, vol. v p. 387—391, and in an Appendix to that volume, entitled, “ Historical Remarks on the Assassination of Cardinal
Beaton ”
732
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
Mary.
A. D. 1545.
Arrival of
a French
iieet in
Scotland.
Knox call¬
ed to the
ministry.
A.D. 1546
Somerset
invades
Scotland.
Battle of
Pinkey.
A.D.1547,
Mary sent
to France,
and be¬
trothed to
the Dau¬
phin.
Guise the queen-dowager, and the governor Arran ; his po¬
licy being to arrest the spread of the reformed opinions, and
to weaken England in the quarter to which Somerset look¬
ed for an easy triumph.
For nine years after the assassination of Beaton, the earl
of Arran continued at the head of the government; and
during that period some events took place which drew
after them important effects. The warlike preparations
of Somerset induced the French government to antici¬
pate his motions ; and a French fleet of sixteen armed gal¬
leons having entered the Frith, bombarded and carried the
castle of St. Andrews, in which the conspirators against
Beaton, and Knox the Scottish reformer, had deemed them¬
selves secure.
It was when shut up in St. Andrews, that this extra¬
ordinary man first assumed the office of a minister of the
reformed religion; but having capitulated with the rest,
he was embarked with his associates for France, and on
his arrival there, kept a prisoner in chains on board the
galleys. He remained on the continent till 1550, when he
he returned not to Scotland, but to England, and became
one of the chaplains to Edward the Sixth.
Immediately after the siege of St. Andrews, the protec¬
tor Somerset invaded Scotland at the head of an army of
fourteen thousand strong, and supported by a fleet of thirty-
four ships of war. He was met by Arran, the governor, at
Musselburgh, or Pinkey-cleugh, within about six miles
distance from the capital, where an army considerably more
than double the number of the English had encamped in so
strong a position on the banks of the Esk, that with proper
military skill on their part, any attempt to dislodge them
might have brought ruin on their assailants. The inexpe¬
rience and folly of Arran, the governor, threw away this
advantage. He mistook a movement of Somerset, in which
the English leader meant to possess himself of an adjoining
height, for an intention to communicate with his fleet and re-
imbark his army; and contrary to the remonstrances of his
best officers, he gave orders for the whole army to strike their
tents and cross the river on which he had encamped. The
order was at first resisted, at last unwillingly and imper¬
fectly obeyed; and in the midst of the confusion which en¬
sued, the English attacked the Scottish divisions in detail,
and after a sanguinary conflict, gained a complete victory.
Fourteen thousand were slain in the battle and in the chase,
while the English loss was comparatively trifling.
Since the fatal day of Floddon, Scotland had sustained no
defeat in the least degree approaching to this at Pinkey,
and had it been followed up by the Protector, the conse¬
quences must have been of the most serious kind, perhaps
fatal to the liberty of the country. But happily Somerset,
at the very moment of his victory, received accounts of
a conspiracy which his enemies at the English court had
organized against him; and impatient to confront them in
person, his measures were hurried, confused, and ill-di¬
gested. After a brief stay in the capital, he commenced
his retreat through Teviotdale, and the fleet at the same
time weighed anchor and returned to England.
The consequences of the defeat at Pinkey, and the effects
of a subsequent and cruel inroad into Annandale by Lord
Wharton and the earl of Lennox, were to exasperate the
feelings of national antipathy, and to throw the governor and
the queen-mother more decidedly into the arms of France.
A convention was held at Stirling, in which it was deter¬
mined to request the immediate assistance of a French force,
and to send Mary, the young queen of Scots, to be educated
at the court of Henry the Second. Soon afterwards, the Sieur
Montalembert, commonly called Monsieur d’Esse, one of
the ablest officers in the service of that country, arrived in
Scotland with six thousand men. In a parliament held at
Fladdington, the marriage of the French dauphin to the
queen of Scots was finally determined; and the infant Mary,
then in her sixth year, took her voyage to France, accom
panied by lords Erskine and Livingston, her governors,
Scotian
and arrived in safety at the court of St. Germain, in August
1548.
It belongs not to an historical sketch of this kind, to enter War wits
into the details of that sanguinary and obstinate war which England,
now took place between England and the united strength Peace ccJ
of France and Scotland. The slaughter at Pinkey, theclu^e^
burning of their sea-ports and shipping, and the pitiless se
verity with which the repeated invasions of their country
were accompanied, had at length animated the Scots with
a common feeling of revenge, which gave to the contest
a character of peculiar ferocity, and manifested itself in
shocking excesses. Happily the struggle did not continue
long. The peace of Boulogne, between France and Eng¬
land, led, in 1550, to a cessation of hostilities in Scotland,
where for some time before, the tide of success had run in
favour of the governor and his foreign auxiliaries ; and thus,
after a war which had lasted for seven years, dating it from
the year 1543, when Henry the Eighth determined to en¬
force the observation of the treaty, the English saw them¬
selves obliged to abandon the extravagant project of compel¬
ling the Scots into a matrimonial alliance.
This war, for the accomplishment of the marriage, was not Mary of
longafterwardsfoliowedby thestill moreimportantand event- Guise ob-
ful struggle for the establishment of the reformation, the his- ta'IIS the
tory of which may properly be divided into the war of opinion,
which extended from the arrival of Knox in Scotland in 1555, 1 • ^ 1
to the attack upon Perth in 1559; and the actual war between
the Congregation and their opponents, which was compara¬
tively of short duration, and concluded in the treaty of Edin¬
burgh and the triumph of the party of the Congregation, in
1561. How difficult is it, in the narrow compass allowed us for
this picture, to do justice even to its prominent outlines ?
The queen-dowager, Mary of Guise, a woman, by the con¬
fession of her enemies, of good judgment, and sincere and
upright principles, succeeded in procuring the retirement
of Arran and her own nomination to the regency, (April
1554). She was enabled to accomplish this chiefly by the
influence of France, then high in Scotland; but she was
assisted also by the leaders of the protestant party, whom
she courted and attached to her interest. Her possession
of the supreme power was soon followed by the death of
Edward the Sixth and the accession of Mary, a princess,
as is well known, sincerely devoted to the ancient faith;
but these changes were not accompanied by any important
political events. The queen-dowager, indeed, when she saw
England and Spain engaged in Italy in a struggle with France
and the pope, deemed it her duty to suport her country and
attack England ; but although the Scottish barons assembled
an army, it wras only to act on the defensive; they refused
to cross the border, and the Regent, hitherto on the most
amicable terms with the nobles, dismissed them with undis-
sembled resentment.
To make up for this disappointment, the marriage between Marriage
the young queen of Scots and the dauphin was concluded of Mary ti
with much solemnity at Notre Dame; and in a parliament the Dau-
held at Edinburgh, it was agreed that the youthful husband Pj11^
should bear the title of king of Scotland during the con A'C(,e‘ssjon
tinuance of the marriage, that all letters in Scotland should 0f Queen
run in the joint names of Francis and Mary, and that the Elizabeth-
arms of both kingdoms should be quartered in the great seal A.D.155&
and the current coin of the realm. These transactions had
not been long concluded, when Mary of England, broken¬
hearted by the loss of Calais and the neglect of Philip, sunk
into the grave ; and Elizabeth’s accession to the throne was
hailed with universal delight by the protestant party in Europe.
When the English queen placed herself at the head of
the reformation, this great moral revolution had made n0 ^j^jn
inconsiderable progress in Scotland. The return of Knox gcotjanj,
to his native country in 1555, and the influence which his
tyr,!
SCOTLAND.
.cotland.
lary and
■•ancis.
i.D.1557
fiery zeal and popular eloquence soon gained over the Con¬
gregation, determined them to make a formal separation from
the Catholic Church; and although the reformer was once
more compelled, probably by fears for his life, to retreat to
Geneva, the danger appears soon to have passed, and the
leaders of the Congregation, conscious of increasing strength,
entered into that memorable bond or covenant, by which
they engaged to establish the word of God, to maintain the
gospel of Christ, to labour to have faithful ministers, and to
execute judgment upon what they termed the superstitions
and abominations of the ancient faith.
73d
matrimonial and the title of king of Scots for the dauphin; Scotland,
and intreating the lords of the Congregation to withdraw
t leir petition and articles for a season, she promised them Mary and
her protection, and a favourable consideration of their de-^^a,IC's•
mands. do this they agreed, but under a protestation which A‘D‘ 1558‘
was publicly read in parliament. It proved by the manner
in which it was worded that they knew their own strength;
and, in the event of a refusal, were prepared to enforce their
demand for liberty of conscience and a thorough reforma¬
tion of the church.
lining of
alter
ill.
D. 1558.
This bond was little less than an open declaration of war hadSn^raLt^
aS'n.?t H * ? !e /t'SrS and ]fBt 11 Sl:0uld be mis- te™ls and when the qneen-reKent'havta/ob-RAr!
u e tood, the lords of the Congregation at the same time tamed her wishes, considered herself independent of dieirmation hl
support, that Elizabeth succeeded to the throne, and Knox, Scotland*
who soon after his first return had left Scotland, again
arrived in his native country. Both events produced the
most important effects. It was one of the great principles
of Elizabeth s policy to increase her own security by weak-
ening her neighbours; to accomplish which, she invariably
fomented a secret faction which opposed itself to the exist¬
ing government. We have already seen how lightly the
feudal nobility of Scotland were accustomed to regard
the power of the crown or the laws of the realm, if they
interfered in any prominent manner with their personal
freedom or privileges ; and the history of the country, from
the rebellion in the reign of James the Third, to the moment
when they so recently refused to lead their forces against
England, had exhibited little else than the total destruction
of any balance between the fierce unbridled license of the
aristocracy, and the decreasing influence of the crown and
the laws.
Of those nobles who had been ready, without any feel¬
ings of shame, to renounce their allegiance to their country,
and to be bought over by England, many had embraced the
principles of the reformation. To men so long accustom¬
ed to make their personal interest the measure of their duty,
and to think and act as they pleased, a revolution which
contended for liberty of conscience and the license of pri¬
vate judgment, must have warmly recommended itself; and
when they considered the history of the English reforma-
^ eed-
>f the
Wil¬
ier.
understood, the lords of the Congregation at the same time
passed a resolution, declaring, that in all parishes the com¬
mon prayer, by which was meant the service book of Ed¬
ward the Sixth, should be read in the churches by the cu¬
rates, if qualified to perform this service, if not, by others
in the parish who were qualified. It was resolved at the same
time, thatdoctrine, preaching, and the interpretation of Scrip¬
ture should be used privately, until it pleased God to move
the prince to grant public preaching by faithful ministers.
The Roman Catholic clergy received such a denunciation
of the national faith with alarm and indignation; and resort-
ingonce more to those weapons which had already so deep¬
ly injured their cause, they deemed it expedient to hold up
an example which should strike terror into the new converts.
Walter Mill, a priest who had embraced the reformation,
was seized, tried, delivered over to the secular arm and
burned at St. Andrews. The people, however, only execrat¬
ed the cruelty of which he was the victim, and his last words
were never forgotten. “ I am now fourscore and two years
old, and could not have lived long by the course of nature;
but a hundred better shall rise out of the ashes of my bones,
and I trust in God I am the last who shall suffer death in
Scotland for this cause.” A pathetic declaration, and hap¬
pily prophetical.
Against this cruel execution, the lords of the Congrega¬
tion, Glencairn, Argyll, Morton, Erskine of Dun, and others,
- presented a remonstrance to the queen-dowager. It was im-
, possible, they said, that her Grace could be ignorant of the ........ tnC m me ^ugnsu reiunim-
controversy which had arisen between them and the popish tion, and the appropriation of the church lands by Henry
Gicrgy, concerning the true religion and the right worship- and Edward, they could not, we may believe, be totally dead
ping of God. They denounced the power which was claimed to the lesson. The church of Rome in Scotland was compa-
by these priests ol dictating their creed under the penalty ratively as rich as her sister had been across the border; and
of fire and faggot, and declared, that although hitherto they if the reformation was to be as complete in their own coun-
had remained quiescent under such abuses, they now were try as in England, it was not difficult for these shrewd barons
persuaded, that they, “as part of that power which God had to persuade themselves that they might imitate,perhaps im-
established in the land,” were bound to defend their perse- prove the example.
cuted brethren. They proceeded still more boldly to state. Over an aristocracy of such a character, Elizabeth and her influence
that a reformation of abuses was necessary, not only in re- ministers at once perceived how easy it would be to acquire acquired
ligion, but in the temporal government of the state; and an influence. Her policy at home was to avoid war, and over the
after claiming for themselves the free right of assembling in to enforce in every department of the state the most rigid Congrega-
public or private, hearing common prayers, and having the economy. Her policy abroad, as already observed, was to
sacrament of the Lord’s Supper administered in the vulgar give her neighbours full employment within their own realm, lza et
tongue, they concluded by declaring that they were willing by secretly encouraging every faction which rose against
that the controversy between themselves and the Catholic the government. From the first moment of her accession,
priesthood should be determined by a reference to the New therefore, she favoured the leaders of the Congregation, di-
Testament, the writings of the fathers, and the laws of the reeled their measures, supported them with money, and re¬
emperor Justinian. This declaration was soon after fol- ceived from them in return a respect and deference supe-
lowed by a supplication to parliament, in which they re- rior to that which they paid to their own sovereign,
quested that all statutes by which churchmen were empower- But if the effects of the accession of Elizabeth upon the influence
ed to proceed against heretics, should be suspended until body of the Scottish nobles, were important in reference to of Knox,
the controversies in religion were determined by a general the reformation, the consequences of Knox’s re-appearance Change in
council of the church. were not less momentous upon the character of the people. ^eel'n£s
This petition was received by the queen-regent with con- Hitherto the healthy patriotic feeling, the resolution to de-° ^
cealed dissatisfaction, by the great body of the Roman Ca- fend their independence as a separate kingdom from foreign
tholic clergy with undisguised scorn and reprobation. It domination and attack, had existed almost exclusively in the
suited however l he regent at this moment to dissemble, middle and lower orders, the commercial classes, and the la-
She required the aid of the protestant lords to carry her bourers of the soil. But among these, the principles of
favourite measures in this parliament, the obtaining the crown- the reformation had taken a deep root. They had adopted
734
SCOTLAND.
lies and the
Protest¬
ants.
Scotland, them, not like many of the nobles, from interest, but from
conviction ; and upon their minds the popular eloquence of
Mary and Knox, his fiery zeal, his denunciations of superstition, his
Francis. sarcastic attacks upon the ignorance and the vices of his
A. . 1558.0pp0nentSj produced a powerful impression. Till this period
they had been wont to regard France as their ancient ally,
and England as their ancient enemy. But France was now
held forth to them, in the discourses of their favourite
preacher, as their bitterest foe, because the enemy of their
soul’s health ; while England was the land of gospel light,
and its queen the princess to whom, as the bulwark of the
truth, they ought to look with affection and admiration.
Such were the feelings of the Scottish nobles, and the
great body of the people, with reference to the momentous
struggle between the reformation, and the Roman Catholic
faith, which was now about to convulse the country. Had
the queen-dowager continued to act with the same judg¬
ment and caution which had distinguished the commence¬
ment of her government, it is possible that the struggle
might have been for a time averted ; but at this moment the
powerful princes of the house of Guise deemed it expedient
to join the league which had been concluded between the
pope, the king of Spain, and the emperor, for the destruc¬
tion of the protestants, and the re-establishment of the ca¬
tholic faith in Europe. They immediately communicated
with their sister, the regent, in Scotland; and such was
unfortunately their influence over her mind, that after a
feeble resistance she joined the papal coalition.
A.D. 1558. This fatal step was followed, as might have been expect-
Collision ed, by an immediate collision between the two parties. In
between a convention of the clergy which was held at Edinburgh, in
the Catho- March 1559, the lords of the Congregation, in addition to
" the demands which they had already presented, insisted that
bishops should not henceforward be elected without the
consent of the gentlemen of the diocese, nor parish priests
except by the votes of the parishioners. These proposals
were met' by the queen with a determined refusal. A pro¬
clamation was issued, commanding all persons to resort
daily to mass and confession. It was declared that no lan¬
guage but the Latin could be used in public prayers, with¬
out violating the most sacred decrees of the church ; and
the protestant ministers who had acted in defiance of these
injunctions, were summoned to appear at Stirling, and
there answer to the accusations which should be brought
against them.
They accordingly did appear ; but it was with Knox at
their head, and surrounded by crowds of their devoted fol¬
lowers, who were led by the principal barons of Angus
and Mearns. On reaching Perth, however, it was judged
expedient to attempt a measure of conciliation; and Erskine
of Dun, a gentleman of ancient family, and grave experi¬
ence, leaving his brethren, proceeded to the court at Stir¬
ling, where he was admitted to an interview with the re¬
gent. He assured her that their single demand was to be
allowed to worship God according to their conscience, and
to secure liberty for their preachers. She replied, that if
he would prevail on the Congregation to disperse, their
preachers should be unmolested, the summons discharged,
and their grievances redressed.
Duplicity To this Erskine consented. He communicated theagree-
amlseverityment to his brethren; the people were disbanded; and
of the when the reformers looked for toleration and redress, the
queen-re- queen-dowager, with a perfidy which was as base as it was
unwise, reiterated the summons, and on their failure to ap¬
pear, denounced the ministers as rebels. Such conduct inflam¬
ed theresentment of the Congregation to the utmost degree;
and Knox having seized the moment to deliver a stern and
impassioned sermon against idolatry, the people were wrought
up to a state of high excitement. Observing a priest about
to celebrate mass, after the preacher had retired, they
burst in upon the altar, tore down its ornaments, shivered
the shrines and relics, and speedily demolished every monu- Seim
ment which seemed to savour of idolatry. From that mo-v>—|U
ment the fate of the Roman Catholic church in Scotland
was decided. Having once broken through restraint, and ^ s-
found their owrn strength, the multitude rushed to the reli-
gious houses of the Black and Grey friars, and inflicted on
them an equally summary vengeance. They then attack¬
ed the charter-house or Carthusian monastery, which expe¬
rienced a similar fate; and the infection of tumult and
destruction spreadingthroughuotthecountry, manyexcesses
of the same kind were committed in the provincial towns.
That Knox or his disciples directly advised such spoliation
cannot be proved; that the principles which he laid down,
and his stern denunciations of his opponents as idolaters,
led to these excesses, is certain.
The effects of such scenes on the queen-dowager, were to pr„
rouse her to instant activity, and to array the two parties the nte
in determined opposition to each other; for although someArni:ie
feat.
of the protestant leaders, disclaiming all intentions of re-ProT
bellion, disapproved of the late violence, and still acted )y
quea
with the regent, their neutrality was so short-lived that itgem
scarcely demands attention. It had the effect, however, of
producing a momentary spirit of conciliation. The protest¬
ants presented an address to the queen, to the nobility, and
to the Roman Catholic clergy. In the first they professed
their loyalty, deprecated her injustice, and demanded li¬
berty of conscience, and the right of hearing their own
preachers. In the second they vindicated their conduct to
their brethren of the Roman Catholic nobility from the
charge of heresy and sedition, while they upbraided those
who first espoused and now deserted their cause. Ihe
third epistle to the Roman Catholic clergy, whom they
broadly stigmatized as the generation of antichrist, was a
denunciation of war, composed in that spirit of coarse and
abusive railing which unfortunately marks the style of the
early reformers. Such accusations were little calculated to
produce pacific feelings; but the queen-regent, who had
assembled her army, finding it inferior in strength to the
Congregation, proposed an armistice, which on certain con¬
ditions was accepted. rihe Congregation having bound
themselves to each other in a new covenant, disbanded
their forces, and for the second time, as they allege, were
overreached by the treachery of the dowager, who, against
a solemn stipulation, occupied Perth with a body of French
soldiers, expelled the magistrates who favoured the reform¬
ation, and garrisoned the town with troops in the pay of
France, though in reality Scots
This unwise and unjustifiable duplicity had the^ wrorst The
effects. The lord James, afterwards the regent Murray, ^
a young man of great talents and ambition, w ho had hither- ^ k
to adhered to the regent, though professing reformed opi- j ^
nions, deserted her. Argyll, a powerful and influentia g,.fgjyi
nobleman, followed his example ; and, faithful to their re-take
newed covenant, the army of the Congregation assembled in eri
strength at St. Andrew's. Knox in the mean time, whose
voice, Sadler, the English ambassador, compares in his let¬
ters to the sound of a thousand trumpets, set out on a preac
ing tour through the country. Directing his powerful and po¬
pular eloquence against the evils of superstition, and t ie mi
sery of the thraldom which, by means of foreign mercenaries,
the house of Guise were attempting to fix upon their coun¬
try, he so powerfully excited the people, that they eter
mined to take the reformation into their own hands, an
levelled with the ground the monasteries of the Franciscan
and Dominican orders. It was in vain that the regent ex
erted herself to check these popular outrages. J lie P rel? -
gained strength; the nobles and leaders of the Congrega w
felt proportionally encouraged, and advancing wit
forces upon Perth, they opened a cannonade, angt.'^u_
short time made themselves masters of the town
lated to a high pitch of excitement by such success,
the
(land, multitude, contrary to the entreaties of Knox, attacked and
tr* lost roved the abbey church and palace of Scone ; after
l and which, a portion of the army of the Congregation, under the
, “!3;r9 l°r(l Jamcs and Argyll» made a rapid march upon Stirling,
; 'which they occupied, hastened afterwards to Linlithgow,
and having in both towns pulled down the altars, destroyed
the shrines, and, as they said, purged the places of idola¬
try, they compelled the regent to make a rapid retreat to
Dunbar, and entered the capital in triumph, in June 1559*
■queen- This last success, while it gave the highest courage to
'ii calls the party of the reformation, convinced the (jueen-regent
French that every hope to avoid a civil war must be abandoned,
naice that the ciisis called for her most determined exertions.
She instantly communicated her dangerous situation to
France, and received in return a large reinforcement of
French troops, whose discipline, skill, and equipment, being
superior to the common feudal militia which the Congrega-
tion brought into the field, at once gave her a superiority.
J he icformers, on the other hand, threw themselves upon
the protection of England; and Elizabeth, although she
scrupled to send them either money or troops, encouraged
them with general promises of approval, and, in case of ex¬
treme1 danger, with some hopes of support. In addition to
this, her minister Cecil hinted in his letters the expediency
of using their present power to “strip the Romish church
of its pomp and wealth,” and, as he termed it, “ to apply
good things to good uses while the terms in which the
Congregation replied, seem to point to a more secret com¬
munication, in which this unscrupulous politician had ad¬
vised the deposition of the regent, and a change of the go¬
vernment. It is certain that the necessity of such a mea¬
sure had been for some time contemplated by the Congre¬
gation, but it was to be resorted to as the last extremity.
In a letter from Kirkcaldy of Grange, one of their principal
leaders, addressed to Sir Henry Percy, (1st of July 1559),
and explanatory of their intentions, he declared that if the
regent would consent to a reformation conformable to the
pure word of God, cleanse the popish churches of all monu-
ments of idolatry, suffer the book of common prayer pub¬
lished by Edward the Sixth to be read, and send away the
i-rcnch troops, they were ready to obey and serve her, and
to annex the whole revenues of the abbeys to the crown,
sition For the queen-dowager to have agreed to this would have
re. been equivalent to the giving up of the whole question, and
wou ( nave been to establish protestantism on the ruins
ot what she esteemed the true church. She accordingly
met the demands of the Congregation by a peremptory de¬
nial- in return they withdrew from her their allegiance,
am in the name of their sovereign, whose authority they
unscrupulously assumed, suspended her from the high office
which she had abused. ^
The war now broke out with a violence proportioned to
the exasperated feelings of either faction. The Congrega-
tion at first intimidated by the superiority in the discipline
ie lench troops, began to dread a calamitous result;
out they soon saw themselves strengthened by the arrival
§ ‘sh fleet’ while a land force undtir the duke of
tu0 Q!1 advanced to Berwick, and after a negotiation with
ne reformed leaders, pushed forward into Scotland, and
jomed at Preston by the army of the reformers.
; n belongs not to this sketch to enter into details of hos-
durli-*’ andJ?aPPily fdr both countries the war was of brief
stum-' J . (lueen‘dovvager, sinking under a broken con-
ion, died at Edinburgh, on the 10th of June 1560. The
'-'Onsrrep.fltmn  11 
atw.
Cone • “VjU,uuu,g11> on me lutn or .June 1500. 1 he
lrgh,hv fregftl0n) disheartened by some reverses,and weakened
''tinn ‘bUni( ? among their principal leaders, felt no inclina-
h" ;° Pr(,long tbe struggle ; and Elizabeth having offered
a* a mediatrix between the two parties, a
go t.ie English, French, and Scottish commissioners
took place at Edinburgh, by whom a treaty of peace was Scotland,
concluded, haying for its basis the withdrawal of the French
troops from Scotland, and a recognition of the validity of Alary and
the treaty of Berwick between Elizabeth and the party of Francis
the congregation. Into this last proviso the French com-
missioners sent over by the young queen of Scots and her
i-ii cc• th.e dauPhin> were entrapped by the diplomatic
skill of Sir William Cecil, one of the English commission¬
ers, contrary to their express instructions; and its validity
was never admitted by the Scottish queen; but in the
mean time it greatly strengthened the hands of the Cono-re-
gation. At the same moment the leaders of this party pre¬
sented to the commissioners certain “ articles” concerning
religion ; but Elizabeth had directed Cecil and Woolton to
decline all discussion upon the subject; and the reformers,
who looked to the convention of Estates for the settlement
of the question, did not press the point.
Pardament accordingly assembled at Edinburgh, on the Parliament
10th of July 1560. The lesser barons who had for some time at Edin-
suffeied their rights of sitting in the convention of estates burgb.
to fall into disuse, were mostly attached to the doctrines of A-13-1560'
the reformers, and looked with deep interest to the debates
which were about to take place on the subject of religion.
I hey accordingly met, claimed their right, and after some
opposition, were allowed to take their place. This threw a
preponderating weight into the party of the Congregation ;
and the “ Confession of Faith,” together with a “ Book of Confession
Discipline, which embodied the great principles of a re- of Faith,
formed church, and protested against the errors, abuses,
and superstitions of the Roman Catholic faith, was sub¬
mitted to Parliament. '1 he Confession of Faith passed
with little opposition. Jhis remarkable paper, or rather
treatise, professes to be a summary of Christian doctrine
founded on the word of God ; and although drawn up by
Knox and his brethren in a very short space, embodied the
result of much previous study and consultation. It is wor-
thy of observation, that at this early- period, the church of
Scotland, in explaining the articles of its faith, approaches
indefinitely near to the Apostles' creed, and the articles of
Edward the Sixth ; and that where it differs, it leans more
to the side of Catholicism than ultra-protestantism.
Three acts followed the adoption of this Confession of
Faith. The first abolished for ever in Scotland, the power
and jurisdiction of the Pope; the second repealed all for¬
mer statutes passed in favour of the Catholic church ; the
third inflicted the highest penalties upon any who thence¬
forward should dare to say or to hear mass.
All this met with little opposition ; but the Book of Dis-fiook of
cipline, by which the future government of the church was Discipline,
to be determined, gave rise to the keenest debates. “ Some
of the nobles and barons at once refused to sign it; others
did sign, but eluded its injunctions ; others mocked at its
provisions, and called them devout imaginations.”1 The
cause of this is attributed by Knox to its interfering with
the privileges and property of many powerful barons who
had already “griped the possessions of the church.” It
also discouraged other expectants, “who thought they
would not lack their part of Christ’s coat.”2 The first class,
according to the same authority, had no remorse of con¬
science, nor intended to restore any tiling of that which they
had long stolen or reft. The second were no doubt afraid,
that if the ministers wrere first provided for, little or no¬
thing would be left for them.
In considering its provisions it is material to notice, that provjs;ons
it committed the election of ministers solely to the people, of the
using, however, the precaution that the minister so chosen,' Book of
before he was admitted to the holy office, should be exam- Discipline,
ined and approved of by the ministers and elders, upon all
points of controversy between the church of Rome and the
1 Tytier’s History of Scotland, vol. vi. p. 219.
2 Knox’s History, p. 276.
736
SCOTLAND.
Scotland. Congregation ; after which he was to be considered an or-
v-«<*’“\^^'dained minister, without any further solemnity, it being ob-
Mary and served that although the apostles used the imposition of
Francis, hands, it was intended to impart, and did impart miracu-
A.D.15G0. joug p0werSj an(j « the miracle having ceased, the using
the ceremony was judged henceforth unnecessary.” The
country was divided by it into ten dioceses, over which ten
ministers, named Superintendents, were appointed, whose
duty it was to be ambulatory preachers, and to inquire, in the
course of their progress, into the lives of the clergy, the
provision for the poor, and the proper instruction of youth.
It is in this last clause that we meet with the first proposal
of that admirable institution of parish schools, to which
Scotland has since owed so much of her prosperity. Hav¬
ing thus established their reformation, the Parliament ap¬
pointed an interim provisional government, confirmed the
treaty of Berwick which had been entered into between
Elizabeth and the Congregation, and proposed that as a
basis of perpetual amity between England and Scotland,
there should be a marriage between queen Elizabeth and
the earl of Arran, heir apparent to the crown. In conclu¬
sion, they dispatched Sir James Sandilands of Calder to
carry an account of their proceedings to their sovereigns in
France, while Sir William Maitland of Lethington, with
the earls of Morton and Glencairn, were sent on a similar
mission to Elizabeth.
Mary’s It was not to be expected that their youthful sovereign,
feelings to-educated in the bosom of the Roman Catholic church, and
wards the accustomed to look for direction and guidance to the ad-
Congrega- vjce Gf iier uncles the Guises, could possibly ratify the ex-
t^n- f traordinary proceedings of this parliament. It had, by a
to ratTfy^he Iew sweeping acts, abolished the national faith, confirmed
treaty of the treaty w hich a faction of her subjects whom she had all
Edinburgh, .along treated as rebels, had entered into with England;
A. D. 1560. anj by sending an embassy to Elizabeth, composed of
men of higher rank and greater influence than Sandilands,
who was deputed to wait upon their sovereign, it was in¬
timated pretty significantly, that the Congregation were de¬
termined to treat the English princess with equal if not
superior deference to that with which they regarded their
own queen. She accordingly received the Scottish envoy
with coldness, and peremptorily refused to ratify the treaty
of Edinburgh.
Death of At this moment Mary had the misfortune to lose her
Francis thebusband, Francis the Second, the young king of France;
Second. an event wh}ch made it necessary for her to return to her
own kingdom, and at once threw her from a condition of
much contentment and prosperity into circumstances of ex¬
traordinary trial and embarrassment. She had been edu¬
cated in the most brilliant and accomplished, but, it must
be added, one of the most profligate courts in Europe.
From her infancy, as queen of Scotland, and presumptive
queen of France, she had been flattered and caressed ; and
as she was extremely beautiful, possessed of amiable man¬
ners, highly accomplished, generous, and kind-hearted, she
had received from every class of her French subjects the
unaffected homage of their admiration and regard. All
was now to be changed; and on turning her eyes from
France to her own country a melancholy contrast soon pre¬
sented itself.
Parliament As soon as the kin^’s death waS k"ow.n in Scotland, a
at Edin- parliament assembled at Edinburgh, of which the proceed-
burgh. ings appear to have been overruled by the Congregation.
Character It was resolved to invite their sovereign to return to her
of the Lord kingdom, and for this purpose to send the lord James to
James. France, wdiile the Roman Catholic party dispatched Les¬
ley, afterwards the celebrated bishop of Ross, on the same
errand. The lord James, afterwards the regent Murray, was
the natural son of James the Fifth by lady Margaret Ers-
kine, who afterwards married the laird ofLochleven. From
his earliest years he had exhibited marks of an extraordinary
ambition, and a genius for affairs of state. His apparently ScotM pV
blunt and careless manner, disposed men to treat him with''■^7 v k
confidence, and enabled him, when he was least suspected, Mary.
to carry on the most deep-laid and ambitious designs. At A-LU 0- >l\
this moment he was regarded as the leader of the reformed ■ ,
party ; and it is a remarkable proof of his talents, that, on 1 >
his arrival in France, although at first suspected by Mary,
he acquired an extraordinary influence over her character. 11 p
It was the misfortune of the queen of Scots, who was now Condi 0f h
only eighteen, that she was surrounded by difficulties which Eliza
would have required to meet them a matured experience, ^,d'1
and the most attached and faithful councillors. Elizabeth,
who saw her opportunity, and was determined not to lose
it, dispatched the earl of Bedford to demand the confirma¬
tion of the treaty of Edinburgh ; and when this was refus¬
ed, she exhibited her resentment by declaring that Mary,
who had at first intended to pass through England into her
own realm, should receive no safeconduct; a circumstance
which made her resolve to sail at once from Dieppe to Leith.
But Elizabeth was at least an open opponent, and the young
queen, aware of her enmity, could secure herself against it.
Murray, on the other hand, to whom she too heedlessly gave her
confidence, had already visited the English court on his pas*
sage to France, communicated his plans to Elizabeth, and re¬
ceived his instructions from Cecil, her prime minister. On
his return from Paris he again passed through England, con¬
sulted with the English queen on the best methods of detain¬
ing Mary in France, and actually carried his double deal¬
ing so far as to devise means for intercepting her, should
she persist in her determination and set sail. I his she at Mary
last determined to do at all risks; and having had the good
fortune to escape the English cruisers, which were directed^
to be on the look out, she arrived at Leith, and was receiv
ed with the utmost enthusiasm by all classes of her subjects,
(August 19, 1561). |
These happy indications were of short duration; and when Diffici s
the young queen considered the state of parties in Scotland, of her b-
the difficulties of her situation appeared complicated andatlon‘
disheartening. She was herselfa conscientious Roman Catho¬
lic, warmly attached to France and the Guises her uncles.
This of itself rendered her an object of suspicion and aversion
to Knox, the great leader of the protestant clergy, and to
the powerful nobles who had espoused the reformation. She
had already peremptorily refused to sanction the proceed¬
ings of the Parliament, which had confirmed the treaty of
Berwick, abolished the papal supremacy, and substituted
the protestant doctrines and worship for the ancient faith.
This drew upon her the enmity of England, and the Eng¬
lish party in Scotland, led by Murray and Lethington ; and
as the influence of Knox and the preachers over their con¬
gregations was strong and universal, the feelings of the mi¬
nisters were communicated to the great body of the people,
and checked those sentiments of loyalty which manifested
themselves upon her arrival. If, from such opponents, Mary
turned to the body of her Roman Catholic nobles, among
whom the most powerful and influential was the earl of
Huntly, she found them animated indeed upon one great
subject, by a community of sentiment; but then they, in
common with all the nobles, had been so long accustomed
to independence, and looked so constantly to the preserva¬
tion and increase of their own power that, as a party, they
were extremely difficult to manage. Lastly, looking to the
great body of the Roman Catholic clergy, there was no one
who, since the death of Beaton, had possessed that vigour of
character and talent for state affairs, which were absolutely
necessary in any minister to whom the queen should give her
confidence, if we except Lesley, afterwards bishop of Ross.
It was necessary for her, however, to decide upon a line Lord
of policy; and after deliberate consideration, the queen de-F*“®s ef
termined to make the lord James her chief minister, and to™.^ ,
. 1 ‘ i _ 1.*  — ,j /".4-1- ii'.-ii.iitn In rHift
. F
secure the friendship and good offices of Elizabeth. In this
SCOTLAND.
r s in-
I uded
arriage-
..D.I06I.
lizabeth’f
Din
ofkl
cotland. way slie hoped to attach to herself the great body of lier peo-
- pie, who were mostly protestants ; and as from France, torn
1563 at moment bY c^vb and religious dissensions, she could
u-10 ^expect little assistance, she deemed it the more necessary to
preserve peace with England. Events of much interest now
succeeded each other with a startling rapidity, and the his¬
tory of Mary, in the brief circle of six years, presented an
appalling tragedy, of which we can only give the outline.
I he first point on which the two queens came into colli¬
sion was on the delicate subject of marriage. Mary’s sub¬
jects wished her to marry, and she considered it wise and
necessary that she should gratify their wishes. She was in
the bloom of youth, extremely beautiful, and of manners so
engaging and attractive, that few could see her without sen¬
timents of admiration and regard. She was queen of Scot¬
land, and, after Elizabeth, undoubted heir to the English
throne ; though this queen, from her morbid jealousy upon
the subject of the succession, had never recognised her
right. Mary’s great object, at this moment, was to marry
with her approbation, and to procure a declaration of her
right of succession to the throne, failing Elizabeth’s issue.
She accordingly declared that she would regard her advice
upon this subject as that of a mother, and consulted her sister
of England with an openness and devotion which, if not per¬
fectly prudent, appears to have been perfectly sincere.
„ , ’s In return for this confidence, the conduct of the queen
! of England was marked by that insincerity, selfishness, and
^2’1563 want of truth which too frequently characterised her policy.
’ She was determined that, if Mary did marry, she should
lower herself by the alliance ; but she would have been still
better pleased could she have so ordered matters that she
should not marry at all; and, guided by this ungenerous
object, Elizabeth commenced a system of intrigue, the sole
object of which was mystification and delay, and in which
she enjoyed the satisfaction, not only of deceiving Mary and
her councillors, but of setting her own ministers at fault, and
rendering it impossible for them to decipher her real inten¬
tions. In the course of these negotiations, after objecting
to every foreign alliance, the English queen at last proposed
her own favourite, Leicester, and held out as a bait to Mary,
who justly deemed such an alliance beneath her rank, the
promise that the issue, if any, of this marriage should suc¬
ceed to the English throne. Nothing can be more certain
than that she had no such intention; but the farce was so
well acted, that not only Mary and the lord James, now
earl of Murray, but Randolph, the English ambassador at
the Scottish court, were deceived; and when at last the bub¬
ble broke, and it was discovered that, from first to last, Eli¬
zabeth had been playing her usual dark and double game
under the mask of friendship, the indignation of the suffer¬
ers was roused, as might have been expected, to the highest
pitch.
An almost immediate and violent re-action took place,
nsed, and Mary had hitherto confided in Elizabeth, and consulted her
,s Wltlx upon the marriage. She now trusted her no longer, and de¬
termined, without delay, to follow her own inclination. Since
her arrival in her dominions, she had favoured the protes¬
tants and rather repressed the Roman Catholics. She was
now disposed to reverse the system. She had hitherto
chosen Murray and Lethington as her chief ministers, had
entrusted to the first almost regal power, loaded him with
estates and honours, and placed him at the head of her no¬
bility ; and it was by Murray and Lethington’s advice that
she had shaped her policy towards England ; but the road
they marked out for her had led to insult, mortification, and
defeat. Was it possible then, that she could continue to
those two men, or to the protestant party, whom they re¬
presented, the confidence with which she had regarded them ?
or rather, was it not natural that, when she discovered their
devotedness to Elizabeth, who had deceived and injured her,
she should regard them with suspicion and distrust ?
vor. xix.
737
ary is in-
ecipita-
Under these circumstances, and when agitated by such Scotland-
fee mgs, Mary saw the lord Darnley, the eldest son of the
earl of Lennox, who, with his father, had lately returned to ^ary*
Scotland. This young nobleman could boast of a royal de- -^'1^ 1564.
scent, his grandmother being a sister of Henry the Eighth, M.ary re"
and he himself, next to Mary, the nearest heir to the Eng- ^rv t'he
hsh throne. He was now in his twenty-first year, and had Lord Darn-
not yet discovered that weak intellect and propensity to low ley.
vices which betrayed themselves soon after his marriage. -A-D. 1564
It was the misfortune of the Scottish queen that she acted 1565-
undei impulses. She had been deceived by Elizabeth, and
she determined to shew her that she could choose for her¬
self. Without giving herself time to study his disposition,
and purposely abstaining from any previous communica¬
tion of her intentions to England, she selected Darnley as
her future husband, and dispatched Lethington to Elizabeth,
not, as before, to ask her counsel, but to inform her of her
resolution.
The consequences of this step were extraordinary. Darn- Elizabeth's
ley and his father were strongly suspected of being Roman opposition.
Catholics. Murray and Lethington saw in this alliance little
else than the demolition of their own power; the party of
Knox and the kirk anticipated the restoration of the ancient
religion; and Elizabeth not only declared herself hostile
to the alliance, but bitterly accused the Scottish queen, in¬
sisted that Lennox and Darnley were English, not Scottish
subjects, and sent them orders to repair instantly to her
court. It was hardly to be expected that so ridiculous a
command should be obeyed, and the opposition of England
only rendered Mary more determined upon the marriage.
A convention of her nobility was held at Stirling ; it was
numerously attended; the queen communicated to them Marys
her intention of marrying Darnley; the measure was ap-marriage to
proved without a dissentient voice ; and although Murray, Darnley
and the faction with whom he acted, attempted to instigate A D. 1565.
the people to opposition and rebellion, the endeavour was
signally unsuccessful, and the queen carried her wishes in¬
to effect. She was married to Darnley in the chapel of
Holyrood, on the 29th of July 1565.
Previously to the queen’s marriage, Murray, Argyll, Leth- The earl of
ington, and the party of the kirk had been encouraged by Murray and
Elizabeth to rise against their sovereign ; and had they re-1*16 P»rty
ceived from the English queen the substantial assistance ^
which she promised, the result might have led to the de-j”jv’en jna'0e
thronement of her whom they represented as the oppressor England,
of her nobility, and the bitter enemy of the truth. But their a.D. 1565.
schemes were defeated by the energy and promptitude of
the Scottish queen and the timid parsimony of her sister
of England. It was in vain that Murray and his brother
insurgents reminded Cecil of their desperate situation, and
the necessity of speedy assistance both in money and in sol¬
diers. Neither the one nor the other could be wrung from
Elizabeth. They were proclaimed traitors, driven from one
position to another by the queen of Scots, who herself head¬
ed the forces which she led against them, and were at last
compelled to fly to England and throw themselves upon the
protection of Elizabeth. To their dismay she disowned and
repulsed them ; upbraided Murray as a traitor to his royal
mistress ; and, although herself the encourager of their re¬
volt, compelled them publicly to declare that she knew no¬
thing of the matter. They were then dismissed from the
queen’s presence, and permitted to retire to Carlisle, where
the earl of Bedford received secret instructions to supply
their wants during their banishment.
While such was the course of events in England, Mary’s
satisfaction in the triumph over her rebels was grievously
diminished by discovering that her husband was weak and
profligate, the dupe of every artful companion whom he met,
and unworthy of the confidence and affection with which
she had treated him in the first ardour of her passion. To
entrust him with any responsible share in the government
5 a
788
SCOTLAND.
Scotland, was impossible; and Murray's friends who ’•emained at
—court, and watched the increasing estrangement between
Mary- the Queen and her husband, determined to turn it to their
A.D. 1565. advantage.
Mary pro- It was the misfortune of the Scottish queen that she had
motes few or no servants whom she could trust. Her secretary,
Riccio. Maitland of Lethington, had betrayed her interests to Eliza-
Murder of keth, and was in disgrace, and, in the mean time, the queen
A IU565.had availed herself of the services of Riccio, her foreign
" secretary. This person had entered her service at first as
a singer in her band, but afterwards, by his skill and fideli¬
ty, he raised himself to this confidential employment, much
to the annoyance of the young king, who regarded him with
peculiar aversion ; and, incredible as it may appear Darnley
having persuaded himself that he had stolen from him the
affection of the young queen, resolved to assassinate him.
Nor was it difficult, among a fierce and unscrupulous
nobility, to find associates in his flagitious schemes. His
father the earl of Lennox, Morton the lord chancellor,
Lethington the ex-secretary, Murray and his friends who
were in banishment, and many of the stern supporters of
the reformation, who suspected Riccio of intriguing with
the papal court, willingly joined in the conspiracy. 1 he par¬
liament was at hand in which it was intended to pronounce
sentence against the banished lords: it had been report¬
ed that measures were in preparation for the establishment
of the Roman Catholic faith; and it was determined to arrest
both the one and the other by striking the blow against
Riccio. Accordingly, when Mary, who was then six months
gone with child, sat at supper in a small cabinet adjoining
to her bed-room in the palace of Holyrood, the king led the
conspirators up a secret stair which communicated with the
apartment, while the earl of Morton and a band of armed
soldiers seized the gates of the palace. The countess of
Argyll, Erskine, captain of her guard, the comptroller of
. her household, Riccio her secretary, and one or two do¬
mestic servants formed the queen’s party, some sitting at
table and others being in attendance. Indeed, the little
closet or cabinet was so small that three or four persons
could with difficulty have seated themselves. But its nar¬
row dimensions prevented escape and favoured the feroci¬
ous purposes of the conspirators. Led by the king they
burst into the cabinet, overturned the table, and threw them¬
selves upon Riccio, who sprung for protection behind the
queen. In a moment his fate was decided. One ruffian
threatened Mary with his dagger, another held a pistol to
her breast, a third, snatching the king’s dagger, stabbed
Riccio over her shoulder; and at last tearing him from the
closet, amidst the shrieks of the women, and the shouts and
execrations of the conspirators, they dispatched him, or
rather cut him to pieces in an adjoining apartment, with
fifty-six wounds.1
Mary es- After this atrocious murder, which, considering the si-
capes, and tuation of the queen, might have cost her and her infant
drives the their lives, the conspirators detained her as a prisoner in her
eonspira- palace, permitted no one but the king and their own party
tors out of holti any communication with her; and having been
the king- joined next morning by the earl of Murray and the exiles
‘ from Carlisle, it was determined to make a complete change
in the government. Darnley, weak and profligate as he
was, they rewarded by placing at the head of their new sys¬
tem, being well aware that he would soon be their tool.
The queen was to be confined in Stirling till she should con¬
sent to the full establishment of the reformed religion ; and
the earl of Murray and his associates were to be restored to
their former favour and power. In a single day all these in¬
tentions were overturned. Mary, left alone with her hus¬
band, regained her ascendancy over him ; she convinced
him of the perfidy of Morton, Ruthven, and his associates,
obtained from him a confession of all the secrets of the con- Sootlani
spiracy, escaped with him to Dunbar, and being instantly
joined by eight thousand men, advanced with such rapidity Mary,
against the conspirators, that they fled in dismay to Berwick,All)-
and solicited the protectiou of Elizabeth.
Darnley, in his confessions to Mary, had betrayed his Mary’s
brother conspirators, whilst he solemnly asserted his own inno- Acuities,
cence ; but Morton and his associates produced in their own
defence various bonds and letters, which were signed by
the king, and fully established his guilt; and Mary saw, to
her inexpressible grief and disgust, that the cruel outrage
was planned by her husband. From this moment this mi¬
serable prince became an object of contempt and aversion
to all. His conduct had been a tissue of cowardice, cruelty,
falsehood, and weakness: to treat him with confidence, or to
entrust to him any share in the government was impossible;
and the unhappy queen, without a stay to rest on, fell into a
state of the deepest despondency. Whom indeed could she
trust ? Murray and his party had but recently been rebels;
Morton and his associates were stained by the blood of her
confidential servant, murdered at her knees; the king was
the chief conspirator, the queen of England had deceived
her, the party of Knox and the Scottish church regarded Birth of
her with avowed aversion ; and even the Roman Catholics James /
weresomewhatestrangedby the preference which at first she
had given to their opponents. Under these complicated dif¬
ficulties, the queen pursued the course which she deemed
most likely to ensure success. She broke with none, par¬
doned some of the conspirators, affected to believe her hus¬
band, hoping even against hope, and restored Murray to
some portion of the power of which he had been deprived.
Such was the state of things, when, the period for her con¬
finement having arrived, she gave birth to a son in the castle
of Edinburgh. I he child was named James Charles, and
on the death of Elizabeth succeeded to the English throne.
When her recovery permitted Mary to attend to the af- IVues n
fairs of the country, it was apparent that unless imme-1 e
diate steps were taken to establish something like a strong
government, the kingdom would fall to pieces; and yet
such was the weakness and treacherous nature of the king,
that to admit him to a share in it was impossible. She next
turned to her nobles. Of these the most powerful were Mur¬
ray, Bothwell, Huntly, Argyll, Lennox, Morton, and Le¬
thington ; but there had long existed a feud between Mur¬
ray and Bothwell, while Morton, Lethington, Lennox, and
their partizans were still in disgrace for the murder of
Riccio. It was necessary to make an effort, and the queen
succeeded in reconciling Murray to Bothwell : Huntly was
made chancellor, Lethington was pardoned and restored to
his office of secretary ; while Murray, Argyll his brother-
in-law, and Bothwell, were entrusted with the chief man¬
agement of affairs. ,
Enraged at his exclusion from power, the king sulleidy ’
retired from court, threatened to murder the earl of Mur- courseg
ray, and at last declared he would leave the kingdom. It was
in vain that his father remonstrated against his resolution ;
in vain that the queen herself, leading him before her coun¬
cil, conjured him to detail his grievances, and if she had
injured him in any respect, to accuse her without reserve.
He declared she had herself given him no cause of com¬
plaint ; but afterwards, in a letter, he complained that be
had no power in the state, that he was neglected by the no¬
bility, and would bear it no longer. Soon after this the unhap¬
py princess was seized by a fever at Jedburgh, during which
her life was despaired of. Her enemies ascribed it to the in¬
jurious effects of a rapid ride which she took from Jedburgh
to visit Bothwell, who had been wounded in a skirmish with
some border thieves ; it had more probably its origin in
that anxiety which followed the conduct of Darnley ; but be
1 Keith’s History of Scotland, p. 283.
SCOTLAND.
cotland.
bay- „
,0.1566.
divorce
oposed
onspiracv
rthe
•jrder of
jrnley.
nrder of
■king.
D.1567.
this as it may, she recovered only to be the victim of more
aggravated sufferings. Partial reconciliations were followed
by no revival of affection or confidence ; and in the anguish
of a wounded spirit, she sometimes lamented that she had
not died at Jedburgh.
It was in this season of depression and despair that Murray
and Maitland proposed to her a divorce from the king. They
had previously confided their project to Huntly, Argyll,
and Bothwell; and at first Mary seemed inclined to follow
their advice, provided the divorce could be lawfully pro¬
cured, and without prejudice to her child. But after
weighing the whole matter her opinion changed, and when
Maitland urged that means could be found to free her of
Darnley without injury to her son, declaring that Murray
would look on and say nothing against it, she broke off
the conference. “ I will,” said she, “ that ye do nothing
through which any spot may be laid to my honour or con¬
science; let the matter be in the state is is, abiding till God
of his goodness put remedy thereto.”
Having failed in this device, a conspiracy for the murder
of the king was entered into by Maitland, Bothwell, Hunt¬
ly, Argyll, and Sir James Balfour. It has been disputed
whether Murray was, or was not, a party to this atrocious
design. It is certain that he did not sign the bond, by
which, according to the custom of this age, the conspirators
bound themselves to each other. There is a strong pre¬
sumption, however, that he knew of its existence; and the
deed was communicated to Morton and his associates, w ho
signed it, and agreed to support the conspirators in the ex¬
ecution of their purpose. Such was the state of matters
when the baptism of the young prince took place at Stir¬
ling. From this ceremony the king obstinately absented
himself, alleging in excuse the neglect and rigour with
which he was treated. Soon afterw ards he left the court and
retired to Glasgow, whei’e he was seized with the small¬
pox, and appeared in imminent danger. His situation ap¬
peared to awaken the tenderness of the queen. She sent
her own physician to wait on him, and soon after visited him
herself, and ministered to his wants. When his convales¬
cence permitted him to be removed, she returned with him
to Edinburgh, and placed him, for the benefit of the air, in
a house in the suburbs called the Kirk-of-Field. It was
here that the conspirators determined to carry their dread¬
ful purpose into effect. At the solicitation of Elizabeth and
the French king, Morton had been pardoned and permitted
to return; and in a secret interview between him, Maitland,
and Bothwell, the particulars of the murder w ere arranged.
Bothwell undertook the chief part, and his men having ob¬
tained access to the cellars of the Kirk-of-Field, undermin¬
ed the foundation, and placed gunpowder in the cavities
which they had formed. According to another account, they
deposited it in the queen’s bed-chamber, which was imme¬
diately under that of the king. While all this had been se¬
cretly carrying into effect, Mary continued her attendance
upon Darnley : their reconciliation appeared to be perfect,
she often slept in the house, and on the evening of the 9th
of February, when she took leave of him to attend a mar¬
riage of one of her servants, which was to be held at the
palace, it was remarked that she embraced him tenderly,
took a ring from her finger, and placed it on his. On that
night, after she had retired to her chamber in the palace, a
sudden and terrific explosion was heard, which shook the
city, and it was soon discovered that the Kirk-of-Field was
blown up. The dead bodies of the king and his page were
found at a little distance in the garden. It is well known
that this miserable catastrophe has given rise to a celebrat¬
ed historical controversy, in which authors of great name
739
and talents have taken different sides; some insisting that Scotland,
the queen was cognizant of the plot for the murder of her
husband, and others as positively asserting the contrary. Mary.
I he limits of this historical sketch render it impossible that
we should enter into its details.1 In the preceding narra¬
tive we have carefully avoided the introduction of a single
controverted fact; in the sequel we shall as sedulously fol¬
low the same rule.
Scarcely wa re the citizens of the capital recovered from Aecusa-
the horror and dismay which was incident to such a cala • t'on °f
mity, when bills appeared on the walls of the Tolbooth, Bothwell
which accused Bothwell of the murder, and added that the and ttie
queen had assented to it. Soon afterw ards, the earl of Lennox, queeI‘‘
the unhappy father of the late king, earnestly required the
imprisonment of the persons named in the anonymous hand¬
bills, and Bothwell declaring his innocence, demanded an
instant trial. It was granted, and Lennox received due
notice of it; but on the day of trial Botlwell appeared sur¬
rounded by upwards of four thousand of his friends and ad ¬
herents; and Lennox, intimidated by the array, or finding it
impossible to collect sufficient proof, requested an adjourn¬
ment. This, however, was peremptorily refused, and the
accused was acquitted, by the jury, who considered it esta¬
blished by sufficient evidence that Bothwell could not have
been at the Kirk-of-Field when the explosion took place.
Soon after this acquittal the Parliament assembled, and The nobles
the majority of the nobility prevailed upon the queen to recommend
consent to an act by w hich all the grants of crown proper- Both'vellas
ty which had been made during the present reign were con-^
firmed, and herself and her successors deprived of all power f()1. tjie
of revocation. In the same assembly of the estates, the queen,
verdict passed upon Bothwell, which many accused as Bothwell
informal, was declared just and legal, and soon afterwards a >s divorced
bond was drawn up by twenty-four of the principal peers. ^
It affirmed in solemn terms the innocence of this profligate
baron, w hom the public clamour still denounced as the mur- qUeeil.
derer of the king; recommended him as a proper husband
for the queen; and bound its authors, as they should answer
to God, to defend him from all danger, and to promote this
unhallowed marriage to the utmost of their pow'er and abi¬
lity. The tragedy now hurried on to its conclusion. Both--
well, at the head of a thousand men, intercepted the queen
on her way from Stirling to Edinburgh, and carried her
captive, with the slender suite by whom she was accom¬
panied, to Dunbar castle. Among her attendants were
Huntly, Maitland, and Melville, but the first two were in
Bothwell’s interest, and had signed the bond. The last
was completely in his power, and so was the unfortunate
queen. He proposed marriage, and on her refusal ex¬
hibited the bond signed by her nobles. She still, it is said,
resisted his request, and hoped for a rescue ; but it was a
vain expectation. He became more peremptory, and if we
may trust the expressions of Mary, corroborated by Mel¬
ville and her enemies, he compelled her by fear, force, and
other unlawful means, to yield to his wishes, and admit him
to her bed. From Dunbar he now carried his victim to
Edinburgh. A divorce was procured from his wife on the
ground of adultery, and the process having been hurried
through the court, and the sentence passed, Bothwell was
married to the queen at Holyrood, within a month after his
acquittal of the murder of her husband, (May 15, 1567.)
Events of the deepest and most tragic interest now The nobles
crow ded on each other. The nobles who had advised the rise against
marriage, who had acquitted Bothwell, and abetted him inrJe
hiscareerofambition and outrage,atoncedropped the mask, A* • ’ ‘
assembled their forces, and declared their determination to
separate the queen from the murderer of her husband. As
1 The reader who wishes to make himself master of the controversy should consult for the Queen’s innocence, the work of Goodull, and
that of William Tytler, with the volumes of Stuart, Whitaker, and Chalmers; against her, the Histones of Hume and Robertson, with
the Dissertation by Mr. Malcolm Laing.
740
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
Mary.
A.D.1567.
Mary con¬
fined in
Lochleven
castle.
Mary signs
her abdica¬
tion.
A. D. 1567.
Corona¬
tion of the
young king
Mary es¬
capes from
Lochleven.
A. D. 1568.
Mary de¬
feated at
Langside,
Seeks re¬
fuge in
England.
A. D. 1568
they advanced and occupied Edinburgh, the earl and the
queen retired; but in a few days they found themselves
strong enough to confront their enemy on C arberry hill, near
Musselburgh. Both factions, however, seemed anxious to
avoid a battle, and an extraordinary agreement took place.
Both well, whom they had declared their determination to
seize and punish as the murderer of his sovereign, was per¬
mitted, without molestation, to ride off the field. The queen
was assured of their unshaken fidelity; and so completely did
she credit their asseverations, that she gave her hand to
Grange, and suffering him to lead her to his associates, was
conducted by them to the capital.
Within an hour she discovered that she had surrendered
herself to her mortal enemies. On her entering the city, afu-
rious mob assailed her with execrations, and displayed before
her a broad banner bearing the figure of her murdered hus¬
band. Amidst these indignities she was carried to a house,
where she was so strictly guarded, that not even her maids
were allowed access. And on the succeeding evening she
was conveyed by the lords Lindsay and Ruthven a prisoner
to Lochleven, a strong castle in the middle of a lake, from
which all escape seemed hopeless.
From those who had thus shamelessly broken their so¬
lemn engagement, little else could be looked for but addi¬
tional indignity and outrage. Mary was soon visited in her
prison by lord Lindsay of the Byres, whose fierce temper
and brutal manners peculiarly fitted him for the mission on
which he was sent. He presented to her three written in¬
struments. By the first she was made to resign the crown
in favour of her son ; by the second, the earl of Murray
was nominated regent during the king s minority; by
the third, a temporary regency was appointed to act until
Murray returned from the continent. When Lindsay
threw these deeds on the table, he plainly informed the
queen that no alternative was left, but either to sign them
without delay, or prepare for death, as the murderer of her
husband. M e are not to wonder that, aware that her life
was in the hands of her bitterest enemies, Mary instantly
obeyed.
The young king was nowr crowned, and Murray having
arrived from France, assumed the regency, and entered
• upon the cares of government. He had not, however, for
many months enjoyed the sweets of power, when the queen,
by the assistance and ingenuity of a youth of sixteen, named
Douglas, escaped in the night from Lochleven, and riding
first to Seaton, and next day to Hamilton, soon found her¬
self surrounded by a band of her nobles, and at the head of
six thousand men. Mary was desirous to avoid war, and
addressed repeated pacific proposals to the regent, who was
then at Glasgow. She offered to call a free parliament;
she was ready to deliver up to justice all whom he accused
as guilty of the murder, provided those whom she arraigned
of the same crime were also delivered up. This was per¬
emptorily refused, her messengers were arrested, her ad¬
herents denouneed as traitors; and the queen, aware that
it must come to the decision of the sword, determined to
await the arrival of additional forces, when she was hurried
into an engagement with the regent, who threw himself in
her way at Langside, as she was on her march from Hamil¬
ton to Dunbar. The result was calamitous. Her army
was completely defeated, and she herself compelled to fly
from the field with a slender train, who rode to Dundren-
nan, a distance of sixty miles, before they drew bridle.
Next day she intimated her resolution of throwing herself
. on the protection of Elizabeth, hrom this step her friends
passionately dissuaded her; but she declared she would trust
to the assurances which shehadreceived fromher good sister ;
and crossing the Solway, she proceeded through Cockermouth
to Carlisle. The return for this act of generous confidence
and devotedness is well known. Elizabeth refused to see
her, gave orders that she should be detained, kept her in
prison a miserable and heart-broken captive for fourteen Scotland!
years, and at last brought her to the scaffold.
From the imprisonment of Mary, (1568,) till the acces-Vll
sion of James the Sixth to the English throne (1603,) there A‘ul6w
is an interval of thirty-five years. It is occupied by the suc¬
cessive regencies of Murray, Lennox, Mar, and Morton, af¬
ter whose execution we have that portion of the reign of
James which extends from 1581 to 1603. With a rapid
review of the most interesting and influential events dur¬
ing this period, we shall conclude our labours.
The imprisonment of Mary left Murray the undisturbed Regency <
possessor of the supreme power in Scotland ; but the queen Murray,
strenuously and indignantly asserted her innocence of the
atrocious crimes of which she was accused; and as the Eng¬
lish queen could bring forward no possible justification of
her conduct in detaining Mary, except her alleged accession
to the murder, it was evident that an investigation of the
circumstances, if demanded by the accused party, could not
in justice be refused. Mary offered to hear the accusation
of her enemies in the presence of Elizabeth, and in the
same presence to undertake her defence ; but this was deni¬
ed her. It was then proposed by the English ministers that
she should consent to a public trial; but this she rejected
as beneath the dignity of an independent sovereign. It was
lastly suggested that her enemies should be summoned to
produce their proofs before certain English and Scottish
commissioners, and that the cause should be left to their
decision.
A commission was accordingly held at York, but it led Commis-
to political intrigues rather than judicial investigation. Af-
ter some interval Murray was summoned to hold a private
interview with Elizabeth at Westminster ; and Mary again partlal cc
demanded to be admitted to the same presence, and con- duct,
fronted with her accuser. This was denied, while theA.D.156
English queen permitted Murray to bring forward his charge, D69.
and to attempt to substantiate it by letters, affirmed to be.in
the queen’s hand-writing, addressed to Bothwell, and con¬
clusive, as he contended, of her guilt. Again Mary demand¬
ed by her commissioners to be heard personally in her de¬
fence ; and this being refused, they protested against further
proceedings, and declared the conference at an end. Cecil,
however, insisted that the inquiry should proceed; and having
procured all the evidence which he judged necessary, he at¬
tempted to persuade the Scottish queen, as the only way of
avoiding an ignominious exposure, to resign her crown. Her
reply disconcerted him. “ They have accused me,” said she,
“ of the murder of my husband. It is a false and calumnious
lie. It was themselves that counselled and contrived the mur¬
der, some of them were even its executioners. Give me what
I am justly entitled to, copies of the letters they have pro¬
duced ; let me see and examine the originals, and I pledge
myself, in presence of the queen, to convict them of the atro"
cious crime they have had the audacity to impute to me.
This bold and unexpected tone embarrassed Elizabeth ; and
Mary having repeated her charge, insisted on having copies
of the letters produced against her. The English queen
evaded the request, and advised her to resign her crown. To
this she declared that no persuasion would ever induce her;
and under such circumstances the conferences were abruptly
terminated. Murray, with his associates, received permis¬
sion to return to Scotland. He carried away with him those
alleged original letters, which the party whom they inculpat¬
ed was never permitted to examine ; and he left behind him
copies, which were also concealed from Mary and her com¬
missioners. It is from these copies, which the accused was
never permitted to compare with the originals, that future
authors have been obliged to infer the guilt or innocence of
the queen; and certainly, if the opinion of Elizabeth is en¬
titled to weight, it is clear that she considered the proof as
defective. She and Murray shrunk from a public challenge
of Mary; and however suspicious or inexplicable some of the
ip
SCOTLAND.
741
369.
Scotland, steps taken by this unfortunate princess may have been, her
*r*s~m* friends alleged that victory in the conferences at York and
ames VI- Westminster was on her side. Yet was she detained a captive
by the very princess who had virtually declared her guiltless.
All this might however have been anticipated; and no one
who knew any thing of the unscrupulous policy of Elizabeth Scotland, was chosen to supply the vacant reffencv. To i.-
could have dreamed, thathavingoncepossession of the queen, promote a reconciliation between the two factions and tonox 18 s d1,1'
she would ever permit her to return to her dominions. In restore peace, order, and security of property, to a country
her detention, she possessed the means of rendering Murray distracted by intestine war, was the single purpose to which
subservient to her wishes, of checking the Roman Catholic the new governor devoted himself; but he was thwarted by
Such was the general comparative strength of each fac- Scotland,
tion. Into the details of the contest we cannot enter; and in-' *“**
deed it had lasted but for a short time, when Lennox was^ames YI.
slain in a skirmish at Stirling, and the earl of Mar, one^0-1571-
of the most upright-minded and honourable noblemen in The J16'
~ • - gent Len-
party, confirming the ascendancy of the protestants, and
destroying the French interest and intrigues in Scotland.
These were advantages with which no considerations of the
individual guilt or innocence of her royal captive were likely
to interfere.
ntrigues of The subsequent career of Murray was bold and brief. He
iorfolk found himself called to a contest with a party, headed by the
duke of Norfolk in England, and by Maitland and Grange in
Scotland, whose object was, the restoration of the Scottish
queen, and her marriage to Norfolk. The project had been
encouraged by the Regent, whether at first sincerely or for
selfish and ambitious purposes, is not clear; but in the end
he betrayed the plot to Elizabeth, and was the main instru¬
ment in bringing this unfortunate nobleman to the scaffold.
The principles upon which his government was conducted
nd Mait-
' .rid.
the ambition of Morton, and many of the higher nobles.
These had so long been accustomed to derive individual
advantage from public misery, that they laboured as ear¬
nestly to increase the contentions of the two parties, as
Mar to remove them; and the governor, at last worn out by
the struggle, and hopeless of effecting a reconciliation, sank
into the grave.
He was succeeded in the regency by the earl of Mor- Morton is
ton, a man who has been justly described as possessing all chosen
the faults, some of the talents, but none of the good qualities regent- His
of the regent Murray, of whom he was an old and tried ally.character‘
Sordid and selfish, implicitly devoted to the service of
Elizabeth, whose countenance and support he felt necessary
to enable him to retain his power, a venal judge, a cruel
unrelenting.soldier, a hypocrite in religion, and a profligate
bsequent were entirely protestant and English ; and Elizabeth, who in private life, it is difficult to find a single virtue to relieve
the dark monotony of his vices. Yet Morton had some of the
great qualities which distinguished the house of Douglas. He
was brave, decisive, politic; and he possessed that rapid power
of discerning the instant to act with success, and that deep
insight into human character which is commonly acquired
by men of talent, bred up in scenes of civil commotion.
On his accession to the supreme power, the regent found State of
the friends of the imprisoned queen still able to make head Mary’s
against him. The duke of Norfolk, who had been pardoned ParT'^es
by Elizabeth, resumed his project of marrying Mary, and °
engaged in a correspondence with her. The duke of Chas-
telherault, and the earl of Huntly, lord Claud Hamilton,
the lairds of Buccleugh and Fernihirst, with the indefatig¬
able Maitland, and Grange, who was reputed the best soldier
in Scotland, still supported her cause. Morton, however,
strong in his own resources, and supported by Elizabeth,
continued the war with success, and at last triumphed over
opposition. Norfolk was brought to the scaffold, and the earl
of Northumberland, treacherously delivered up by the Scot¬
tish regent, shared a similar fate. At last the castle of
Edinburgh was invested by Sir William Drury, who joined
the Scottish army with a formidable battering train. In
this fortress, the single remaining hope of the queen of Scots,
Kirkaldy of Grange commanded; and he held it bravely till Fate of
the walls were destroyed, his guns silenced, and his provi- Kirkaldy
sions exhausted. Under these circumstances he surrendered, Mait*
with his companion Maitland. To this step, Drury had in- ^"j)-2573
duced him by a promise of favourable terms; but the English
queen disregarded the stipulation, and handed over the pri¬
soners to Morton. Kirkaldy and his brother were imme¬
diately executed, and Maitland only escaped the same scaf¬
fold by taking poison.
Morton now deemed himself so strong as to be independ- Morton s
ent of all parties, and his avarice and spoliations knew no®PP^®s^lve
bounds. He oppressed the church, of whom he had for-men(.
^    j  ^ merly affected to be the steadiest patron; and treated the^D.
to whom we must^add thS able and crafty secretary Mait- young king and the nobles with so much haughtiness and 1574-1377.
land, and the experienced soldier Kirkaldy of Grange. Of severity, that he soon became an object of universal dread
the king’s party the nobles were neither so numerous nor and hatred. James was now twelve years old, and it was
so powerful. Lennox, Morton, Mar, and Glencairn, lords not difficult for a faction of the nobles, who detested the
Lindsay, Glammis, Semple, Methven, Ochiltree, Cathcart, regent, to persuade the young monarch that he ought no
Ruthven, and some others, espoused this side; but if inferior longer to be treated as a cu . cting y eir a vice, le
in numbers, they were confident in the assistance of Eng- accordingly summoned a parliament. It was numerously
land, and in the sunport of the church, the commons, and attended; and Morton, to the astonishment of all, the mo-
the boroughs. ment he learned the king’s wishes, declared his willingness
lurray’s
nt t      o , ?
knew well and valued so able an assistant, cordially co-oper¬
ated with him to overwhelm the queen’s friends, and to ex¬
tinguish all hopes of the Roman Catholic party in either
country. But the task was more difficult than had been
anticipated. She succeeded indeed in extinguishing the great
rebellion, led by the earls of Westmoreland and Northum¬
berland; but Murray found it impossible to prevent the in¬
trigues of such men as Maitland, Grange, and their asso¬
ciates, who had known him long, and having assisted to raise
him to the supreme power, were indignant to find them¬
selves treated with severity or neglect. It was in the midst
of this struggle between the regent and his former associates
in ambition and guilt, that he was assassinated in the streets of
Linlithgow, by Hamilton of Bothwellhaugh, who was incited
to this act of revenge by a private injury, of which Murray
0.1570. was oniy the remote cause.
ate of His death found Scotland divided between two parties. On
rties in the one side were the Protestants who adhered to the young
king, and regarded Elizabeth as their protector; on the
other the queen’s friends, who, being animated with the ut¬
most rancour against their opponents, prepared instantly to
D.1570. appeal to the sword. Previously to this, however, they as¬
sembled a parliament at Edinburgh, and fulminated denun¬
ciations of treason against their enemies; while the pro¬
testants in their turn having chosen the earl of Lennox
regent, convoked the estates at Stirling, and soon afterwards
having made themselves masters of Dunbarton by a suc¬
cessful night attack, they took prisoner the archbishop of St.
Andrews, who had shut himself up in the fortress, and exe¬
cuted him on the instant, without even the semblance of a
trial. This outrage led to retaliation, and a civil war, re¬
markable for its ferocity, began to spread havoc through the
country. On Mary’s side were the duke of Chastelherault,
the earls of Argyll, Athole, Huntly, Crawford, Rothes, and
Cassilis, the lords Seton, Boyd, Gray, Livingston, Fleming,
with the lairds of Buccleugh, Fernihirst, and many others ;
lurrayis
jsassinat.
■otland.
ennox
osen re¬
nt.
742
SCOTLAND.
Scotland.
resigns
regency
Rise of
Esme,
duke of
Lennox,
and the
earl of
Arran.
to carry them into effect, and instantly resigned his regency.
This ready and implicit submission was rewarded by the
Jan'e* .Y1- passing of an act of indemnity, which included a general
Morton78 Part*on any aPeged transgressions, and ratified his whole
the conduct as regent. It is in his anxiety to procure this, that
we are to find the secret of his sudden relinquishment of the
supreme power ; and scarcely was it procured when this ex¬
traordinary man, by means of a successful intrigue with a
portion of the family of Mar, found means again to become
master of the. king’s person, and re-emerged into as great
power and ascendancy as before. His usurpation, however,
Mas this time more short lived. Atholl, Argyll, and some
of the most powerful nobles, assembled their forces, and de¬
clared their resolution to liberate the sovereign from his ig¬
nominious captivity. Instead of a battle, however, the op¬
posite factions came to a compromise, by which the veteran
tyrant was shorn of a large part of his power, and the young
king recovered something of his independence.
James began now to show that strong propensity to
favouritism which marked his future career ; and the effects
of this weakness were seen in the sudden rise into power
of Esme Stewart, duke of Lennox, and captain Stewart,
second son of lord Ochiltree, and afterwards the notorious
earl of Arran. Of these, the first was a high-born nobleman,
of graceful address, amiable feelings, and common-place un¬
derstanding ; but the second, oi‘birth and connections much
inferior to Lennox, w as ambitious, intriguing, daring, and un¬
principled, and soon managed to gain an influence over both
A.D. 1579. the young king, and the duke his favourite. With these ad¬
vantages, an overwhelming opposition was soon raised against
Morton; and as his exactions and cruelty had made him uni¬
versally odious, it was in vain that his steady friend, the Eng¬
lish queen, interposed to save him. Her interference indeed
rather accelerated his fate, and the news than she meditated
an invasion, roused the spirit of the young king and of his
people to instant opposition. When Elizabeth, however,
received intelligence that a Scottish army was assembled,
she prudently withdrew from the contest; and Morton
Morton is abandoned to his fate, was arraigned as an accomplice in the
tried, con- king’s murder, at the instance of captain Stewart, who had
demned, recently been created earl of Arran. Of his guilt there can
cufed*6' k0 doubt, and he himself, after the jury brought in
A d. 1581. ^ie‘r verd*ct> ar)d he had received sentence of death, ac¬
knowledged that he was privy to the intended murder. But
his trial was conducted, even in those days of prostituted
justice, with a reckless disregard of every form of law; and
all were aw'are that the jury, of whom many were his bitter
enemies, would, under any circumstances, have found him
guilty. He died as he had lived, boldly, expressing a calm
contempt of death, and exhibiting all the outward marks of
repentance.
The earl of The death of Morton was followed by the nominal acces-
Arran at sion of the young king to the supreme power, but by the
|'e ^..factual transmission of that power into the hands of his fa¬
vourites, Lennox and Arran. This last nobleman, owing
to the weak and flexible character of Lennox, soon came to
rule all, and his rapacity, profligacy, and open defiance of pub¬
lic opinion, completely disgusted the nation. The result was
a conspiracy for his ruin, headed by the earl of Cowrie. This
nobleman and his associates having contrived to make them¬
selves masters of the king’s person, at the castle of Ruthven,
and having removed Lennox and Arran from all authority
in the state, directed the government as they judged best
for their own interests. But the character of the king, al-
A.D-1582. though full of m;iny strange contradictions, began now to
exhibit a greater degree of talent and energy than his op¬
ponents were aware of; and although compelled to dissemble,
and showing no symptoms of discontent with this change
of masters, James was really disgusted with the durance in
which he was held by Cowrie and his faction. With an
ability which proved the more successful, because his
the govern¬
ment
Raid of
Ruthven.
adversaries were unprepared for it, he contrived to or- Seotk
ganize a party, and free himself from his servitude; but it^
happened unfortunately that at this crisis the earl of Arran James
regained his liberty, and returning to court, soon resumed AT).lij
his baneful influence over the fond and facile monarch. It '
was by his advice that the king, who had first been inclined '
to use his victory over the faction of Cowrie with modera¬
tion, exchanged this wise resolution for vindictive measures;
and although Elizabeth strongly remonstrated against it, Gowri ■.
he brought Cowrie to the scaffold, and drove his associatesecuted
into banishment.
Arran was noMr supremely powerful; but the venality, Arran
tyranny, and abuses of his government, soon became in-banish-
tolerable, and worked their own cure by producing aan(la
counter-revolution, in which the despotic favourite, after ^overn'
having first courted, and then quareiied with the Scottish torme^
church, in vain attempted to recover his influence by means
of the English queen, and was at last chased from court by
the associated lords, udio made themselves masters of the
king’s person. A government, upon a model which admit¬
ted the principal nobility to a share in the councils of the
state, was now established; and Arran,deserted by all parties,
sank into insignificance.
It was impossible that Mary, who had been detained a intrigue f
captive by Elizabeth, contrary to every principle of honour the Ron
and justice, should not have exerted herself to regain her CathoN
freedom ; and the Roman Catholic party in England were^avoul ^
not only interested in her success, but regarded her as^31^
their best security against Elizabeth and the Protestant
faith. This led to a succession of intrigues, which were
discovered by the penetration and activity of Elizabeth’s
ministers, the discovery only serving to increase the rigour
of her confinement. At last the Scottish queen having been
arraigned (unjustly as afterwards appeared) of an accession
to the conspiracy of Babington, the object of which was the Bating,
assassination of Elizabeth, and the restoration of the ancient ton’s coi
religion, she was brought to trial before a commission, whosespiracy.
jurisdiction she at first peremptorily declined as an inde¬
pendent and sovereign princess. It was unfortunate tor
Mary that she did not continue in this resolution; but in the
idea that a refusal might be construed into an admission of
guilt, at last condescended to plead. The consequence was,
what might have been expected from the nature of the evid- Mary’s
ence, the constitution of the court, and the supreme authori- trial and
ty of Elizabeth. Mary was found guilty of having compassed executio
divers matters tending to the death of the queen; and after A.B.l
many affected delays, and an atrocious attempt to induce
her keeper, Paulet, to dispatch her secretly, Elizabeth sign¬
ed the m arrant for her execution, which was carried into ef¬
fect on the 7th of February 1587. The meekness with which
she received the intimation of her sentence, and the admir-
ble and saintly fortitude with which she suffered, formed a
striking contrast to the despair and agony which not long
afterwards darkened the death-bed of the English queen.
It might have been expected that if any thing could have Elizabet
roused the king of Scots, it w ould have been the cruelty base con
and injustice to which his mother had fallen a sacrifice ; and duct,
for a moment there was an ebullition of indignant feeling.
But Elizabeth sent him an artful apology. The blame of
the execution was laid upon Davison, her secretary, an in¬
nocent and upright man, who simply obeyed her orders; and
with that unscrupulous falsehood which this princess seldom
hesitated to employ w hen necessary to carry through her
designs, the unfortunate statesman was sacrificed, that his
royal mistress might escape. But the English queen had
still a firmer hold over the young king of Scots. He regard¬
ed the succession to her throne as his undoubted right, and
dreaded to irritate her personal feelings, or alienate her
Protestant subjects, by appearing to place himself at the
head of the Roman Catholic party, who burned to avenge
the death of their royal mistress. In vain, therefore, they
cotland. looked to the king, who, after a short interval, relapsed into
^-rh,s usual Pac]fic frame of mind, and celebrated his entrance
bDloO? raaj°rityL!)y an t0 abolish those sanguinary
feuds amongst his nobility, which had increased to an alarm¬
ing height, and threatened to pull the country to pieces.
I®kBarnes This laudable endeavour, which did not meet with the
larries the guccess it merited, was followed by James’s marriage to
.enSk Atnne^Denmark; an alliance which Elizabeth,
uD.1589.Wltn ber usual jealous and capricious policy, endeavoured
to prevent. But the Scottish king, with unwonted spirit
and energy, sought his bride in person in her father’s court,
and having solemnised his marriage at Upslo, returned with
her to Scotland.
he earl of During his absence the kingdom had been unusually pros-
:Dthwell’s perous and happy; but it was soon afterwards embroiled by the
tempt to intrigues and ambition of the earl of Bothwell, who, leaguing
ize the with the Roman Catholic faction, attacked the palace ofHoly-
rood with the design Of seizing the king’s person, and pla¬
cing himself at the head of the government. A second at¬
tempt ot the same kind at Falkland was not more success¬
ful ; and yet such was at this time the impotent state of the
law, and the weakness of the royal authority, that these re¬
peated treasons escaped unpunished, and Bothwell lived
not only to defend but to repeat them,
late of Scotland at this moment presented a melancholy picture,
otland. The intrigues of Philip the Second had encouraged the
Roman Catholic faction, which was led by the earls of
Huntly, Errol, and Angus; and James, aware of the great
power possessed by the Romanists, both in Scotland and
England, was fearful of treating them with severity, lest he
should raise a formidable opposition to his right of succes¬
sion, which must open on the death of Elizabeth. But this
was not the only source of disquiet. The excessive lenity
of the king had fostered the feudal quarrels among his no¬
bles, impunity led to new excesses, and the turbulent and
audacious Bothwell once more appeared upon the scene,
and made repeated attemps to seize the royal person, and
administer the government at his pleasure. To these sources
of disquiet, w^ere added the interference of Elizabeth, which
roused the jealousy of the king, and the intolerant spirit of
the protestant ministers, who, horror-struck by the discovery
of the intrigues of the Roman Catholic lords, recommended
their being treated with the utmost severity.
These combined causes transformed the kingdom into a
scene of almost perpetual tumult and bloodshed; but the mon¬
arch at last becoming convinced of the treasonable purposes
of the popish earls, assembled an army, and reduced them to
the last extremity of distress. Bothwell, too, was driven into
exile, and the country began to breath anew, when James
found himself involved in a contest with the protestant mi¬
nisters. The cause of this dispute was the king’s wish to
lean to the side of mercy in his conduct to the popish lords.
It was reported that Huntly, their leader, had been admit¬
ted to a secret interview. The clergy, alarmed to the ut¬
most, appealed to their congregations; they defended the
conduct of Black, a minister who had openly attacked the
court and the queen, in a seditious harangue; they haughtily
declined the authority of the privy council; and by their
violence, they excited a tumult in Edinburgh, which com¬
pelled the monarch to retire to Linlithgow. Under these try¬
ing circumstances, the king acted with extraordinary energy,
and jealous of so bold an interference with his prerogative,
restored tranquillity to the capital, punished the insurgent
■les’s citizens, compelled the ministers to fly to England, and,
I for according to his original intentions, extended his forgiveness
during to the popish lords who made a recantation of their errors,
co- James, who had been alarmed at the late violence exhi¬
bited by the presbyterian clergy, now became intent upon
SCOTLAND.
nes at-
<s the
f.holic
ds.
!dence
e
sters.
743
a plan for new-modelling the church; but aware, that if the Scotland,
measure originated in any other quarter than that of the
clergy themsel ves, it would inevitably miscarry, he artfully James VI.
prevailed on the General Assembly to second his views. A-D-160°-
Ihe commission appointed by this ecclesiastical council
were induced to complain that the church was the only bodv
not represented; and the king, whose object it was to restore
episcopacy, procured an act to be passed, by which those
ministers upon whom he had conferred the vacant bishoprics
and abbeys were entitled to sit in parliament. When this
measure came again to be debated in the General Assembly,
it encountered great opposition. “ Deck these intruders
as you will, exclaimed one of the most zealous presbyte-
rians, “ under all their disguise I see the horns of the
mitre. Yet after a long debate, a majority of the General
Assembly declared in its favour; and it was resolved that
ministers might lawfully accept a seat in parliament, and
that fifty-one members should be chosen as representatives
of the church in the supreme court of the country. When,
however, the question arose regarding the spiritual jurisdic¬
tion which should belong to these persons, the General As¬
sembly so effectually shackled and abridged their powers,
that they remained wholly dependant upon this great eccle¬
siastical council, and exercised no separate spiritual juris¬
diction. It was James’s hope, that, in the course of time,
they would shake off these fetters, but, in the mean time,
they could claim none of the privileges belonging to the epis¬
copal order.
When the monarch was thus employed, and his kingdom The Gow-
was enjoying a degree of tranquillity to which it had beemie conspi-
long a stranger, the minds of the people were suddenly agi-racy-
tated by a sudden and mysterious attempt made at Perth up¬
on the life of the king by the earl ofGowrieand his brother,
Alexander Ruthven. These young men were the sons of
that earl of Gowrie who had been executed for treason,
and it is probable that a desire to revenge their father’s
death led to their miserable and ill-concerted enterprise;
but much obscurity hangs over the whole transaction. It is
certain that Ruthven induced tire king, by a feigned story,
to accompany him with a slender train from Falkland to
his brother’s house at Perth. Here he contrived to sepa¬
rate James from his attendants, and leading him into a
remote apartment, threw himself upon him, seized him by
the throat, and drew his dagger. The king struggled to get to
the window, and calling out treason, alarmed his nobles, who
rushed into the room, stabbed Ruthven to the heart, and
when Gowrie attempted a rescue, put him also to death
on the spot. Both these unfortunate men being slain, the
utmost pains were taken to detect their associates, to unravel
the plot, and to ascertain their precise object, but with so
little success, that to this day the mystery is not solved.
The queen of England, now in her seventieth year, began Death of
soon after this to droop, and her constitution, hitherto un- Queen
commonly vigorous and unimpaired, was evidently breaking Elizabeth,
up. Of all this James was well aware. He had secured
the friendship and good offices of Sir Robert Cecil, her chief
minister, who, unknown to his mistress, carried on a secret
correspondence with the Scottish king; and acting by his
advice, he had employed every effort to conciliate the affec¬
tions of the English people, and to acquire the support of
the most powerful of the English nobility. These judicious
precautions were attended with the wished-for result. James
was Elizabeth’s undoubted heir; and on the death of this
princess, an event which took place on the 23d of March
1603, he succeeded, with the unanimous consent of the
nation, to the throne of England. This great and auspi¬
cious event closes the history of Scotland as a separate
kingdom.
744
SCOTLAND.
STATISTICS.
Statistics. Scotland, the northern division of Great Britain, is
situated between 54° 38' and 58° 41' north latitude, and
Superficial between 1° 47' and 6° 7' west longitude from Greenwich;
extent. having the sea on all sides, except the south, where it is
separated from England partly by the Tweed and other
streams, and partly by a line supposed to be drawn along
the high grounds in that quarter. The longest line that can
be drawn in about the same parallel ot longitude is from
the Mull of Galloway in Wigtonshire to Cape Wrath in
Sutherland, a distance of about 274 miles, though Dunnet-
head in Caithness-shire, is the most northerly point; while
its breadth is extremely various, ranging from 147 miles to
about 30. The greatest breadth is between Buchanness on
the coast of Aberdeenshire, and the Rowanmoan Point on
the west coast of lloss-shire. There are other points where
the width is not much less; while between Alloa on the
Frith of Forth and Dunbarton on the Clyde, the distance is Statisli
only 32 miles, and between Lochbroom and the Frith ofk'^\/»[
Dornoch, it is rather less than 30. The area of Scotland,
calculated from Arrowsmith’s map, and as given in the Ge¬
neral Survey of Scotland, contains 25,520 square miles , and
494 square miles of fresh water lakes. This is the extent of
the mainland only, exclusive of the islands on the west, known
by the name of the Hebrides or Western Isles; and those of
Orkneyand Zetland on the north, which altogether are com¬
puted to extend over 4224 square miles, of which 144 con¬
sist of fresh water lakes. Including these islands, the north¬
ern limit of Scotland stretches beyond the 61st degree of la¬
titude, and its longitude lies between the meridian of Lon¬
don and 8° 18'west; its area being computed to comprehend
30,238 square miles, of which the fresh water lakes occupy
638 square miles, or about l-48th part of the whole.
Table shewing the total extent of the several Counties of Scotland, ihirty-
the county of Orhney and Zetland, in square miles, and English statute
of Fresh Water Lakes in each County.
three in number, including Buteshire, and
acres; specifying the extent of Land and
Counties.
Extent in Square Miles.
Land.
Aberdeen, 
Argyle, exclusive of Islands, 
Ayr, 
Banff, 
Berwick, 
Caithness, 
Clackmannan, 
Cromarty, 
Dunbarton, 
Dumfries, 
Edinburgh, or Mid-Lothian, 
Elgin, or Moray,  
Fife, 
Forfar, or Angus,  
Haddington, or East Lothian,...
Inverness, exclusive of Islands,....
Kincardine, or Mearns, 
Kinross, 
Kirkcudbright, 
Lanark, or Clydesdale, 
Linlithgow, or West Lothian,...
Nairn, 
Peebles, 
Perth, 
Renfrew, 
Ross, exclusive of Islands,  
Roxburgh, 
Selkirk,   
Stirling, 
Sutherland, 
Wigton, 
Sum of these,.. 
Islands.
Hebrides, viz.
Buteshire, including Arran, &c.
Isles belonging to Argyleshire,
Isles belonging to Inverness- )
shire, J
Isles belonging to the shires |
of Ross and Cromarty, /
Orkney Isles, 
Zetland Isles, 
Totals,.
1,960
2,200
1,039
645
442
687
48
256
228
1,253
354
473
467
888
272
2,904
380
72
8211
942"
120
195
319
2,588
225
2,069
715
263
489
1,754
4511
25,520
161
929
1,150
560
425
855
Lakes.
10
60
6
2
10
10
31
10
*7
3
4
132
2
7
12£
50
2
60
13
47
71
‘ 2
Total.
29,600
494
4
21
59
20
15
25
638
1,970
2,260
1,045
647
442
697
48
266
259
1,263
354
480
470
892
272
3,036
382
79
834
945
120
198
319
2,638
227
2,129
7151
2641
502
1,801
459
26,014
165
950
1,209
580
440
880
Extent in English Statute Acres.
Land.
Lakes.
30,238
1,254,400
1,408,000
664.960
412.800
282,880
439,680
30,720
163,840
145.920
801.920
226,560
302,720
298,880
568.320
174,080
1.858.560
243,200
46,080
525,760
602,880
76,800
124.800
204,160
1,656,320
144,000
1,324,160
457,600
168.320
312.960
1.122.560
288.960
16,332,800
103,040
594,560
736,000
358,400
272,000
547,200
6,400
38,400
3,840
1,280
6,400
6,400
19,840
6.400
4,480
I, 920
2,560
84,480
1,280
4,480
8,000
J. ,920
1,920
32,000
1,280
38.400
320
960
8,320
30,080
4,800
Total.
18,944,000
316,160
2,560
13,440
37,760
12,800
9,600
16,000
1,260,800
1,446,400
668,800
414,080
282,880
446,080
30.720
170,240
165.760
808,320
226,560
307,200
300.800
570,880
174,080
1,943,040
244,480
50,560
533.760
604.800
76,800
126.720
204,160
1,688,320
145.280
1,362,560
457,920
169.280
321,280
1,152,640
293.760
408,320
16,648,960
105.600
608,000
773,760
371.200
281.600
563.200
19,352,320
SCOTLAND.
tatistics. From what has been already said respecting the extreme
i variation in the breadth of Scotland at different places, the
Lee of the fact may be inferred, that the outline on the sea-coast is
v |JU,ltr}r' exceedingly irregular, and of great extent, the sea penetrat¬
ing to a great depth, both on its eastern and western sides.
Of these arms of the sea, the most considerable are the Firths
of Forth and Tay, and the Moray and Dornoch Firths, on the
east; and the Firth of Clyde and the Luce and Wigton Bays,
on the west and south-west; whilst there are a very great
number of smaller inlets, called lochs, such as Loch Fyne,
Loch Long, Loch Etive, Loch Lynnhe, Loch Broom, &c.,
which indent the country in all directions, to an extent vary¬
ing from ten to seventy miles. With this irregularity of out¬
line is combined a surface generally rugged and mountainous.
With the exception of narrow tracts along its principal rivers,
there is very little ofthe country flat or level, or what would be
regarded as productive land in more favoured regions. “ To
such a degree,” says Mr. M‘Cullocb, “ is this the case, that,
estimating the whole extent of the country, exclusive of
lakes, at 19,000,000 acres, it is doubtful whether so many
as 6,000,000 be arable; whereas, taking the extent of
England and Wales at 37,000,000 acres, the arable land
certainly exceeds 29,000,000; so that, while in Scotland,
the proportion of the cultivable to the entire land is less
than one-third, in England it exceeds three-fourths. With
the exception, indeed, of a few tracts of rich alluvial land,
(carses), Scotland has no very extensive vales ; the surface
of the rest of the country being, even where most level,
considerably varied with hill and dale.”1 In the south of
Scotland, a tract of mountainous country, known by various
names, stretches in a south-west direction, from the Cheviot
hills in Roxburghshire, on the borders of England, to the
Irish channel, sending off branches on both sides, whilst de¬
tached hills prevail over the whole of the contiguous districts.
These high grounds, however, are for the most part clothed
in green, almost to their summits, and have little of that
wild, romantic, and desolate character, which distinguishes
many of the mountains of the Highlands. Northward from
the isthmus formed by the Firths of Forth and Clyde, the
low grounds constitute but a small proportion of the whole.
* Here, in latitude 57°, the Grampians extend from sea to sea,
with a breadth of from forty to sixty miles; and parallel to
them, to the south, is another chain, called the Siedlaw, Ochills,
and Campsie hills. Between these two ranges lies the fer¬
tile valley of Strathmore ; whilst, farther north, cultivation
is mostly confined to the sea-coast, the banks of the larger
rivers, and the narrow glens between the mountains. On
the north-west, beyond the line of the Caledonian canal,
the country is, with few exceptions, singularly rugged and
sterile; consisting of lofty mountains, either covered with
heath, or presenting a mass of naked rocks, interrupted only
by deep and dark ravines, lakes, and precipitous streamlets.
But the eastern coast of Ross-shire is comparatively level
and fertile ; and Caithness, the north-eastern county of the
mainland of Scotland, is generally low, marshy, and un¬
productive.
I ghlands. Scotland is divided into Highlands and Lowlands, “d hose
! countries, whose inhabitants speak a different language, and
wear a different garb,” says Mr. Home, in his History of the
Rebellion, 1745,2 “ are not separated by firths or rivers, nor
distinguished by northern or southern latitude. 4 he same
shire, the same parish, at this day, contains part of both;
so that a Highlander and Lowlander (each of them stand¬
ing at the door of the cottage where he was born) hear their
neighbours speak a language which they do not under¬
stand.” The line which separates the Highlands from the
Lowlands is by no means well defined; but it may be de¬
scribed as beginning at Dunbarton, on the Firth of Clyde,
and proceeding northward by Crieff, Dunkeld, and Blair-
745
gowrie,it runs through the forest ofMorven, in the heights of Statistics.
Aberdeen, to Carron, in Banffshire; from Carron it stretches
due west by farnoway, in Morayshire, to the town of
Nairn ; from Nairn the line is continued to Inverness;
and from this latter place, it proceeds in a tortuous direc¬
tion, to Dunistra, on the south side of the Firth of Dor¬
noch, where the line of separation may be said to terminate,
the country to the north of this firth being altogether High¬
land, except a narrow stripe of land along the shores of the
German Ocean, which washes the east coast of Sutherland
and Caithness. To the west of this line lie the Highlands,
which, including the Hebrides, constitute in superficial ex¬
tent nearly one-half of Scotland, although the inhabitants
of this division do not form an eighth part ofthe population
of that kingdom. The face ofthe country is wild, rugged,
desolate, and mountainous. In almost every strath, valley,
or glen, there glitters a stream or lake; and numberless firths,
or arms ofthe sea, penetrate the land. The passes into the
Highlands lie in deep ravines or glens, so narrow, and so over¬
hung by mountains, that they admit of being very easily de¬
fended, and till recently, when roads have been made, they
were impracticable almost to every one except the natives.
To this must principally be ascribed the successful resistance
opposed by the Highlanders to the attacks of the Romans
and the Saxons ; and hence, also, these northern people still
form a distinct race, the lineal descendants of the ancient
Celtic inhabitants of the country, and differing essentially
in language, dress, and manners, from the Lowlanders.
The climate of Scotland, as may be expected, from its Climate,
insular situation and high latitude, is cold, cloudy, and humid.
This is its general character, as compared with the greater
part of England ; yet, even in the south of England, frost
is sometimes more intense, and snow falls more copiously
than in Scotland. Corn, however, and most of the fruits
and vegetables common to both divisions of Great Britain,
attain maturity about three wrecks earlier in the south of
England than in Scotland ; and some plants, such as hops
and a few others, cannot be profitably cultivated at all in
the latter country. The mean annual temperature of Scot¬
land is very high for the latitude, being about 46^° in places
near the level of the sea. In the more southerly parts of
the kingdom, the climate differs but little from that of the
northern parts of England. Sir David Brewster states the
mean annual temperature to be 48 36 at Leith. At Edin¬
burgh, which is elevated from 300 to 400 feet above the level
of the sea, and situated two miles from it, the annual tem¬
perature is 47*8, and this may be taken as a near approxi¬
mation to the general average of Scotland ; the mean tem¬
perature of winter being 38-6, of spring, 46-4, of summer,
58-2, of autumn, 48’4, the coldest month being 38’3, and
the warmest 59,4.3 The observations published in the
New Statistical Account of Scotland, and in the Transac¬
tions of the Royal Society of Edinburgh, closely approxi¬
mate to the above estimate. In the parish of Inch, \\ ig-
tonshire, the mean temperature for the year 1837 was 48,41.
At Applegarth Manse, in the interior of Dumfries-shire, the
average annual temperature for seven successive years,
ending in 1831 inclusive, was 47‘12; that of the spring
being 40*31, of the summer, 56*86, the autumn, 54* 18, and
of winter, 39*92. At Wick in Caithness the mean annual
temperature is 46*7, that of the winter being 40*35, the
spring, 44*41, the summer, 53-77, and the autumn, 48*82;
whilst at Sumburgh-head, the most southerly promontory
ofthe Shetland Islands, in latitude 59° 52', the mean annual
temperature is 45*5, that ofthe winter.being 40, the spring,
43*29, the summer, 50*60, and the autumn,47*48. The range
of the barometer is 2*82 inches, or from 30*92 to 28*10
inches; and in the Orkney and Shetland Islands it is somewhat
more, or about three inches. The fall of rain is very differ-
i Statistical Account of Great Britain, vol. i. p. 239. s Home’s Works, vol. iii. 385, 386.
VOL. XIX.
5 Ibid.
5 B
SCOTLAND.
746
Statistics, ent in different districts; but the average is about 31 in-
ches. The quantity which falls on the east coast of Scot¬
land ranges from 22 to 26 inches ; whilst, on the west coast
and in the Hebrides, it is nearly double, varying, according
to situation, from 35 to 46 inches. The number of fair
days throughout the year is, on the west coast, only 160;
whilst on the east it is 230. The mean annual fall of rain
at Edinburgh for the years 1824 and 1825, was 23| inches ;
at Glasgow, for an average of thirty years, it was 30 inches ;
whilst, still farther west, at Mount Stewart, in the Isle ofBute,
it was, on an average of seven years, 46'6 inches, the mean
average of the whole country being, as just stated, 31 inches.
The prevailing winds throughout Scotland are from the wes¬
terly points ; but on the east coast it blows from the easterly
points about a third of the year. Easterly winds genei'ally
prevail in March and April, and often in May and part of
June, and not only check vegetation, but are attended
with slightly unfavourable effects on the health of the in¬
habitants, particularly such of them as are nervous, dyspep¬
tic, consumptive, or rheumatic. But the climate of Scot¬
land is eminently salubrious. There are, properly speak¬
ing, no fens or marshes. The low grounds are, in gene¬
ral, highly cultivated. From whatever point the wind may
blow, except the east, a wide expanse of sea is passed
over; ami the air, though moist, is purified from injurious
emanations, which are readily absorbed by the ocean.
Hence it has been affirmed, that the mean duration of life
is greater in Scotland than in almost any other country.1
“ We are pretty confident, from extensive observation in
different countries, that the proportion of the population
that reaches seventy or eighty years of age, and the vigour
then remaining, are greater in Scotland than almost any
where else.”
Mountains. The mountains of Scotland consist either of detached
groups, more or less closely wedged together, or of ridges
or chains. These latter may be characterized as running
in a north-east and south-west direction. The most cele¬
brated chain, the Grampians, mentioned by Tacitus,2 ex¬
tend from the south-eastern boundaries of Argyleshire, with
a more or less defined line, to the heart of Aberdeenshire.
This chain may be regarded as a natural rampart, forming
the south-eastern boundary of the Highlands. With the
exception of Ben Nevis, the highest mountains in Scotland
are comprehended in the Grampian range. Another chain,
to the south of the Grampians, and nearly parallel to them,
stretches from Montrose to the Clyde, in Dunbartonshire;
but being intersected by the Tay and the Forth, it is di¬
vided into three distinct portions, which bear diffbrent
names. From Montrose to the Tay, this chain is called
the Siedlaw hills ; from the Tay to the Forth, it is known by
the name of the Ochills; and the remainder passes under the
names of the Dundaff, Fintry, and Campsie hills. The low
country, or strath, which separates this range of hills from
the Grampians, is called Strathmore, or the great valley.
There is also a chain of mountains in the south of Scot¬
land, stretching from the Cheviot hills, on the borders of
Northumberland, to Loch Ryan, in Wigtonshire. There
are other smaller ranges, such as the Monagh Lea moun¬
tains, which run parallel to and along the western side of
the Spey; the Lomond hills in Fifeshire ; the Pentland hills
in Mid-Lothian, and others. The altitude and situation of
the principal hills and mountains in Scotland having already
been given under the head of Physical Geography, it is
unnecessary to repeat the information here.
In the neighbourhood of the village of Leadhills, in Lan¬
arkshire, 1564 feet above the level of the sea, is the high¬
est cultivated land in Scotland. In Aberdeenshire, the
plough sometimes reaches the height of about 1300 feet;
but, with few exceptions, an elevation of 600 feet seems
to be the limit of the tillage lands of Scotland. None Statisif
of the Scottish mountains ascends to the line of perpe-
tual congelation; yet snow may be found all the year round
in some of the dark recesses, on which the sun never shines.
From the rugged and mountainous character of the sur- Vales
face of Scotland, the vales or level tracts cannot be expected
to be extensive or numerous. They are, indeed, when
compared with England, very much the reverse. Of these
vales, called sometimes straths or curses, the following are
the most important. The vale or curse of Stirling and
Falkirk is a tract of low alluvial land, which extends on both
sides of the Forth, with little interruption, and to a greater
or less width, from Borrowstonness to about twenty miles
north of Stirling, including the vales of the Teith and
the Allan, two tributaries of the Forth. These lands are
peculiarly fertile, and produce the richest crops of wheat
and other grain. The vale of the Earn, a tributary of the
Tay, known by the name of Strathearn, is of a similar cha¬
racter, but of comparatively limited extent. The carse of
Gowrie, which lies on the north of the Tay, from Dundee
to Perth, is incomparably the most fertile and productive
district in Scotland, and is thought not to be surpassed in
these respects by any other district of equal extent in the
united kingdom. Strathmore stretches from Lawrencekirk
in Angusshire to the neighbourhood of Perth, lying between
the bases of the Siedlaw hills and the Grampians. This
valley is not entirely flat, but is characterised by occasional
gentle eminences. The Merse, or level lands of Berwick
shire, stretch from the confluence of the Leader and the
Tweed to the town of Berwick, occupying most of the
low and generally level part of the country, or nearly the
half of its surface. The carse of Baldoon, lying south
of the river Bladenoch, and on the east shore of the bay
of Wigton, is of limited extent, but of nearly equal fer¬
tility to the carse of Gowrie. There are other less im¬
portant straths or carses, such as those along the Teviot in
Roxburghshire ; Tynedale, or the vale of Tyne, in East
Lothian ; and the Howe, or vale of Eden, in Fifeshire.
These lands are either loamy or alluvial.
By this term we mean tracts of land composed of moras- Moors,
ses, intermixed with rocks, lakes, and peat-moss. The
moor of Rannoch, lying between Schehallion, Ben Cru-
achan, and Ben Nevis, is one of the most lonely, wild,
and dreary districts in Scotland. It may be said to be en¬
tirely devoid of value, and would not of itself bring any
rent. It is not inhabited, and very seldom visited. There
is a tract about ten miles inland on the west coast «of
Sutherlandshire, not very dissimilar, but, though more
rugged, it is not quite so dreary as that of the moor of Ran¬
noch. The flow of Glenluce lies between Newtonstewart
and Luce Bay, stretching along the public road for about
ten miles, composed chiefly of peat and morasses, and form¬
ing one of .the bleakest and most dreary rides in Scotland.
From the rugged and mountainous nature of the coun- Rivers,
try, the rivers of Scotland are characterised by a more rapid
course, are more diversified by rocks and cataracts, and are
more limpid than those of England. Their course is also
necessarily shorter, and few of them are navigable, at least
to any great extent. Being generally mountain streams,
they are peculiarly liable to sudden overflowings, their rise
and fall being equally sudden. From a very tedious and
elaborate set of experiments, it is computed that they carry
out to the sea, on an average, about the weight of
their waters in mud; that is, a film of about of an inch an¬
nually, or one inch in fifty years over the whole surface from
which they draw their waters.
The principal rivers of Scotland, with the single excep¬
tion of the Clyde, are exclusively confined to the east. Three
inconsiderable rivers flow in a south-easterly direction, the
Malthas, i. cap. x.
* Agricolae Vita, c. 29.
itistics. Dee, which falls into the Solway Firth about six miles south
of Kirkcudbright, and is navigable for small vessels two
miles above that town; the Nith, which rises in the north
of Dumfries-shire, and falls into the Solway Firth more than
seven miles below Dumfries, being navigable to within
two miles of that place ; and the Annan, which rises on the
south side of Hartfell, near Moftat, and falls into the same
estuary at the town of Annan. The last is not navigable be¬
yond this burgh. The rivers which flow in a northerly or
north-easterly direction are the Ness, which flows from Loch
Ness, and, after a short course, falls into the Moray Firth
near Inverness ; the Findhorn, which, rising in the Monagh
Lea mountains, falls into the same estuary at Findhorn, after a
winding course of upwards of 50 miles; and the Spey, the most
rapid of the Scottish rivers, which flows from Loch Spey to¬
wards the west of Inverness-shire, and, after receiving in¬
numerable tributaries, and traversing the best wooded por¬
tion of the Highlands, falls into the Moray Firth. The
course of the Spey is nearly 100 miles ; it drains above 1300
square miles of country, but is not navigable. With the ex¬
ception of the Ayr, which is likewise not navigable, and falls
into the sea at the town of the same name, the only river
on the west coast worth mentioning, is the Clyde, (theGlot-
ta of Tacitus), which, in a manufacturing and commercial
point of view, is the most important stream in Scotland. It
rises on the west of the Moftat mountains, and, after a cir¬
cuitous course of nearly eighty miles, falls into the Firth of
Clyde below Dunbarton. It receives various tributaries, and
is navigable to Glasgow, passing in its course the principal
manufacturing and commercial towns in Scotland; Glasgow,
Hamilton, Lanark, Paisley, Port-Glasgow, and Greenock.
The navigation of the Clyde was formerly much obstructed ;
but under the management of a Parliamentary board, called
the River Trust, these obstructions have been nearly remov¬
ed, and the channel rendered so deep and straight that ves¬
sels of 400 tons can now resort to the Broomielaw at Glas¬
gow. The falls of Clyde, which are about 30 miles south-east
of Glasgow, are very striking and celebrated. The first con¬
siderable fall is that of Bonnington, its height, including that
of a little one immediately above it, being about thirty feet.
The second is Corra Linn, where the water dashes from one
shelving rock to another, its perpendicular height being about
seventy feet. Dundaff fall is only ten feet in height; whilst
that of Stonebyres, which includes three distinct falls, is not
less than seventy-six feet.1 All the other rivers are on the
east coast, namely, the Tweed, the Forth, the Tay, the
North and South Esk, the Dee, and the Don. The Tweed
rises near the sources of the Annan and Clyde, and run¬
ning past Peebles through a beautiful pastoral country, falls
into the German ocean at Berwick-upon-Tweed, aftera wind¬
ing course of about a hundred miles. The descent from its
source to its embouchure is about 1500 feet; and it is navi¬
gable only to Berwick. The Forth, (the Bodotria of Taci¬
tus), rises on the east of Ben Lomond, and receiving the wa¬
ters of the Teith and the Allan, it becomes a considerable
stream at Stirling, to which the tide flows, and to which it
is navigable for vessels of aboutseventy tons. From Stirling to
Alloa is only six miles by land, but the stream of the Forth
is so tortuous that it is no less than sixteen by water. The
river may here be said to terminate in the Firth, which ex¬
tends to the German ocean, a distance of forty miles. Its
width is various. At Queensferry, eight miles west of Ed¬
inburgh, it is two miles ; at Leith it is six ; and thence it
gradually expands till it is lost in the open sea. It is navi¬
gable for vessels of 300 tons as far as Alloa. The only low
water pier of which it can boast is that of Granton, about
a mile and a half west of Leith. The Tay rises to the
north of Loch Lomond, and expanding into the romantic
SCOTLAND.
717
sheet of water called Loch Tay, it flows in a circuitous Statistics,
route past Dunkeld and Perth, and falls into the Firth of^-^v^-
Fay at the confluence of its waters with the Earn, about
twenty miles from the mouth of the estuary. It is navi¬
gable to Dundee for vessels of 500 tons burthen, and to
Perth for those of 100 tons. It receives many tributaries,
of which the Earn, just mentioned, is the most important.
I he lay is the largest of the Scottish, and, in respect to the
volume of water it conveys to the sea, even of the British
rivers. 1 he North and South Esk have their source in the
Giampians, and fall into the sea at Montrose, within three
miles of each other. The South Esk is navigable to Mon¬
trose, about a mile and a half from its mouth. The North
Esk is not navigable. 1 he basin of Montrose, through which
the South Esk flows, and which bounds the town on the west,
comprehends about 2000 acres of land; it is covered by wa¬
ter at full sea, and exhibits nothing but bare sand at ebb tide.
This expanse, it has been calculated, might be reclaimed
at a gross cost of L.l 1,938.2 The Dee and the Don have
also their rise in the Grampians, and fall into the sea, the
former at New Aberdeen, and the latter at Old Aberdeen.
The Dee is navigable for about a mile from its mouth ; the
Don is not navigable.
The Scottish rivers,as stated atthe beginning ofthis head,
are of such a character, that there is no room for reclaiming
waste land from their channels. This is prevented by the ra¬
pidity of their streams and by their rugged course. But se¬
veral attempts have been made to reclaim lands from innunda-
tion on the shores of the Firths of Forth and Tay. Without
entering into particulars the following results maybe given:3
Forth.
Formerly reclaimed
Recently reclaimed
Tay.
Formerly reclaimed
Recently reclaimed
Acres.
40
366
105
142
Cost. | Rent.
I Value at 30
years’purchase
£ 2,000 £ 160
18,063 1464
3,050
5,730
600
920
£ 4,800
43,920
18,000
27,600
Totals ! 653 I £30,843 £3144 | £94,320
In addition to this, it has been stated that the extent of
land nowin processof beingreelaimed,on different estates on
the shores of the Tay, may be computed at 1140 acres, at a
gross cost of L.50 per acre. The following extract, on the sub¬
ject of embankments, from a work just published,4 contains
minute and interesting information : “ About 68 Scots acres
ofland have been here, (the parish of St. Madoes,) at different
times reclaimed from the Tay by embankments. In 1826, in
consequence of an arrangement between Sir John Richardson,
the proprietor, and Mr. R. W.Rannie, tenant, Pitfour Mains,
by which the latter agreed to raise an embankment at his
own expense, and after being allowed to take the first crop
free, to pay L.4, 10s. annually, per Scots acre, for the re¬
claimed land, during a lease of nineteen years; operations
were commenced, which resulted in the complete reclama¬
tion of 50 acres during the autumn of that year. rl he whole
expense of embankments, sluices, levelling, water cuts, and
trenching amounted to L.1530. So productive, however,
did the new soil turn out, that Mr. Rannie has been amply
rewarded for his enterprise. According to his own account,
he has had, before liming and manuring, on some parts of
a field, about 60 bolls of potatoes per acre, the average pro¬
duce being from 40 to 50 bolls. After liming and manuring,
he has had, on some parts of a field, 70 bolls per acre, the
average being from 50 to 60 bolls, of 32 stones Dutch to
1 Naismith’s Survey of Clydesdale, p. 19, &c.
* Quarterly Journal of Agriculture, March 1838.
3 Ibid, lor December 1837.
4 New Statistical Account of Scotland, part xxiii. p. 631.
748
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, the boll. He has had of oats, before liming and manuring,
^v—^from 10 to 11, after liming and manuring, from 12 to 13
quarters per acre; and of wheat from 6 to 7 quarters per
acre. He commenced liming in 1829 and manuring in
1835, the rotation, up to that period, being potatoes, and
wheat, or oats, alternately. In 1833, Sir John Richardson
reclaimed 18 acres more at an expense of L. 1200; and, by
means of head-dikes, break-waters, and other contrivances,
w hich he is from time to time throwing out into the river, for
the purpose of accommodating silt, upwards of 150 acres
more may ultimately be added to the parish ; of these, from
15 to 20 may be banked off in the course of two years.”
Lakes. From a table already given, under the head of Superficial
Extent, we have already "found that the fresh water lakes in
Scotland occupy an area of 638 square miles, or cover an
aggregate extent of 408,320 English statute acres. The
only counties that are devoid of lakes are those of Berwick,
Clackmannan, the Lothians, and Peebles; whilst those of
Roxburgh amount to only 320 English acres. The great¬
est extent of lakes are in Inverness-shire, (84,480 English
acres,) Argvleshire, exclusive of islands, (38,400,) Ross-
shire, (38,400,) Perthshire, (32,000,) and Sutherlandshire,
(30,080.) The lakes, generally speaking, occupy the valleys
or ravines amongst the mountains, and are thus distinguish¬
ed for their length, their breadth being comparatively trifling.
The only Lowland lakes worth specifying are Loch Leven,
St. Mary’s Loch, and Loch Ken. The first, situated in Kin¬
ross-shire, is four miles in length by two in breadth, having
the Lomond hills on its east, and Benarty hill on its south ;
whilst the towns of Kinross and Milnathort lie on its western
margin. This lake is remarkable for a peculiar species of
red trout, which is highly valued d and it also produces char,
perch, pike, and other species of fish. The fishery is let for
a considerable sum ; and it is a remarkable fact that Loch
Leven is the only Scottish lake that yields any revenue to
its proprietors. There is not even an attempt made to de¬
rive any profits from any other lake; nay, they are not fish¬
ed for the domestic consumption even of the neighbouring
inhabitants. But Loch Leven is principally celebrated for
an island in the lake in which are the picturesque ruins
of a castle, where Queen Mary was confined by her subjects,
and from which she effected her escape (1568) a few days
previous to the fatal battle of Langside. There are other
small islands in the lake, the principal of which is St. Serf’s,
where was once a famous monastery, of which Andrew Win-
ton, author of the Chronyhil of Scotland, was prior. St.
Mary’s Loch, a most beautiful and picturesque sheet of wa¬
ter, three miles in length by from half a mile to a mile in
breadth, is in Selkirkshire. Loch Ken is formed by the
expansion of the river Ken in Kirkcudbrightshire, and forms
part of the river. It is ten miles in length by rather less than
a mile in breadth. The other lakes are all north of the
Firths of Clyde and Forth. Loch Lomond is the most cele¬
brated as well as the largest lake in Scotland ; indeed, it is
the largest in the British dominions. This noble sheet of
water is above twenty-four miles in length, its greatestbreadth
is ten miles, but, towards its upper part, it is not more than half
a mile. Its depth varies from twenty to a hundred and twenty
fathoms, and its greatest depth is towards the north. It is stud¬
ded with numerous and richly wooded islands, some of them
being very small, but the largest, Inchmurrin, is two miles in
length and one in breadth. Some of them, particularly Inch-
murvin,are stocked with deer. Both sides of the lake are flank¬
ed by high and rugged mountains, among which “ the lofty
Ben Lomond” stands conspicuous, its height being 3195 feet
above the margin of the water. The surface water of Loch
Lomond is from three to five feet higher in winter than in sum¬
mer ; but its mean height is about twenty-two feet above the
level of the sea at Dunbarton. Its surplus water is convey¬
ed to the Clyde, a distance of six miles, by the river Leven. Statist!..
Loch Katterin, so celebrated in Sir Walter Scott’s Lady^^r^
of the Lake, lies in the district of Menteith, Perthshire, and
is one of the most romantic in Scotland. Its length is eight
miles, and its greatest breadth less than one. It does not
seem necessary to give a minute description of the other lakes;
but the following table, taken from the General Report of
Scotland, will shew their number, dimensions, and situation.
Name.
^ <r.
3 -3 J:
a a •£
5 - s
1. Lomond....
2. Awe 
3. Ness 
4. Shin 
5. Maree  
6. Tay 
7. Arkeg 
8. Shiel 
9. Lochy......
10. Laggan....
11. Morrar....
12. Fannich ..
13. Ericht 
14. Earn. 
15. Naver.....
16. Stennis ...
17. Rannoch..
18. Leven 
19- Fuir 
20. Lydoch....
21. Dee & Ken
22. Loyal 
23. Glass 
24. Katterin..
25. Doon 
26. Huichart..
24
25
22
20
12
15
12
16
16
8
9
7
14
8
6
8
9
4
4
6
10
6
5
8
9
3
7
1 2
3
2
2
1
1
2
tl
1 2
2
il
1 4
2
2
1
2
2
1
Of
1
1
Of
1
1
45
30
30
25
24
20
18
16
15
12
12
10
10
9
9
Counties where situated.
Dunbarton and Stirling
Argyle.
Inverness.
Sutherland.
Ross, west coast.
Perth.
Inverness.
Inverness, west coast.
Inverness.
Inverness.
Inverness.
Ross, centre.
Perth and Inverness.
Perth.
Sutherland.
8 ;Orknev, mainland.
8 Perth.
7 Kinross.
6 Ross.
6 Perth and Argyle.
6 Kirkcudbright.
6 Sutherland.
5 Ross, east.
5 Perth, Menteith.
Ayr.
3 Ross.
In a general point of view, Scotland may be separated, Geoloj
geologically as well as geographically, into three portions.
By passing a line on the map nearly straight from Stone¬
haven, through Dunkeld, to the middle of the Isle of Bute,
and thence with a slight curve to the Mull of Can tyre, we
shall have traced the southern boundary of the primary non-
fossiliferous system of rocks. Another line, but much more
irregular than the former, drawn from St. Abb s Head in
Berwickshire, passing near Peebles, Sanquhar, and New
Cumnock, to the south of Girvan on the western coast, will
form a general parallelism with the former line, and will
contain the old greywacke, now named the Cumbrian sys¬
tem, lying to the south, and extending to the boundary be¬
tween England and Scotland, whilst the land included be¬
tween the two lines comprehends the old red sandstone, and
great central basin of Scotland.
That extensive tract of Scotland which constitutes the
northern division, is composed chiefly of gneiss, mica slate,
chlorite slate, and clay slate, with subordinate masses of
hornblende slate, talc slate, and primitive limestone. These,
with granitic centres, often rise into magnificent mountains,
of which the Grampians form a part. In many of these de¬
posits, particularly in the mica slate, garnets of a brown
colour are very abundant. In the primary deposits no or¬
ganic remains have ever been discovered.
These, however, are not the only stratified formations
which constitute this extensive district. The old red sandstone
fringes the extremities of the land, commencing near the
1 Statistical Account of Scotland.
Statistics. Moray Firth, extending on both sides of Loch Ness till
within a short distance of Fort Augustus, and then proceed¬
ing northward, expanding the whole breadth of Caithness
and constituting the principal formation of Uie Orkney Isles
On the western site of the mainland, the old red sandstone
is deposited in numerous patches on the gneiss formation,
as at Loch Broom, Gairloch, and Applecross.
The new secondary rocks have been but sparingly ob¬
served in Scotland; yet it is a curious fact that the few
patches that have been discovered are superimposed on the
old red sandstone, and have not been reposing in uninter¬
rupted order in the secondary series. Thus the lias shales,
highly micaceous, and some of the upper beds of the oolitic
system, occur at the mouth of the Cromarty Firth, from
Dunrobin Castle to the ord of Caithness, Applecross, and
other points on the mainland, and in the Western Islands
on the borders of Mull, the south and east of Skye, and near
to the rocks of Arran. The equivalent of the fresh water de¬
posits of the wealds of Sussex, geologically situated above
the oolitic group and below the chalk, is seen in Moray
and Skye. In the central and southern divisions of Scot-
land, these newer groups of rocks have not been detected.
In this division of Scotland very few metallic ores have
been found. Lead mines were formerly wrought at Tyn-
drum, to the west of Loch Tay. Lead mines are at present
wrought at Stronbean in Argyleshire, at which place the
carbonate of strontian was first discovered. At Glen Strath-
fairer, in Inverness-shire, there have been detected veins
of plumbago running between the laminae of the mica slate.
We may here briefly refer to the geological character of
the Western Isles. Dr. McCulloch1 calls the Long Island,
SCOTLAND.
749
r,nXJ i ‘ ,1S’ ^0WeT^ nought at Canonby, near Statistics.
Langholm, and at the Carter Fell. The only other rock for-'
mation, found in connexion with the old transition group
here, with the exception of igneous rocks, is a red sand¬
stone, ascertained, m some situations, to be the old red, but
ly in DumfHes *shire^ ^ ^ neW ^ sandst0ne> particular*
I" theP Jird geological division of Scotland, namely, the
c tre of the kingdom, is placed the great coal basin ; but,
adhering to our rule of marking the successive formations
in the ascending order, we shall first treat of the old red
sandstone, the most ancient rock in this subdivision of the
country. This rock abuts against the line of the primary
rocks, and stretches across the whole country from the
German Ocean to the Atlantic, pursuing, like the mountain
ranges, a south-westerly, or north-easterly direction. Its
line forms a long, uninterrupted, extensive, and fertile valley.
In the north-western part, it rises into hills, on the sides of
one of winch, east of Menteith, are deep and hideous fis¬
sures, the effect of some convulsion of the earth.
The formation appears to be of vast thickness, especially
towards the north, and may, it is supposed, be divided into
three portions; the lower, the middle, and the upper beds.
In what are considered as the lower strata, the remains of
fishes have been found in a high state of preservation. The
well known Arbroath pavement belongs to the old red sand¬
stone series.
But the most important group in this central district is
the coal formation, consisting of limestone, ironstone, free¬
stone, coal, and clays. The extent from east to west is
bounded only by the extremities of the land. To the north,
nortt d' " iSlandS !yIng ^ " S°Uth^eSt k is CUt 0ff the old red sands ton eby a range ofTrap
^ h a!LdireC 0.n’ th? S™ss island, from the predomin- hills, crossing the country from east to west? On the south,
ance of that species of rock. Another group, embracing
Skye, Rum, Canna, Mack, Egg, and Mull, he denominates the
trap islands. T. here are five basaltic islands off the north-west
side of Mull, of which the smallest but the most celebrated
is Staffa, which is well known for its basaltic columns and
cavern, called Fingal s cave. This cave, one of the most
remarkable natural excavations in the world, is formed of
the columnar bed of basalt, where it declines to the level
of the sea, which washes the feet of the columns, that are
like the pillars of an immense cathedral, placed close to each
other, the sea forming the floor. The top of the arch, at
the entrance, is 66 feet; but it gradually declines to 40 at
the extremity, at the distance of 227 feet. The breadth of
the cave is about forty feet. There are other similar caverns
of less note on the island. The basalt of which the columns
in Staffa are composed, is similar to that of the Giant’s
Causeway in Ireland; and it is probable that they are both
of submarine origin, having been raised by the sea. St.
Kilda, the most western of the Hebrides, is composed of seve¬
ral varieties of the trap rock. Arran, in the Firth of Clyde,
even to the top of the highest mountains, is principally
granitic.
In tracing the geological features of the country in the
ascending order of the groups, we come next to the tran¬
sition or greywacke system, now divided into two principal
sections, the lower or Cumbrian, and the upper or Silurian.
As far as has hitherto been ascertained, the Silurian division
is unknown in Scotland ; and the Cumbrian rocks, destitute
of organic remains, cover the greater part of the area of the
south of Scotland. These greywacke strata stand at high
angles of from sixty to ninety degrees, and consist chiefly
of coarse slaty strata, seldom divisible into thin roofing slates,
and often alternating with arenaceous and coarse conglo¬
merates. Amongst them, limestone is seldom found, and,
when it is, the quality of it is inferior. In the division of
wrhich we now treat, coal and its accompaniments are known
it is bounded by the greywacke and the old red sand¬
stone. Its breadth, extending on both sides of the Forth
and Clyde, averages forty miles, and its length about seventy
miles.
The mountain limestone forms generally the basis of the
group, although it is frequently found interstratified with
other members of the series, and abounds with great numbers
of organic remains. Below the mountain limestone, how¬
ever, but belonging to the same group, a bed of limestone is
worked at Burdie-house, near Edinburgh, in which the or¬
ganic remains differ essentially from those which have
been just named. These remains consist of many of the
plants which distinguish the coal formation; but that allud¬
ed to includes also the teeth, scales, and other bones of fishes
which partake of the reptile character, some of which must
have been of gigantic dimensions. Small fishes are also
found in a fine state of preservation. The same limestone
has been found in other parts of the country, and is of su¬
perior quality to the common limestone, for mortar, plaster,
and the smelting of iron.
The clay limestone is found in beds and nodules, the work¬
able kind containingfrom twenty-seven to forty-five percent,
of iron. The kind termed black band is in high request.
From this ore is smelted vast quantities of pig iron. The
iron works in Scotland have been increasing beyond all ex¬
ample ; at Carron, Gartsherrie, Shotts, Cleland, Airdrie,
Clyde, and other places. The quantity of iron produced
in Scotland in 1830 amounted to 37,500 tons. But four
years afterwards, in 1834, the latest date of which we have
any correct accounst, the quantity had nearly doubled, be¬
ing about 72,000 tons. These works are generally within
ten or a dozen miles of Glasgow.
1 The coal is found in beds varying from a few inches to
forty feet in thickness, is extracted in great quantity, and
is used as fuel, both for domestic and manufacturing pur¬
poses. One variety, cannel coal, is of superior quality for
* Western Islands of Scotland, Vol. II.
Statistics, the preparation of gas. From the fire clay are manufactured
fire brick and gas retorts ; and the sandstone furnishes an
inexhaustible store of substantial and beautiful material for
building.
These several deposits contain in abundance the impres¬
sions of the vegetables which distinguish the carboniferous
period; and, what is remarkable, the remains of animals,
the same as occur in the Burdie-house limestone, are found
in the shales, and even in the coal itself. In the island, no
strata newer than the carboniferous system is known to ex¬
ist. All is covered over with accumulations of clay, gravel,
sand, and soil.
Roads. Until after the middle of last century there was scarcely
a good road in Scotland. Soon after the rebellion of 1715,
Government began to open up the country by roads made by
the military, hence called military roads, which extended in
all about eight hundred miles; but these being confined
for the most part to the Highlands, intended for military
purposes, and formed with little or no regard to such ascents
and descents as do not impede the passage of an army, were
of little advantage in an economical point of view. It is
in the recollection of persons still living, when corn, coals,
and other heavy articles, were usually carried upon the backs
of horses, even in the southern counties of Scotland; the
roads, or rather the tracks, being for the greater part of the
year unfit lor wheel-carriages. But so great a change has
been made in this respect, particularly within the last forty
years, that mail-coaches, and other carriages, now run day
and night at the rate of from eight to ten miles an hour
through every part of the country, from the borders of Eng¬
land to the northern extremity of Great Britain.
The only funds formerly applicable to the making and
the repairing of the roads in Scotland were what is called
the Statute Labour, or the labour of the occupiers of the
land, for six days annually, upon the roads passing through
their respective parishes, and a small assessment imposed
upon the proprietors. This labour, which has been con¬
verted into payment in money, and also the sums raised by
assessment on the proprietors, under the name of road and
bridge money, are now applied to bye-roads, or such as com¬
municate with the great turnpikes. Almost every county
has procured an act of Parliament which fixes the rate of
these assessments; but this varies in different counties ac¬
cording to circumstances.
The turnpike roads and bridges in the Lowlands have,
for nearly a century, been made, and are kept in repair by
means of tolls exacted from those who use them, under the
authority of private acts of Parliament. The first of these
acts was obtained in 1750, at which time the roads were so
bad that the journey from Edinburgh to Glasgow, a distance
or forty-two miles, occupied 1§ days, whereas it is now ef¬
fected in from 4^ to 5 hours. The trustees named in these
acts are commonly empowered, whether wisely or not, to
borrow money upon the security of the funds to be received;
by which means the work is more speedily executed. The
board of trustees consists of the sheriff-depute, his substi¬
tute, and the justices of the peace in the county, together
with all individuals, and their eldest sons, who are owners
of estates worth L.100 Scotch a-year, and upwards, of va¬
lued rent. The result of this is, that “ in consequence of
the excellent materials which abound in all parts of Scot¬
land, and of the greater skill and science of Scotch trustees
and surveyors, the turnpike roads in Scotland are superior
to those in England.”1
Highland In the Highlands, the nature of the country, and the
roads and state of the population, did not admit of the same system as
bridges. in the Lowlands. The military roads had not only been
made, but were kept in repair at the public expense, for
which L.5000 a-year was usually granted by Parliament;
but a great many new roads and bridges were required;
and, in 1803, an act was passed, proceeding upon “ a sur¬
vey and report of the coasts and central Highlands of Scot¬
land,” by which Parliament agreed to provide half the esti¬
mated expense of the necessary roads and bridges, the other
half to be defrayed by the landed proprietors; and Commis¬
sioners were named to carry into effect the beneficent in¬
tentions of the Legislature. It appears from the report just
referred to, that, under this act, the Commissioners had, in
1821, expended, on 875 miles of road, and several large
bridges, upwards of L.450,000, of which L.240,000 was
granted by Parliament, and the rest defrayed by the coun¬
ties through which the roads passed; and that L. 100,000
more had been laid out by them upon harbours, of which
L.50,000 was paid out of the funds arising from the for¬
feited estates in Scotland, and the remainder raised by
the burghs, and by the contributions of individuals. If, to
these sums, we add the amount of the losses sustained by
the contractors, as stated in the Report, and the expense of
the new roads made at the sole cost of the proprietors,
to communicate with the Parliamentary roads, together
with the charges of repairs, the whole amount expended
within these twenty years upon the roads, bridges, and har¬
bours of the Highlands of Scotland, may not be too highly
stated at a million sterling. The Commissioners have un¬
der their charge both the maintaining of their own roads,
and part of the military roads, the extent of the whole in
1821 being 1183 miles; and about L.10,000 a-year,of which
L.5000 is granted by Parliament, was considered to be ne¬
cessary for this purpose, including all charges of manage¬
ment.2 The military roads have been in many instances al¬
lowed to fall into disrepair; but nearly three hundred miles
of them are still kept up.
Summary Statement as to the Turnpike Roads in Scotland
in 1829.3
Length of turnpike roads 3,666
miles.
Number of turnpike trusts.. 190
Acts of Parliament,....  394
Debts L. 1,495,082
Income from all sources 187,584
Expenditure  181,028
Excess of income over
expenditure  6,556
The Caledonian Canal, the greatest work of the kind ever Canals-
attempted in Great Britain, stretches south-west and north¬
east across the island, from a point near Inverness to Fort-
William, a distance of 60^ miles, including Lochs Ness, Oich,
and Lochy, by which nearly two-thirds of it are formed. The
excavated or artificial part is twenty-three miles; and there
are in all twenty locks. The depth in some places is only
seventeen feet, but it was originally meant to be twenty. As
it is, however, frigates of 32 guns, and merchant ships of 1000
tons can pass through it. It is 50 feet wide at the bottom,
and 122 at top. But with all its magnificence, it has been
found to be an improvident speculation. The total cost of
the canal, up to 1822, when it was opened, was L.905,258;
and the aggregate outlay to the first of May 1839, was no
less than L.1,023,628. ' Besides, the Commissioners have
incurred a debt, including cash advanced by the bank, and
outstanding claims, of L.39,14G. Nor has the income
ever met the expenditure. In the year ending on the fust
of May 1839, for example, the expenditure was L.4170,
whereas the income, though above the average, was only
L.2532. It has, therefore, become a question with govern •
ment whether the undertaking should be maintained or
abandoned. The Lords of the Treasury, accordingly, em-
1 Sir H. Parnell’s Treatise on Roads, p. 313. j -j
* Anderson’s Guide to the Highlands, &c. p. 6. Ninth Report of the Commissioners for Highland Roads and Kndges.
s Parliamentary Papers, No. 703, 1833, p. 176.
('Of! and.
hvayg
ployed Mr. James Walker, engineer, to institute a minute
investigation oi the entire works, and to report. The report
was presented to the House of Commons in 1838; and a
select Committee was appointed to take the whole subiect
into consideration. The result of their investigations was
a recommendation that steam tugs should be employed in
Lie locks, so as to ensure a speedy navigation, and 'that a
sum not exceeuing L.200,000 be placed at the disposal of
the government, to be expended in the repair and improve¬
ment of the canal, under the authority of an act of Parlia¬
ment, which should be procured for the purpose.1 This
recommendation will, it is hoped, be acted upon. (Navi¬
gation, Inland). The Crinan canal is situated in Ar-
gyleshire, and is intended to afford a communication be¬
tween Loch Gilp and the Western Ocean, so as to avoid
the difficult and circuitous passage round the Mull of Can-
tyre. It was originally undertaken in 1793 by subscription
of share-holders; but the sum subscribed(L.108,000) beino-
quite insufficient for the completion of the work, the go¬
vernment advanced the money, and the canal was transfer¬
red on mortgage to the Barons of Exchequer in Scotland.
The management has since 1817 been lodged in the hands
of the Commissioners of the Caledonian Canal. It is nine
miles long, and twelve feet deep, admitting vessels of 200
tons burden. The income scarcely covers the expenditure.2
The Forth and Clyde Canal, sometimes called the Great
Canal, though begun in 1768, was not finally completed till
1 i 90. 1 he length from Grangemouth on the Forth to Bow¬
ling Bay on the Clyde, is 35 miles, and, including the lateral
branch to Poit-Dundas, Glasgow, 38^-. Its depth is ten feet;
ana it has in all thirty-nine locks. Though iron swift boats
and other lighters ply upon it, its staple trade consists in the
transit of sailing vessels of 120 tons and under. The Edin¬
burgh and Glasgow Union Canal, which was finished in 1822,
stretches from Port-Hopetoun, Edinburgh, until it joins
the Forth and Clyde Canal at Port-Downie, near Falkirk, a
distance of 31^ miles. Its depth is only five feet, so that
ijs traffic is quite limited. The Monkland Canal stretches
from Glasgow to Woodhall, about two miles south-east of
Airdrie, a distance of twelve miles, and communicates by a
lateral branch with the Forth and Clyde Canal at Port-Dun-
das. The Glasgow, Paisley, and Ardrossan Canal has not
been completed ; indeed it is not now intended to complete
it. I lie progress of railways seems partially to supersede
the use of canal communication. The canal in question has
been constructed from Port-Eglinton, near Glasgow, to the
village of Johnstone, a distance of eleven miles, and was
opened in 1811. It was on this canal that the experiment
was made in rapid travelling by canals, demonstrating that
it was practicable for a properly constructed boat, carrying
passengers and goods along a canal, to go at a rate of nine
or ten miles an hour, without injury to the banks. These
light boats are now common on canals suited for such tra¬
velling. The Aberdeenshire Canal, completed in 1807,
stretches from the harbour of Aberdeen to Inverury. The
length is 18j miles, and the number of locks is seventeen.
Ihe first act obtained, in 1808, for a railway in Scot¬
land, was for that between Kilmarnock and Troon, a dis¬
tance of 9^ miles. The Monkland and Kirkintilloch rail¬
way connects the rich coal and ironstone district of New and
Old Monkland, and, within fourteen miles of the city of Glas¬
gow, with the Forth and Clyde Canal, near Kirkintilloch.
The Ballochney railway, which has been in operation for
about ten years,is merely an elongation of the lastmentioned
line, four miles eastward into the interior. The Glasgow and
Garnkirk railway stretches eight miles west from Glasgow, till
it communicates with the Monkland and Kirkintilloch line,
forming a direct communication with Glasgow, and avoid-
SCOTLAND.
mg the circuitous route of that line. The Wishaw and Colt- Scotland,
ness rai way, which is meant to connect the Monkland and
Kirkintilloch branch with the rich coal and ironstone beds
of Wishaw, Coltness, and Allanton, has not vet been com¬
pleted, though the act was passed in 1829. The Slamannan
railway, which is in progress of construction, is to extend
from the eastern termination of the Ballochney line to the
Union Canal, within a mile of Linlithgow, a distance of 121
miles. An act has been passed (1837) for forming a branch
to the town of Bathgate. The Pollock and Govan railway,
w.uch was meant to connect these two places, which lye on the
south of Glasgow, with that city, an interval of three miles,
is in the same unfinished state. The Paisley and Renfrew
railway, which extends from Paisley to the river Clyde at
Renfrew ferry, a distance of 3^ miles, was opened in 1837.
ihe Glasgow, Paisley, and Greenock railway is meant to con¬
nect Glasgow and Greenock by way of Paisley. It runs
neaily parallel with the Clyde, and is meant to be complet-
ed in 1840. Ihe Glasgow, Paisley, Kilmarnock, and Ayr
railway is intended to connect these towns and the adjacent
districts. The line from Glasgow to Paisley is declared
to be common to the latter line, and that of the Glasgow,
aisley, and Greenock railway, and to be executed at the
jo.nt expense of both companies. The Glasgow and Pais¬
ley railway is to send branches out to the different towns
in the district through which it passes. An act was ob¬
tained in 1838 for constructing a railway between Edinburgh
and Glasgow. The line is to run nearly on a parallel with
the Union Canal, past Ratho, Winchburgh, Linlithgow, and
halkirk, to pass that canal near Port-Downie, and to pro¬
ceed onward to Glasgow by a line nearly parallel to the Great
Canal. The distance will be forty-six miles. The capital of
the company is L.900,000. Twenty-nine miles of the line
have already been contracted for, and the work will be com¬
pleted at farthest in 1842. The Edinburgh and Dalkeith rail¬
way was opened in 1832. It extends to Dalhousie Mains on
the South Esk, but a private branch has been carried over
that river by a viaduct, and extends southwards for upwards
of a mile. Ihe Dalkeith line is about to be carried over
the North Esk, in order to connect extensive coal fields in
that quarter with the city of Edinburgh. There are also
branches to Leith and Fisherrow. On this railway upwards
of 100,000 tons of goods, and 300,000 passengers are an¬
nually conveyed. The Edinburgh, Leith, and Newhaven
railway is only meant to extend 2^ miles. It is to commence
at Canal Street, at the east end of Princes Street gardens, and
proceed by a tunnel of 2800 feet, or rather more than a fifth of
the whole line, under St. Andrews Street, St. Andrews Square,
Duke Street, Drummond Place, &c. to the foot of Scotland
Street, and thence to Newhaven in nearly a straight line,
with a branch along the north side of the Water of Leith, to
the wet docks at Leith. The wmrk has been begun, but when
it will be completed is uncertain. If the terminus of the
line were to be united writh that of the Edinburgh and Glas¬
gow railway, much advantage would accrue to both specu¬
lations. But, according to act of Parliament, a mile inter¬
venes at present between the depots of the two. The Dun¬
dee and Newtyle railway is eleven miles in length, but
branches are in progress to Cupar-Angus and to Glammis.
There are on the line three inclined planes, and a tunnel of
340 yards. The Dundee and Forfar railway was opened in
1838. Its length is I6f miles. The Arbroath and Forfar
railway is just completed. The distance is 15j miles.
About the middle of the seventeenth century, the lands of Land, va.
Scotland were valued, wuth a view to ascertain what proportion luation,
of the land-tax and others should be paid by each county; rental of,
and this valuation, called the “valued rent,” which had been^c‘
undertaken by the authority of Cromwell, was afterwards
1 See Thirty-fourth Report of ihe Canal Commission, Mr. Walker’s Report, and Report of Secret Committee.
* Ibid.
752
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, established by an act of the Scottish Convention in 1CG7.1
' It is still the standard by which the counties, and the estates
of each county, are assessed for payment of the land tax,2
and all local imposts on land. The “valued rent” of the whole
Scottish counties, as it stood in 1674, was L.3,804,221 Scots,
or L.317,018, 8s. 4d. sterling. In 1811, the landed pro¬
perty of Scotland was subdivided as in the following pro¬
portions,5 and there is every reason to believe that the do¬
cument is not very far from the truth at the present time :
Number of
Description of the Estates.
Proprietors.
396
Large properties, or estates above L.2000 of
valued rental,   
Middling properties or estates from L.2000 to
L.500 of valued rental,  1077
Small properties, or estates under L.500 of
valued rental,  6181
Estates belonging to corporate bodies,  144
Total,.
7798
The total extent of land in Scotland, exclusive of lakes,
is 18,944,000 acres, but of this quantity only a fourth part,
or 5,043,450 acres, are susceptible of cultivation.4 But even
of this small proportion, nearly a half, or 2,489,725 acres,
are estimated to be in grass. The following table5 will shew
the distribution of the land in tillage, with the quantity and
value of the crops :  
|o-
Wheat, 
Barley, 
Oats, 
Beans & 1
Pease, f
Potatoes, (
Turnips,.. J
Flax, 
Gardens,....
Fallow,...
220,000 3 qrs.
280,000 34
1,275,000 4
660,000; 50
980,000 30
5,737,000
100,000:
! 30,0001 £5^ 5s
350,000
16,000 8,0s
32,000 13,0s
150,000
25
L.
1 1,650,000
1,470,000
7,171,875
2,520,000
128,000
416,000
Total, 2,553,000
|13,355,875
Such are the average quantity and value of the lands
actually in tillage. But the average value per acre of the
arable soils in pasture is estimated in the General Report
at L.2; and on this hypothesis, the produce of 2,489,725
acres of pasture, will be L.4,979,450. But there still re¬
mains 14,000,000 acres of mountain pasture, waste land, and
plantations,6 which, at an average rent of 3s. per acre, will
be L.2,100,000. Hence the total annual value of the land
produce in Scotland will be,
Value of crops and garden, L.l3,355,875
... pasture land,  4,979,450
... mountain pasture land, &c  2,100,000
Total,...   L.20,435,325
This is the value of the gross produce of the soil. Most States,
of the land is rented by tenants, only about a tenth part's^"vv
being supposed to be farmed by the landowners. The exact
amount of the rental of Scotland cannot be known. The
rental for 1810, including mines, fisheries, quarries, and the
like,7 was ascertained to be L.4,851,404; and it is sup¬
posed that, though considerable variations have taken place
in different districts, the rental of Scotland continues at
nearly the same amount; for although many of the rents
contracted for, during the last years of the late war, have
been greatly reduced, yet others, from the falling in of
the older leases, have been proportionally advanced. As
the common duration of the lease in Scotland is 19 years,
the average term of the current leases must be between 9
and 10 years; so that half the leases current in the begin¬
ning of 1810 must have been entered into in the first year
of the century, at a period previous to any great enhance¬
ment of land having taken place. Hence it is that we regard
the rental of 1810 and of the present time as nearly equal
to each other. It is conjectured by an eminent authority,
that the rental of the 14,000,000 acres of mountain pasture,
including wood and waste lands, does not exceed L.850,000,
or, in other words, that it averages 1 is. per acre, whilst he
estimates the rental of the arable portion at an average of
16s. an acre.8 Rent, we may here remark, has advanced
more in Scotland during the last seventy years, than per¬
haps in any old settled country during a similar period. The
entire rental of Scotland is not supposed to have exceeded
L.l,000,000, or L.l,200,000, in 1770. In 1795, it is be¬
lieved to have been at least L.2,000,000; and since that
time it has a good deal more than doubled.
It is here worthy of remark, that both the law and the
practice of Scotland are favourable to agricultural enter¬
prise. What in England are termed “ tenants at will,” or
tenants without a lease, are unknown in this portion of the
empire. Leases in Scotland may be said to be universal,
extending to 15, 19, or 21 years. It was not uncommon,
indeed, about fifty years ago, and before that time, to give
liferents, or leases for twice nineteen years, or even longer,
a circumstance highly favourable to enterprise on the part
of the tenant. With the exception of some districts in the
Highlands and Islands, the system of small farms has been
abandoned, and has given way to farms of great extent,
rented by persons of intelligence and capital. There are no
tithes. Poor-rates are entirely unknown in about three-
fourths of the parishes of Scotland ; and where this assess¬
ment does exist, it is of comparatively trifling amount. Be¬
sides, so large are the farms, that, exclusive of owners who
cultivate their own property or portions of it, there are sup¬
posed to be only about 40,000 tenants in Scotland. And as
farms are large, so they cannot be divided or sublet without
the consent of the landlord. This consent is seldom or
never granted; so that in point of fact no such subdivision
ever takes place. A lease, moreover, is heritable; and
on the death of a tenant, it is not parcelled out amongst
his children, but descends entire to his oldest son, or
heir at law. All these circumstances combined afford
great encouragement to agricultural improvement and en¬
terprise.
1 Burton’s Manual of the Law of Scotland, p. 120. j t 17 9d and made
* By the Union, the land tax was limited to L.48,000, deducting all expenses. In 1797, it wa s limited to L-47>9;>4> ls- “T’ f.ix
rpetual, but liable to be redeemed by the proprietor, for stock in the three per cents, equal in annual value to one-tenth more than the •
perpetual
4 TheTeastropoitLn^of^cultivatedand is in the counties of Selkirk, Sutherland, and Orkney, being only about six acres in the hun¬
dred ; the greatest is in the county of Haddington, or East Lothian, where not quite a fourth remains uncultivated.
: General Report of Scotland (ii. p. 321.) at 913,695 acres «^vhich 501 469 were
natural woods, and 412,226 plantations. The quantity of the latter has since increased, so that the total of woodland .annot be
93?’°(jeneral Report, i. p. 123. * Statistical Account of the British Empire, i. p. 539.
SCOTLAND.
753
St«isi(i Statistics. Table, shewing the extent of Land (exclusive of Lakes) in the several Cm,■ it*. 7 ^ '
rr ofCuUi,atedand\n,uuLed acresi eaf t S“n5,'“
z\az;lnii£ r“urm under ihe Pr°™ r<“ ^ ^■» ^
Counties.
Extent.
Acres.
Description of Land.
Cultivated j Uncultivated
Acres. 1 Acres.
Aberdeen, 
Argyle, 
Ayr,. 
Banff, 
Berwick, 
Bute, &c., 
Caithness, 
Clackmannan, 
Cromarty, 
Dunbarton, 
Dumfries, 
Edinburgh, 
Elgin, 
Fife,  
Forfar, 
Haddington, 
Inverness, 
Kincardine, 
Kinross,  
Kirkcudbright, 
Lanark, 
Linlithgow, 
Nairn, 
Orkney and Zetland,.
Peebles, 
Perth, 
Renfrew, 
Ross, 
Roxburgh, 
Selkirk,  
Stirling, 
Sutherland, 
Wigton, 
1,254,400
2,002,560
664.960
412.800
282,880
103,040
439,680
30,720
168.960
145.920
801.920
226,560
302,720
298.880
568.320
174,080
2.594.560
243.200
46,080
525,760
602.880
76,800
124.800
819.200
204,160
1,656,320
144,000
1,677,440
457,600
168.320
312.960
1.122.560
288.960
Totals,  18,944,000
451,584
270,990
325,830
123,840
137,197
29.440
92,333
23,040
21,080
53,990
232,557
144,999
121,088
209,216
369,408
139,264
244,365
92,416
27,648
168,243
271,296
57,600
37.440
46,368
24,500
530,022
72,000
149,895
205,920
10,100
195,600
63,045
101,136
802,816
1,731,570
339,130
288,960
145,683
73,600
347,347
7,680
147,880
91,930
569,363
81,561
181,632
89,664
198,912
34,816
2,350,195
150,784
18,432
357,517
331,584
19,200
87,360
772,832
179,660
1,126,298
72,000
1,527,545
251,680
158,220
117,360
1,059,515
187,824
5,043,450 | 13,900,550
Ascertained
Rental
for 1810.
Rent per acre
in 1810.
L.
233.827
192,074
336,472
79,396
231,973
18,591
30,926
32,048
10,860
56,973
246,002
277.828
62,312
335,291
260,197
180,654
145,844
159,896
22,753
192,047
298,019
82,947
11,728
16,236
57,382
460,739
127,069
91,090
230,667
39,776
177,499
28,457
123,837
4,851,404
L. s. d.
0 3 8|
0 1 11
0 10 U
0 3 10i
0 16 5
0 3 7|
0 1 5
1 0 101
1 4
7 9|
0
0
0 6li
1 4 ~'2
Valued Rent
in
Scotch Money.
ri
1 0 9
0 1 H
0 13 H
0 9 10^
0 7 3!
0 9 10i
1 ‘ “
0
0 0 lll
0 5 71
6|
7>
i
1 7i
1 104
0 5
0 17
0 1
0 10
0 4
0 11
0 0 6"
0 8 6£
L.
235,665
149,595
191,605
79,200
178,366
15,042
37,256
26,482
12,897
33,327
158,502
191,054
65,603
363,192
171,239
168,873
73,188
74,921
20,250
114,597
162,131
75,018
15,162
57,786
51,937
339,892
69,172
75,043
314,663
80,307
108,509
26,093
67,641
s. d.
8 11
10 0
0 7
0 0
8 6^
13 10
2 10
10 10
2 74
19 0
10 0
2 9
0 5
3 7g
16 8
10 8
9 0
14 6
10 64
10 11
0 4
13 10
6 9
1 0
10 3
6 4
15 6
3 34
9 9
17 0
The average rent per acre in Scotland in 1810,   0 5 1^
3,804,221 0 0
Judicial Establishments of Scotland.
The king. In a remote, and what may be termed the aboriginal
period of our judicial annals, the king was chief justice of
the kingdom ; and, with his council, made progress through
the realm for the administration of public justice. At that
time, indeed, the king executed in person the principal
duties of government; and it w as not till comparatively re¬
cent times that the different departments of the state began
to be exclusively assigned to distinct and responsible of¬
ficers.
As late as the middle of the fifteenth century, an act was
passed, in which “ the three estates concluded, that our
sovereign lord ride through the realm incontinent, after there
be w ord sent to his council, where any rebellion, slaughter,
burning, reif, or thieft happens; and there to call the sheriff
of the shire, and ere the king depart out of that shire, to set
remeid of the harm, or gif ony sik sail happen to be done,
whether the default be in the officers or in the doers, to be
punished by the king; the quhilk conclusion and ordinance,
all the barons of common assent and consent are obliged
to assist baith with their power in bodies and gudes.” This
act was passed in the third parliament of king James the
Second; and in the fifth parliament of his successor, when
the courts of justice were regulated by statute, there was
a special proviso to the effect that, “ nevertheless, it sail
be lawful to the kingis highness to take decision of ony
matter that comes before him, at his compleasance, like as .
it was wont to be of before,” 1469, c. 26. Two centuries
afterwards, Charles the Second claimed a like powder and
prerogative ; and “ in a dutiful and humble recognisance
thereof,” the estates of parliament declared, that notwith¬
standing of any jurisdictions or offices whatsoever, “ his
sacred majesty may, by himself or any commissionated by
him, take cognisance and decision of any cases or causes he
pleases,” ali government and jurisdiction within the king¬
dom originally residing in him, 1681, c. 18. Such a right,
however, formed one of the grievances complained of at
the Revolution; and since that event it has been deemed
a settled part of the constitutional law of the land, that the
king has committed all judicial powder to the judges, and
cannot himself administer justice in the courts.
The justiciar (justiciarius) was anciently the king’s more Justiciar.
5 c
VOL. XIX.
754
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, immediate and principal officer. He seems to have been
'derived from Normandy; and agreeably to the mixed con¬
stitution of that country, he was here, as in England, caput
lejis et militice, at the head both of the law and of the mili¬
tary force of the kingdom. He accompanied the king in his
progresses through the realm, or represented him in his ab¬
sence; and he had thus powers and jurisdiction as universal
in their nature as they were unlimited in extent. We find,
accordingly, repeated instances of the military prowess as well
as judicial firmness of our early justiciars ; and, not to men¬
tion other instances, in the middle of the thirteenth century,
Durward, when thwarted in the project he had conceived
of securing the throne to his descendants, joined Henry the
Third in France, and served in his army, till, by the influence
of the English monarch, he was re-instated in his high office
of lord justiciar.
It does not appear, however, that the justiciar ever be¬
came here the formidable officer which he proved to be in
England, where he was at one time a terror both to the
king and to his subjects. Various circumstances concurred to
limit his power. The chief of these, no doubt, was the
influence of his adversary, the Lord Chancellor, as the head
and organ of the ecclesiastics; but much also was owing
to the early partition of the office into a justiciary of ancient
Scotland, or the territory north of the Forth, and of Lothian,
or the territory south of the Forth. This partition of the
office, indeed, 'is observed in the very earliest notice of our
justiciars. The series begins in the reign of Malcolm the
Fourth, and from that time we have distinct and separate
justiciars for Scotland and for Lothian. In neither of these
was Galloway comprehended, that district enjoying its own
peculiar laws and customs but in 1258 it also got a sepa¬
rate justiciar. This state of matters continued till the inva¬
sion of Scotland by Edward the First.
In 1296, Sir William de Ormesby, a justice of the com¬
mon pleas, and justice in ayre in England, was constituted
lord justiciar of Scotland by Edward, who also associated
with'him William de Mortimer, an English justice of as¬
size ; and the next year the same king made Roger de
Skotre, an English lawyer, justiciar of Galloway. But in
1299, John earl of B uchan was justiciar ms Scotice; he was
son of the last regular justiciar of Scotland, Alexander earl
of Buchan, who was upwards of thirty years in office pre¬
vious to his death in the year 1289. In 1305, however,
Edward again put down the Scotch; and thereupon distri¬
buted the kingdom into four districts, appointing for each
district two justices, an Englishman and a Scotchman.
These officers were of the nature of the English justices of
assize; and when we take into consideration the nature of the
appointments which were at the same time made in the
counties, the object in view cannot be mistaken. Edward
evidently contemplated putting the whole island under one
judicial system, which had shortly before been introduced in¬
to England, namely, that of having annual or temporary she¬
riffs with a limited jurisdiction, and confining the law busi¬
ness of the country to a few courts and judges ; a system
very different from that which previously existed both in
England and Scotland, where the great object was to bring
justice home to every man’s door in permanent local courts.
The project, however, Was stopped by Edward’s death; the
justiciars of Scotland and Lothian were then displaced, and
permanent sheriffs restored. Robert the Second also re¬
stored to the people of Galloway their ancient laws.2 Mat¬
ters appear to have generally continued in this state till the
disastrous battle of Flodden. On that event, which united
all classes of the community, the office of lord justiciar, or,
as he was now styled, lord justice general, (in contradistinc¬
tion to the special justiciars now frequently appointed, as
well for particular trials as for particular places and districts,) Statist,
came into the hands of a single individual, and comprehend-"—v*'
ed the whole kingdom. The High Court of Justiciary also
began to be settled at Edinburgh, and from that time com¬
mence the regular series of its books of adjournal.
The Justiciar or Justice-General might now have become
formidable; but circumstances again concurred to reduce
his power. The office fell into the noble family of Argyll,
where it continued hereditary for a century; the Court of
Session was established with a universal civil jurisdiction;
and as that court was co-ordinate with it on the land, the
admiral of Scotland came to be co-ordinate with it on the
seas. By statute 1587, c.82, eight senators or advocates of the
College of Justice, were appointed as justiciar-deputes for the
different quarters into which the realm was then divided;
and by 1672, c. 16, instead of the justice-deputes, five lords
of session were constituted commissioners of justiciary, along
wuth the lord justice-general, and the justice-clerk, which latter
was now made vice-president of the court. By statute 1681,
16, too, the high admiral was declared the king’s lieuten¬
ant and justice-general on the seas. By a recent act, how¬
ever, the Court of Justiciary re-acquired a jurisdiction in
crimes at sea; and by Will. IV. c. 69, which entirely abo¬
lished the court of admiralty, the office of lord justice-general
was made to devolve on, and remain with that of lord-presi¬
dent of the Court of Session. The effect of this seems to
have been to place the justice-general at the head of the
administration of the law ; and thus, by a singular revolution,
to restore him, after the lapse of three hundred years, to his
former situation as lord chief-justice of Scotland.
It may, in conclusion, be remarked here, that in the Court
of Justiciary, which, being a superior or at least co-ordinate
tribunal, was but indirectly affected by the changes in the
law introduced by the Court of Session, several usages of
our most ancient common law have been preserved to this
day. The court meets about eleven o’clock, which was the
hour of cause of old, (1587, c. 87) whereas the Court ol
Session, in direct contrast, rose at that time, meeting, agree¬
ably to the early hours of the ecclesiastics, at eight in the
morning, (1537, c. 49). So also, jury trial, when laid aside
by the other courts, continued here; the verdict is still
by a majority ; and in the assizes oath, we may trace at once
the original character ol a jury as an inquest ot the vicin¬
age, and also the rhythmical measures of our old legal for¬
mulae. The circuits of the Court of Justiciary were ar¬
ranged in their present form by the act 1587, c. 82. Previ¬
ous to that time the justiciar made a progress through the
realm, from shire to shire, successively ; but, by the above
act, the realm was divided into four districts, or quarters.
The present circuits are, besides the Lothians or home cir¬
cuit, the southern, western, and northern circuits. The as¬
size towns of the south, are Jedburgh, Dumfries, and Ayr,
those of the west, Glasgow, Inverary, and Stirling; those of
the north, Perth, Aberdeen, and Inverness.
The Court of Session, that is to say, the first court so Court c
called, was erected in 1425, the year following King James Session
the First’s return from his long captivity in England. It was
composed of the “ chancellor, and with him certain discreet
persons of the three estates, chosen and depute by the king;
and was to have a like jurisdiction as that exercised by the
king and his council. It wTas, however, but of short duration ;
for, on the king’s death, or rather on that ol Bishop Ward-
law of St. Andrews, by whose influence it was in all likeli¬
hood erected, Bishop Cameron, the chancellor, was removed
from office, and the court of the session expired. At¬
tempts were afterwards made to revive it by Bishop Horse-
wood, secretary to king James II.; and, thirty years afterwards,
by Bishop Elphinstone, whose zeal for the establishment ot
1 Stat. Alex. II. c. J 1. fin.
* 2 Rob. I. c. 35.
SCOTLAND.
'afe,
Ltistics. the Roman law is well known. Accordingly in 1503, the
court of daily council, which was essentially a revival of the
former court of the session, was established by means of
Bishop Elphinstone. And at length, whilst the kingdom
was yet in a state of distraction from the fatal losses at Flod-
den, the present Court of Session or College of Justice was
instituted; and of the numerous attempts of the clergy to
establish the Roman law as the common law of the land,
this was the last and most successful.
According to the simple principles of our old law, all suits
originated by plaint, claim, or summary application to the
judge, setting forth the cause of action; and the judge was
bound of common right to administer justice therein. But
afterwards, a maxim was introduced that the judges were
substitutes of the crown, and consequently should take cog¬
nisance only of what was specially referred to them. Brieves
or mandatory letters from the king to the judges were then
invented; and the chancel of the royal chapel became the
great qfficina justitice, the shop or mint where the king’s
writs were framed, and sold out to parties injured, according
to the exigency of the case. These writs issued out from
the chancel or chancery until the institution of the College
of Justice, when the chancellor and clergy, who were the
principal judges there, began a mint or shop of their own
in the Bill chamber of the court, so called because the
brieves, or, as they are here termed letters, issue out, not on
the oral application of the party, but on his “ bill” or written
supplication. This course of proceeding was adopted from
the court of Rome; and it is observable, that in both cases
the language employed is sometimes identical. Thus, when
the request or prayer of the bill is granted, the judgment
is, Fiat ut petitur, which are the very words used by the
Pope in the like case ; and the odd phrase, “ Finds the letters
orderly proceeded,” is but a verbal translation of tbe Male
appellatum et bene processum of the papal court. The
names of the letters are also the same, letters of advocation,
suspension, and reduction, being equally well knowm in both
places ; and letters of horning, caption, and relaxation, have
their papal origin impressed upon them. 1 he comparison
might be carried through our whole process to its minutest
technicality, and also to the style and habit of the judges.
After the manner of the ecclesiastical tribunals, too, the judges
deliberated in secret conclave w ith shut doors, parties and
their counsel, and all others being removed (1537, c. 66);
and there was no report of the judges’ opinions, or of the
reasons of the judgment, but only of the vote or sentence.
At the Revolution, however, the court was thrown open;
but so powerful is custom over all men, that to this day the
great body of the practitioners continue to walk the Outer
House.
In modern times the court has been altered in almost
every particular; its constitution and jurisdiction, the num¬
ber of the judges, the distribution of the business, and the
forms of proceeding. The machinery was indeed bad, but
the spirit which pervaded it was worse ; and the best anti¬
dote to this would perhaps be the full force of public opi¬
nion, that is, perfect publicity, not merely of hearing and
judgment, but of every step in the administration of justice.
According to its first institution, the court consisted of a
president and fourteen ordinary lords, half of the tempora
estate and half spiritual, of which the president likewise
was one. The Lord Chancellor, who was also an ecclesi¬
astic, was made principal of the college, as it was tei met,
and as such had a vote with the judges; and theie w^as a
755
reserved power to the king to appoint, at his pleasure, three Statistics,
or four extraordinary lords, a power which the crown always '^**^r~**-
exercised, and also sometimes greatly abused. It wras the
Reformation which gave the first blow to the court. From
that event it began to lose its ecclesiastical, which had
been its earliest and most distinguishing feature. The Re¬
volution followed, and opened up to the public eye the here¬
tofore secret tribunal. And at the union with England it
ceased to be supreme, though this last peculiarity, and that
by which the Lords became so formidable in the country,
was long struggled for, and is yet perhaps but imperfectly
given up by the court. These important changes, how¬
ever, affected the spirit and character of the court, rather
than its external form, which remained much as it was be¬
fore. But they prepared the way for alterations there too;
and during the last thirty years, a great number of public
statutes have been passed, altering the details of the court,
and otherwise regulating the administration of justice
throughout the kingdom.
In 1808, the commencement of the period just referred
to, the court was formed into two divisions; or, in effect, two
communicating but equal and independent courts. The
reason assigned for this change, was the greatly increased
number of lawsuits from the great extension of agriculture,
commerce, manufactures, and population, and the conse¬
quent multiplication of transactions in Scotland. There is
every ground to believe, however, that much of the suppos¬
ed business w as caused by the tedious methods of proof and
written pleadings adopted by the court, and its endless judg¬
ments and rehearings; for in the degree in which these have
been abolished, the court has been able to absorb and dis-
patch the business of the other superior courts, and still to
allow a decrease in the number of its judges. These are
now only thirteen in all. Each division is composed of four
judges ; ’ the Lord President, who is properly head of the
whole court, presiding in the First Division, and the Lord
Justice-Clerk presiding in the Second. The remaining
judges sit separately in the Outer House, as Lords Ordi¬
nary. This term was originally given to all the judges un¬
der the president, and they served in the Outer House
by rotation; but amongst other recent changes, the five
junior judges were at first made permanent Lords Ordinary,
as attached to a particular division of the Inner House, but
now without any such relation. The junior or youngest
Lord Ordinary of all is Ordinary on the Bills, and has a
peculiar class of cases assigned to him. But it is to be ob¬
served, that from him, and from the other Ordinaries, an ap¬
peal lies, or a proceeding in the nature of an appeal, to the
Inner House; which, besides this appellate, has also some
original jurisdiction. It is not necessary to add, that theie
is much imperfection in this whole system of judicature.
There appears to have been little unity of design in its
formation ; there is considerable complexity in its actual
working, and there is no great satisfaction in its results.
Let us now' turn our attention to the local courts through¬
out the kingdom. . . r ...
In early times the realm was divided into provinces, clan- Celtic
ships, or counties, in each of which was a maormor, maor, Judge,
mayor or mair, as the king’s executive and ministerial officer;
and in every countv or province there were divers judges,
each exercising judicial functions. The provinces and ju¬
dicial districts of those times, however, are now but impu-
fectly known; and, as might be expected,the series of mayors
and judges cannot by any means be made out. With re-
   ’ __ f,.io lain u ofija • in 1820, it was 2069; and
1 In the year 1800, the number of causes enrolled in the Outer House^, was -
in 1831, it was 1956. In the years 1836 and 1837, the business stood thus .- Decree8 in force — 
Oecia* in force R®clf™'ngHouST by Inner House.
Year. Causes Enrolled. Decrees in Absence. by f^rds Ordinary. 456 382
1836, L770 546 /1U
1837,
1.565
564
600
356
375
Average Number of Appeals
to House of Lords.
45
756
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, spect to the latter, viz., the Celtic judge, we have not traced
v—him to a later period than the beginning of the fourteenth
century. He was in all probability extinguished during king
Edward’s invasion of Scotland in the unhappy times which
followed on the death of king Alexander the Third. The
sheriff was then universally established; and as that officer
engrossed to himself the functions both of the judge and
mair, the former disappeared entirely from our annals, whilst
the latter gradually degenerated into the sheriff’s officer,
with whom, accordingly, he is, to the present day, found
mixed up in some of the northern counties.
Sheriffs. The most ancient sheriff was certainly the comes or earl.
There is no direct evidence to that effect, however; and
from a remote time, the officer so called was the vice-comes.
The office w^as not a century in existence amongst us, when,
falling into the hands of the great local proprietors, it be¬
gan to descend to heirs with the paternal estate. The she¬
riffship of Ayr, which was erected in the year 1221, out of
the bailiaries of Kyle, Carrick, and Cuningham, was from
the first hereditary. It is not surprising that the hereditary
vice-comes should soon cease to perform in person the duties
of his office; these were accordingly devolved on a deputy
or sub-vice-comes. The earliest officer of this sort we have
met with, is Alan de Pilch, or Alan of the hairy garment,
sub-vice-comes de Inverness, temp. Robert I.;1 but sheriff-
deputes are mentioned much earlier,2 and to such an extent
was the abuse of deputation carried, that in some counties,
that of Cromarty for instance, the district w'as partitioned
into various deputy-sheriffships, and individuals appointed,
such as officers of the army, medical men, and others, in
situations of life perfectly incompatible with the due dis¬
charge of the office. The office also in many instances be¬
came hereditary; and another was required to execute the
active duties of the place, or pro-sub-vice-comes. Thus, at
the time of the jurisdiction act in 1747, there were in most
or all of the counties, omitting the comes, count or earl,
a sheriff-principal or high sheriff, and sheriff-depute, and a
sheriff-substitute. All these were continued by the above
act; but the judicial powers were confined to the two last,
whose duties and qualifications have also been repeatedly
regulated. It would undoubtedly have been more agree¬
able to principle, however, to have abolished offices which
grew out of the abuses of the times, and assigned to every
sheriff a reasonable district in respect of extent and popu¬
lation, with constant residence therein, and the exercise of
judicial functions only. In determining the number, cha¬
racter, and situation of courts in a country, the great pro¬
blem evidently is, so to distribute them as to secure two
things, namely, to bring justice home to every man’s door,
and to mature a sound and fixed system of jurisprudence.
In England, the latter object appears to have been princi¬
pally regarded since the days of Edward the First, before
whose time England and Scotland were equally distinguish¬
ed for their local courts. But what, we may ask, avails the
best system of law, if it be remote or difficult of access ?
The end is in such case sacrificed to the means; and a mul¬
titude of petty courts, with a few practitioners in each, would
prove the ruin not only of the legal profession, but of the
law itself.
The sheriff-principal, or high sheriff, is lord lieutenant of
his county, and appointed at pleasure by the crown. The
sheriff-depute, so called, is also appointed by the crown; but
he is quite independent of the high sheriff. He must be an
advocate of at least three years’ standing; he holds his office
during life, or good behaviour; and he receives a salary, va¬
rying, according to the shire, from L.350 to L.1200 a-year.
The sheriff-substitute must be of the profession of the law,
though not necessarily a member of the bar. He is named Statisti
by the sheriff-depute of the shire, but paid by the crown,
and is otherwise an independent officer. In every county
there is a high sheriff or lord lieutenant. The same may
be said of the sheriff-depute, except as to the united shires
of Clackmannan and Kinross, Elgin and Nairn, Ross and
Cromarty. Ross, Sutherland, and Caithness, were origi¬
nally parts of the great shire of Inverness; but in the seven¬
teenth century they became disjoined, and were erected in¬
to separate shires. By the jurisdiction act, however, Ross
was put under the same sheriff with the ancient shire of
Cromarty, and has continued so ever since. Sutherland and
Caithness were then also re-united; but in 1806 these were
again separated. Kinross was originally part of Fife; but it
was afterwards separated, then re-united, and in 1807 disjoin¬
ed again, and united to Clackmannan. With respect to the
sheriff-substitute, in every shire there is at least one; but
Edinburgh, Fife, Forfar, Perth, Renfrew, and Sutherland,
have each two, Kirkcudbright and Argyle have each three,
Lanark and Inverness have each four, and in one of the dis¬
tricts of Ross there is a sort of assistant substitute.
The jurisdiction of the county courts was originally most
extensive; and as to civil suits in particular, there seems to
have been scarcely any limitation. It was the policy of the
Court of Session, however, to make itself the great law
court of the kingdom; and as it gradually absorbed the civil
jurisdiction of the justiciary, so, by a bold stratagem, it
stripped the sheriff of all power to decide upon questions of
real property. Such questions were formerly tried under
the brieve of right, a judicial writ so named, because is¬
sued to try what was esteemed the highest right, that of pro¬
perty in land; and it is clear that this brieve was in vivid*
observantia, and competent to sheriffs, till within a very
few years of the institution of the Court of Session. This is
clear from the act 1503, c. 95, which was passed to regu¬
late it; and it is familiarly referred to by the poet Dunbar,
in his Dance of the Seven Deadly Sins, where, speaking
of the occupations of the damned, he says,
“ Nae minstrels playit to them hot doubt,
For glee-men there were holden out
Be day and eik be night,
Except a minstrel that slew a man :
Swa tith his heritage be wan,
Entering be brieve of right /”
Yet the Court of Session was scarcely established, when
it boldly adjudged this brieve “ nocht to have bene, nor
yet to be thir mony yeires in use ;”3 and having thus, by re¬
pressing the writ, ousted the sheriff of his real jurisdiction,
soon took it to itself exclusively,4 by letters prepared for the
court in its own Bill-chamber. The sheriff, however, still
continued competent to possessory actions; and by a recent
statute, his jurisdiction has even extended to all actions and
proceedings relative to nuisance or damages, arising from
an undue exercise of the right of property, and also to ques¬
tions touching the constitution or exercise of real or judicial
servitudes, which is so far a restoration of his ancient powers.
Besides the ordinary jurisdiction, civil and criminal, of the
county court, the sheriff is empowered to decide summarily
in questions of debt, when the sum in dispute does not ex¬
ceed eight pounds. These small debt courts were insti¬
tuted in 1825, with a view to extend and improve the like
jurisdiction, which had been conferred upon justices of the
peace about thirty years before. The summary redress
which such courts afford is of the greatest benefit to trade
and to good neighbourhood, in consequence of the little sa¬
crifice of time, money, and feeling they require; and they
are accordingly bow extensively established, not only in this
1 Robertson’s Index, p. 29.
* Skene voce Breve de recto.
* Stat. Will. c. 14. Stat. Alex. II. c. 14.
♦Bishop of Aberdeen v. Ogilvy, 3d July 1563.
* S,ati8tics- country, but in England. There can be no doubt, how-
I ever, that they had their origin in Scotland.*
The courts we have now adverted to comprehend the
public and general courts of the kingdom, which have a
public and general jurisdiction ; but besides these, there are,
or rather were, some whose jurisdiction was limited to par¬
ticular sorts of causes only. We allude to the Court of Ex¬
chequer, and the ecclesiastical and maritime courts.
Court of With respect to the first of these, the old Scotch court,
Exchequer, composed of the treasurer and lords auditors of exchequer’
was superseded at the union by a Court of Exchequer, com¬
posed of a lord chief-baron and four puisne barons; and in
addition to certain ministerial powers continued from the old
court, it had the like authority, jurisdiction, and course of
procedure as the Court of Exchequer in England, after which
generally it was modelled. It was an absurdly large and ex¬
pensive establishment. It had comparatively nothing to do ;
and as the judges might be, and some of them commonly
were, English barristers, it never could be opened up, like
the exchequer of England, to the ordinary law business of
the country. Accordingly the barons were gradually reduced,
and the business is now transacted by a lord of session sit¬
ting as a judge in exchequer.
The Commission of Teinds, which was first erected at the
Reformation, was in like manner remodelled at the Union.
It was formerly vested with powers for the planting of
churches, assigning and modifying stipends, and the valua¬
tion and sale of teinds. But by a recent statute, all actions
for the valuation or sale of teinds, all actions of suspension
or reduction of localities, and all actions of declarator or re¬
duction connected with teinds, must be brought and decid¬
ed in the Court of Session.
In times of popery, causes ecclesiastical were tried by
the archdeacon’s official, the bishop's commissary, and the
auditor or official principal of the province ; from which last
an appeal lay to the pope, who generally determined the
matter by commission. But at the Reformation, commis¬
saries named by the crown were appointed in every com¬
missariat ; and a Commissary Court, with original and ap¬
pellate jurisdiction, was also established at Edinburgh, of
which Sir James Balfour, the former official of St. Andrews,
within the archdeaconry of Lothian, was the first chief-
judge. The commissary courts continued till recent times,
when the office of the local commissaries was abolished, and
soon afterwards the Commissary Court of Edinburgh, their
powers and jurisdiction being transferred to the Court of
SCOTLAND.
757
Commis¬
sion of
Teinds.
Courts ec-
:le$iastical.
Session, and, in as far as regards confirmation of testaments, Statistics,
to the sheriff or county courts.
The jurisdiction ofthe Admiralty cannot perhaps be traced roi.rf nf
century awhenPthe0dffithanf beg!nninS of the sixteenth Admiralty,
century, when the office of lord justiciar, who was of old the *
supreme judge in all manner of causes, became hereditary
in the noble family of Argyll, and the authority ofthe Ad¬
miralty was also long very limited. It was confined to sea¬
faring causes, and in these it had no exclusive jurisdiction.1 2
I he earliest collection of maritime laws in Scotland, is that
contained in Balfour’s Practicks, and entitled “ The Sea
Laws, collectit furth ofthe Actis of Parliament, the prac-
tiques and lawis of Oberon, and the lawis of Wisbeig, and
the constitutions of hrancois, king of France, 1543, 1557.”
1 his we conceive was the Lib. Lintor. referred to by Bal¬
four, and the work of David Kintore, then judge of the
Admiralty. Towards the end of the same century, Alex¬
ander King, advocate, filled the same office; and from the
date of his Treatise on Maritime Law, apparently the first
regular treatise on that branch of jurisprudence in Great
Britain, the court of Admiralty rose into importance. By the
act 1609, c. 15, it was declared a sovereign judicatory, and
letters of horning were allowed on its decrees; and the repu¬
tation of the court being afterwards sustained by a succes¬
sion of eminent judges, such as Acheson of Glencairney,
Roberton of Beidlay, and Lyon of Carse, all of whom be¬
came lords of Session, it began to extend its jurisdiction
geneially to mercantile, and not, as before, to mere seafaring
causes. The above act was then ratified by that of 1681, c.
16, by which the ground of the court was farther cleared and
enlarged; the admiral being now also styled the high ad¬
miral, and declared the king’s lieutenant and justice-gene¬
ral on the high seas. By a later statute, provision was made
for a stated salary of L.100 to the judge of the Admiralty.
This was renewed by the act 1704, c. 8; and by 26 Geo. III.
c. 47, the salary was made L.400, which was afterwards rais¬
ed to L.800 a-year. The court, however, did not long en¬
joy this flow of prosperity By the 6 Geo. IV. c. 120, juris¬
diction in prize and capture was withdrawn, and vested in
the Admiralty of England ; and by a later statute the court
was altogether abolished, and its remaining jurisdiction trans¬
ferred to the Court of Session, and Sheriff courts ; the High
Court of Justiciary having also previously re-acquired, as of
old, a co-ordinate jurisdiction in crimes at sea.
An ancient species of exempt territory was that of sane- Sanctuaries
tuary. The first of the sort were probably churches; and
1 The following table, from official returns, of causes brought for the five years preceding 1832, will give an idea of the working of the
ordinary civil courts of the sheriffs in some of the principal counties.
Decreets in
Actions brought. Absence.
Edinburgh,  6,732 2,322
Lanark  10,227 4,320
Perth,    6.823 3,377
Aberdeen  6,033 3,777
Forfar  3,5.31 1,636
Argyle  3,033 1,580
Ayr,  2,764 938
Dumfries,    2,653 1,420
Fife  2,442 1,1083
Inverness,   2,385 1,413
Litigated.
2,248
5,907
2,971
2,256
1,823
679
1,826
1,233
1,596
801
Appealed to
Sheriff-Depute.
611
1,725
887
543
298
No return.
1,461
No return.
382
232
Taken to Court of Session
or Justiciary.
91
181
85
71
7
9
54
47
34 -
28
The following table, from official returns, will show the working of the small debt courts, and at the same time
ence given to the sheriff, or to the justices of the peace, in the counties named.
point out the prefer-
Nuniber of Small Debt Causes decided in the year 1832.
i
By the Justices.
Edinburgh, 9,254
Lanark, 9,001
Aberdeen, 2,322
Forfar 1,767
Perth,  993
See Leg. Burg. c. 27; Pitcairn’s Criminal
By the Sheriff.
4,055
11,182
2,769
2,093
1,543
Argyle, 
Ross, 
Inverness 
Clackmannan,
Haddington,..
By the Justices.
.... 338
.... 190
.... 141
.... 21
2
Trials, vol. i. part i. p. 129, and partii. p. 93; and A. S., 16th January
By the Sheriff.
1,133
1,320
1,531
224
282
1554.
i
758
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, in regard to them we find a rescript of Pope Innocent III.
to the king of Scots,1 and thereupon the statute Alex. II. c.
6, which is among the earliest regulations on the subject in
the Scotch law. There were of old divers sanctuaries, or, as
they were termed, girths, (1469, c. 35 ; 1535, c. 23 ; 1555,
c. 31), and mostly ecclesiastical; there being a constant
rivalry at all times between the sovereign power and the
ecclesiastical. But the only one now in use, is the sanc¬
tuary of Holyrood, which, besides usage, has two main
foundations, namely, a religious house, and a royal palace,
especially the former, the precincts being usually called the
sanctuary of Holyroodhouse, and the court there the Abbey
court. The jurisdiction of the place is administered by a
bailie, who holds a court for debt, and other civil obligations,
where the debtor dwells within the precincts
The superintendence of the royal burghs was in the king’s Statistics!
chamberlain, who held ayres, or itinerant courts, at which
the magistrates and burgesses of burghs were bound to give
attendance, and where he heard and determined all charges
made against them. He was also in use from the eailiest
times, to hold, in the southern part of the kingdom, courts
of four boroughs ; which were so called because composed of
delegates from the four burghs, originally of Edinburgh, Stir¬
ling, Berwick, and Roxburgh, but afterwards of Edinburgh,
Stirling, Lanark, and Linlithgow. These delegates assem¬
bled before the chamberlain, and formed for appeals from
the chamberlain ayres, and the different burgh courts, a tri¬
bunal which was to burgesses what the high court of par-
liament was to the other inhabitants of the kingdom, the
last and highest court of appeal. The northern burghshad
Regalities
and Stew-
artries.
Burghs.
Regalltieswere aliothenlpec^s of exTmpt territory. been long untoa f ^ar"”ent^ ‘^eaT"'J'S
MSMils iSiipl
msmmmam
islands of Orkney and Zetland, which were also erected into
a stewartry,3 differs materially from a shire; each having a
court perfectly of the nature of a sheriff or county court.
Besides these, there were other stewartries, such as Strath-
ern and Menteith in Perthshire, and Annandale in Dum¬
fries ; but by the jurisdiction act, they merged into their re¬
spective shires. .
Burghs form yet another species of exempt territory ; the
principal character of a burgh being its separate jurisdiction
and independent government, but upon reasons altogether
different from either sanctuaries or regalities. Ihey arise
neither from superstition nor princes’ favours. I hey have
their origin in the wants and social tendencies of our na¬
ture ; they are the chosen seats of civilization and the arts
of life; and the distinction between them and shires per¬
vades the entire political constitution of the country. There
are three sorts of burghs, namely, burghs of barony, burghs
of regality, and burghs of royalty or royal burghs ; and in
establishing these last, it would seem to have been the gene¬
ral policy of government to divide the realm into districts,
in each of which a royal burgh was placed. Several of the
burghs are counties of themselves, or counties corporate,
such as Edinburgh, Stirling, Perth, Aberdeen, and Inver¬
ness ; and these obviously contain within themselves all the
elements of government and judicature. But it has untor-
tunately happened, that none of the burgh courts has
kept pace with the advance of intelligence, the progress ot
trade, or the increase of commercial transactions. Justice
continues to be administered there just as it was centuries
The consequence is, that the peculiar feature ol the
formed in imitation of the northern Hanse. The inconve¬
nience of having two separate yet similar assemblies in the
kingdom, however, must have been quickly felt; and, at
the same time, the ease and propriety of uniting them, and
thus assimilating the regimen of all the burghs, obvious.
Accordingly, in the end of the same century, an act ot
parliament was passed, (1487, c. 3.) appointing ^deputies
from all the royal burghs, “ baith north and south, to meet
in convention yearly, thus forming the convenUon o royal
burghs which%has been ever sihce continued. I he place ot
meeting was fixed at Inverkeithing, on the north of the
Forth, probably from its central situation ; but the conven¬
tion soon removed to Edinburgh, which had long been the
seat of the court of four boroughs, and was now become
the metropolis of the kingdom. On the institution of the
Court of Session, the court of four boroughs and the cham¬
berlain ayres quickly fell into disuse, their judicial, and
many of their ministerial functions having been engrossed
by that court; and from the time of Malcolm lord t leming,
who fell at Pinkey in 1547, the office of chamberlain, or, as
he was now styled, lord great chamberlain, ceased to be ex¬
ercised. The convention, however, continued its yearly
meetings ; indeed, its records begin only at this time, when
the Lord Provost of Edinburgh became by devolution its
standing preses, and the Town-Clerk ol Edinburg i i
Let us now return to the general and ordinary courts of
the kingdom ; the Court of Justiciary and Court of Session,
® ^ i .i T» • 1 • r-. Knirpnc
ago.
tile IVIIIiiv*Will 5 ^ ~ J
the Sheriff Court, and the Bailie Courts of burghs,
e consequence is. .ha. thepeculiar feature of the The On*
burghs as independent jurisdictions has in many cases given in institution of the Court of Session, iV
way ; the burgh courts have been forsaken for the s icn , . requiring all sheriffs and other
and justice of peace courts ; and it seems to have become a f ^1 fdis to copy the proceedings, not of the justices,
public question of policy, whether they should not be alto- tempera j ^ to of gession . and the principle
gether abolished. The same causes, however, w ic i ga „ , . ’ . t as a(j0pted in the recent judicature act
origin to burghs, remain ; and therefore it would seem to of civil matters. The course
rr^e^SruA^-daX^Hges ,8’ Ledonthe^nalwrittocompenrincourtperemptordy
* Decret. Greg. 46 3.
J See 1669, c. 13.
Tit. 49. c. 6. , , i «
4 Kennedy’s Annals of Aberdeen, vol. i. p. ».
a Regales, Cod. Theod. vii. 1,9.
» Slat. Rob. HI. c. 33.
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, on a day named, the intervening days being held as inducice
leg ales. If, when the cause is called, the defender do not
appear, decree in absence may pass against him. If he ap¬
pear, lie is allowed certain days, termed inducice delibera-
torice, to see the original writ and productions, and deter¬
mine whether and how he shall proceed. He then puts in
his defence and plea, admitting or denying the facts alleged,
stating any other facts which he offers to prove, and subjoin¬
ing a summary of the pleas in law on which he means to found.
The defences and all subsequent steps of procedure must be
drawn by counsel; and after the defences are given in, every
order in the cause must be moved for in court and determined
by the judges. If the parties choose they may go to judg¬
ment on the summons and defences; but commonly more
specific pleadings are ordered, such as a condescendence and
answers, or mutual condescendences, which are similar to the
responsive allegations of the ecclesiastical courts, and both are
borrowed from the articuli et responsiones of the papal pro¬
cess. These papers being revised by the parties, the record,
ready to be closed, is transmitted to the judge for private con¬
sideration ; after which, it is put out by him for debate.
Parties are then heard in court by their counsel, and the
judge may thereupon either give judgment at once, or, as
is commonly the case, take the proceedings to chambers
again for consideration, and there write out his decision ;
or, if any difficulty occur in the determination of the case, he
may report the point to the Inner House for their direction or
decision ; or again, if the cause involves details or difficul¬
ties, he may order cases, that is to say, full argumentative
pleadings, and then either decide the cause or report it to
the Inner House. When the Lord Ordinary gives an in¬
terlocutor or judgment, it maybe carried to the Inner House
by reclaiming note, upon which counsel are heard, and the
decision of the Lord Ordinary either altered or adhered to,
and with or without cost, as the court may determine.
In jury causes, that is to say, causes appropriated for
trial by jury, or in which jury trial is to take place, the course
of proceeding now pointed out is but partially followed. In
such causes a record is made up in the manner described; but
as the system of pleading adopted in the Scotch courts does
not, as in the common law courts of England, bring out the
issue whether of fact or law, issues must be prepared. This
is done by an officer of court, and in settling issues there is
frequently considerable difficulty. In the proceedings of
sheriff and bailie courts, however, there is something like
an approach to the English system, an answer or reply to
the defence being allowed. But here the analogy ends.
There is no rejoinder unless ordered; and from the multi¬
tude of pleas pleadable in each paper, a single issue, or in¬
deed any issue, in the technical sense of the term, is never
produced. It is also to be observed, that jury trials in civil
causes gradually fell into disuse in the local courts after the
institution of the Court of Session, where such mode of trial
was unknown till recently introduced by statute ; and it has
not been re-established except in the Court of Session. The
details of a jury trial, when it does take place, need not be
specified here, though they differ in some few particulars
from the like proceeding in England.
Of the several methods of defence and proof in criminal
cases, the earliest, and at the same time the rudest, was
battle, in which the parties litigant put the truth of their
averment on the issue of a judicial combat.1 This method
of trial, so truly barbarous, was termed the judgment of
God, though that appellation came more peculiarly to de¬
signate another method of a different origin, but no less
uncertain as a criterion of truth. This was ordeal, which,
if not introduced, was at least continued and countenanced
by the ecclesiastics. It was of various kinds, but those known
759
m Scotland were water, fire, and iron ;2 and accordingly, as Statistics.
ie accused was able to bear applications of these, so ac-
core ingly was he judged guilty or innocent. Another me¬
thod ot trial used also instead of battle, was that by com-
purgators, where the defendant exculpated or purged him-
selt of the guilt imputed to him, by declaring his innocence
on oath, and also producing a number of persons to swear
that they believed he swore truly, which they did in gene-
lal on their knowledge of his character.3 But all these
methods of trial have been abolished, or have gradually be¬
come obsolete, which leads us to notice the course of pro¬
ceeding now in use in ordinary cases.
dhe fiist step is to commit the accused for examination,
when, if no case is made out, he is dismissed, otherwise he
is committed for trial. From that moment he may sue out
and “ run his letters,” a proceeding analogous to the habeas
corpus. Trial being determined on, the accused is sum¬
moned to the day fixed, being at the same time served with
a duplicate of the indictment or criminal letters, and lists of
the assize (jurors) and w itnesses on his own behalf. On the
day of compearance, he must appear personally, (otherwise
he is outlawed,) and stand at the bar or pannel whence he
is termed the pannel; but in all cases he is allowed counsel
and agent. If, on arraignment, he has no special matter
to plead, the libel is read to him, and his confession, if made,
is recorded. If any special plea on the relevancy is offered,
it is determined by the judges on oral or written argument.
Issue being joined, the evidence on both sides is laid before
the court and jury, which are now impannelled for that pur¬
pose. The jury are then addressed by the pannel or his
counsel, and the evidence is afterwards summed up by the
presiding judge, with a direction in law to the jury; when the
jury, after deliberation, return, unanimously, or by a majority,
a verdict of guilty, not proven, or not guilty, as the case may
be. A verdict of not guilty declares the prisoner’s inno¬
cence ; a verdict of not proven indicates suspicion, but in¬
sufficient proof of guilt; and in the case of a verdict of
guilty, but in that only, sentence is pronounced. The na¬
ture of the sentence depends not only on the crime, but
also on the public prosecutor ; for of a long time past that
officer has been in use to exercise a power to restrict the
pains of law. This important power is commonly exercis¬
ed with great discretion ; yet undoubtedly it is a danger¬
ous one to hold, and to it more, perhaps, than to any other
cause whatever, is to be ascribed the singularly lax state of
the criminal law of Scotland in reference to the punishment
for crime.
There seems little doubt but that in early times the king Public
was public prosecutor, as he was also generalissimo and Prosecutor,
chief justice of the kingdom. His great officer, the justi¬
ciar, who followed him, as we have seen, in the two latter
capacities, followed him likewise in the capacity of public
prosecutor; and what the justiciar did throughout the
realm generally, the same did the sheriff in his particular
county. Accordingly, we find it enacted in our early law
that if any stranger remained in a town longer than a night
without finding a pledge or surety for his good behaviour,
“ the justiciar or the sheriff shall accuse him ;”4 and so late
as the middle of the fifteenth century it wras enacted “ that
all mairs and serjeants arrest at the sheriff ’s bidding, albeit
na party follower be, all trespassers, and that the sheriff fol¬
low said trespassers in the king’s name, gif na party follower
appears,” (1436, c. 140.) In process of time however, as the
principles of civil liberty and the elements of our constitution
came to be better understood, distinct officers were appoint¬
ed to the different departments of the State ; and this office
of public prosecutor naturally devolved upon the crown coun¬
sel. The principal of these is the lord advocate, and next to
Quon. Att. c. 61, Leg. Burg. c. 24.
Quon. Att. c. 5, §. 7; Leg. Burg. c. 24.
* Stat. Will. c. 7, 15; Stat. Alex. II. c. 7.
4 Quon, Att. c. 63.
760
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, him is the solicitor-general, an officer derived from the Eng-
Hsh courts, and probably not known in Scotland earlier than
the union of the crowns in the beginning of the seventeenth
century. There are also four standing deputies to the lord ad¬
vocate, or “ advocate deputes,” as they are termed, who had
their origin by the act 1587, c. 82, which divided the realm
into circuits for the administration of criminal justice. The
procurators fiscal of the county and burgh courts, who are the
public prosecutors in their respective districts, may also be
regarded as deputies of the lord advocate. It is true they
do not derive their authority from him; but they commu¬
nicate with him in the prosecution of criminals, and in that
department have generally the same powers and duties.
The following table will shew the great importance of public
prosecutor.
Number of Indictments and Criminal Letters issued from
the Justiciary Court.
Year.
1812
1813
H814
1815
1816
1817
For trial in the
High Court
For trial on circuit-
18
24
22
22
30
4.3
159
56
62
60
108
120
176
582
Of both which there were
at the instance of the
Lord Advocate.
68
83
76
122
125
210
684
The following statement will also give some idea of the
working of the criminal jurisdictions ot Scotland. It relates
to the year 1836. In that year there were 2922 persons
charged with crime in the several counties and burghs of
Scotland. Of these 289 were discharged without trial, and
219 from other causes ; and of the remaining 2414, there
were tried by the Justiciary, 574, (viz. 173 in the high court,
and 404 oncircuit) ; by sheriffs, 1325, (viz. 547 with jury, and
778 without jury); anil 515 by burgh magistrates, justices of
the peace, and others. Of the above 2414 also, 2152 were
convicted ; in 194 cases the charges were found not proven ;
30 were declared not guilty ; 36 were outlawed, and two were
found insane on arraignment. And finally, of the 2152
convicted, 1647 were sentenced to imprisonment of differ¬
ent periods, 305 were condemned to transportation for differ¬
ent periods, 187 were punished by fine, 6 were discharged
on sureties, 2 had sentence of death, 1 was executed, and
5 received no sentence.
Next in dignity to the crown counsel is the dean of fa¬
culty, facultatis juridicce decanus; or rather we should
say that between these learned personages there has been a
contest waged, the latter claiming precedence of the former.
This claim, however, seems to be just a residuum of the
once greater claims of the whole college of justice, and the
dispute but a continuation of the conflict formerly main¬
tained by the court against all power except its own. The
place of dean of faculty has been held by some of the first
men of the kingdom ; and in the course of the last two
hundred years there have been no less than three instances
of elevation from it at once to the presidentcy of the Court
of Session, Sir George Lockhart, Sir Hugh Dalrymple, and
Mr, Blair. But in all the common elements of rank there
cannot be a doubt of its inferiority to that of crown counsel.
According to the original constitution of the Court of
Session, the members were associated into a college, with a
view to a collegiate or common life ; the judges or lords of
Session being “ senators” of the college, and the advocates
X\\o facultas juridica, or faculty of law, subordinate to whom
were the students of law, or “ servitors,” as they were
termed, who were attached to particular advocates as their
pupils in the study of the law. The celebrated Sir Thomas Statistics.
Hope was in early life a “ servitor” to Sir Thomas Nicol-
son. The term “ servitor” was a college term, well known
in the University of Oxford ; but it has gone out of use
with us, those formerly so designed being now termed
“ advocates’ first clerks.” But to what extent such in¬
tention was ever carried out, or whether any thing ex¬
isted here in the nature of the English laws ot court
or Doctors Commons, does not appear. At present there
is nothing of the sort. The original entry money to the
Faculty was L.40 Scotch, and so it continued till 1672,
the year in which the statute for the regulation of the judi¬
catories passed, when the sum was raised to 200 merks. In
the beginning of last century it had advanced to L.40 ster¬
ling, and now, after repeated advances, the fees of entry are
upwards of 250 guineas besides extras. The number of
the Faculty which, forty years ago, was about 260, is at
present about 470, averaging of late about twelve in the
year; but a fourth part only are in attendance on the
courts.
The distinction of counsel and agents in Scotch practice Agents,
is of modern origin. The earliest agents properly so called,
or practitioners below the bar, were the “ servitors” above
mentioned, or advocates’ first clerks in the Court of Session;
and all others were forbidden to act as agents.1 By the
injunctions of their chief officer, the Secretary of State, in
1594, Writers to the Signet were also prohibited from act¬
ing as agents; and by a bye law of the body itself in
1676, every member who should take it upon him to act as
an agent, was made liable to be prosecuted. I hey came
at length, however, to act likewise as agents, and are now a
large and influential body. Sixty years ago they were not
more than 100; but about forty years ago they were 280. At
present they are upwards of 700 in number, and almost all
of them resident in Edinburgh ; and the average entries
yearly are the same in proportion as into the Faculty.
There is another class of agents, the Solicitors before the
supreme courts, enrolled under AS. 9 July 1/54, and AS.
1772. They are upwards of a hundred in number, which is
somewhat more than the enrolled number of advocates first
clerks, a body which has remained much about the same for
the last forty years.
With respect to the procurators of the inferior courts, Country
they appear to have generally continued, till recent times, tIo™cura'
on the same close footing on which the practitioners of all
the courts stood previous to the institution of the Court of
Session ; nor are they to this day admitted by the supreme
court, or marshalled, like the bar, into one body, but are
severally admitted, on varying qualifications, by the respec¬
tive courts throughout the kingdom. They are of course
restricted to the particular court so admitting them; whereas
the advocates of the College of Justice form the proper
bar of Scotland, and being admitted by the supreme
court, may practise in any court of the kingdom. The same
principle might be extended with evident advantage ; and
the local courts opened up to the talent and practical skill
of the agents of the Court of Session. I he present airange-
ments are very plainly imperfect, and incapable of maturing
a uniform and settled system of jurisprudence in the coun¬
try. There is not a tenth part of the law business of the
country conducted by the counsel and agents of the su¬
preme court. Unless a different provision is made, both the
lawand the legal profession ot Scotland will inevitably suffer. e5
In the style of the procurators of Aberdeen, there is a.^ Aber_
peculiarity which may here be taken notice of and explained.
They are styled advocates, which name is otherwise appro¬
priated to the advocates of the College of Justice. The
truth is that the appellation of advocate is amongst the ear¬
liest which we find in our records applied to practitioners
i See AS. 13th July 1596, Stat. 1672, c. 16, and AS. 26th February 1678.
Statistics
iabit of
]e Bar.
1 xecutive
fficers.
. of the law, (1424, c. 45); and it appears that persons so de-
✓ signated were formerly in every court of the kingdom,
(1424, c. 45, 1429, c. 116—125.) The term was used
synonymously with procurators; and at the institution of
the Court of Session both terms were applied together
(1537, c. 64.) The sheriff court of Aberdeen was the ell’
best county court regulated subsequent to the erection of
the Comt of Session ; and in the act of court then passed
the two names were used promiscuously. Hence has arisen
the common use of the style of advocate ; but the advocates
of Aberdeen form no part of the proper bar of Scotland, any
more than the practitioners of any of the local courts what¬
soever. The entry of procurators of Edinburgh was not re¬
gulated by the sheriff till 1765, and for fifteen years more
they remained unincorporated. It was still later before the
procurators of Glasgow were erected into a corporation;
and it was not till above thirty-five years ago that the pro¬
curators of Paisley were incorporated.
We have now a word or two to say with respect to the garb
of the profession. The proper habit of the bar is the long
robe which now characterises the profession, and which
seems to have been adopted by the advocates of the College
of Justice as the ecclesiastical array. Anciently, however, a
sort of cloak or tabard of green was worn, (1455, c. 45.)
which colour it will be recollected, was symbolical of learn¬
ing amongst the ancient Britons ; and accordingly that class
of their priesthood called Ovats, and who professed the
liberal arts, wore habits of green. In the burgh court of
Edinburgh the cloak was worn till the beginning of the se¬
venteenth century, when the procurators were required to
wear gowns instead.
It remains to advert shortly to the executive officers of
the law. I hese are, properly speaking, the sheriffs in their
respective counties, and the magistrates in the burghs ; and
in the criminal warrants of the superior courts this is clear.
But the ordinary civil process of the Court of Session is exe-
SCOTLAND.
761
Forfar, Kincardine,
Aberdeen, Banff,
Elgin, Forres, Nairn,
Inverness, Cromarty.
Edinburgh, Haddington,
Linlithgow, Berwick,
Roxburgh, Peebles,
Selkirk,
By 1587, c. 82, the realm was divided, for the purposes
each, but these
cuted by the messengers and other officers at-arms; and the Statistics.
1 ke process of the sheriff and bailie courts is executed by'
the sheriff and burgh officers respectively. The messengers-
at-arms amount to upwards of two hundred in number, and
are distributed throughout the different shires and districts
of the kingdom. They are all associated, however, under
the Lyon herald, king of arms, who, as head of the office or
college of arms, has authority and jurisdiction over all the
members and officers of the establishment. In this respect
the Lord Lyon may be regarded as essentially at the head
ot the civil branch of the executive department of the law;
and accordingly it might deserve consideration whether it
wou not be expedient, with a view at once to give unity
of management to the entire department, and also to relieve
the sheriff of all but judicial duties, to devolve upon the Lord
Lyon and his officers the execution of process of every kind,
and the whole ministerial powers of the sheriff, in as far as
these are executive, or auxiliary to the courts of law.
. ordei to give a clear and concise view of the manner
in which justice is distributed throughout Scotland by means
of the circuit courts of justiciary, and the courts of the sheriffs-
depute and sheriffs-substitute, not including the burgh and
justice of peace courts, the following Tables are subjoined.
The gieat divisions of the realm in early times were Lo¬
thian, Galloway, and Scotland. In the first of these, justice-
ayres were holden at Edinburgh, Peebles, and soon after¬
wards Glasgow ; and if we credit the Beg. Mag. lib. ii, c. 20,
the loca capitalia Scotice w ere, Scone for Gowry, Cluny for
Stormonth, Rait for Athole, Dalguish for Fife, Perth for
Strathearn, Forfar for Angus, Aberdeen for Mar and Buchan,
and Inverness for Ross and Moray. The judicial districts
assigned by king Edward L, in 1305, were Lothian, Gal¬
loway, beyond the Forth to the Grampians, and beyond the
Grampians. At the institution of the Court of Session in
1532, the realm was divided, for the purposes of civil judi¬
cature, into four quarters, as follows :—
Dumfries, Annandale,
Kirkcudbright, Ayr,
Wigton, Lanark,
Renfrew, Stirling,
Dunbarton, Argyle,
Bute, Clackmannan,
Kinross, Fife,
Perth.
of criminal judicature, into four quarters, of seven shires
are not stated.
Statistical Table of the Judicature of Scotland.
Circuits.
1
The Lo¬
th ians, or
Home i
Circuit,... J
Southern
Circuit,..
Assize Towns
since 1672.
c. 16.
Western
Circuit
ern f
it,... (
Shires.
Edinburgh,..^
Jedburgh,.Jpeeb|es;_
{ Selkirk,...
Dumfries,
Kirkcudbright,...
Wigton,
Ayr,....
Edinburgh, 
Haddington,  
Linlithgow,.... 1
Bathgate, J
Berwick, 
Roxburgh, 
Dumfries,.
Ayr, 
Glasgow,.... <
Lanark,.
Renfrew,....
, Dunbarton,.
Area
square
miles.
360
250
112
446
715
360
263
1800
882
451
1600
870
241
230
Popula¬
tion,
1831.
Number
of
Sheriff
Substi¬
tutes.
Court Places.
219,345
36,145
23,291
34,048
43,663
10,578
6,833
73,770
40,590
36,258
145,055
316,819
133,443
33,211
Number
of
Procu¬
rators in
each.
Edinburgh,..,
Haddington,.
Linlithgow,....
Berwick, 
Roxburgh, 
Peebles,....^..
Selkirk, 
Dumfries, 
Kirkcudbright
Wigton, 
Ayr, 
C Glasgow, 
1 Lanark, 
j Lower Ward,..
{ Hamilton,  
{Renfrew, 
Greenock, 
Dunbarton,...
19
8
40
193
7
i
27
48
271
9
Number of
ordinary ac¬
tions brought
into Sheriff
Court,
1828-1832.
523
898
1302
1189
129
135
2653
538
2764
10,227
2400
1014
Number of
causes advo¬
cated and
appealed to
Justiciary.
11
9
9
2
5
47
4
54
181
5 D
VOL. XIX.
Statistic
762
SCOTLAND.
Statistics.
Statistical Table of the Judicature of Scotland—continued.
Circuits.
Western
Circuit,..
Ass’ze Towns
sin^e 1672.
c. 16.
Sbires.
Inverary,...
20 Geo. 2.
i
Stirling, ^
Perth,'.
Northern
Circuit,...
Argyle,..
Bute,....
Stirling,.
Clackmannan
Kinross,.
Fife, 
Area j Popula¬
tion.
1831.
square
miles.
Number
of
Sheriff
Substi¬
tutes.
Court Places.
Aberdeen,...
Perth, 
Forfar, 
Kincardine,.
Aberdeen,..
Banff, 
Moray, 
Elgin, 
Nairn, 
Inverness,.
Inverness,... <{
3800
257
489
131
504
2588
840
317
1985
500
1040
4600
100,973
14,151
72,621
23,801
128,839
142,894
139,606
31,431
177,657
48,604
43,585
94,797
Cromarty,.
Ross, 
Sutherland,.
Caithness, 
Orkney and Zet¬
land,  
2836
1754
618
1325
74,820
25,518
34,529
58,239
‘Number N,uraber of ! Number of
|ordmaryac-!causesadvo.
Proeu-t10"3^0^! catedand
1 CoSrt ^ > appealed t0
1828-1832.
rators in
I each.
f Inverary,  12 j
Campbelton,..., 6 j
( Tobermory,....!
^ Bute, I 4
/Stirling, ; 401
Falkirk,
Clackmannan,
Kinross, 
j Cupar, 
^ Dunfermline,.
Perth, 
Dunblane, —
| Forfar, 
Dundee, 
Kincardine,....
Aberdeen,
Banff, 
Justiciary.
j Elgin, 
( Nairn, 
I Inverness,....
) Fort William,..
^ Skye,.
Newton,....
5 Dingwall,..
Tain, 
Stornoway,
J Dornoch,..
^ Tongue,...
Caithness,..
/ Kirkwall,..,
| Lerwick,...
I
7
7
32 }
12 f
7M
6/
}
129
28
23
25 1
4r
n]
1
6 I
3033
367
2442
6823
3531
1166
6033
2407
1438
157
2385
1938
675
1280
1106
34
85
7
27
71
11
28
18
Civil divi The divisions which are recognized under this head are not take place oefore the ninth or the tenth century. Mi*
sions. ’ counties or shires, and parishes. Of the counties, the origin Chalmers supposes that parishes were gradually formed
ofwhich is very ancient, and has not been ascertained, a list, after the year 843 ; but that they existed m the time ot
and other particulars respecting them, have already been Malcolm III., who died in 1093, is ascertained by authen-
given. They are thirty-three in number, but most of tic records.2 The number of parishes has not been um-
them are subdivided by local acts of parliament into two or form. Previously to the Reformation the bishops possessed
more districts, for the purpose of police and internal econo- the power of uniting or disjoining parishes. Between this
my ; and several of them comprehend a variety of terri- period and the Union, in 1707, the authority was trans-
torial divisions, founded on the natural circumstances of ferred from the bishops and vested in several successive
the country. Thus the county of Berwick is popularly commissions of the Scottish parliament. In 1707, parlia-
divided into the three districts of the Merse, Lauderdale, ment vested this power in the Court of Session, but confined
and Lammermuir ; Lanarkshire into the upper, middle, and the power of the court to cases where consent had previ-
lower wards; Ayrshire into Kyle, Cunningham, and Car- ously been given by persons possessing three-fourths of the
rick ; and in the extensive Highland counties, the subdi- valued rental of the parish ; and this is the existing law. The
visions are still more numerous. There is no trace in Scot- disjoining or union of parishes is, therefore, attended with con-
land of the minor divisions of the English counties, called siderable difficulty, and very rarely takes place, except in ci-
hundreds, wapentakes, and the like. Of the judicial divi- ties where the consent of the municipal authorities, if patrons
sions of Scotland an account will be found in this article of the parish, and of the presbytery of the bounds, is sufficient
under the head of Judicial Establishments. Respecting for the purpose. Hence in Edinburgh five new parishes have
the date of the erection of parishes, there have been vari- been erected out of the parish of St. Cuthbert’s, within the
ous conjectures. They were purely an ecclesiastical regu- last forty years. The number of parishes is at present 916, ex-
lation, and could not have been formed till the Christian elusive of what are commonly called quoad sacra parishes,
system had been generally received, and its preachers be- These latter parishes have been formed in either of the
come numerous and as this division, and the necessary two following ways. First, owing to the inconvenient extent
previous ecclesiastical establishment, infer no inconsidera- of parishes in the Highlands, and the consequent distance
ble degree of civilization, it is highly probable that it did of many of the people from the parish church, missionaries
Murray’s Literary History of Galloway, 2d edit. 1832, p. 7.
Caledonia, vol. i. p. 23.
Statistics, supported by a royal grant, were appointed to certain locali-
ties with the privileges quoad spiritualia of parochial cler¬
gymen, except that they could notbe constituent members of
any of the church courts, and could not even have sessions
of their own. But in the year 1833, these localities were, by
an act of the General Assembly, converted into parishes
quoad sacra, and their ministers declared to be constituent
members of the ecclesiastical courts. The number of these
new parishes is forty-one. Secondly, from the many difficulties
attending the erection of new parishes, means have been in¬
troduced, in addition to the establishment of the new quoad
sacra parishes referred to, to supersede the necessity of such
a step; and this object was accomplished by the institution of
“chapels of ease, or subsidiary places of worship, without
any assigned locality. These parishes, the first of which was
erected in 1798, amounted in 1834 to sixty-six, when the
General Assembly conferred on them the same rights and
privileges which belong to parish ministers, and appointed
them a certain defined locality quoad sacra. Since that
period they have greatly increased in number, and are
yearly increasing, so that it would be both difficult and un¬
necessary to ascertain the exact amount. But they do not
affect the original parishes in any way, except in regard to
the spiritualities.
Religious Church of Scotland. The reformation from popery be-
instruction. gan at an early period in Scotland, but was not triumph¬
ant until the year 1560, when popery was abolished, and
the protestant religion established by act of parliament in
its stead. But whilst popery was abolished, the protestants
could not agree amongst themselves as to the system of eccle¬
siastical polity which should be established in its place. Epis¬
copacy, or the government of the church by bishops, receiv¬
ed the support of the king and of many of the most powerful
families; whilst presbytery, or the polity introduced by Knox
from Geneva, where he had studied under Calvin, was em¬
braced by the great body of the people. But amidst the
struggle for pre-eminence, the presbyterians, who consti¬
tuted five-sixths of the protestant population, took matters
into their own hand, and embodied their ecclesiastical sys¬
tem in a work entitled The Second Booh of Discipline,1
which was ordered by the General Assembly that met in
1581, to be engrossed in the registers of the church as ec¬
clesiastical law, and which has ever since formed the basis
of the polity of the established presbyterian church of Scot¬
land. This Assembly first divided the country into pres¬
byteries and Synods.2
But whilst presbytery was thus the religion of the people,
it did not receive the sanction either of the Privy Council or
Parliament. On the contrary, in 1584, episcopacy was es¬
tablished as the national church; presbytery was declared
illegal; and the presbyterian clergy were exposed to much
obloquy and persecution. But the public voice again got the
ascendancy; and presbytery was for the first time ratified
by act of parliament, in 1592, as the national church. But
not being acceptable to the king and the court, this polity
was superseded by episcopacy in 1606; nor did it again ob¬
tain the supremacy till the famous General Assembly, held
at Glasgow in 1638, which abolished prelacy, and restored
the presbyterian form of worship. The proceedings and
acts of this Assembly were afterwards confirmed by the
king and the parliament. But in 1660, on the restoration of
SCOTLAND.
763
Charles II., presbytery was compelled again to give way Statistics,
to episcopacy, which maintained the predominance till the'
Devolution. The act of William and Mary, re-establishing
presbytery, was passed in 1690.3
Standards of the Church. To the celebrated Assembly of
Divines that met in Westminster in 1643, the presbyterian
church of Scotland, which was represented in that meet¬
ing by commissioners chosen by herself, is indebted for her
standards both as to her formularies and her doctrines. To
the deliberations of this assembly she is indebted for a Di¬
rectory of Public Worship, a Form of Ordination, the
Larger and Shorter Catechisms, and the Confession of Faith;
all which were adopted by the General Assembly, and con¬
firmed by the Scottish parliament, as agreeable to the word
of God.4 4 he doctrines of the church are Calvinistic, the
leading tenets being predestination, original sin, particular
redemption, irresistible grace, justification by faith, and the
perseverance of the saints.
Parishes. Every parish in Scotland enjoys the privilege
of having a resident clergyman; residence being obligatory
by law as early as the year 1563. fhe number of parishes,
according to the civil law, is 916; and of these 27 are col¬
legiate, that is, have each the services of two clergymen, who
preach alternately in the same place of worship. The whole
number of parishes, both civil and quoad sacra, was, in 1836,
1023 ; so that, including the collegiate charges, the whole
number of clergymen is 1050.
Church Judicatories. The Kirk-session is the lowest
court. It is composed of the minister of the parish and the
lay elders. The minister is officially moderator or president
of the session. This court takes cognizance of cases of
scandal, of the poor’s fund, and of parochial ecclesiastical
discipline. There is a power of appeal from the session to
the presbytery, which is the next court in dignity.
The Presbytery is composed of a number of contiguous
parishes. A presbytery consists of the ministers of all the
parishes within its limits; of the professor of divinity, if
there be any university within its bounds, and of a lay-elder
from each parish. The presbytery takes young men on
trial as students of divinity, and candidates for licence ; or¬
dains presentees to vacant livings ; and has the superintend¬
ence of religion and education within its precincts. Its
decision is not final, if an appeal be lodged to the synod. A
presbytery generally meets monthly; and it must necessarily
meet at least twice a-year. The number of presbyteries is
eighty.
The Synod is composed of two or more presbyteries. It
consists of every parish minister within its limits, and of the
elders who last represented the different sessions in the
presbytery. There is a power of appeal from the synod to
the General Assembly. The number of synods is sixteen.
The General Assembly is the highest ecclesiastical court,
its decisions being final. It meets annually in the month
of May, and sits for ten successive days. It is honoured
with the presence of a nobleman as representative of the
sovereign, under the title of Lord High Commissioner. But
this high functionary has no voice in the deliberations of the
court; and even his presence is not absolutely necessary.
The Assembly, unlike the inferior courts, consists of repre¬
sentatives from the presbyteries, royal burghs, and univer¬
sities of Scotland, formerly from the church of Camp-
1 The First Book of Discipline was presented by the reformers to the parliament of 1560, which abolished popery; but it was not ratified
by the legislature, though it was subscribed by a great many of its members as private individuals. But the parliament, though
it did not give the sanction of its authority to The First Book of Discipline, accepted and confirmed the Confession of Faith dravyn
up by the protestants, the object of which being not so much to establish any particular set of doctrines as to abjure popery; and hence it
is called the Negative Confession. Another Confession of Faith, or National Covenant, as it was called, was drawn up in 1580, and sub¬
scribed by the king, his household, and by persons of all ranks in the state, but not confirmed by parliament. (Knox’s History of the
Reformation. Peterkin’s Compendium of the Law of the Church of Scotland.)
2 Cook’s History of the Church, I. chap. iv. 3 Cook’s History; Baillie’s Letters and Journal; and acts of General Assembly.
4 Baillie, passim ; and Murray’s Life of Samuel Rutherford, chap. viii. 193—217.
764
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, vere, now extinct, and from the churches in the East Indies,
' connected with the Church of Scotland.1
Eighty presbyteries send, ministers 218
Do. do. elders  94
City of Edinburgh, elders  2
Sixty-five other Royal Burghs  65
University of Edinburgh T
University of Glasgow  |
University of St. Andrews.... {-one representative each 5
Marischal College, Aberdeen j
King’s College, Aberdeen J
Churches in India, a minister and an elder    2
Campvere (now extinct,)  0
Total number of members 386
We may here state that the course of study for the church
is abundantly ample, extending at least to eight years in
one or more of the Scottish universities. The first four years
are devoted to literary and philosophical study ; the other
four to Hebrew, church history, and theology properly so
called. After this course of study is ended, a young man can
be taken on trials by the presbytery for licence as a preach¬
er or probationer. The average annual income of the
Scottish clergy, which is generally derived from teinds or
tithes,2 is supposed to be about L.200, exclusive of the manse
and glebe. In parishes where the teinds have been ex¬
hausted, or do not produce to the clergyman an income of
L.150, the government has provided a fund, so as to raise
such income to this minimum amount. The parishes
thus assisted are called bounty livings, and amount to 208.3
Dissenters. The great body of the Scottish dissenters
are presbyterians, entertaining Calvinistic opinions, and re¬
cognising the same confession of faith and the same stand¬
ards as the members of the established church; they aban¬
doned that church in consequence of certain alleged errors
in discipline, and particularly the undue exercise of patron¬
age, for lay-patronage has always obtained, with more or
less vigour in the Scottish establishment, except for more
than twenty years prior to 1712. (See Seceders.)
The dissenting body next in importance to the United
Associate Synod, is the Relief, which was founded in 1755.
The founders of this sect professed to differ from the Esta¬
blished Church on no other point than the right of patrons
to appoint ministers against the inclinations of the people.4
But the breach between this body of dissenters and the Es¬
tablishment has now become wider; while the different sec- Statistics
tions of dissenters seem more disposed to union among them-
selves. The two numerous bodies of the Secession and the
Relief, are at present (1839) engaged in making advances to¬
wards a union of these denominations. The Original Bur¬
gher Associate Synod declined to join the coalition form¬
ed between the Burghers and Antiburghers in 1820. The
different congregations belonging to this sect are, with few
exceptions, disposed to join the Established Church; indeed,
some of them have already done so. There is another class
of presbyterian dissenters, generally called Cameronians, but
who assume the title of the Reformed Presbyterian Synod,
who are the successors and representatives of the Covenant¬
ers in the time of Charles the First and his son. This small
but interesting body refused to accept the settlement of
Presbytery, as established by law in 1690, unless the king
should consent to subscribe the Solemn League and Cove¬
nant, and the standards of the Church. The Cameronians
are, perhaps to this day, the most rigid presbyterians in
Scotland. But without descending into particulars, the fol¬
lowing table will afford a pretty correct view of the extent
and importance of the different religious bodies in Scotland.5
Summary of the Religious State of Scotland.
Established Church, including the sacra parishes, up
to 1836,  1023
United Associate Synod,'  361
Relief Synod,.
108
Original Burgher Associate Synod,  44
Associate Synod of Original Seceders,
33
Reformed Presbyterian Synod,  33
579
Total number of dissenting Presbyterian )
congregations, J
Scottish Episcopal Church, 
Independents, 
Baptists, Methodists, Quakers, Glassites, Uni¬
tarians, and other Protestant sects, ,... 40
82
90
Total number of Protestant dissenting con¬
gregations 
791
Majority of the Established Church,
Roman Catholic chapels, 
Majority of Established Church over all other sects, 177
l Hill’s Constitution of the Church of Scotland, passim. Burton’s Manual of the Law of Scotland, pp. 85, et seq.
i The history of tithes, or teinds in Scotland, since the Reformation, is involved and intricate. We need not enter on the consideration
, m i . . .t . .  i_ ~C  t> nt-isvvi rvi/-vof fLa toin/lc nnH miipn nr thp nrnnprtv OT thft PhlirCQ
* The history ot tithes, or teinds in bcotiand, since tne iveiormauon, is mvuivcu -    - —" 7
of the subiect here, but merely state that, at the approach of the Reformation, most of the teinds, and much of the property of the church
were alienated, and bestowed on laymen, or devolved on the crown. But to overlook the intermediate steps, the greatest change which too
nlace in the matter was in the reign of Charles the First, who revoked all the ecclesiastical grants (except the church lands) which had been
made during the two preceding reigns. This revocation having taken place, though with difficulty, it was provided that the lands, except
such as had been already appropriated to the payment of stipend, should be valued and sold. The landholders were entitled to sue for a
valuation or modus, and to purchase the teinds of their own estates. To facilitate the inquiry into the value of teinds, commissioners
and sub-commissioners were appointed, the latter of whom were enjoined to visit their several parishes, and to report to the commis¬
sioners. Some of their reports, when made, were sanctioned; others have been brought forward for approval at later periods. ■l'ie re'
suit was that by far the greater part of the teinds have been bought up by the proprietors of the respective lands, after stipends, commuted
into a money payment, had been modified to the clergymen, the teinds being held by these proprietors under the condition of augmenting,
if necessary, such stipends to the extent of their value; in other words, there are in these cases no tithes or teinds, but part of the rent o
the proprietors constitutes ministers’ stipend, and a certain additional portion, in cases wdiere the valuation is not exhausted, is still lab
to augmentation of stipend. In cases where no valuation has taken place, the value of the teinds is calculated at one-fifth of t e e i g
rent and is also paid in money. The body of commissioners just spoken of, continued to act from the date of their appomtme ,
Union in 1707, atfwhich period the Court of Session was authorised to supply their place, and to determine in all cases of valuation and
sale of teinds. As the commissioners had been empowered to modify the stipends of the ministers, the same power was ti ansfer e °
Court of Session. A clergyman is entitled, when the teinds of the parish are not exhausted, to apply to the Court for an angme
of his stipend, which it is competent for that Court either to grant or refuse. But, whether granted ^
fore such applications can be renewed. The stipend generally consists of so many chalders of grain. The va ue ot the gram is determined
bv the Jiar prices, which are struck in each county in Scotland in the month of February or March annually; and this value, which ne-
cLsarilv varies yearly is then payable in money- The teinds are also appropriated to the building of parish churches and manses, and the
keeping oOlfem in repair. Ahtfministers of Edinburgh and Montrose are pttid not by teinds, but by a local tax,! j'J? j0^1
houses; a circumstance that has been the source, particularly in Edinburgh, of much nritation and isc . (
vassim. Dunlop’s Parochial Law. Burton’s Manual of the Law of Scotland, pp. 100 c r. o • i i l ft
P * Peterkin’s Supplement. Dunlop’s Parochial Law. 4 M‘Kerrow’s History of the Secession, vol. i. p- 06I-8.
5 M'Culloch’s Statistical Account of the British Empire, ii. p. 430.
SCOTLAND.
Statistics.
Schools.
mversi-
4S.
Wc have not included the Jews in the foregoing enume-
^ ration, as they do not perhaps amount to above a&hundred
in all Scotland. Some of the dissenting congregations, be¬
sides, are very small; and we do not think it probable that
the dissenters amount to much more than the fourth part
of the whole population of Scotland, assigning to the Esta¬
blished Church all who do not attend any dissenting place
of worship.
The subject of education engaged the attention of the
Scottish Parliament even in comparatively rude times,
viz. as early as the year 1494. The protestant church
zealously took up the subject, and many acts of the Ge¬
neral Assembly were passed in support of it. But it was
not till 1616 that the Privy Council interposed and passed
an act in favour of parish schools; nor was it till seventeen
years afterwards, that this act of Council was ratified by
Parliament. The disturbed state of the times prevented
the act from becoming operative; and it was not, in truth,
till some time after the Revolution, namely, in 1696, that
the celebrated statute of William and Mary was passed,
which forms the foundation of the present parochial system.
The provisions of this act were immediately carried into
effect in most parishes; and now the system is in universal
operation throughout Scotland. The landowners and cler¬
gymen have it in their power, according to law, to establish
more than one school in a parish, if circumstances seem to
demand it; in which case the salary assigned to each of the
teachers is less than the maximum sum (L.34, 4s. 4^d.)
given when there is only one schoolmaster in a parish.
From a Parliamentary paper,1 we learn, that the number of
parochial schools in Scotland is 1047; that the number of
teachers is 1170; that the aggregate amount of the salaries
paid to them is L.29,642, 18s. 11 ^d.; and that their total in¬
come, including salaries, fees, and all other emoluments, but
exclusive of their dwelling-house and garden, is L.55,339,
17s. l^d., being an average of only L.47, 5s. llfd. to each
teacher. But ill-paid though the teachers be, they are, ge¬
nerally speaking, a well educated and meritorious class of
men; and the parochial system has given such a.stimulus to
education, that the endowed schools have been found, in
the progress of society, to be too few to answer the de¬
mand for instruction on the part of the people. Hence it
appears from the same official document, that the number
of schools not parochial, is not less than 3995, and the num¬
ber of teachers 4469? being nearly four times the amount
of the parochial schools and teachers.2 The greatest num¬
ber of pupils attending the parochial schools between Lady-
day and Michaelmas 1833, was 71,426; and the lowest num¬
ber was 50,029. The greatest number attending the schools
not parochial, between the same dates, was 189?427; and
the lowest number was 139,237. What the incomes of the
non-parochial teachers may be, we have no data to judge.
They are pretty high in our large towns, but miserably
low, perhaps not above ten shillings a-week, in rural dis¬
tricts. Taking the average of the preceding number of pu¬
pils, attending both the parochial and non-parochial schools,
namely, 225,061, the inference is, that 10^ out of 100 of the
population are at school; but when we take into account
the number of female seminaries, of private boarding schools
for boys, and children taught in private families by gover¬
nesses and tutors, not to mention Sabbath evening schools
and classes for religious instruction, we may with propriety
conclude, that at least 9j% out of every 100 of the popula¬
tion are at the same time under tuition; a larger proportion
than is known to be similarly situated, excepting in parti¬
cular districts, in any other country of Europe.
The origin of the Scottish universities is not of any remote
765
John Car!y,as t1he year 1282’ Dervorgille, wife of Statistics.
Jonn LJalliol, founded and endowed a college at Oxford for'
the reception of Scottish students; and, in 1326, a college,
known by the name of the Scotch college, was founded
and endowed at Paris by David Murray, bishop of Morav,
for a simdar purpose.3 But at length Scotland enjoyed
the advantages of universities within the limits of her own
territory. That of St. Andrews, the oldest in the kingdom,
was founded by papal authority in 1413; that of Glasgow,
by the same authority, in 1450; that of Aberdeen, also un-
c er the sanction of the pope, in 1494, though education did
not commence there till 1500; and that of Edinburgh,
founded by the presbyterians,'in 1582. The university of
St. Andrews consisted at one time of three colleges, insti¬
tuted at different periods, viz. St. Salvador’s, St. Leonard’s,
and St. Mary’s; but in 1748, the two first were united, and
the buildings of St. Leonard’s were alienated and converted
into dwelling-houses. The university of Aberdeen consists
of two colleges; King’s, founded, as just stated, in 1494;
and Marischal college, instituted and endowed by George
Keith, Earl Marischal, in 1593. The universities of Glas¬
gow and Edinburgh contain one college each; but embrace
all the faculties in their course of instruction. The follow¬
ing table shews the number of professors in the different
universities, with the date of their foundation.
I When
! founded.
Principals.
St. Andrews, 
Glasgow, 
Aberdeen, King’s College,...
Marischal College,
Edinburgh,.
1413
1450
1494
1593
1582
Professors
11
19
9
12
30
Each of these universities enjoys the privilege of confer¬
ring literary honours in all the faculties. The aggregate
number of students attending all these seminaries is about
2900, of whom about 1300 belong to the university of Edin¬
burgh; 1100 to that of Glasgow; and the remainder to Aber¬
deen and St. Andrews, the attendance on the latter not ex¬
ceeding 130. There are no religious tests to exclude stu¬
dents from any of our Scottish colleges. Jews, Catholics,
Protestants, enjoy the same privileges. But the professors
should, according to law, belong to the Established Church,
and are liable to be called upon to sign her standards. This
condition, however, is not always exacted. The session
extends from the beginning of November till the end of
April. There are a few summer classes in the universities
of Edinburgh and Glasgow, but these extend only to three
months preceding the first of August. A Royal Commis¬
sion was appointed in 1826 for visiting the universities and
colleges of Scotland, and in 1830 gave in a voluminous re¬
port. Another Commission was nominated in 1836, for vi¬
siting the university of Aberdeen. Their report has just
been presented. But though a bill was brought into Parlia¬
ment in 1836, founded on the former report, providing for
a general board of visitors appointed by the crown over all
the universities, that bill was withdrawn; and no measure on
the subject has since been brought forward. >
Though poor-rates are not generally imposed in ScQfcrI*oor
land, yet a law involving a compulsory assessmentffi^the
support of the impotent poor, was passed as earlyas the
year 1576. But the very existence of such a statute
seemed nearly unknown till about the middle of last century
“ As long as there was no secession of presbyterians from
the Established Church, the weekly collections, under the
* established by the Society for Propagating Christian Knowledge, namely,
340; those founded by the Gene,Assembly* Education Committee,
‘gallons. °
766
SCOTLAND.
I
Statistics, management of the kirk-session, were in general found suffi- have spread tardily. At this moment they embrace only
cient for the management of the poor. In some years of 236 parishes, being little more than a fourth ot the total
neculiar hardship or scarcity, such as the four last years of parishes of Scotland. These assessments have not only
the seventeenth century, or the year 1740, voluntary assist- been introduced, but are the heaviest, m the parishes border-
ance was no doubt given ; and in some instances temporary ing on England ; and with the exception of our larger towns,
assessments were resorted to, to enable the kirk-sessions to they decrease or disappear as we recede from the infec-
meet the usual emergencies. But on all ordinary occasions tious example of the sister ^kingdom. Thus every parish
the resources of the kirk-sessions were considered as suf¬
ficient, and continued to be so at least as late as 1155. 1
And as legal assessments were reluctantly introduced, not¬
withstanding the existence of a law in their favour, so they
Statistics.?
in the synod of Merse and Teviotdale is burdened with as¬
sessment. In the midland synods, less than the half of the
parishes are assessed ; whilst in the northern synods, em¬
bracing 157 parishes, only three are exposed to that burden.
Table, shelving the proportion of parishes assessed or not assessed, the number of permanent or occasional poor,
the average relief given to each, fyc.2
Not
Assessed.
Voluntarily
Assessed.
Parishes, | 517
Poor on permanent roll,  24,379
6,209
Occasional poor,
Lunatics, 
Total poor, - 
Total funds, including assessment,
church-door collections, other vo¬
luntary contributions, and session T
funds,  
Total annual expense for levying as- \
sessment, litigation as to claims, &c., |
30,800
£34,991
£334
126
6592
2494
186|
9273
£19,824
£332
Legally
Assessed.
Total. 3
|Rate per cent,
j to the
| population.
Average re¬
lief given to
each.
236
26,998
11,645
712f
39,358
£100,305
£7344
879
57,969
20,348
1111
79,429
£155,121
£8009
2.50
.87
.048
3.42
£1 18 6
0 14 8
10 12 4
Both these institutions have long existed in Scotland, but
Banks and were based till recently on an insecure foundation. With the
Friendly view of putting them on a sound footing, the act of 10 Geo.
Societies, jy., c. 56, and of 4 and 5 Will. IV., c. 40, were passed. All
friendly societies, claiming the benefits of these acts, are ob¬
liged to submit a statement of their rules and regulations for
the approval of the officer appointed by government for the
purpose ; and these must receive his sanction ere the parties
become entitled to the privileges conferred by the act in
question, namely, the being allowed to invest the funds of
the society in government securities at a minimum rate of
interest (2id, per cent, per day), and in the funds of savings
banks. Upwardsof five hundred friendly societies have been
instituted on the principle of these acts. rI he act as to sav¬
ings banks, which has been in operation in all other parts of
the empire since 1819, was extended to Scotland in 183o.
According to the provisions of this act, the money of savings
banks can be invested in government securities at the rate
of L.3, l6s.0^d. per cent.; but the interest paid to deposi¬
tors is not to exceed 2J-d.per cent, per day, or L.3, 8s. 5£d.
per cent, per annum. No individual can deposit more than
L.30 in any one year, exclusive of interest, nor more than
L.200 in all. Savings banks have been established under
the law in Edinburgh, Glasgow, Cupar, Kirkaldy, Dunferm¬
line, Dalkeith, and other towns. The deposits in the Edin¬
burgh institution amount to about L.170>000, in rather less
than 31 years; and the other savings banks in Scotland have
been equally successful.
The peers of Scotland, by the treaty of union, elect sixteen
larv reprT’of their number to be their representatives in the House of
sentation. Lords. This election takes place in the palace of Holyrood
on the dissolution of parliament. These sixteen peers, who
are not elected for life, as is the case with the Irish represen¬
tative peers, but for the continuance of the parliament for
which they are chosen, enjoy all the privileges of the peers of
England. The other peers of Scotland have all the privi¬
leges of the House of Lords, except the legislative and ju¬
dicial powers, and the privileges thence arising. The num¬
ber of Scottish peers at the union was one hundred and
fifty-four; and there has been since restored five, making
one hundred and fifty-nine; but the present number is
eighty-three, namely, seven dukes, four marquises, thirty-
nine earls, three countesses, six viscounts, twenty-three ba¬
rons, and one baroness. Thirty-six of these are also^British
peers ; and two are likewise peers of Ireland.
Scotland, before the passing of the reform bill in the year
1832, was represented in the House ofCommons by forty-five
members, thirty being returned by the counties, and fifteen
by the royal burghs, sixty-six in number. The num¬
ber of the Scottish representatives since the passing of the
reform bill, is fifty-three, thirty being, as before, chosen
by the counties, whilst the burghs and towns, seventy-six
in number, of which ten are not royal burghs, send twenty-
three. The counties, thirty-three in number, return only
thirty members, because, for parliamentary objects, Kin¬
ross and Clackmannan, Elgin and Nairn, and Ross and
Cromarty, are respectively united. The aggregate num¬
ber of the county freeholders or voters, at the passing
of the reform act, was 3211. Ihe burgh constituencies
were still more limited. With the exception of Edin¬
burgh, which sent a member of itself, the other burghs were
parcelled out in groups, and each burgh in the group
voted by a delegate chosen by the magistrates and town-
council, amounting, upon an average, to twenty in each, or
1320 in all. The aggregate number of the county consti¬
tuencies, in 1838-39, was 46,480, or nearly fifteen times
the former amount; and of the burgh constituencies, 36,373,
or fully twenty-seven times its former extent. The total
constituency of Scotland is 82,853. 4 .
The population of Scotland was supposed to be 1,050,000 opiaa
1 Sir Henry Moncreiff’s Life of Dr. Erskine, p. 468. . „ . , 1CQQ
t Rpnm-t nf'rt rommittee of tbe General Assembly on tbe management of the poor in Scotland, ISoJ. . , , .
3 This is not the correct total, inasmuch as Edinburgh is in fact divided into thiiteen parishes, although it is sometimes reckoned 1
one parish, and is here accounted only one, as far as poor-rates are concerned.
4 Burton’s Manual, ut supra, p. 29, et seq-
SCOTLAND.
Statistics, in the year 1700; it was ascertained by Dr. Webster to
^V-^be 1,265,380, in 1755; and the authors of the Statisti¬
cal Account of Scotland afford the means of estimating
its amount about 1798, when it appears to have been
1,526,492. Since the year 1801, inclusive, we have had
four decennial census. The following table gives the popu¬
lation of Scotland at the different periods referred to, with
the rates of increase in each decennial period since 1801,
and the number of males and females in 1831.
767
Year.
1700
1755
1798
1801
1811
1821
1831
Numbers.
Increase
per cent.
1,050,000
1,265,380
1,526,492
1,599,068
1,805,688
2,093,456
2,365,114
14
16
13
Males.
Females.
983,552
1,114,816
1,109,904
1,250,298
The amount of square miles, as stated under a previous
head, being 29,600, the average population is within a frac¬
tion ofeighty to the square mile. Great ashas been the advance Statistics,
of population since the beginning of the last century, and
particularly since 1801, it has been considerably less than
its progress during the same period in England or Ireland.
I his desirable result seems to have been owing principally
to the consolidation of farms in the low country; the extinc¬
tion of the cottier system in the Highlands, and the substi¬
tution in its stead of large sheep farms; the comparative
want of poor-laws; and the obstacles interposed by the law
of Scotland to the sub-letting of farms, and to the subdivision
of land. But however it may be accounted for, the fact is
certain that, as compared with the increase of wealth, the
population of Scotland has increased less rapidly than that
of either of the two sister kingdoms. The Scotch have
therefore advanced much more rapidly than the English or
Irish in wealth, and in the command of the necessaries and
conveniences of life. Their progress in this respect has, in¬
deed, been quite astonishing. The habits, diet, dress, and
other accommodations of the people, have been signally
improved. It is not too much to affirm, that the peasant¬
ry of the present day are better lodged, better clothed, and
better fed, than the middle class of landowners were a cen¬
tury ago.
Table, shewing the aggregate 7iumber of acres in Scotland, with the number of persons, families, and inhabited houses, ac¬
cording to the population returns q/' 1831, and also the number of acres corresponding to each family and house.
Aggregate num¬
ber of acres.
18,944,000
Number of
Persons.
2,365,114
Families.
Inhabited
bouses.
Number of acres corresponding to
each
person.
502,301 ! 369,393 18.009,761
each
family.
each
house.
37.714,43851.204,133
Number of persons
corresponding to
each | each
family, i house.
4.708.5546.402,7031
The classification of individuals, principally of males, of
twenty years of age and upwards, in different departments of
industry in Scotland, according to the census of 1831, is
Occupations. Numbers.
Occupiers employing labourers,  25,887
Ditto not ditto,  53,966
Labourers employed in agriculture,  87,292
Employed in manufactures, or making ma- 4 oo qqo
chinery for ditto, J
In re tad trade or handicraft, as masters or |
, V 152,464
workmen,  j
Capitalists, bankers, professional, and other ^
educated men, j ’ 1
Labourers employed in labour not agricul- I ,
tural, ) /,1J1
Other males 20 years of age, except ser- (
vants, / ' ’
Servants 20 years of age, (males),  5,895
Female servants,  109,512
Table shewing the population of the principal towns at different periods, with the number of inhabited houses, and the
average number of persons to a. house.
Cities and towns.
Edinburgh and Leith, 
Glasgow, with Gorbals, &c 
Aberdeen, 
Paisley, with Abbey parish, 
Dundee, 
Greenock, 
Perth, 
Kilmarnock, 
Dunfermline,   
Montrose, 
Dumfries, without Maxwellton,.
Inverness, 
Ayr, 
Falkirk, 
Wick, 
Stirling,  
1811.
102,987
110,460
35,370
36,722
29,616
19,042
16,948
10,148
11,649
8,955
9,262
10,757
6,291
9,929
5,080
5,820
1821.
138,235
147,043
44,796
47,003
30,575
22,088
19,068
12,769
13,681
10,338
11,052
12,264
7,455
11,536
6,713
7,113
1831.
162,403
202,426
58,019
57,466
45,355
27,571
20,016
18,093
17,068
12,055
11,606
14,324
7,606
12,743
9,850
8,340
Inhabited
houses,
1831.
10,174
41,598
5,116
3,696
3,892
2.577
2,049
1.578
2,347
1,190
1,509
2,125
892
1,646
1,578
785
Persons to
a house,
183J.
15.954.710
4.866.243
11.349.695
15.548.160
11.653.391
10.698.874
9.768.667
11.465.779
7.272.262
10.130.252
7.691.166
6.740.705
8.526.905
7.741.798
6.242.078
10.624.208
It anneared from a previous table, that the entire popu- the subsequent ten years. But it is evident from the pre-
latL of ScotlanThad increased sixteen per cent, during ceding table, that the increase in the population of the arger
the ten years ending in 1821, and thirteen per cent, during towns is considerably greater during the same periods, being
768
SCOTLAND.
Revenue.
Statistics. 26^ and 26^ per cent, respectively. The advance of Glas-
' gow, in particular, has exceeded that of any of the large
towns in the empire, not even excepting London, Manches¬
ter, and Liverpool, having been 33 per cent, for the ten
years ending in 1821, and 37 per cent, for the subsequent
ten years.1
But the great prosperity and advancement which Scot¬
land has undergone, is best proved by the state of her pub¬
lic revenue.2
The revenue of Scotland at the union, in¬
cluding taxes then imposed, L.l60,000
And her net revenue for the year 1804,  1,934,276
Ditto for 1813, including the property-tax,
and other war taxes,  4,155,599
Revenue for 1822, the property-tax, &c. having
been repealed,  3,436,642
Ditto for 1836,..  4,592,797
Ditto for 1838,  4,692,724
Thus not only has the revenue of Scotland risen from
L.160,000 to L.4,692,724 since the Union, or is now twenty-
nine times greater than it then was, but the people are
undoubtedly now more able to pay the larger sum than
they formerly were to contribute the smaller.
The following table, illustrative of the state of Scottish
shipping at different periods, bears also unequivocal testi¬
mony to the great prosperity and advancement of Scotland.3
Shipping.
Year.
1707
1760
1800
1822
1837
No. of vessels.
215
976
2155
3071
3244
Tonnage.
14,485
52,818
161,511
276,931
334,870
No. of men.
13,883
29,830
24,292
Steam na¬
vigation.
The first boat successfully impelled by steam in Europe
was the Comet, which began to ply on the Clyde in 1812,
and wras the result of the skill and ingenuity of the late
Henry Bell. Nor was there more than one steam-boat in
Scotland for two years afterwards. In 1819, they had in¬
creased to 11 ; in 1830, to 61 ; and in 1837, to 109, (ton¬
nage, 13,368), of which 63, or considerably more than the
half, belonged to the Clyde.4 The following table shews
the rapidly increasing number and tonnage of the steam¬
boats which entered the different ports of Scotland, and
cleared out, at different periods, since 1820.
Year.
1820
1825
1830
1837
Inwards.
Ships.
9
498
1886
3340
Tons.
505
57,709
240,270
563,438
Outwards.
Ships.
731
1717
2851
Tons.
72,811
212,167
483,586
Manufac¬
tures.
Linen.
On the subject of the Scottish manufactures our no¬
tices, derived from official or other documents, shall be
brief, particularly as under the articles Dundee, Glasgow,
&c., we have already given pretty ample information on the
different manufactures for which the country is distinguish¬
ed. The linen manufacture was the earliest, and long re¬
garded as the staple, branch of industry carried on in Scot¬
land. But such wrere the narrow limits within which it
was confined, that, at the Union, in 1707, it was not sup¬
posed to exceed 1,500,000 yards a-year. In 1727, aboard
of trustees was established for the superintendence and en¬
couragement of the linen manufacture; and bounties and
premiums were given on its production and exportation.
The regulations as to the inspection and stamping of the Statistics,
linen intended for exportation, by which the trade was much
annoyed, were abolished in 1822; and the bounties ceased
in the year 1830. The quantity produced for sale in 1728
was 2,000,000 yards; in 1775, 12,000,000 yards ; in 1822,
36,000,000 yards; and the exports alone, in 1835, exclu¬
sive of home consumption, was between 60,000,000 and
70,000,000 yards, worth about L. 1,600,000. Dundee and
the east of Scotland, including Fifeshire, are the great seats
of the manufacture, particularly in Osnaburghs, sail-cloth,
and the coarser fabrics; and Dunfermline and the neigh¬
bouring towns and villages, the principal seat of damask,
diaper, and the finer fabrics. Previously to 1791, all the
yarn used in the’manufacture was spun upon the common
hand-wheel; but the spinning by machinery began at that
time to be introduced; and such has been the facility of
production consequent on the erection of flax-mills, that
the cost of the yarn, including the raw material, is now less
than the spinning amounted to thirty years ago. The num¬
ber of flax, hemp, and tow factories was, in 1837, 175, em¬
ploying no fewer than 15,462 workers, of whom 4231 were
between thirteen and eighteen years of age, and 163 between
nine and thirteen.
Lanarkshire, which includes the city of Glasgow, and Cotton,
also the contiguous county of Renfrew', has always been
the principal seat of the cotton manufacture. Some of
the fabrics made at Glasgow and Paisley are of almost
unrivalled beauty and fineness. The first steam-engine for
the spinning of cotton erected in Scotland, was constructed
so late as 1792. The number of cotton factories in 1837
was 177, all those of considerable size being situated at
Glasgow, and in the neighbouring districts, comprehending
twenty or thirty miles around Glasgow, excepting five in
Aberdeenshire, two in Perthshire, one in Dumfries-shire,
and one at Gatehouse, in Kirkcudbrightshire. But, with no
exception, all these country mills are connected with Glas¬
gow houses, or the Glasgow trade, at least so far as the raw
material is concerned. Thenumberof handsfromeightyears
of age upwards employed in the Scottish cotton manufac¬
ture, is 34,418, of whom 13,567 are between thirteen and
eighteen years of age, and 1096 between nine and thirteen.
I The woollen manufacture of Scotland has never been con- Woollen,
siderable. It was formerly the custom for the occupiers of
land in this country to spin the whole of their wool with the
hand in their own houses, and to send the yarn to the vil¬
lage weaver to be woven into a species of coarse cloth called
plaiding ; but this mode, which is indicative of a rude and
backward state of society, is now entirely abandoned, hav¬
ing been superseded by machinery. Factories for the mak¬
ing of fine cloth have been established in Aberdeenshire,
and in some other counties; but comparatively coarse fa¬
brics still continue to be the staple article of Scotch manu¬
facture. The number of woollen or worsted factories in
1837 was 104, situated chiefly at Aberdeen, in Clack¬
mannanshire, at Hawick, Galashiels, and Jedburgh, Rox¬
burghshire, and in the counties of Stirling, Argyle, and In¬
verness. Hawick has almost entirely withdrawn from this
species of manufacture, and devotes its energies principally
to the production of woollen hose, of which it annually pro¬
duces about 500,000 pairs, with blankets, and flannels. The
towns of Stirling and Bannockburn are almost the exclu¬
sive seat of tartans. Kilmarnock is chiefly celebrated for
its manufacture of carpets and shawls, besides large num¬
bers of night-caps, bonnets, and foraging caps for the army.
Bonnets in Scotland, however, have been pretty generally
superseded by hats. The woollen factories, in 1837, con¬
tained 4339 workers, of whom 1856 were between thirteen
and eighteen years of age, and 156 between nine and thir¬
teen.
1 Babbage’s Economy of Manufactures, p. 5. 2 Chalmers’s Historical View, p. 387.
3 Chalmers, ut supra, p. 890 ; Macpherson’s Annals of Commerce, anno 1760; M‘Culloch’s Statistical Account, vol. xi. sect. Commerce.
* The Steam Engine, by Hugo Reid, Edinburgh, 1838, p. 160.
SCOTLAND.
,>oap.
pints.
The silk manufacture in Scotland is still less consider-
' than that of woollen. The principal seats of it are
at Paisley, Glasgow, and Edinburgh. Broad silks, or manu¬
factured goods of entire silk, sold by the yard, viz. gauzes,
Persians, satins, and, in general, all broad silks, plain or
figured, are made at these places, particularly the two first.
Silk mills were established in Edinburgh so late as the year
1838. Handkerchiefs, such as Bandanas and Barcelonas,
are made at Paisley and Glasgow, and a few adjacent places
in connexion with these towns. Paisley is celebrated for
: mixed goods, that is, all varieties of manufacture in which
silk forms a component part. Edinburgh is eminent chiefly
for its shawls of the finest fabrics, but perhaps is surpassed
even in this its staple silk production by Paisley. The silk
factories contain about 1000 workers. The whole of the
factories, of all kinds, in Scotland, namely, those of linen,
cotton, woollen, and silk, amounted, in 1837, to 462, (of
which 102 are situated in Lanarkshire, 94 in Forfarshire,
including Dundee, Arbroath, and other manufacturing towns,
and 62 in Renfrewshire,) employing 55,159 persons; but the
number of both has increased considerably since that time.
Soap has long been manufactured to a very great extent
in Scotland; and the principal seats of the manufacture
are Glasgow, Leith, Paisley, Aberdeen, Prestonpans, and
Montrose. The quantity made, in 1837, was 12,958,856 lbs.,
viz. of hard soap, 9,553,855, and of soft, 3,4050,01. The
quantity exported was 450,956 lbs., the rest being retained
for home consumption. The number of licences issued to
soapmakers was twenty-one.
The quantity of whisky produced in Scotland cannot
be ascertained before the year 1823, because, previously
to that time, owing to the high rate of duty, (5s. 6d.
per English wine gallon,) smuggling prevailed to a great
extent in almost every district of the country, particularly
in the Highlands. But in 1823 the duty was reduced to
2s., though subsequently, namely, in 1826 and 1830, it has
been successively raised to 2s. lOd. and 3s. 4d. The fol¬
lowing table will shew the quantity that paid duty for home
consumption since that time:
769
Y ear.
1824
1831
1833
1835
1838
Number of
gallons.
4,350,301
5,700,689
5,988,556
6,013,935
6,124,035
This is exclusive of the quantity produced for the foreign
market. In 1838 there were exported to England, at a duty
of 7s. 6d. per gallon, 2,215,329 gallons; and to Ireland, at a
duty of 2s. 4d., 861,069 gallons.
Official account of the number of distillers, rectifiers, dealers
in, and retailers of, spirits in Scotland in 1833 and 1834.
Distillers and rectifiers 
Dealers in spirits, not being retailers
Retailers of spirits whose premises 1
are rated under L.10 per annum j
Retailers at L.10 and under L.20...
 L.20 — L.25...
  L.25 _ L.30..,.
 L.30 L.40...
  L.40 ~~ L.50...
 L.50 and upwards 
1833.
241
543
11,659
4301
259
131
151
64
165
1834.
209
534
11,494
4109
222
133
156
63
166
The principal seat of this manufacture is Edinburgh and Statistics,
its neighbourhood; but it prevails extensively in other
places. By the following statement it appears that the Ale and
quantity of strong ale brewed on an average of five years ^eer*
previous to 1830, was 119,551 barrels annually, (the duty
being 9s. 10d. per barrel.) and of table beer, on an average
of the same time, 250,698 barrels, the duty being Is. ll^d.
But the duty being repealed in 1830, there are no later
accounts of the quantity brewed. The duty on malt is 20s.
8d. per quarter, and on hops 2d. per lb. The following ta¬
ble gives the number of brewers in Scotland in 1833 and
1834.
Brewers of strong beer, not exceed- 1
ing 20 barrels  j
Ditto above 20 and not above 50.....
  50   100 
  100   1000 
  1000 
Brewers of table beer 
1833.
145
43
43
209
103
62
1834.
154
45
33
204
116
52
The manufacture of kelp, which was formed by the in- Kelp,
cineration of the common sea-wrack, has altogether ceas¬
ed ; but during the late war it was prosecuted to such an
extent, particularly on the shores of the Highlands and Is¬
lands, that the total amount produced in Scotland was about
20,000 tons, which usually brought about L.10 per ton, or
L.200,000 yearly. At some periods it brought L.20, at
others it was as low as L.4 per ton. But since the reduction
of the duty on barilla and salt, the manufacture has alto¬
gether ceased.
Scotland has long been famous for its fisheries, which were
fora time the subject of bounties and premiums on the part of
government; but it is questionable whether such factitious
encouragement was productive of any real or permanent
good. Boards for protecting, extending, and encouraging
the fisheries were instituted in 1749, 1786, and 1808. But
all bounties and premiums have now ceased; and the branch
of industry in question is now thriving at least as well as
when encumbered with factitious aid. The salmon fishery
of Scotland has long been very considerable. The fishery
in the Tweed is the most important, not only in Scotland,
but in the empire, though there has of late years been a
great decline in the quantity caught. About the end of the
late war, the Tweed fishery yielded a rental of from L. 15,000
to L.l8,000 a-year; but owing to the falling off in the quan¬
tity caught, it does not now yield above L.4000 a-year. In
addition to the Tweed, the other most valuable salmon
fisheries are in the Forth, Tay, Dee, Don, Findhorn, Spey,
Ness, Conon, and other rivers throughout Scotland. The
London market is supplied with salmon chiefly by Scotland.
The total value of the salmon caught in Scotland has been
estimated at L.150,000 a-year.1 Salmon fisheries north of
the Tweed and Solway, but not these rivers themselves, are
to be shut from the 14th of September to the 1st of Feb¬
ruary. In the Tweed and its tributary streams, the taking
of salmon with the net is prohibited between the 15th of
October and 15th February, or with the rod between 7th of
November and 15th February. The Solway fisheries, ac¬
cording to the act of Parliament, include all streams that
fall into the Solway Firth, embracing the Piltanton, the
Luce, and the Bladenoch in Wigtonshire ; the Cree, Fleet,
Dee, and Urr in the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright; as well as
the Nith and other rivers in Dumfries-shire. The close
season with all of these rivers begins on the 25th of Sep¬
tember, and terminates with Piltanton, Luce, Bladenoch,
and Cree, as early as the 31st of December ; with the Fleet
1 Loudon’s Encyclopedia of Agriculture. General Report of Scotland, iii. 327.
VOL. XIX.
5 £
770
SCOTLAND.
Statistics
and the Dee on the 1st of February; and on the Solway
' Firth itself, properly so called, including the Urr and the
other streams that enter it, it extends to the 10th of March.
The penalties for transgressing any of these regulations are
heavy.1 The herring fishery has long been extensively cul¬
tivated, and much capital has been invested in it. The chief
seat is the east of Scotland, of which Wick, and its suburb,
Pultneytown, in Caithness, are important stations. Pultney-
town, indeed, has, owing to this circumstance, grown up with
something like the rapidity of a manufacturing village.
During the fishing season, from 1500 to 2000 boats, each
averaging a crew of five men, rendezvous here. Of these
about 500 belong to the town ; the rest resort thither from
all quarters of the kingdom. Of 436,098 barrels of herring
cured in the year ending the 5th of April 1834, no fewer
than 134,738, or between a third and a fourth of the whole,
were cured at Wick. The following table contains an ac¬
count of the total number of barrels of herring which were
cured in Scotland in the year just referred to, distinguish¬
ing the stations where landed or cured :
Number of
Stations. barrels
cured.
Ayr, Irvine, and Salt¬
coats   3,158
Campbelton  3,394^
Dumfries and Stran¬
raer  3,343
Fort William  2,259
Glasgow  8,946^
Greenock 12,8l7i
Inverary  3,931
Loch Broom  1.054
Dunvegan and Loch
Carron  9531
Lochgilphead   656
Lybster 34,712
Orkney, north isles.. 3,196
Orkney, south isles..l 0,560
Port-Gordon  6,215
Shetland 36,855
Stonehaven,
591
Stations.
Number of
barrels
cured.
Loch Shildag  1,124
Rothsay 20,561-|
Stornoway  398
Tobermory  1,968
Anstruther  1,134f
Banff 19,956
Burntisland  184^
Cromarty 10,318
Eyemouth  3,093
Findhorn  6,520
Fraserburgh 58,275
Helmsdale 27,432
Leith 
Thurso    8,890
Tongue  9,353
Wick 134,7381
41i
Total 436,0981
Banks.
About an eighth part of the whole was cured at sea, and
the remainder on shore. About the same proportion was
cured ungutted ; the rest were gutted, and generally within
twenty-four hours after the fish were caught. In addition to
the herring, the Scottish coast abounds with various kinds of
white fish, such as haddock, cod, ling, and the like, as also
oysters, flounders, and other flat fish. The persons who
carry on the white fishing reside in the sea-ports, or the nu¬
merous villages on the coast. They use lines and nets, but
principally the former ; and their business can be carried on
throughout the year. Steam navigation gives them a rea¬
dier and a wider command of a market than they formerly
enjoyed. In 1834 the herring, cod, and ling fisheries em¬
ployed 9,263 boats, decked and undecked, 48,700 fisher¬
men and boys by whom the boats were manned, 1893 coop¬
ers, and 28,645 in gutting, packing, &c ; the total number
of persons employed in these fisheries being 79,238.
This article would not be complete if it did not refer,
however briefly, to the system of banking for which Scot¬
land has become so celebrated. The Scottish banks are
joint-stock establishments M?ith large constituencies, the
National bank having no fewer than 1238 partners, and the
North of Scotland bank 1418; and, except in the case of
chartered banks, each partner is responsible to the extent of Statistic
his private fortune. With the chartered banks the respon¬
sibility is limited ; but then the charter guarantees a certain
amount of capital. For example, the capital of the bank
of Scotland is L.1,500,000, for which sum the shareholders
are responsible; andof ittwo-thirds,orL.l,000,000,has been
actually paid up. These establishments, based on wide con¬
stituencies, with unlimited responsibility on the part of the
shareholders, or, if chartered, with large capitals paid up or
guaranteed, enjoy the perfect confidence of the public. Be¬
sides, they are severally under the management of a body
of Directors chosen by the partners out of their own body,
and directly and periodically responsible to their constitu¬
ents ; and under their superintendence the banking business
is carried on in these establishments on the most judicious
and approved principles. Nor is this all. The different
banks periodically exchange notes with each other ; in Ed¬
inburgh, twice weekly, and in the country generally once a-
week. Over-issuing is thus completely checked, for if any
one bank has, after an exchange is made, an overplus of
the notes of any other, this latter must redeem those notes
either by a payment in specie, or in Exchequer bills, or an
order on the bank of England. For any of these institu¬
tions to become insolvent or bankrupt seems next to be im¬
possible. Indeed, no joint-stock bank, of any importance,
ever did become insolvent; but in cases when, in provin¬
cial towns, such banks have suspended payment, (which has
happened only in a very few instances, and these originating
in ignorance or fraud,) the public, or the holders of their notes,
have suffered no loss, each partner being responsible to the
amount of his private fortune. The Scotch banks receive sums
as low as L.10, or sometimes lower, as deposits, and allow in¬
terest on them at about one, or one and a half per cent, below
the market rate. The system of “cash accounts” is peculiar
to the Scottish mode of banking. A cash account is a credit
given by a bank to an individual with twro or more collateral
securities, for a certain sum, which he may draw out wholly or
partially as he pleases, replacing it in the same way, being
charged interest only on the portion he withdraws. The act
prohibiting the circulation of small notes in England did not
extend to Scotland; so that the currency consists almost exclu¬
sively of paper, namely, notes of thevalue of L.l andupwards.
Indeed, there is very little gold in circulation. The Scotch
banks draw on London at twenty days date. The Bank of
Scotland, the oldest banking establishment in Scotland, was
established in 1695, and issued notes for L.l as early as
1704. The Royal Bank of Scotland was founded in 1727;
and the British Linen Company in 1746. The total num¬
ber of joint-stock banks at present in Scotland is 25, having
altogether 306 branches. There are also seven private
banking establishments. The aggregate amount of the
sums deposited in the different Scottish banks was calculat¬
ed to be in 1826 about L.20,000,000 or L.21,000,000 ; and
it must have since increased considerably. The circulation
is supposed to be between L.3,000,000 and L.4,000,000,
seldom exceeding the latter sum.2
As in the progress of this article we have minutely re¬
ferred to the authorities on which the truth of the state¬
ments depends, except when we spoke from our own per¬
sonal knowledge, we have thought it unnecessary to give a
collected list of such authorities in this place; but we cannot
conclude without stating, that the Geological part was con¬
tributed by Mr. Alexander Rose, Lecturer on Geology, and
that the article Judicial Establishments was furnished by
James Stark, Esq., advocate.
1 Burton’s Manual of the Law of Scotland, pp. 257—60.
* House of Commons’ Report of 1826, on Scottish and Irish Banks.
SCO
_'ott, John SCOTT, John, an eminent English divine, was born in
Scott J638’ and became minister of St Thomas’s in Southwark.
Thomas. an Jhe year 1684 he was collated to a prebend in the cathe-
—y   oral of St Paul’s. Dr Hickes tells us, that, after the revolu¬
tion, he first refused the bishopric of Chester, because he
would not take the oath of homage ", and afterwards another
bishopric, the deanery of Worcester, and a prebend of the
church of Windsor, because they were all places of deprived
men.” He published several excellent works, particularly
the Christian Life, and died in the year 1695. He was emi¬
nent for his humanity, affability, sincerity, and readiness to
do good ; and his talent for preaching was extraordinary.
Scott, Thomas, an eminent divine of the Church of Eng¬
land, was born on the 16th of February 1747. His father was
a grazier in Lincolnshire, in humble circumstances, with thir¬
teen children, of whom Thomas was the tenth. The father
was ambitious that one of his sons should belong to a learned
profession, and with this view sent the subject of this me¬
moir, when about fifteen years of age, to be apprentice to an
apothecary and surgeon at Alford. In this situation he con¬
ducted himself so improperly, that after a short time he was
dismissed by his master, and sent home in disgrace. His
father, mortified and vexed by the conduct of his son, treated
him with great harshness, and employed him only in the
lowest and most laborious drudgery about the farm. For
nine years after his return home in disgrace, he was expos¬
ed to great hardships, associated with persons in the lowest
stations of society, and often joined in their riotous and aban¬
doned pursuits. Conceiving himself used with unjust seve¬
rity by his father, his temper was soured, and he became
exceedingly irritable and discontented.
His employment of tending the sheep left him often in
solitude. At these seasons his mind was filled with bitter
reflections on the past, and gloomy anticipations of the future;
and although his education had been very superficial, yet he
had acquired so much as awakened in him an insatiable
longing after the pleasures and distinctions of literature ; and
every thing conspired to disgust him with his present em¬
ployment.
When about twenty-five years of age, to the astonishment
of every one, he declared his resolution of entering into the
church. This scheme was strongly opposed by his father,
treated as chimerical by his friends, and ridiculed by his
neighbours. At length, however, his unconquerable forti¬
tude and patient perseverance overcame every obstacle, and
he was admitted to priest’s orders in the year 1773, and
shortly thereafter was appointed curate of Weston Under¬
wood, with a salary of L.50 a year. While here, he applied
with indefatigable zeal and industry to the study of sacred
and profane literature. His sentiments at first were de¬
cidedly Socinian; but a candid and diligent study of the
Scriptures gradually opened his eyes to the fallacy and the
dangers of the doctrines which he had espoused ; and being
in the neighbourhood of John Newton, the friend of Cow-
per, who was strongly evangelical and Calvinistic in his
views, his acquaintance with that eminent individual may
have contributed to this change in his religious sentiments.
In the year 1779 he published a small autobiography, en¬
titled the Force of Truth, in which he gave a candid state¬
ment of the change in his opinions, and the steps by which
he was gradually led to adopt the orthodox and evangeli¬
cal creed. This publication made a great sensation at the
time, and has gone through many editions since. He mar¬
ried, in 1774, Jane Kell, who proved a valuable helpmate to
him in his future struggles. In 1780 he succeeded John
Newton at Olney, and in 1785 he accepted the situation of
lecturer at the Lock Hospital, with a salary of L.80 a year.
This, with small sums for occasional lectureships, furnished
but a scanty allowance for the support of an increasing fa¬
mily ; and when, a few years afterwards, a proposal was
made to him by a London bookseller to write a Commen-
SCO 771
tary on the Bible, to be published in numbers, the offer of Scott, Sir
a guinea a week, as remuneration for his writings, decided Walter,
him to engage in the undertaking. s v—
This valuable work was well received by the public, and,
under proper management, ought to have been a very pro-
fitaole speculation; but, owing to the bankruptcy of the
bookseller, Mr Scott not only received no remuneration for
his labouij but lost all his little savings, and was involved
in considerable debt. I he first edition, of two thousand
copies, commenced in 1802, and was finished in 1809; a
second of two thousand copies, in 1807-11 ; the third, of
three thousand copies, in six volumes 4to, 1812-14. The
fourth was stereotyped, and sold to a great extent. He pub¬
lished a volume ot Essays in 1793—94. He also published,
in two volumes 8vo, Remarks on the Bishop of Lincoln’s
Refutation of Calvinism; and Sermons on various subjects,
from time to time. His Theological Works were collected
a.nd edited by his son, the Reverend John Scott, and pub¬
lished in ten volumes 8vo, in 1823.
In 1803 he left London for the rectory of Aston, Sand-
ford, where he died on the 16th of April 1821. He was a
man of eminent piety, somewhat eager and impetuous, but
of great sincerity, and sterling honesty of character; of a
vigorous intellect, indefatigably diligent in his studies, and
a useful and practical preacher.
Scott, Sir Walter, was born at Edinburgh on the 15th
of August 1771. “ My birth,” says he, “ was neither dis¬
tinguished nor sordid. According to the prejudices of my
country, it was esteemed genth, as I was connected, though
remotely, with ancient families, both by my father’s and
mother’s side.” His paternal great-grandfather was a cadet
of the border family of Harden, which has been ennobled
within the last few years, and sprung in the fourteenth cen¬
tury from the great house of Buccleuch; his grandfather
became a farmer in Roxburghshire, and married a lady who
was a relation of his own; and his father, Walter Scott, was
a writer to the signet in the Scottish capital. The poet’s
mother, Anne Rutherford, who was likewise of honourable
descent, was the daughter of one of the medical professors
in the university of Edinburgh.
Neither Scott’s poetical turn nor his extraordinary powers
of memory seem to have been inherited from either of his
parents. His early years displayed as little precocity of
talent as did the steady development of his mind in riper
days; and the uneventful tenor of his childhood and youth,
although their impressions can now be traced vividly in his
works, must have seemed, but for these, as little calculated
as possible to awaken in his mind a love of the imaginative
or romantic.
Delicacy of constitution, accompanied by a lameness
which proved permanent, exhibited itself before he had com¬
pleted his second year, and caused soon afterwards his re¬
moval to the country. There, at his grandfather’s farm¬
house of Sandyknowe, situated beneath the crags of a ruin¬
ed baronial tower, and overlooking a tract of many miles
studded with spots famous in border-history, the poet passed
his childhood till about his eighth year, with scarcely any
interruption but that of a year spent at Bath. From this
early period there are related some interesting anecdotes of
his sympathy with the grandeur and beauty of nature. The
tenacity of his infantine recollections gave promise of what
was afterwards so remarkable a faculty in his mind; and
the ballads and legends, which were recited to him amidst
the scenes in which their events were laid, co-operated in
after-days with family and national pride to decide the bent
of the border-minstrel’s fancy.
His health being partially confirmed, he was recalled
home ; and from the end of 1779 until 1783 his education
was conducted in the High School of Edinburgh, with the
assistance of a tutor resident in his father’s house. In the
years immediately preceding this change, he had shewn
772
SCOTT.
Scott, Sir decided activity of intellect, and strong symptoms of its di-
Walter. version towards literary pursuits ; but now, introduced with
' imperfect preparation into a large and thoroughly trained
class, and thrown, for the first time in his life, among a crowd
of boisterous boys, his childish zeal for learning seems to
have been quenched by ambition of another kind. His
memory, it is true, was still remarkable, and procured for him
from his master the title of historian of the class; while he
produced some school-verses, both translated and original,
which were at least creditable for a boy of twelve. Even
his intellectual powers, however, wrere less active in the pro¬
per business of the school than in enticing his companions
from their tasks by merry jests and little stories; and his
place as a scholar scarcely ever rose above mediocrity.
But his reputation stood high in the play-ground, where,
possessed of unconquerable courage, and painfully eager to
defeat the scorn which his physical defects excited, he is
described as performing hazardous feats of agility, and as
gaining pugilistic trophies over comrades who, that they
might have no unfair advantage over the lame boy, fought,
like him, lashed face to face on a plank. At home, his tu¬
tor, a zealous Presbyterian, initiated him, chiefly by means
of conversation, in the facts of Scottish history, political as
well as ecclesiastical, though without being able to shake
those opinions which the boy had already taken up as an
inheritance descending from liis Jacobite ancestors; and he
pursued with eagerness, at every interval which could be
stolen from the watchfulness of his elders, a course of read¬
ing utterly miscellaneous and undigested, and embracing
much that to most minds would have been either useless
or positively injurious. “ I left the High School,” says he,
“ with a great quantity of general information, ill arranged,
indeed, and collected without system, yet deeply impressed
upon my mind, readily assorted by my power of connexion
and memory, and gilded, if I may be permitted to say so,
by a vivid and active imagination.”
His perusal of histories, voyages, and travels, fairy tales,
romances, and English poetry, was continued with increas¬
ing avidity during a long visit which, in his twelfth year,
he paid to his father’s sister at the village of Kelso, where,
lying beneath a noble plane-tree in an antique garden, and
beholding around him one of the most beautiful landscapes
in Scotland, the young student read for the first time, with
entranced enthusiasm, Percy’s Reliques of Ancient Poetry.
This work, besides the delight which was imparted by the
poems it contained, influenced his mind by giving new dig¬
nity, in his eyes, to his favourite Scottish ballads, which he
had already begun to collect from recitation, and to copy
in little volumes, several of which are still preserved at
Abbotsford. “To this period, also,” he tells us, “ I can
trace distinctly the awaking of that delightful feeling for
the beauties of natural objects, which has never since de¬
serted me. The romantic feelings which 1 have described
as predominating in my mind, naturally rested upon and
associated themselves with the grand features of the land¬
scape around me ; and the historical incidents or traditional
legends connected with many of them gave to my admira¬
tion a sort of intense impression of reverence, which at times
made my heart feel too big for its bosom. From this time
the love of natural beauty, more especially when combined
with ancient ruins, or remains of our fathers’ piety or splen¬
dour, became with me an insatiable passion, which, it cir¬
cumstances had permitted, I would willingly have gratified
by travelling over half the globe.”
In November 1783, Scott became a student in the univer¬
sity of Edinburgh, in which, how ever, he seems to have at¬
tended no classes but those of Greek, Latin, and logic, du¬
ring one session, with those of ethics and universal history at
a later period, while preparing for the bar. At college the
scholastic part of his education proceeded even more unpros-
perously than it had previously done. For science, mental,
physical, or mathematical, he displayed no inclination ; and Scott,
in the acquisition of languages, for which he possessed consi- Walt
derable aptitude, he was but partially industrious or success- ' v
ful. Of Greek, as his son-in-law and biographer admits,
he had in later life forgotten the very alphabet. He had
indeed entered on the study with disadvantages similar to
those which had formerly impeded his progress in Latin;
he had, as he informs us, petulantly resolved on despising
a study in which he found himself inferior to his competi¬
tors ; and Professor Dalziel, irritated not only by his care¬
lessness, but by an essay in which he maintained that Ariosto
wras a better poet than Homer, solemnly pronounced of him,
“ that dunce he wras, and dunce would remain.” His know¬
ledge of Latin does not appear to have ever extended far¬
ther than enabling him to catch loosely the meaning of his
author; although we are informed that for some writers in
that tongue, especially Lucan, Claudian, and Buchanan, he
had in after life a decided predilection. About the time
now under review^ he also acquired French, Italian, and
Spanish, all of which he afterwards read with sufficient ease;
and the German language was learned a few years later,
but never critically understood.
It was some time between his twelfth and his sixteenth
year that his stores of romantic and poetical reading received
a vast increase, during a severe illness which long confined
him to bed ; and one of his schoolfellows has given an in¬
teresting account of excursions in the neighbourhood ot the
city, during this period, when the two youths read poems and
romances of knight-errantry, and exercised their invention
in composing and relating to each other interminable tales
modelled on their favourite books. The vocation of the
romance-writer and poet of chivalry was thus already fixed.
His health likewise became permanently robust. 1 he sickly
boy grew up into a muscular and handsome youth ; and the
lameness in one leg, which was the sole remnant of his
early complaints, was through life no obstacle to his habits
of active bodily exertion, or to his love for out-of-door sports
and exercise.
The next step in his life did not seem directed towards
the goal to which all his favourite studies pointed. His
father, a formal though high-spirited and high-principled
man, whose manners are accurately described in his son’s
novel of Redgauntlet, designed him for the legal profes¬
sion ; and, although he always looked wishfully forward to
his son’s embracing the highest department of it, considered
it advisable, according to a practice not uncommon in Scot¬
land, that he should be prepared for the bar by an education
as an attorney. Accordingly, in May 178(3, Scott, then
nearly fifteen years old, was articled for five years as an ap¬
prentice to his father, in whose chambers he thenceforth
continued, for the greater part of every day, to discharge
the humble duties of a clerk, until, about the year 1790, he
had, with his father’s approbation, finally resolved on coming
to the bar. Of the amount of the young poet’s professional
industry during those years of servitude we possess con¬
flicting representations; but many circumstances in his
habits, many peculiarities in the knowledge he exhibits in¬
cidentally in his works, and perhaps even much of his re¬
solute literary industry, may be safely referred to the pe¬
riod of his apprenticeship, and show satisfactorily that at
all events he wTas not systematically negligent of his duties.
Historical and imaginative reading, however, continued to
be prosecuted with undiminished ardour; summer excur¬
sions into the Highlands introduced him to the scenes, and
to more than one of the characters, which afterwards figured
in his most successful works; while in the law-classes oi
the university, as well as in the juvenile debating societies,
he formed, or renewed from his school-days, acquaintance
with several who became in manhood his cherished friends
and his literary advisers. In 1791 the Speculative Society
made him acquainted with Mr Jeffrey and those other young
Sii
it
Stott/i
Walt*
SCOTT.
ISnott Sir men whose subsequent celebrity has been to a small extent
w alter, reflected on the arena of their early training.
Scott’s attempts in poetry had now become more am¬
bitious ; for, it is said, about the completion of his fifteenth
year, he had composed a poem in four books on the Con¬
quest of Granada, which, however, he almost immediately
burned, and no trace of it has been preserved. During some
years after this time, we hear of no other literary composi¬
tions than essays for the debating societies.
In July 1792, being almost twenty-one years of age, he
was called to the bar. Immediately after his first circuit,
he commenced that series of “ raids,” as he playfully call¬
ed them, or excursions into the secluded border-districts,
which in a few years enabled him to amass the materials
for his first considerable work. His walks on the boards of
the Parliament House, the Westminster Hall of Scotland,
if they gained him for a time few professional fees, speedily
procured him renown among his fellow-lawyers as a story¬
teller of high excellence; his father’s connections and his
own friendships opened for him a ready admission into the
best society of the city, in which his cheerful temper and
his rich store of anecdotes made him universally popular ;
and his German studies produced, in 1796, his earliest poeti¬
cal efforts that were published, namely, the translations of
Burger’s ballads, Lenora and the Wild Huntsman. The
same year witnessed the disappointment of a long and fond¬
ly-cherished hope, by the marriage of a young lady, whose
image, notwithstanding, clung to his memory through life,
and inspired some of the tenderest strains of his poetry.
In the summer of 1797, however, on a visit to the water¬
ing-place of Gilsland, in Cumberland, he became acquaint¬
ed with Charlotte Margaret Carpenter, a young lady of
French birth and parentage, whose mother, the widow of a
royalist of Lyons, had escaped to England, and there died,
leaving her children to the guardianship of their father’s
friend the Marquis of Downshire. A mutual attachment
ensued; and, after the removal of prudential doubts, which
had arisen among the connections on both sides, Scott and
Miss Carpenter were married at Carlisle in December of
the same year.
The German ballads, which, though they met with very
little sale, had been justly praised by a few competent critics,
served as the translator’s introduction to the then celebrated
Matthew Gregory Lewis, who enlisted him as a contributor
to his poetical Tales of Wonder ; and one cannot now but
smile to hear of the elation with which the author of Wa-
verley at that time contemplated the patronising kindness
extended to him by the author of The Monk. Early in
1788 was published Scott’s translation of Goethe’s Goetz von
Berlichingen, which, through Lewis’s assistance, was sold to
a London bookseller for twenty-five guineas; but, though
favourably criticised, it was received by the public as coldly
as the preceding volume. In the summer of 1799, the poet
wrote those ballads which he has himself called his “ first
serious attempts in verse;” the Glenfinlas, the Eve of St
John, and the Grey Brother.
After Scott’s marriage, several of his summers were spent
in a pretty cottage at Lasswade near Edinburgh, where he
formed, besides other acquaintances, those of the noble
houses of Melville and Buccleuch. The influence of these
powerful friends, willingly exerted for one whose society
was agreeable, whose birth connected him, though very re¬
motely, with the latter of those titled families, and who in
politics was decidedly and actively devoted to the ruling
party, procured for him, in the end of the year 1799, his ap¬
pointment as sheriff-depute of Selkirkshire, an office which
imposed very little duty, while it gave him a permanent sa¬
lary of L.300 per annum. His father’s death had recently
bestowed on him a small patrimony; his wife had an income
which was considerable enough to aid him greatly; his prac¬
tice as a lawyer yielded, though not much, yet more than
barristers of his standing can usually boast of; and, altoge- Scott, Sir
ther, his situation in life, if not eminent, was at least strik- Walter,
ingly favourable when compared with that which has fallen
to the lot of most literary men. Scott, however, now twen-
ty-eight years of age, had done nothing to found a reputa¬
tion for him as a man of letters ; and there appeared as yet
to be but little probability that he should attach himself to
htei ature as a profession, or consider it as any thing more
than a relaxation for those leisure hours which were left un¬
occupied by business and the enjoyments of polite society.
In 1800 and 1801 those hours were employed in the pre¬
paration of the Border Minstrelsy, the fruit of his childish
recollections, and of his youthful rambles and studies. The
first two volumes appeared in the beginning of the next
year, and the edition, consisting of eight hundred copies, was
sold off before its close. This work, however, the earliest of
his which can be said to have given him any general fame,
yielded him about eighty pounds of clear profit; being very
far less than he must have expended in the investigations
out of which it sprang. In 1803 it was completed by the
publication of the third volume. Besides the value which
the Minstrelsy possesses in itself, in the noble antique bal¬
lads, so industriously, tastefully, and yet conscientiously
edited, in the curious and spiritedly-used information which
overflows through all the prose annotations, and in those
few original poems which gave the earliest warning of that
genius which as yet had lurked unseen, the work has now a
separate value and interest, as forming the most curious of
all illustrations for the history of its editor’s mind and of his
subsequent works. “ One of the critics of that day,” re¬
marks Mr Lockhart, “ said that the book contained ‘ the
elements of a hundred historical romances;’ and this critic
was a prophetic one. No person who has not gone through
its volumes for the express purpose of comparing their con¬
tents with his great original works, can have formed a con¬
ception of the endless variety of incidents and images, now
expanded and emblazoned by his mature art, of which the
first hints may be found either in the text of those primi¬
tive ballads, or in the notes which the happy rambles of his
youth had gathered together for their illustration.”
But before the publication of the Border Minstrelsy, the
poet had begun to attempt a higher flight. “ In the third
volume,” says he, writing to his friend George Ellis in 1803,
“ I intend to publish a long poem of my own. It will be
a kind of romance of border chivalry, in a light-horseman
sort of stanza.” This border romance was the Lay of the
Last Minstrel, which, however, soon extended in plan and
dimensions, and, originating as a ballad on a goblin story,
became at length a long and varied poem. The first draught
of it, in its present shape, was written in the autumn of
1802, and the whole history of its progress has been de¬
lightfully told by the author himself, and is well illustrated
by his biographer.
In 1803, during a visit to London, Scott, already famili¬
arly acquainted with Ellis, Heber, and other literary men,
and now possessing high reputation himself in virtue of the
Minstrelsy, was introduced to several of the first men of the
time ; and thenceforth, bland as he was in manner, and kind
in heart, indefatigable and successful in his study of human
character, and always willing to receive with cordiality the
strangers whom his waxing fame brought about him, it is
not surprising to find, that not to know personally Walter
Scott, argued one’s self unknown. The toleration and kind¬
liness of his character are illustrated by the fact, that firm
as his own political opinions were, and violently as excite¬
ment sometimes led him to express them, not only did he
always continue on friendly terms with the chief men of the
opposite party in Edinburgh, but several of them were his
intimate friends and associates; and he even was for some
years an occasional contributor to the Edinburgh Review.
In 1804! was published his edition of the ancient poem
774 SCO
Scott, Sir of Sir Tristrem, so valuable for its learned dissertations, and
^ alter. foi. that admirable imitation of the antique which appears
v —ag a continuation of the early minstrel’s work.
During that year and the preceding, the Lay was freely
communicated to all the author’s friends, Wordsworth and
Jeffrey among the rest; and after undergoing various
changes, and receiving enthusiastic approval in several
quarters from which commendation was wont to issue but
sparingly, it was at length published, in the first week of
1805. the poet, now thirty-three years of age, took his
place at once as a classic in English literature. Its circu¬
lation immediately became immense, and has since ex¬
ceeded that of any other English poem. ^
But exactly at this culminating point of the poet’s life,
we must turn aside from the narrative of his literary tri¬
umphs, to notice a step of another kind, which proved the
most important he ever took. In one of those interesting
communications of 1830, wdfich throw so much light on his
personal history, he has told us, that from the moment when
it became certain that literature wTas to form the principal
employment of his days, he determined that it should at
least not constitute a necessary source of his income. Few
literary men, perhaps, have not nourished a wish of this
sort; but very few indeed have possessed, like Scott, the
means of converting the desire into an effectual resolution.
In 1805, as his biographer tells us, he was, “ independently
of practice at the bar and of literary profits, in possession of
a fixed revenue of nearly, if not quite, L. 1000 a year. T. o
most men of letters this income would have appeared af¬
fluence ; but Scott has frankly avowed, that he did not think
it such. The truth is, that his mind was already filled with
the feeling which speedily became its master-passion, name¬
ly, the ambition, not of founding a new family (for that
was too mean an aim for his pride of birth to stoop to), but
of adding to his own ancestral pretensions that claim to
respect which ancient pedigree does not always possess
when it stands alone, but which belongs to it beyond chal¬
lenge when it is united with territorial possessions. The
fame of a great poet, now within his reach, if not already
grasped, seemed to him a little thing, compared with the
dignity of a well-doscended and wealthy Scottish land-
holder ; and, while neither he nor his friends could yet hawe
foreseen the immensity of those resources which his genius
was afterwards to place at his disposal for the attainment of
his favourite wish, two plans occurred and were executed,
which promised to conduct him far at least towaids the
goal. _ . .
The first of these w'as the obtaining of one of the princi¬
pal clerkships in the Scottish Court of Session, offices of
high respectability, executed at a moderate cost of time
and trouble, and remunerated at that time by an income
of about L.800 a year, which was afterwards increased to
L.1300. This object was attained early in 1806, through
his ministerial influence, aided by the consideration paid to
his talents ; although, owing to a private arrangement with
his predecessor, he did not receive any part of the emolu¬
ments till six years later.
The second plan was of a different sort, being in fact a
commercial speculation. James Ballantyne, a schoolfellow
of Scott, a man possessing a good education, and consider¬
able literary talent of a practical kind, having become the
editor and printer of a newspaper in Kelso, had been em¬
ployed to print the Minstrelsy, and acquired great reputa¬
tion by the elegance with which that work was produced.
Soon afterwards, in pursuance of Scott s advice, he removed
to Edinburgh, where, under the patronage of the poet and
his friends, and assisted by his own character and skill, his
printing business accumulated to an extent which his capi¬
tal, even with pecuniary aid from Scott, proved inadequate
to sustain. An application for a new loan was met by a
refusal, accompanied, however, by a proposal, that Scott
T T.
should make a large advance, on condition of being admitted Scott, Sir
as a partner in the firm, to the amount of a third share., _
Accordingly, in May 1805, Walter Scott became regularly^ v 1
a partner of the printing-house of James Ballantyne and
Company, though the fact remained for the public, and for
all his friends but one, a profound secret. “ The forming
of this commercial connexion was,” says his son-in-law, “ one
of the most important steps in Scott’s life. He continued
bound by it during twenty years, and its influence on his
literary exertions and his worldly fortunes was productive
of much good and not a little evil. Its effects were in truth
so mixed and balanced during the vicissitudes of a long
and vigorous career, that I at this moment doubt whether
it ought, on the whole, to be considered with more of satis¬
faction or of regret.”
From this time we are to view Scott as incessantly en¬
gaged in that memorable course of literary industry whose
toils advancing years served only to augment, and from
which neither the duties of his two professional offices of
clerk of session and sheriff, nor the increasing claims made
on him by society, were ever able to divert him. He now
stood deservedly high in the favour of the booksellers, not
merely as a poet and man of genius, but as one possessed
of an extraordinary mass of information, and of such habits
as qualified him eminently for turning his knowledge to ac¬
count. He was therefore soon embarked in undertakings,
not indeed altogether inglorious, but involving an amount
of drudgery to which, perhaps, no man of equal original
genius has ever condescended. The earliest of these was
his edition of Dryden, which, entered upon in 1805, was
completed and published in 1808.
But the list of works in which his poetical genius shone
forth continued rapidly to increase amidst his multiplicity
of other avocations. From the summer of 1804 till that of
1812, the spring and autumnal vacations of the court wexe
spent by him and his family at Ashestiel, a small mansion
romantically overhanging the Tweed some miles above
Melrose, and rented from one of the poet’s kinsmen. In
this beautiful retreat, at intervals during twelve months, was
chiefly composed the magnificent poem of Marmion, which
was published in the beginning of 1808. At the same place,
likewise, in 1805, were composed the opening chapters of a
novel which, on the disapproval of one of the author’s criti¬
cal friends, was thrown aside and not resumed for years.
Scott’s commercial engagements must now again be ad¬
verted to. In the year 1808 he took a part, perhaps as sug-
gester, certainly as a zealous promoter, of a scheme which
terminated in the establishment of the Quarterly Review in
London, as a political and literary counterpoise to the Edin¬
burgh Review, the advocate of Whig opinions. But the
poet had other than political grounds for embarking in this
opposition. He had seriously quarrelled with the firm ot
Constable and Company, the publishers of the Edinburgh
Review, and of several of his own earlier works ; and his
wish to check the enterprising head of that house in Ins
attempts to obtain a monopoly of Scottish literature, is
openly avowed, in Scott’s correspondence at the time, as
one of his principal motives for framing another scheme.
His plan, as far as it was explained either to the public or
to his own friends, amounted only to this: That a new pub¬
lishing house should be set up in Edinburgh, under the ma¬
nagement of John Ballantyne, a younger brother of James;
and that this firm, with the acknowledged patronage of
Scott and his friends, should engage in a senes of extensive
literary undertakings, including, amongst others, the annual
publication of a historical and literary Register, conducted
on Tory principles. But, unfortunately both for Scott s peace
of mind, and ultimately also for his worldly fortunes, there was
here, as in his previously-formed connection with the same
family, an undivulged secret. The profits of the prinang-
house had been large ; Scott’s territorial ambition had been
SCOTT.
, Sir growing faster than his prospect of being able to feed it;
^   j and these causes9 inextricably mixed up with pic^ue towards
Constable, and kindliness for his Kelso proteges, led him
into an entanglement which at length ruined both himself
and his associates. By the contract of the publishing house
of John Ballantyne and Company, executed in May 1808,
Scott became a secret partner to the extent of one third.
The unhappy issue of this affair will force itself on our no¬
tice at a later stage. .
In the mean time we see him prosecuting for some time
his career of poetical success. The Lady of the Lake,
published in 1810, was followed by the Vision of Don Ro¬
derick in 1811 ; by Rokeby in 1812 ; and by the Bridal of
Triermain, which came out anonymously in 1813. His
poems may be said to have closed in 1815 with the Lord of
the Isles and the Field of Waterloo; since Harold the Daunt¬
less, in 1817, appeared without the writer’s name, and the
dramatic poems of 1822 and 1830 are quite unworthy of
him. In the midst of these poetical employments he made
his second and last great appearance as an editor and com¬
mentator of English classics, by publishing in 1814 his edi¬
tion of Swift.
But from 1815 till 1825, Scott’s name ceased almost en¬
tirely to be before the public as an avowed author; and
for those who chose to believe that he was not the writer
of the Waverley Novels it must have been a question not a
little puzzling, if it ever occurred to them, how this man,
who wrote with such ease, and seemed to take such plea¬
sure in writing, was now occupying his hours of leisure. A
few articles in the Quarterly Review, such works as Paul’s
Letters, and annotations in occasional editions of ancient
tracts, accounted but poorly for his time during ten years.
About 1813 and 1814 his popularity as a poet was sen¬
sibly on the decline, partly from causes inherent in his
later poems themselves, and partly from extraneous causes,
among which a prominent place belongs to the appearance
of Byron. No man was more quicksighted than Scott in
perceiving the ebb of popular favour ; and no man better
prepared to meet the reverse with firmness. He put in
serious execution a threat which he had playfully uttered
to one of his own family even before the publication of the
Lady of the Lake. “ If I fail now,” said he, “ I will write
prose for life.” And in Avriting prose his genius discover¬
ed, on its first attempt, a field in which it earned triumphs
even more splendid than its early ones in the domain of
poetry.
The chapters of fiction begun at Ashestiel in 1805, which
had already been resumed and again thrown aside, vrere
once more taken up, and the work was finished with mira¬
culous rapidity ; the second and third volumes having been
written during the afternoons of three summer weeks in 1814.
The novel appeared in July of that year, under the title of
Waverley, and its success from the first was unequivocal
and unparalleled. Although we cannot here give a cata¬
logue of Scott’s works, yet in truth such a list of the no¬
vels and romances does in itself present the most surprising
proof, both of his patient industry, and of the singularly equa¬
ble command which he had at all times over his mental re¬
sources. In the midst of occupations which would have
taken aAvay all leisure from other men, the press poured
forth volume after volume, in a succession so rapid as to de¬
prive of some part of its absurdity one of the absurd sup¬
positions of the day, namely, that more persons than one were
concerned in the novels. Guy Mannering, the second of the
series, in 1815, was followed in 1816 by the Antiquary and
the First Series of the Tales of My Landlord. Rob Roy
appeared in 1817 ; the Second Series of the Tales in 1818 ;
and in 1819 the Third Series and Ivanhoe. Two romances
a-year now seemed to be expected as the due of the public.
The year 1820 gave them the Monastery and the Abbot;
1821, Kenilworth and the Pirate; the Fortunes of Nigel,
coming out alone in 1822, was followed in 1823 by no fewer Scott, Sir
than three works of fiction, Peveril of the Peak, Quentin Walter.
urward, and St Ronan’s Well; and the comparatively
scanty number of novels in 1824 and 1825, which produced
respectively only Redgauntlet and the Tales of the Cru-
sadeis, is accounted for by the fact that the author was en¬
gaged in preparing a large historical work.
It is impossible even to touch on the manv interesting
details which Scott’s personal history presents during these
brilliant years; but it is indispensable to say, that his
dream of territorial acquisition was realized with a splen¬
dour which, a few years before, he himself could not have
hoped for. The first step was taken in 1811, by the pur¬
chase of a small farm of a hundred acres on the banks of the
Tweed, which received the name of Abbotsford, and in a few
years grew, by new purchases, into a large estate. The modest
dwelling first planned on this little manor, with its two spare
bed-rooms and its plain appurtenances, expanded itself in
like manner with its master’s waxing means of expenditure,
till it had become that baronial castle which Ave noAv reve¬
rentially visit as the minstrel’s home. The hospitality of
the poet increased with his seeming prosperity ; his morn¬
ings were dedicated to composition, and his evenings to so¬
ciety ; and from the date of his baronetcy in 1820 to the final
catastrophe in 1826, no mansion in Europe, of poet or of
nobleman, could boast such a succession of guests illustri¬
ous for rank or talent, as those who sat at Sir Walter Scott’s
board, and departed proud of having been so honoured.
His family meanwhile grew up around him ; his eldest son
and daughter married; most of his early friends continued
to stand by his side ; and few that saw the poet in 1825, a
hale and seemingly happy man of fifty-four, could have
guessed that there remained for him only a feAv more years
(years of mortification and of sorroAv), before he should sink
into the grave, struck down by internal calamity, not by the
gentle hand of time.
And yet not only was this the issue, but, even in the
hour of his greatest seeming prosperity, Scott had again
and again been secretly struggling against some of the most
alarming anxieties. On details as to his unfortunate com¬
mercial engagements we cannot here enter. It is enough
to say, that the printing company of which he AA’as a partner,
which seems to have had considerable liabilities even be¬
fore the establishment of the publishing house, A\’as noAv in¬
extricably entangled with the concerns of the latter, many
of whose largest speculations had been completely unsuc¬
cessful ; that, besides this, both firms were involved to an en¬
ormous extent with the house of Constable ; and that large
sums, which had been drawn by Sir Walter as copyright-
money for the novels, had been paid in bills which were
still current, and threatening to come back on him.
In the beginning of 1826, Constable’s house stopped pay¬
ment ; and the failure of the firm of Ballantyne, for a very
large sum, followed instantly and of course. Probably even
the utter ruin which this catastrophe brought upon Scott,
was not more painful to him than the exposure Avhich it
necessarily involved, of those secret connections, the exist¬
ence of which even his most confidential friends could till
now have at most only suspected. But if he had been im¬
prudent, he was both courageous and honourable; and in
no period of his life does he appear to such advantage, as
when he stood, as now, beggared, humbled, and covered
with a load of debt from which no human exertions seemed
able to relieve him. He came forward without a day’s de¬
lay, and refused to be dealt with as an ordinary bankrupt,
or to avail himself of those steps which would have set him
free from the claims of his creditors, on surrendering his
property to them. He insisted that these claims should, so
far as regarded him, be still alloAved to subsist; and he
pledged himself that the labour of his future life should be
unremittingly devoted to the discharge of them. He did
776
SCOTT.
i
Scott, Sir
Walter.
more than fulfil his noble promise; for the gigantic toil to
which, during years after this, he submitted, was the im¬
mediate cause that shortened his life. His self-sacrifice, how¬
ever, effected astonishingly much towards the purpose which
it was designed to serve. Between January 1826 and Janu¬
ary 1828, he had realized for the creditors the surprising
sum of nearly L.40,000 ; and soon after his death the prin¬
cipal of the whole Ballantyne debt was paid up by his exe¬
cutors.
We have now briefly to describe the efforts by which
this result was accomplished. After spending at Abbots¬
ford, in 1826, a solitary summer, very unlike its former
scenes of splendour, Scott, returning to town for his win¬
ter duties, and compelled to leave behind him his dying
wife (who survived but till the spring), took up his resi¬
dence in lodgings, and there continued that system of in¬
cessant and redoubled labour which he had already main¬
tained for months, and maintained afterwards till it killed
him. Woodstock, published in 1826, had been written dur¬
ing the crisis of his distresses ; and the next fruit of his toil
was the Life of Napoleon, which, commenced before the ca¬
tastrophe, appeared in 1827, and was followed by the First
Series of Chronicles of the Canongate ; while to these again
succeeded, in the end of the same year, the First Series of
the Tales of a Grandfather. The year 1828 produced the
Second Series of both of these works; 1829 ga,ve Anne of
Geierstein, the first volume of a History of Scotland for
Gardner’s Cyclopaedia, and the Third Series of the Tales of
a Grandfather. The same year also witnessed the com¬
mencement of that annotated publication of the collected
novels, which, together with the similar edition of the poeti¬
cal works, was so powerful an instrument in effecting Scott’s
purpose of pecuniary disentanglement. In 1830 came two
Dramas, the Letters on Demonology, the Fourth Series of
the Tales of a Grandfather, and the second volume of the
History of Scotland. If we are disappointed when we com¬
pare most of these works with the productions of younger
and happier days, our criticism will be disarmed by a recol¬
lection of the honourable end which the later works pro¬
moted ; and as to the last productions of the mighty master,
the volumes of 1831, containing Count Robert and Castle
Dangerous, no one who is acquainted with the melancholy
circumstances under which these wrere composed and pub¬
lished, will be capable of any feeling but that of compassion¬
ate respect.
The dejection which it was impossible for Scott not to
feel in commencing his self-imposed task, was materially
lightened, and his health invigorated, by an excursion to
London and Paris in the course of 1826, for the purpose
of collecting materials for the Life of Napoleon. In 1829
alarming symptoms appeared, and were followed by a para¬
lytic attack in February 1830, after which the tokens ot the
disease were always more or less perceptible to his family;
but the severity of his tasks continued unremitted, although
in that year he retired from his clerkship, and took up his
permanent residence at Abbotsford. The mind was now
but too evidently shaken, as well as the body ; and the diary
which he kept contains, about and after this time, melan¬
choly misgivings of his own upon this subject. In April
1831 he had the most severe shock of his disease that had
yet attacked him ; and having been at length persuaded to
abandon literary exertion, he left Abbotsford in September
of that year, on his way to the Continent, no country ot
which he had ever yet visited, except some parts ot t ranee
and Flanders. This new tour was undertaken with the faint
hope that abstinence from mental labour might for a time
avert the impending blow. A ship of war, furnished for the
purpose by the Admiralty, conveyed Sir W alter, first to Mal¬
ta, and then to Naples; and the accounts which we have,
both of the voyage and of his residence in Italy, abound with
circumstances of melancholy interest. After the beginning
of May 1832, his mind was completely overthrown ; his ner¬
vous impatience forced his companions to hurry him home¬
ward from Rome through the Tyrol to Frankfort; in June
they arrived in London, whence Sir Walter was conveyed
by sea to Edinburgh ; and, having reached Abbotsford on
the 11th of July, he there continued to exist, with few in¬
tervals of consciousness, till the afternoon of the 21st of
September, when he expired, having just completed the
sixty-first year of his age. On the 26th he was buried in
the beautiful ruins of Dryburgh Abbey.
In the article Romance, observations have been made
on Scott’s prose works of fiction. It remains here to add
a very few words on the character of his poetry. It would
be rash for any who have lived only in the same age with
a great poet, and still more rash for those whose earliest
conceptions of poetical celebrity and poetical beauty are in¬
separably associated with his name and his writings, to pro¬
nounce peremptorily on the rank which may probably be
assigned to him by posterity, among the classics of his na¬
tive language. But without venturing on such ground as
this, there are points of comparison with himself and others,
which may warrantably be applied to the illustration of his
genius.
In regard to the spirit which animates the poetry of Scott,
he stands entirely alone in his age ; separated indeed so far
from the tendencies of the time, that his universal popula¬
rity seems at the first glance to have in it something unac¬
countable. The passionate intenseness and moody self-in¬
quisition of Byron, the calm thoughtfulness and universal
sympathies of Wordsworth, and the wildness of Coleridge’s
lyrical dreams, are in their several kinds allied to those
impulses which have widest sway in these generations of
our race ; while other poets, Campbell with his gentle pa¬
thos, Crabbe with his melancholy anatomy ot life, and
Moore with his overflow of voluptuous imagery, appeal to
emotions which are not so much distinctive ot particular
periods in the history of mankind, as common to the mind
in all its ages. But the world which Scott reproduced
in the midst of us, the world of feudalism and chivalry,
the transition-stage in the annals of Christian Europe, is
one with which the men of modern times have very little
communion or fellow-feeling; and the boldness with which
he chose his themes was even exceeded by that of the
tone in which he ventured to treat them ; neither jesting
with his own fancies, like Pulci or Ariosto, nor, like lasso,
overlaying the essential substance of the chivalrous life
with a garniture of poetry and of delicate feeling which left
the genuine light of elder times but few openings to glim¬
mer through; but grappling with his materials in the be¬
lieving and lofty devotion of an historical poet, and painting
for us a picture in which the fierce and fiery spirit of martial
adventure inspires the leading groups, and gives the outlines
of the piece, while interesting local superstitions and the
ascetic religion of Catholicism, the absorbing love of coun¬
try and the anomalous devotedness of feudalism, form, singly
or united, the colouring which is spread over different por¬
tions of the composition.
For, in essentials, this character of historical truth does
belong to the poetry of Scott; not indeed that his view of
the old world is one which could have presented itself to
those who lived nearer to the times he depicts ; but that
it is almost as near to truth as consists with the united re¬
quirements made by the purposes of his art and the temper
of his age, and probably nearer to the truth than any simi¬
lar attempt which has been made in modern times. Doubt¬
less there are many instances in which he does not preserve
this fidelity to the claims of his subject; but it is surpris¬
ingly preserved in his best works, and the inferiority of the
others is in no small degree owing to their deficiency in it.
Indeed he goes even farther than this; for he not only pre¬
sents to us the scenes of old, but he invests them in a dress
Scott, Sir
Walter.
SCOTT.
Ott Sir substantially the same as that in which they would haw
Walter, been clothed hv nnpu rmWPtrmn™™ ™ i 1,ave l^trayea witn sucn aamirable torce and fire
them; if these near|y 'h^oMiert thirst for battle, and the headlong fnrv of the
tnem, it tnese, for their metrical romances or their ballads field of slaughter. Throughout all his works th^e orr„r
of love and war, had possessed equal appliances, in a formed bursts of this sort, which would of 41^ haveXed
r\ f f Vi    . r* . 1 I .
try, who have portrayed with such admirable force and fire
. - the soldiers thirst for battle, and the headlong furv of the
romances or their ballads field of slaughter. Throughout all his works there occur
1 v • r J 1 ■ x a aPPliances>in a formed bursts of this sort, which would of
ScaUrt ,n eXtended V'ews as t0 the PrinciPles °f the him Mgh ™»ng poets of the class, even though lie had
The Lav of the I ast Minctrol v 11 i , ,, lievc'r wr^t£n ^‘s noblest passages of warfare, the knightly
ballad • and insu red bv tlm nnet’ Y a dcr; Tmbat of Fltzjames aad Roderick, or the magnificent bat-
nauaci, and, inspired by the poet s early recollections and tie-piece which closes Marmion. His clear and cheerful
Judies, and nourished not only by those copious sources of yet delicately sketched and poetically elevated descriptions
illustration of which the Border Minstrelsy furnishes ahun- of natural J^r.r w ^ l 1^ ae,scriPtlons
777
Srott, Sir
Walter.
Minstrelsy furnishes abun
dant specimens, but by affectionate familiarity with the
landscapes of his story, this work possesses, both in spirit
and in details, at once a fervour and a unity superior to
any of his others. Very little indeed, either of incident or
character, would require to be withdrawn from it, as foreign
to its essence. Marmion is pitched in another key, but is
still antique, and, though less rich in characteristic details
of the olden time, and rather less free from modern admix¬
tures, is pervaded almost throughout by the chivalrous
spirit, while that spirit blazes forth at several points with a
splendour which the poet elsewhere never equalled. The
poem is a metrical romance of history; the full develop¬
ment of a species of composition in which Barbour had but
faintly traced the design. The Lady of the Lake cannot
be so readily referred to any one class of our old national
poems; in which, indeed, that moving panorama of gor¬
geous landscapes, amidst which the personages exist, is, as
a prominent feature, quite unknown. But this very fea¬
ture, and the placidly romantic air which breathes through
most of the adventures, at once determine its type as a kind
ot pastoral romance (instanced more frequently in foreign
literature than in our own), and diffuse over the work a sin¬
gular charm, which hides from us much vagueness, both in
the characters and in the historical details of manners and
ideas. Rokeby, the next in the list, is confessedly the
weakest of its author’s larger poems, as it is also that in
which he has removed himself farthest from his ordinary
models. Defective alike in unity of spirit and in historical
fidelity, it would, but for some poetical gems which sparkle
through, deserve no higher name than that of a novel in
verse. In the Lord of the Isles we behold a return to the
poet’s higher sources of inspiration ; for we have here ano¬
ther metrical chronicle, a second Marmion, every way in¬
ferior to the first.
It is abundantly evident that the task which Scott has
thus performed, of creating anew the scenes and characters
of a fierce and chaotic stage of society, allowed him ample
room for arousing some of the strongest emotions which
poetry can awaken. Sometimes, indeed, he errs by apply¬
ing himself to the excitement of feelings which, though
strictly within his limits, are not broadly enough impressed
on the minds of most men to found any lively sympathy.
Such are the feelings of superstitious awe and delight in
supernatural invention, feelings which are chiefly addressed
in his two anonymous poems, and to whose prevalence
these works, equal in some points to any thing in verse he
ever wrote, mainly owe their want of general interest and
popularity. But he far oftener throws himself on those
principles which are universally sympathized with and ap¬
preciated, not indeed arousing all of them with equal skill,
but compounding, out of the use he makes of all, a representa¬
tion which is at once sufficiently true and widely attractive.
That which was really the master-feeling of the times he deli¬
neates, the love of warlike adventure, is the path in which
he has been by far most successful. In tenderness or pas¬
sion he does not stand by any means first among the poets
of our day ; and even in those exhibitions of chivalrous ge¬
nerosity and lofty feeling which are so closely consonant to
his stories and their actors, he is, although often delightfully
felicitous, yet by no means without his equals; but there
is no poet of our times, and very few in any age or coun-
VOL. XIX.
of natural scenery, less strong in their outlines than  
poetry of a similar kind, and less vivid in their colouring
and chiaroscuro than others, but always pleasing and ori¬
ginal, and often far more, may probably be said to be, after
their warlike temper, the most distinctive feature of his
poems.
If the moral tone of Scott’s poetry is not high, it must be
at least admitted that it is uniformly inoffensive ; and if most
passages excite us less violently than those of some other
poets, there is none whose works leave on the mind a more
pleasing expression of content and hopefulness. Perhaps,
in his views of human society, the only thing which can at
all jar on the feelings of any, is that tendency to aristocratic
hauteur, which, not indeed shrinking from contact with the
lower orders, and willingly recognising and esteeming many
of their virtues, yet considers them strictly as the depen¬
dents of higher men, and is silent on every other relation
they can be supposed to hold. This feeling, so palpable
both in his poetry and in his romances, is, it must be re¬
marked, quite in keeping as a feature of the times he de¬
scribes in the former class of writings ; and even as an ele¬
ment in modern poetry, there doubtless are, after all, many
who will esteem the sentiment a just one.
In skill of execution, as respects both ease of expression
and melody of versification, there is in the poems an ex¬
ceedingly observable progress, not at all corresponding to
their respective degrees of real merit. Both in diction and
in music there is a very wide distinction between the first
few stanzas of the Lay and the most finished passages in
Rokeby or the Lord of the Isles. Not less noticeable are
the variations in point of poetical ornament, a thing very
different from genuine poetical force or beauty. In the
Lay, the most poetically conceived of all the works, there
are wonderfully few passages of the kind that furnish showy
quotations, though those of this class that do occur are of
a very high order. Marmion, except in the Introduction,
scarcely contains more; the Lady of the Lake possesses
such far more abundantly; while Rokeby overflows with
couplets poetically sententious ; and the Lord of the Isles
again returns towards the earlier manner.
There is one point of view in which the poems offer a
very interesting subject of consideration, not for their own
sake, but in their relation to those more celebrated and cer¬
tainly higher works which succeeded them. They may be
regarded as in some sense preparations, or, in the artist’s
phrase, studies, for the novels and romances. The field of
speculation which is thus presented may furnish some in¬
telligent inquirer with extremely apt materials for illustrat¬
ing the poet’s genius ; but the mine is too wealthy to be
here so much as opened. It may be remarked, however,
that while the latter poems in their spirit approach far nearer
to the prose romance than the earlier ones, thus in some
degree indicating the operations which were going on in
the author’s mind, yet it is from the earlier that the ro¬
mances have derived by far the most plentiful hints and
materials. In the slightly sketched personages of the poems
we may frequently discover elements which were expanded
into the finished characters of the prose works, and this not
only in the dignified and poetical, but even in the comic,
as one instance of which may be cited the Friar John of
Norham as the first outline of Robin Hood’s Tuck. In in¬
cident, the borrowings from the poems are less direct and
5 F
778
Scribe.
SCR
SCR
Scougal palpable ; and the most obvious are the obligations which,
both in this and the other particular, the Monastery owes
to the Lay, and Ivanhoe to Marmion. The Lady of the Lake,
also, both in its scenery and its draughts of Highland charac¬
ter, may be considered as the preface to Waverley. (b. l.)
SCOUGAL, Henry, the second son of Patrick Scougal,
bishop of Aberdeen, was born in June 1650, at Salton, in
East Lothian, where his father, the immediate predecessor
of Bishop Burnet, was rector. At the age of fifteen he en¬
tered the university, where he behaved with great modesty,
sobriety, and diligence. No sooner had he finished his
course of education, than he was promoted to a professor¬
ship in the university of Aberdeen, where he conscientious¬
ly performed his duty in training up the youth under his
care in such principles of learning and virtue as might ren¬
der them ornaments to church and state. Having been
professor of philosophy for four years, he was at the age of
twenty-three ordained a minister, and settled at Auchter-
less, a small village about twenty miles from Aberdeen.
About the twenty-seventh year of his age he fell into a con¬
sumption, which by slow degrees wasted him away. Upon
the twentieth day of June 1678 he died, in the greatest calm¬
ness, in the twenty-eighth year of his age, and was buried in
the King’s College church in Old Aberdeen. His princi¬
pal work is a small treatise entitled the Life of God in the
Soul of Man. This book is not only valuable for the sub¬
lime spirit of piety which it breathes, but for the purity and
elegance of its style ; qualities for which few English writers
were distinguished before the revolution.
SCOUTS, in a military sense, are generally horsemen
sent out before, on the wings of an army, at the distance of
a mile or two, to discover the enemy, and to give the gene¬
ral an account of what they see.
SCREW, one of the six mechanical powers, is a cylinder
cut into several concave surfaces, or rather a channel or
groove made in a cylinder, by carrying on two spiral plains
the whole length of the screw, in such a manner that they
may be always equally inclined to the axis of the cylinder in
their whole progress, and also inclined to the base of it in
the same angle. .
SCRIBE, in Hebrew nsD, sepher, is very common in Scrip¬
ture, and has several significations.
It signifies, first, a clerk, writer, or secretary. This was
a very considerable employment in the court of the kings of
Judah, in which the Scripture often mentions the secretaries
as the first officers of the crown. Seraiah was scribe or se¬
cretary to King David (2 Sam. viii. 17). Shevah and She-
maiah exercised the same office under this prince (2 Sam.
xx. 25). In Solomon’s time we find Elihoreph and Ahia
secretaries to that sovereign (1 Kings iv. 4); Shebna un¬
der Hezekiah (2 Kings xix. 2); and Shaphan under Josiah
(2 Kings xxii. 8). As there were but few in those times
that could write well, the employment of a scribe or writer
was very considerable.
Secondly, a scribe is put for a commissary or muster-mas¬
ter of an army, who makes the review of the troops, keeps
the list or roll, and calls them over. Under the reign of
Uzziah king of Judah, there is found Jeil the scribe, who
had under his hand the king’s armies (2 Chron. xxvi. 11) ;
and at the time of the captivity, it is said the captain of the
guard, among other considerable persons, took the princi¬
pal scribe of the host, or secretary at war, which mustered
the people of the land (2 Kings xxv. 19).
Thirdly, scribe is put for an able and skilful man, a doc- Serimzecr,
tor of the law, a man of learning that understands affairs.
Jonathan, David’s uncle by the father’s side, was a counsel¬
lor, a wise man, and a scribe (1 Chr. xxvii. 32). Baruch,
the disciple and secretary to Jeremiah, is called a scribe
(Jer. xxxvi. 26); and Ezra is celebrated as a skilful scribe
in the law of his God (Ezra vii. 6). The scribes of the
people, who are frequently mentioned in the Gospel, were
public writers and professed doctors of the law, which they
read and explained to the people. Some place the original
of the scribes under Moses ; but their name does not appear
until under the judges. It is said that, in the wars of Ba¬
rak against Sisera, “ out of Machir came down governors,
and out of Zebulun they that handle the pen of the writer
(Judges v. 14). But others think that David first instituted
them when he established the several classes of the priests
and the Levites. The scribes were of the tribe of Levi;
and at the time that David is said to have made the regula¬
tions in that tribe, we read that six thousand men of them
were constituted officers and judges (1 Chr. xxiii. 4), among
whom it is reasonable to think that the scribes were includ¬
ed. For in 2 Chr. xxiv. 6, we read of Shemaiah the scribe,
one of the Levites ; and in Chr. xxxiv. 13, we also find it
written, “ Of the Levites that were scribes and officers/’
The scribes and the doctors of the law, in the Scripture
phraseology, mean the same thing. And as the whole re¬
ligion of the Jews at that time consisted chiefly in pharisai-
cal traditions, and in the use that was made of them to ex¬
plain the Scripture, the greatest number of the doctors of
the law, or of the scribes, were Pharisees; and we almost
always find them joined together in Scripture. Each of
them valued themselves upon their knowledge of the law,
and upon their studying and teaching it (Mat. xxii. 52).
They had the key of knowledge, and sat in Moses’s chair
(Mat. xxiii. 2). Epiphanius, and the author of the Recog¬
nitions imputed to St Clement, reckon the scribes among
the sects of the Jews ; but it is certain that they formed no
sect by themselves, and were only distinguished by their
study of the law.
SCRIMZEOR, or Sc rimgeour, Henry, an eminent re¬
storer of learning, was born at Dundee in the year 1506.
He traced his descent from the ancient family of the Scrim-
zeours of Dudhope, who obtained the office of hereditary
standard-bearers to the kings of Scotland in 1057.
At the grammar-school of Dundee our author acquired
the Greek and Latin languages in an uncommon degree of
perfection, and that in a shorter time than many scholars of
his age. At the university of St Andrews, his successful
application to philosophy gained him great applause. The
next scene of his studies was the university of Paris, and
their more particular object the civil law. Two of the most
famous civilians of that age, Eguinard Baron and Francis
Duaren,1 were then giving lectures to crowded audiences at
Bourges. The fame of these professors occasioned his re¬
moval from Paris; and for a considerable time he prose¬
cuted his studies under their direction. At Bourges he
had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with the cele¬
brated James Amiot, Greek professor in that city, wejl
known in the learned world by his translation of Plutarch s
Lives, and distinguished afterwards by his advancement to
great honours in the church, and finally to the rank of car¬
dinal. Through the recommendation of this eminent per¬
son, Mr Scrimzeor engaged in the education of two young
i “ Francis Duaren was the first of the French civil,ans who purged the chair in the civil law «cJools from the barbansm^^
Glossaries, in order to introduce the pure sources of the ancient jurisprudence. As he did not desire to share that J ° / '^th an^ one
he looked with an envious eye on the reputation of Ins colleague Eguinard Baron, who also mixed ^d^^re with the
of the law. This jealousy put him upon composing a work, wherein he endeavoured to lessen ^ howed
league. The maxim, Pasdtur in vivis livor; post fata qniescit, was verified remarkably in him ; for after the death of «aron, he show ^
himself most zealous to eternize his memory, and was at the expense of a monument to the honour of the deceased. (See the I ransia
tion of Bayle’s Dictionary, of 1710, p. 1143-4.)
SCR
Jcmnzeor. gentlemen of the name of Bucherel, whom he instructed in
the belles lettres, and other branches of literature calcu¬
lated to qualify them for their station in life.
This connection introduced him to Bernard Bornetel,
bishop of Rennes, a person famed in the political world for
having sei ved the state in many honourable embassies. Ac¬
cepting an invitation from this prelate to accompany him to
Italy, Mr Scrimzeor greatly enlarged the sphere of his lite¬
rary acquaintance, by his conversation and connection with
most of the distinguished scholars of that country. The
ueath of Francis Spira1 happened during his visit to Pa¬
dua ; and as the character and conduct of this remarkable
person engaged at that time the attention of the world, Mr
dcrimzeor is said to have collected memoirs of him in a
publication entitled The Life of Francis Spira, by Henry
of Scotland. This performance, however, does not appear
in the catalogue of his works.
After he had stored his mind with the literature of foreign
countries, and satisfied his curiosity as a traveller, it was his
intention to revisit Scotland. He might without vanity have
entertained hopes, that the various knowledge which he had
treasured up would win him a partial reception among his
countrymen. An ambition of being usefully distinguished
among them as a man of letters is justly supposed to have
been the principal motive of his return but the most san¬
guine projects of life are often strangely diverted by acci¬
dent, or rather perhaps are invisibly turned by Providence
from their natural course. Mr Scrimzeor, on his journey
homewards, had to pass through Geneva. His fame had
long forerun his footsteps. The syndics and other magis¬
trates, on his arrival, requested him to set up the profession
of philosophy in that city, promising a compensation suit¬
able to the exertion of his talents. He accepted the pro¬
posal, and established the philosophical chair.
After he had taught for some time at Geneva, a fire broke
out in the neighbourhood, by which his house was con¬
sumed, and he himself reduced to great distress. His pu¬
pils, the Bucherels, however, had not forgotten their obli¬
gations to him, and sent a considerable sum of money to
his relief.
At this time flourished at Augsburg the famous mercantile
family of the Fuggers. Ulric Fugger was then its repre¬
sentative ; a man possessed of prodigious wealth, passion-
ately fond oi literature, a great collector of books and ma¬
nuscripts, and a munificent patron of learned men. Being
informed, by means of his literary correspondence, of the
misfortune which had befallen Mr Scrimzeor in the burn¬
ing of his house, he immediately sent him a pressing invi¬
tation to accept an asylum beneath his roof until his affairs
should be re-established. Mr Scrimzeor gladly availed
himself of such hospitable kindness, and lost no time in re¬
pairing to Germany.
Whilst residing at Augsburg with Mr Fugger, he was
much employed in augmenting his patron’s library, by vast
collections purchased from every corner of Europe. Co-
dices of the Greek and Latin authors were then of inesti¬
mable value, and seem to have been more particularly the
object of Mr Scrimzeor’s researches.
When his manuscripts were ready for the press, he was
desirous of returning to Geneva to print them. His patron,
Fugger, recommended him for that purpose to the learned
SCR 7^9
Henry Stephens, one of his pensioners, and at that time Scrimzeor.
the most celebrated printer in Europe. ^
Immediately on his arrival at Geneva, 1563, he was ear-
nestly solicited by the magistrates to resume the chair of
pnlosophy. Notwithstanding his compliance, and conse¬
quently the dedication of much of his time to the study of
physics, he, two years afterwards, instituted a course of lec-
tuies in the civil law, and had the honour of being its first
rounder and professor at Geneva.
As soon as he had settled again in this city, he hoped,
amidst his other occupations, to prosecute the great object
of his literary fame, the printing of his various works. But a
suspicion which Henry Stephens entertained, that it was his
intention to set up a rival press at Geneva, occasioned great
dissensions between them ; and the result of the quarrel was,
that the republic of letters, during Scrimzeor’s life, was de¬
prived of his valuable productions. At his death most of
them fell into the hands of Isaac Casaubon, who has been ac¬
cused of publishing considerable portions of them as his own.
Some account of Mr Scrimzeor’s several performances
will serve to convey an idea of his extensive erudition.
He wrote critical and explanatory notes upon Athenaeus’s
Deipnosophists, or Table Conversations of Philosophers and
Learned Men of Antiquity, having first collated several ma¬
nuscripts of his author. This work Casaubon published at
Leyden in 1600, but without distinguishing his own notes
from those of Scrimzeor.
A Commentary and Emendations of the Geography of
Strabo were among our author’s literary remains. These
were published in Casaubon’s Parisian edition of Strabo in
1620. Henry Stephens, from an idea of justice due to
Scrimzeor’s literary fame, notwithstanding the violent ani¬
mosity which had subsisted between them, reproaches Ca¬
saubon for adopting, without acknowledgment, the Scottish
critic’s lucubrations on Strabo. Dempster assures us, that
Scrimzeor, in his manuscript letters, mentions his design of
publishing this performance ; and hence it is probable that
his work appeared to himself of considerable consequence,
and had taken up much of his attention. Although Casau¬
bon, in his ample notes exhibited at the foot of Strabo’s
text, makes no confession of having derived any thing from
Scrimzeor, it must not be concealed, that in an epistle to
Sir Peter Young, the nephew of the critic through whom
the Commentary and Emendations of Strabo came into his
hands, Casaubon acknowledges how very useful to him they
might be made ; for, speaking there of his intended edition
of Strabo, he says, “ It cannot be expressed how much as¬
sistance I may obtain from your notes of Scrimzeor.”
Edward Herrison, a Scottish author, in his Commentary
on Plutarch’s Book concerning the Inconsistencies of the
Stoics, informs us that Scrimzeor collated different manu¬
scripts of all the works of Plutarch. This undertaking ap¬
pears sufficient to occupy half the life of an ordinary critic.
Every one knows how voluminous an author was the philo¬
sopher, the historian, and the orator of Chaeronea. Whether
the learned critic meant to publish an edition of Plutarch’s
works is not known ; but such an intention seems higly pro¬
bable, from this laborious enterprise of collating them.
The ten books of Diogenes Laertius on the Lives, Opi¬
nions, and Apophthegms of the Philosophers, were collated
from various manuscripts by Scrimzeor. His corrected
1 Francis Spira was a lawyer of great reputation at Cittadella, in the Venetian state, about the beginning of the sixteenth century. He
had imbibed the principles of the Reformation, and was accused before John de la Casa, archbishop of Benevento, the pope’s nuncio at
Venice. He made some concessions, and asked pardon of the papal minister for his errors. But the nuncio insisted on a public re¬
cantation. Spira was exceedingly averse to this measure ; but at the pressing instances of his wife and friends, who represented to
him that he must lose his practice and ruin his affairs by persisting against it, he at last complied. Shortly afterwards he fell into a deep
melancholy, lost his health, and was removed to Padua for the advice of physicians and divines. But his disorders augmented, and the
recantation, which he said he had made from cowardice and interest, filled his mind with continual horror and remorse, insomuch that
he sometimes imagined that he felt the torments of the damned. No means being found to restore either his health or his peace of
mind, in 1548 he fell a victim to his miserable situation. See Collyer’s Dictionary, art. Spira.
780 SCIl
Scripture, text of this author, with notes full of erudition, came also
into Casaubon’s possession, and is supposed to have con¬
tributed much to the value of his edition of the Grecian
biographer, printed at Paris in 1593.
The works of Phornutus and Palsephatus were also among
the collations of Mr Scrimzeor. To the latter of these au¬
thors he made such considerable additions, that the work
became partly his own. These are two ancient authors
who explain the fables of the heathen deities. The former
wrote De Natura Deorum, seu de Fabularum Poeticarum
Allegoriis Speculatio, On the Nature of the Gods, or the
Allegorical Fictions of the Poets. The latter entitled his
book"De Falsis Narrationibus, concerning False Relations.
These works were printed at Basil in 1570, but whether in
Greek or Latin is uncertain. They have been published
since that time in both languages. The manuscripts of
them were for some time preserved in the library of Sir
Peter Young, after that of his uncle Scrimzeor, which was
brought into Scotland in 1573, had been added to it. W hat
became of this valuable bequest at the death of the former
is uncertain. Our learned philologer also left behind him,
in manuscript, the orations of Demosthenes, iEschines, and
Cicero, and the Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius, all care¬
fully collated. . .
Among his literary remains was a collection of his Latin
epistles. The men of letters in the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries seem to have kept their republic, as it is called,
more united and compact than it is at present, by an epis¬
tolary intercourse in the Latin language, then the univeisal
medium of literature and science.
Of the many performances which had exercised his pen,
S C E
it does not appear that any were immediately published by Scripture,
himself but his Translation of Justinian’s Novels into Greek.
This was printed at Paris in 1558, and again with Holoan-
der’s Latin version at Antwerp in 1575. This work has
been highly extolled, both for the purity of its language
and the accuracy of its execution, and is likely, according
to some, to hold its estimation as long as any use or me¬
mory of the civil law shall exist.
A Latin translation of the Basilica, or Basilics as they
are called by the civilians, is the last we have to mention
of this author’s performances. This is a collection of Ro¬
man law^s, which the eastern emperors Basil and Leo, who
reigned in the fifth century, commanded to be translated
into Greek, and which preserved their authority untd the
dissolution of the eastern empire. The Basilics compre¬
hend the institutes, digests, code, and novels, and some of
the edicts of Justinian and other emperors. Of sixty ori¬
ginal books, however, forty-one only remain. Mr Scrim¬
zeor collated them with various manuscripts, probably be¬
fore he commenced his translation.
Different years have been assigned for the time of his
death ; but it appears most likely, from a comparison of the
different accounts of this event, that it happened very near
the expiration of 1571, or at the beginning of the succeed-
ina; year, about the sixty-sixth year of his age. He died
in the city of Geneva. The characteristic features of Scrim¬
zeor are few, but they are prominent and striking. His in¬
dustry and perseverance in the pursuit of knowledge and
erudition were equalled only by the exquisite judgment
which he displayed in his critical commentaries on the er¬
rors and obscurities of ancient books and manuscripts.
SCRIPTURE, HOLY.
Under this title are commonly designated the sacred
books of the Jews and the Christians, in which are contain¬
ed the revelation of God’s will to mankind, and the princi-
pies of that religion which he has inculcated upon us. In
other parts of this work the reader will find articles eluci¬
datory of the claims preferred and of the doctrines taught
in these books (see especially Inspiration, Miracle, Pro¬
phecy, and Theology). In the present article it is pro¬
posed to furnish an outline of what may be denominated
the historico-critical knowledge of these books. In treating
of this we have to do with the composition, the history,
the reputation, and the literary characteristics of the sacred
w ritings view ed simply as remains of ancient literature.
This department of investigation is comparatively of re¬
cent date. In the earlier ages of the church the same ne¬
cessity for such inquiries did not exist as now, in conse¬
quence especially of the efforts which have been made in
more recent times to impugn the authenticity of the sacred
documents; nor is it probable that the early fathers, from the
views which they entertained of the sole agency of the Holy
Spirit in the composition of these, would have deemed any
inquiry into their peculiarities, as the products at the same
time of human agency, other than impious and absurd (1).
Since the time, however, when Spinoza issued his attack
upon the authenticity of the Pentateuch and the general
inspiration of the Scriptures (1670), and Richard Simon,
a presbyter and fellow of the oratory at Paris, followed witli
his acute, learned, and liberal investigations into the cri¬
tical history of the Old Testament (1678), this subject has
occupied the attentive study of critics and theologians of all
confessions, and may now be said to have reached the dig¬
nity of a science (2).
1. The prevailing notion among the Jews and the early Christians
respecting Inspiration was, that the faculties of the person inspired
were completely suspended and superseded during the afflatus, so that
the only parts of him actively engaged in the work of composition were
his hands and his eyes. Philo speaks of God as “ using the organs of
the prophets for the manifestation of his will ’ (0s«w
<raii tKtniat ooyavoit 'SttXufiv uv «v ItiXntrri-, De Monarch, lib. i. ed. Man¬
gey t. ii. p. 222) ; Justin Martyr compares them to the strings of a
lyre’, which produce sounds just as they are touched by the hand of
the player (Cohort, ad Graces, c. 8) ; and Augustin frequently speaks
of the Scriptures as the “ Chirograph of Deity,” and of their writers as
“ the stylus or pen of the Holy Spirit.” The influence of such exclu¬
sive views in discouraging any inquiries of a histonco-cntical nature
is seen in the following sentence of Gregory the Great: Quis li-
brum Job scripserit, valde superflue quaeritur, cum tamen auctor libri
Spiritus Sanctus fideliter eredatur. Ipse scripsit, qui et in ejus opera
inspirator extitit et per scribentis vocem imitandam ad nos facta transmi-
sit.” (Moral, in Job. t. i. p. 7.) Ideas of a similar kind are found in
the writings of several of the older divines subsequent to the Refor¬
mation. For the opinions most generally received among Protestant
divines in the present day, see Henderson’s Lectures on Inspiration,
London, 1836, the latest and best book upon this subject. _
2. Spinoza’s work is entitled “ Tractatus historico-pohticus, conti-
nens dissertationes aliquot, quibus ostenditur, libertatemphilosophandi
non solum salva pietate et reipublic® pace posse concedised-eandem
nisi cum pace reipubliese ipsaque pietate tolli non posse, Hamburgi,
1670, 4to. Simon’s “ Histoire critique duVieux Testament appear¬
ed in one vol. 4to, in 1678 at Paris ; but a fuller and more correct edi¬
tion was published at Rotterdam in 1685, superintended, m all proba¬
bility, by the author. It produced numerous replies and strictures,
from the pens both of Catholic and Protestant divines, of which the
most important were those of Spanheim (Lettre sur * Jftsf. Cnt. du
V. T. du R. Simon) ■, Du Pin (Dissert, prelim, ou Prolegomenes sur la
Bible) ; and Le Clerc (Sentimens de quelques Thtologiens d Holland sur
I’Hist. Crit. du V. T. composes par le D. R. Simon). Both Du Pin and
Le Clerc, but especially the latter, whilst reproving Simon, indu*g®
certain speculations of their own, which were considerably too free tor
the age in which they lived, and which drew down upon them, along
with the object of their strictures, the censures of the acute and inge¬
nious Bossuet (Divers TraiUs contre Mr R. Simon, Du Pin, ef autre .
CEuvres Posthumes, t. ii. 1753). In more recent times the scholars of
Germany have chiefly distinguished themselves in this department
inquiry. Their most valuable works are those of Carpzov (/ufrorf
tio ad libros canonicos V. T. omnes, 4to, Lips. 1721) : Lichhorn (E i
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
Scripture, hitung in das A. T. 4te aufl. 5 bde. 8vo, Gbtt. 1820-24 ; In die Apo-
L —  -cryphischen Schriften des A. T. 8vo, Leipz. 1795; In das N T 5 bde
8 vO) Leipz. 1804-1827) ; Michaelis (Hinl. indie Gotti Schriften des A.
Bundes, 4to, Hamburg, 1784 ; In die Gotti. Schriften des N. B. 2 bde
4to, Gottingen, 4te_aufl. 1788 [translated by Bishop Marsh, in six
vols. 8vo, with considerable additions, third ed. Camb. 1818]) ; Ber-
tholdt (Histor. Kvitische Einl. in sanwitliche Banonische und Apocry~
phische Schriften des A. und N. T., 6 bde. 8vo, Erlangen, 1812-19);
Jahn {Einl. in die Gotti. Bucher des A. Bundes, 3 bde. 8vo, 2te aufl!
Vtien. 1802-3; Introductio in Bibl. Sacr. U. in epitomen redacta, ed.
2da, Vien. 1814, 8vo) : Haenlein {Handbuch der Einleit. in d. Schriften
des N. T. 3 theile 2te aufl. Erlangen, 1801) ; Hug (Einl. indie Schriften
des N. T., 2 thle. 3te aufl. Stuttgart und Tubingen, 1827 [translated
by the Rev. D. G. Wait, LL. 1). 2 vols. 8vo, 1827, and with much
greater accuracy by D. Fosdich junior, Andover, U. S. 1837]); and
Schott (Isagoge Hist Critica in libros N. T. sacros, Jence, 1830, 8vo).
The most valuable works by English scholars are Walton’s Prolego¬
mena in Biblia Polyglotta, Bond. 1657, of which a separate edition was
published, with a preface by J. A. Dathe, at Leipzig, in one vol. 8vo,
1777, and republished with many improvements and additions by Arch¬
deacon Wrangham, in two vols. 8vo, Cambr. 1828 ; Mill’s Prolegome¬
na in Novum Testamentum, Oxon. 1707, folio ; Harwood’s Introduction
to the Study and Knowledge of the New Testament, 2 vols. 8vo, Lon¬
don, 1767-1771 ; Gray’s Key to the Old Testament, 8vo, new edit.
1829 ; Percy’s Key to the New Testament, 12mo, 3d edit. London,
1779 ; and, above all, Horne’s Introduction to the Critical Study and
Knowledge of the Holy Scriptures, 4 vols. 8vo, 8th edit. Lond. 1839.
Many valuable treatises upon separate portions of the general subject
are extant in different languages, but these it would be out of place to
attempt to enumerate here. See the Bibl iographical Appendix to Horn e’s
Introduction ; Orme's Bibliotheca Biblica ; and Winer’s Handbuch der
Theologischen Litteratur.
This subject divides itself into two parts, a general and
a special; the former having reference to the sacred vo¬
lume as a whole, the latter to the separate books of which
it is comprised. In the present article we shall confine our¬
selves to the former of these, and offer a few general ob¬
servations on the collected scriptures, as such.
Sect. I.— The Name.
Various designations have been affixed to the sacred
volume. The Jews called their part of it by such terms as
nymio D'-iaw, i. e. Four-and-twenty, with reference to the
number of separate books; nro or man, i. e. Writing, a
term borrowed from Exod. xxxii. 16 ; anprr -ied, i. e. Books
of Holiness; nxnroi cd'X'23 nym, i. e. Law, Prophets, and
Hagiographa. In the Apocrypha they are styled 6 vo/z-o;,
xa/ oi TgotpriTai, xai ra aXka 'xurpct fiiSXiu, Jesus Sirac.
Proleg. sub init. So also in the New Testament, vo/ioj xa/
crgopjjra/, Matt. v. 17; vopoi, crgof ?5ra/, '/.at •v^aX/o.o/, Luke
xxiv. 44; frequently ygoupri and a) ypatpai; ra itsa yguy-
pjuru, 2 Tim. iii. 15. At an early period of the Christian
era, the term chafJjjxjj began to be affixed to the Scriptures
as the documents unfolding God’s covenant; and their
two great divisions to be designated as craXaia diaOrixr)
and rj xa/vjj d/afltixr] respectively. This usage seems to have
been drawn from the language of Paul, 2 Cor. iii. 6 and 14,
though it is only in the writings of Origen that it makes its
appearance for the first time. The Latins rendered the
word diuQrixr] by Testamentum, according to its primary
meaning, though not that in which it is employed by Paul,
who uses it evidently in the sense of Fcedus; and from this
we have the appellation employed by almost all the ver¬
sions of modern Europe.
Horne’s Introduction, vol. i. p. 30 ; Michaelis, Einleit., bd. i. s. 1;
and in Marsh’s Translation, vol. i. p. 1 ; Augusti, Grundriss einer Mis¬
ter. Kritischen Einleitung ins Alte Testament, s. 16, 2te. aufl.
Sect. II.—Languages of the Scriptures.
T’he greater part of the Old Testament Scriptures is
composed in pure Hebrew, the most ancient language of
which we have any specimen extant. This language be¬
longs to a class of tongues formerly called, by way of emi¬
nence, the Oriental, but now more appropriately discrimi-
781
nated by the term Semitic or Shemitic, from Shem, the Scripture.
great progenitor of the races by which they are spoken (1).   
Inis class embraces three leading tongues, corresponding
in general character and relation to the geographical situa-
tions of the respective nations by which they were used;
the Aramaic abounding in combinations of consonants, and
consequently marked by considerable harshness of pronun¬
ciation, employed by the nations of the northern and more
mountainous districts of Syria, Mesopotamia, and Baby¬
lonia ; the Arabic, remarkable for richness, melifluous-
ness, and the preponderance of vowels, spoken by the in¬
habitants of the warm and open plains of Arabia and Ethio¬
pia ; and the Hebrew, the language of the middle district,
possessing an intermediate character between the other
two, richer than the Aramaic, poorer and harsher than
the Arabic (2). Tne opinion that Hebrew was the original
language of the world, and the mother of all the other Se¬
mitic tongues, is now generally relinquished by scholars,
who content themselves with the more moderate hypothe¬
sis, that it is the oldest daughter of the primeval tongue,
and that which retains the most striking resemblances to the
mother speech of the antediluvian period (3). In the earliest
books of the Bible, those of Moses, this language appears
in its greatest purity ; nor did it sustain any decided deteri¬
oration till after the Babylonian captivity. The attempts
of some Hebraists to divide its history into a golden, a silver,
a brazen, and an iron age, are by the most accurate scho¬
lars rejected, as much more fanciful than sound (4). The
Hebrew of the Scriptures is the pure classical Jerusalem
Hebrew, the language of the temple and of the court.
That there were dialects more or less corrupt in the pro¬
vinces, is attested by the sacred writers themselves. Thus
they tell us that the Ephraimites could not distinguish be¬
tween the tr and the d in pronunciation (Judges, xii. 6);
Nehemiah was indignant that part of the people should
speak “ in the speech (dialect) of Ashdod, of Ammon, and
of Mcab” (Nehem. xiii. 23-25); and the dialect of Gali¬
lee is mentioned in the New Testament (Matt. xxvi. 73) (5).
1. The first to use this term seems to have been Nicolas Fuller,
in his Miscellanea Sacra. He was followed by Eichhorn, and ulti¬
mately by nearly all the orientalists of Germany.
2. Ewald’s Hebrew Grammar, translated by Nicolson, p. 1 ; Gese-
nius, Grammatik, § 1.
3. Morinus De Lingua Primceva. Jahn, Einleitung, i. th. s. 244.
4. “ As the language appears to us at present in the Scriptures of
the Old Testament, there are only two distinct periods characteristi¬
cally discriminated, the one comprehending the books written before,
and the other those written during and subsequent to the exile.” Ge~
senius, Geschichte der Hebr. Sprache und Schrift. s. 21.
5. Compare Horne’s Introd. vol. ii. p. 2-13, and the works referred
to by him.
The portions of the Old Testament not in pure Hebrew
are Ezra, iv. 8,—vi. 18, and vii. 12-26 ; Jer. x. 11 ; and
Daniel, ii. 4,—vii. 28. These are in Chaldaic or Eastern
Aramaic, and have reference chiefly to the history of the
captivity, and the events following its close.
On the Biblical Chaldaic, see Walton’s Prolegomena, chap. xii. § 2,
3 ; L. Hirzel, He Chaldaismi biblici origins et auctoritate Comment, crit.
Lips. 1830 ; F. Dietrich He Sermonis Chaldaiciproprictate, Lips. 1839 ;
Rigge’s Manual of the Chaldee Language, Boston, Mass. 1832.
The language of the New Testament is the o/aXsx-
rog of the classical Greek, with many Aramaic words and
idioms interspersed, and a few Latinisms.
Horne’s Introd. vol. ii. p. 13-30 ; Schott, Isagoge Hist. Crit. p. 495-
517 ; Stuart’s Grammar of the New Testament Language; Winer’s
Gramatik des N. Testamentlichen Sprachidioms; Michaelis, Introd. vol.
1. p. 97 (Eng. Tr.), &c.
Sect. III.— Genuineness and Authenticity of the Sacred
Volume.
As ancient literary documents, the Scriptures lay claim
to be regarded as both genuine or authentic, and credible.
1
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
Scripture. A book is genuine when it really is what it professes to be,
' as the composition of a particular individual, or as produced
under particular circumstances, and at a certain place and
time; as opposed to a book which appears under a forged
title. A book is credible when the statements it contains
are physically true ; as opposed to a book the contents of
which are false or fictitious. Both these qualities may meet
in the same work, or they may exist separately in separate
works. Thus the book of Genesis may be the composition
of Moses, and yet be fabulous ; or it may be true in all its
statements, and yet not be the work of Moses ; or it may
be, as it is generally believed to be, both the production
of Moses and true, both genuine and credible.
The genuineness and credibility of the sacred books form
matter of separate investigation and proof. At the same
time, they are so connected, that the proof of the one paves
the way for the proof of the other ; for, in the case of such
works, it is highly improbable that truth would be issued
under a forged name, or that such men as Moses, Samuel,
or the Evangelists, would or could issue fictitious narra¬
tives as true. It is not, however, matter of indifference
w'hich of them we establish first. Before we can set our¬
selves to prove their credibility, we must be in circumstan¬
ces to show their genuineness; for unless we can do this,
a preliminary difficulty will lie in the way of the former,
from the suspicion that these books appear with a falsehood,
or at least what has not been shown to be a truth, upon
their front; a work of supposititious authorship being always
prima facie less credible than one which is the genuine pro¬
duction of the writer to whom it is ascribed.
The proof of the genuineness of the Sacred Scriptures
rests upon the following considerations :
1. There is no antecedent impossibility that they should
be genuine. It cannot be shown that it was impossible for
Moses to have written the Pentateuch, Isaiah and the other
prophets their prophecies, the Evangelists their gospels, the
Apostles their epistles, or for the books which are anony¬
mous to have been composed under the circumstances which
they profess; nor that, being composed, it was impossible for
them to have been preserved and handed down from gene¬
ration to generation.
2. Circumstances were favourable to the preservation of
these books, supposing them written. The Old Testament
books professedly form the national literature, as well as
the sacred documents of the Jews, and would naturally be
carefully preserved by them. The New Testament books
constitute the religious archives and statute-books of the
Christian church, and would from their first publication be
sacredly conserved by those for whom they were so deeply
interesting.
3. It is matter of undeniable history, that both Jews and
Christians did possess certain sacred books, which they re¬
garded with the utmost reverence, and preserved with the
greatest care. The only question, then, is, Are the books
w'hich we possess the same as those thus reverenced and
preserved ? And, first, with respect to those of the Old
Testament.
i. These are the books which were recognised in the
early church as the sacred books of the Jews. This is
placed beyond doubt by the early versions of Scripture, and
by the catalogues of Athanasius, Epiphanius, Jerome, Ori-
gen, and Melito bishop of Sardis. Gardner, Works, vol. iv.
p. 290, 8vo ed.
ii. The books of the Old Testament which we possess
must have been extant at the commencement of the Chris¬
tian era. This is evident from the allusions to them, and
the quotations from them, in the New Testament, but es¬
pecially from the testimony of Philo, an Egyptian Jew, who
at the latest was contemporary with the apostles, and also of
Josephus, himself a priest of the Jews, and consequently ac¬
curately informed on all matters relating to their sacred
books, and who lived in the latter part of the first century Scripture,
of the Christian era. Philo gives no formal catalogue, but
quotes from or refers to nearly all the books of the Old
Testament, while no other is mentioned by him as of ac¬
credited authority. Josephus, besides frequent quotations
and allusions, gives (Coni. Apion, lib. i. c. 8) a catalogue
of the sacred books of his nation, assigning five to Moses,
thirteen to the prophets, and four to the writers of hymns
and moral maxims. This, if we regard Judges and Ruth
as one book, and add the Lamentations to the Prophecies
of Jeremiah, which there is good reason to believe was the
case in the days of Josephus, gives exactly the number of
the books now extant.
Schmidtii Historia Antiqua et Vindicatio Canonis Sacri Veteris et
Novi Testamenti, pp, 129-189, Lips. 1775 ; Ejusdem Ennarratio sen-
Centice Flav. Josephi de libris Vet. Test. Wittenberg, 1787 ; Horne-
manni, Obss. ad Illustrationem JDoctrince de Canone Vet. Test, ex Philone,
Hauniae, 1778 ; Henderson’s Lectures on Inspiration, p. 468, Lond.
1836. •
iii. These books must have been written long before the
Christian era. This is plain from the fact of targums or
explanations of them into the Syro-Chaldaic dialect, which
was the language of the people, having been made for a
long course of years antecedent to the times of Onkelos
and Jonathan Ben Uzziel, by whom they were collected in
the form now extant, and who lived probably near the
days of our Lord; from the allusions to the sacred books
of his nation already quoted from the prologue to the
work of Jesus the son of Sirach, which was composed about
230 years b. c.; and from the existence of the Septuagint
version, which was at least commenced 280 years b. c.
iv. Under such circumstances, the forgery of these books
was morally impossible. If such a thing took place, it
must have been during the 140 years which elapsed be¬
tween the death of Malachi, the last of the prophets, and
the execution of the Septuagint version. But, first, it is
inconceivable that, in so short a period, and in an age when
literature wras not a trade, a set of men (for the agency of
only one man is out of the question) should have appeared
in the land of Judaea, all endowed with genius sufficient to
share in the composition of such works, and all infected
with the spirit of literary dishonesty, so as to act the part
of forgers. Secondly, even supposing such a piece of de¬
ception attempted, it is inconceivable how it should have
succeeded, as, by the holders of this hypothesis, it must be
allowed to have done. As the whole nation of the Jews
acknowledged these books, we must suppose, either that
they were all imposed upon in the matter, or that they all
agreed to impose upon the rest of the world. But no in¬
genuity can suffice to persuade a nation that they have
for ages possessed sacred books, when they know they have
not; and a national agreement to sanction a forgery and
tell the world a lie, is a hypothesis too extravagant to be
for a moment entertained. Thirdly, the opinions expressed
in these books, the doctrines taught, and the duties enjoin¬
ed, are so averse from those most cherished by the Jews
at the time the supposed forgery must have taken place,
and the facts recorded are so little flattering, upon the
whole, to the pride of the nation, that it is quite incredible,
either that any should have been found to write them, or
that, being written, they should have been received by the
people with any other feelings than those of execration and
abhorrence. The respect in which they were held can be
accounted for only on the principle, that it was rendered to
the venerable antiquity and indisputable authority with which
they were invested.
v. The force of this conclusion is heightened by the cir¬
cumstance, that while all testimony is in favour of the ge¬
nuineness of these books, not one witness can be produced
whose evidence is incompatible with this.
vi. When we apply to the contents of these books such
holy scripture.
scripture^ tests as are best fitted to try their genuineness, the result
^ is such as to confirm our previous conclusion. 1. They
display just such a diversity of talent, style, and character,
as we should expect in works composed by different au-
783
mains of a number of writers who lived during the first Scripti
thirty years of the third century. '   v,-
Lardner, Works, vol. ii. pp. 397-430.
iv. For their existence in the second century, we have
ors at different times. 2. They are written, with a few abundant evidence, in the quotations from them and allu-
s ig t exceptions, m pure Hebrew, a language which we sions to them in the writings of Tertullian (a. d. 200) Cle-
know to have been that of the Jews before the captivity, ment of Alexandria, Athenagoras (a. d. 180), Irenams
but the knowledge of which as a vernacular tongue was (a. d. 170), Justin Martyr (a. d. 150), and Papias (a. d.
entirely lost very shortly afterwards. 3. Whilst they use 113), and in the Harmony of the Gospels by Taban (a. d.
the same language, there are certain grammatical and lin- 170). 1 *
guistic differences between the early and the later writers,
indicative of such changes as all languages experience in
the lapse of time, but less extensive than those found in
v. Collateral with these testimonies of the orthodox fa¬
thers are those of the early heretics, Cerinthus, the Ebio-
- , . , . ,   nites, the Basilidians, Marcion, and others, who, by de-
others of the ancient tongues ; which is exactly what nouncing the writings of the apostles, as containing error,
might have been expected in the case of persons using, thereby attest the existence and genuineness of these writ-
through a long interval, a language which, though exposed ings ; and of the early opponents of Christianity, Celsus
to causes of change, was, from the fixed and exclusive ha- Porphyry, and Julian, who, by the notice they take of these
bits of those speaking it, less liable to be affected in this books, show how much in their day their genuineness was
way than the languages of more versatile and cosmopolitan matter of public notoriety.
nations. 4. The narratives occurring in these books are vi. We have thus traced up the existence of these books
marked by that minute accuracy and circumstantiality of to the close of the jirst century. To say nothing of the
detail which a forger generally endeavours to avoid, but into testimony in their favour of the apostolic fathers, Barnabas,
which a true witness naturally falls, from having all these Clement of Rome, Hermas, Ignatius, and Polycarp, who
details present to his mind as integral parts of the occurrence flourished during that century, and reached up to the days
which he attests, as it presented itself to his senses. 5. There of the apostles, the supposition of a forgery at that time is
is, amidst the greatest elevation of thought and sublimity of clearly absurd. Whilst men were still alive whose fathers
conception, a chastened simplicity of language, and, amidst were the contemporaries of the evangelists and apostles, how
the utmost variety of manner, style, and illustration, an
essential unity of doctrine, which comports well with the
claims of these books to be regarded as the sacred books of
the Jews, and seems strongly incompatible with the sup¬
position that they are forgeries.
For these reasons, it is affirmed that the books which we
now possess are the same as those which were always pos¬
sessed and held genuine by the Jews. We turn, secondly,
to the New Testament, and inquire whether the same evi¬
dence of its genuineness can be furnished.
i. No person doubts the existence of the New Testa¬
ment books from the close of the fourth century of the
Christian era downwards, because the fact is so notorious,
that to deny it would be to discredit all historical testi¬
mony.
ii. As little can it be doubted that they were extant from
the commencement of that century. Not only are they fre¬
quently quoted by writers who lived during that period,
but we possess ten distinct catalogues of the New Testa¬
ment books, issued during this century, of which six are
identical with our present canon (1), three omit only the book
of Revelation (2), and one omits this book and the Epistle to
could any one impose upon the community as the produc¬
tion of the latter what was only forged in their name ? or
whilst the churches at Rome, Colossae, Corinth, and other
places, were still existing, who could have persuaded them
to receive as Paul’s letters to them what they knew Paul
had never sent to them ? or how can we conceive that an
attempt so audacious would have been allowed to pass, with¬
out a single voice being raised in any quarter to denounce
the imposture ?
vii. The conclusion thus gained by the consideration of
externa] testimony is forcibly confirmed by the contents of
the books themselves. The language in which they are
written is exactly such as a Jew of the first century would
naturally fall into in attempting to write Greek, and such
as could hardly have been thought of or imitated by a later
writer. The style of composition is such as a forger could
not possibly have hit upon; it has so much of a prevailing
simplicity and earnestness, and at the same time is so suit¬
ably diversified in the different books, that it bears every
indication of having flowed from the pens of the simple-
minded, unambitious, uneducated, and honest men to whom
it is ascribed. The sentiments are such as we cannot sup-
the Hebrews (3), though both are mentioned in other parts of pose men of sufficiently depraved moral habits to act the
tllC author’s writings *-***'»•*• /-vT Loir** r*r\-r\r*d.\ nv irw'iilr»at£‘rl Anri aKm/ri
1. Those of the forty-four bishops at the Council of Carthage (a. d.
397), of Augustin (a. d. 394), of Jerome (a. d. 392), of Rufinus
(a. d. 390), of Epiphanius (a. d. 370), and of Athanasius (a. d. 315).
2. Those of Gregory of Nazienzum (a. D. 375), of the bishops at
the Council of Laodicea(A. D. 364), and of Cyrill of Jerusalem (a. d.
340).
3. That of Philaster or Philastrius, bishop of Brixia or Brescia (a. I).
380).
Lardner, Works, vol. iv. pp. 280-501, and vol. v. pp. 1-123.
iii. Their existence in the third century is placed equally
part of forgers, to have conceived or inculcated. And above
all, the minute circumstantiality of the narrative is such as,
on the one hand, strikingly indicates the agency of an eye
and ear witness in the composition of it, and on the other,
affords too many tests of the author’s personal familiarity
with what he narrates, to have been ventured on by a forger.
The striking coincidence of one part of the volume with
another may also be mentioned as a further evidence ot its
genuineness.
For these reasons it is concluded, that the Scriptures ot
the Old and New Testament are the genuine productions
beyond doubt, from the careful and explicit testimony of Gf those to whom they are ascribed. They are reasons which
Eusebius, who wrote a. d. 315; from the references to must satisfy every person familiar with such inquiries, that
them in the writings of the apologists Arnobius Afer and we p0ssess jn favour of the genuineness of these books a far
Lactantius (cir. a. d. 300) ; from the testimonies contained }arger andmore unquestionable body of proof, than we have
in fragments preserved from numerous writers in that cen- jn favour 0f the genuineness of any of the ancient classics,
tury, especially Victorinus bishop of Pettau, in Germany, anci intleeci 0f much even of comparatively modern litera-
who refers to nearly every book in the New Testament; ture.
from the commentaries upon them and quotations from See on tlie 0f this section, Horne’s Introduction, vol. i. pp.
them of Origen (a. d. 253) ; from the quotations of Cy- 35_99; Lardner’sCredibility, Works, vols. i.-v. 8vo, i. and ii. 4to ;
prian (a. D. 258) ; and from references to them in the re- Paley’s Evidence of Christianity, and Horae Paulina;; Mickaelis s
784
Scripture. Introduction by Marsh, vol. i. p. 4-54; Cook’s Enquiry into the
  v—- Books of the New Testament; Taylor’s Essay on the Transmis¬
sion of ancient books to modern times; Schott, Isagoge, p. 518—
542.
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
Sect. IV.—Integrity of the Sacred Books.
Closely connected with the question of the genuineness
of the Scriptures is the question of their integrity, or uncor¬
rupted preservation. Infidels have often asserted, that ex¬
tensive and important changes have been made upon the
original documents, especially upon those of the Old Tes¬
tament. But,
1. Of this there is no proof. It is a mere unsupported
assertion on their part, resting upon nothing but certain a
priori conclusions to which they profess to have come, as
to the probability of such a thing. To prove it, we should
require some competent historical testimony to the fact, or
an articulate comparison of the alleged interpolations with
the original text.
2. Such interpolations could have been perpetrated only
by universal consent on the part of all possessing these do¬
cuments. Had one man altered his own copy, and publish¬
ed his alterations, the only result would have been certain
discrepancies between the readings of that family of manu¬
scripts of which his copy was the parent, and those of other
families, unless he could have persuaded the whole nation of
the Jews, or the entire body of the Christians, as the case
might be, to adopt his innovations,—a supposition plainly
impossible.
3. Had extensive alterations taken place, the harmony of
Scripture w ould have been destroyed. A number of sepa¬
rate books are written by different persons, for the purpose
of unfolding under different aspects and modifications one
harmonious system of truth. The result is a harmonious
work. But some person, for purposes of his own, sets about
interpolating these books. Is it conceivable that this should
have been accomplished with such exquisite skill and adroit¬
ness, that the original harmony of the work should have
been preserved, and all vestiges of a spurious intermixture
concealed ?
4. It is morally certain, that previous to the Christian
era, the Jews did not alter their sacred books. For this w e
have sufficient security in the habits and circumstances of
the people. The Bible was their national statute-book ; on
it the whole of their civil economy, and all their political
and judicial procedure, rested. They wTere in the habit of
giving the utmost publicity to its contents; kings wrere
required to study it continually, priests were appointed to
teach it to the people, and fathers were enjoined to incul¬
cate it upon their children, so that the idea of connivance
among the members of any class in the community for the
purpose of falsifying it is entirely precluded. Their law con¬
tains a solemn prohibitory statute against any, the slightest,
alterations of these books, Deut. v. 2, xii. 32. The rival
sects wdnch arose among them after their return from Ba¬
bylon served the same purpose, by acting as mutual checks
upon each other. And, finally, in the absence of any cen¬
sure by our Lord upon the Jews, whose crimes he faithful¬
ly exposed, for their treatment of the sacred text, and in
his continual references to the Old Testament in the state
in which it was then extant, as containing an accurate re¬
cord of God’s will, we have the best assurance that no li¬
berty affecting its perfect integrity had been taken with it
previous to his advent.
5. Since the commencement of the Christian era, it is
equally certain that no intentional corruption of the Old
Testament Scriptures can have taken place. The Jews have
not corrupted them, for they have ever shown too deep a
reverence for every word and letter of these books to have
done so; they have been too much scattered and disunited
to have agreed upon any such attempt; they would not
have left so many statements condemnatory of themselves Scripture,
and favourable to Christianity had they set about alteringv'—
their own Scriptures; and they have since that time been
so much under the eye of Christians, that any such attempt
on their part would immediately have been detected and
denounced by the latter. Christians have not done it; for,
to say nothing of the fact, that hardly any Christian has been
sufficiently master of the Hebrew language to execute skil¬
fully any such alterations, the attempt on their part to do
such a thing would have been immediately discovered and
exposed by the Jews.
G. As impossible is it that any corruption has taken place
in the Christian Scriptures. It is plain that this could not
have occurred during the lives of their authors, nor whilst
the autographs of their works were extant. But in some
cases before, and in others immediately after, the death of
the inspired writers, copies of their writings wrere multiplied
to a great extent, and disseminated over the whole Chris¬
tian world. It could only therefore have been by the ge¬
neral consent of all Christians, that any material alterations
could have been made on these writings; for if one sect or
party had interpolated their copies, this could not have af¬
fected the copies of others, and would have been detected
and denounced by them. But the idea of a general consent
of Christians in all parts of the world to falsify their own
documents, is one too extravagant to be admitted.
7. The agreement of versions and of manuscripts, both
of the Old Testament Scriptures and of the New, is a cor¬
roborative evidence of their integrity. The number of early
versions is considerable, and among them so great a har¬
mony prevails, that it is undeniable they must have been
made from a common original, and that that original must
have been the same as we now possess. The same conclu¬
sion is attested by the agreement of the manuscripts. Of
these nearly 1150 containing the whole or parts of the Old
Testament, and about 700 containing the whole or parts
of the New Testament, have been collated, without any ma¬
terial discrepancy having been elicited (1) ; a fact which is
utterly irreconcileable with the supposition of any designed
interpolations having been so much as attempted by any
class or party, either of Jews or of Christians (2).
1 Rosenmiiller observes respecting the codices of the Old Testament,
“ li qui hodie exstant codices omnes ita inter se conspirant, ut ex aliquot
centenis variis lectionibus vix una deprehendatur qua sensum mu-
tet. Circa unam duntaxat vel alteram litteram, Yocalem vel Accen-
tum versantur. Quod quidem argumento est, ^ eteris -Testament! li-
bros, prouti eos nunc legimus, ex unius, quam dicunt, recensionis
codicibus ad nos transmissos esse, atque omnes codices, antiquiores
teque qui perierunt, ac recentiores quos habemus tanquam a com-
muni fonte fluxisse.” (Pr«/ ad Edit. Stereotypam Hahnii Bib. Heb. p.
iv.) Language no less strong may be justly held regarding the New
Testament. . , T
2 See Horne’s Introduction, vol. i. pp. 100—108; Michaehs s In¬
troduction, vol. i.; Walton, Proleqom. vii. ; Nolan’s Inquiry into the
Integrity of the Greek Vulgate, London, 1815 ; [Bentley’s] Remarks
on Freethinking by Philoleutherus Lipsiensis, No. xxxi.—xxxiii; Hr
J. Pye Smith’s Answer to the Manifesto of the Christian Evidence So¬
ciety, 4th ed., and Rejoinder to Taylor, 2d ed. London, 1830 ; Ernesti s
Principles of Biblical Interpretation, translated by Charles H. Terrot,
vol. ii. pp. 1—24, Edin. 1833.
Sect. V Credibility of the Sacred Scriptures.
That these books, in their narrative parts, contain state¬
ments of actual facts, is sufficiently established by various
considerations.
1. The things narrated are such as their writers were
fully competent to attest. For the most part they were eye
and ear witnesses of what they record; and where this was
not the case, they were placed in circumstances the most
favourable for gaining information from first sources as to
the facts they narrate. They are, in fact, with one or two
partial exceptions, what very few of the ancient historians
are, annalists of their own times.
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
ripture.
785
Tire matters which they record were such as they monuments of human art which are still existing, such as Scripture.
could not possibly be deceived about. They are such as
any man with the use of his senses, and an ordinary portion
coins, medals, and inscriptions.
of discrimination, was as fully competent to iudge of as the See Faber’sIlora: Mosaica, vol. i.; Bryant’s Antient Mythology, three
most profound philosopher. The passage of the Red Sea IV’; °r > n T < war.c,s °" the Truth and Authority of Scripture,
fL- I     ,a’ vol-1-i G«ys Connection of Sacred and Profane Literature : Lard-
for instance, or the re-appearance of our Lord after his
death, was a fact respecting which no man in his senses
could be deceived. Unless the sacred writers were the
wildest enthusiasts (of which, however, no trace is discover¬
able in any other part of their conduct, but the contrary),
they could not have been misled into the belief that they
had seen such things, if they had not seen them.
3. The blameless character and disinterested fidelity of
these witnesses show that they were not themselves de¬
ceivers. The mind of man is subject to certain laws, upon
which we may calculate with the same security as upon the
laws of matter ; and one of these is, that no man of gene¬
rally irreproachable character will deliberately and pertina¬
ciously propagate a falsehood, save under the influence of
very strong temptation. Now the sacred writers were men
of blameless character, so that if their narrative be false, it
can only have been under the stress of very urgent neces¬
sity or sinister inducement that they can be supposed to
have promulgated it. But where was this stress in their
case ? What evil had they to shun, what prodigious ad¬
vantage to gain, by falsehood ? On the contrary, did not
their adherence to their story expose many of them to the
severest privations and the crudest sufferings, even to death
itself? Do men, then, ever so fall in love with falsehood
as to consecrate their lives to its propagation, and willingly to
endure every species of contumely, persecution, and oppres¬
sion, rather than relinquish it ? Would not such a thing be
a moral miracle, infinitely more incredible than any of those
which the sacred writers narrate, because, unlike theirs,
performed not only without the affirmation of divine agency,
but in direct opposition to the law of the God of truth ?
4. Their narratives were published at a time when the
events they record were so recent that it outrages all pro¬
bability to suppose, either that they would have had the
audacity to publish what was false, or that their falsehoods
would have been allowed to descend to posterity uncontra¬
dicted. Who can for a moment imagine, that had the Is¬
raelites not crossed the Red Sea in the manner described
by Moses, he could have persuaded them to believe that
they had ? or that the facts of our Lord’s history could have
been palmed upon the world when there were so many still
alive both interested in and competent for their refutation,
had they not really occurred ?
5. These histories account satisfactorily for numerous un¬
deniable facts that are otherwise unaccountable, such as the
existence and present state of the Jews, the existence and
propagation of Christianity, and the prevalence of certain
rites and ceremonies among Jews and Christians, such as
circumcision in its religious aspect, the weekly Sabbath, the
Lord’s Supper, &c. They further tally with the testimony
of profane history, in as far as the field is common to both.
They “ interweave themselves,” as Dr Channing has well
observed, “ with real history so naturally and intimately, as
to furnish no clue for detection, as to exclude the appear¬
ance of incongruity and discordance, and as to give an ade¬
quate explanation, and the only explanation, of acknow¬
ledged events of the most important revolutions in society.”
That such narratives should be fictitious, the same writer
justly concludes, “ is a supposition from which an intelli¬
gent man at once revolts, and which, if admitted, would
shake a principal foundation of history.” Discourse on the
Evidences of Revealed Religion, p. 34, 4th (English) edi¬
tion, Liverpool, 1831.
6. The credibility of the sacred historians is strikingly
confirmed by the traditions and histories of all the ancient
nations, by many facts of natural history, and by numerous
VOL. XIX.
, n ,    Literature ; Lard-
ners Credibility, and Jewish and Heathen Testimonies, &c. Works,
vol. i.-vm. ; Bedford’s Lectures on the Divine Authority of the Bible^
as confirmed by Science, History, and Human Consciousness, 1837 ;
Hornes Introduction, vol. i. 116-20.
Sect. VI.— Canon of the Sacred Scriptures.
The Greek word xkvwk signifies originally a straight line
or rod ; hence tropically a rule, and hence a list or cata¬
logue, as that which contains the rule or order of the things
contained in it.
In this last sense it is applied to the Scriptures, but with
a different reference, according as it is used in inquiries of
a dogmatical or in inquiries of a historico-critical nature.
In the former, it means the list of books deemed inspired;
in the latter, the list of books recognised as genuine by
Jews and Christians. In either case, such books are op¬
posed to those that are apocryphal (a'KOY.ou'pa, “ ea scripta
quibus publice ecclesia non utebatur, sed privatim habebat
legebatque qui vellet.” Ludovicus Vives ad Augustin, de
Civ. Dei, 1. xv. c. 23.).
In regard to the sacred writings, both these lists are so
far identical, that all the books which are found in the for¬
mer are found also in the latter.
An ancient and not improbable tradition represents Ezra
as the person who formed the Jewish canon in its present
state ; but this can only mean that he made it up as far as
the books composing it were written in his day. It is ge¬
nerally supposed that Nehemiah, who is said to have col¬
lected a $iQ\io0rixri of the sacred books (2d Macc. ii. 13),
and Malachi, the last of the prophets, closed the canon by
adding to it their own writings; though some affirm that the
list was not finally made up until about the time of the Syrian
invasion under Antiochus Epiphanes, in the third century
b. c. Certain it is that by that time all the books now ex¬
tant had been composed and arranged in their present or¬
der, as they not only were then translated into Greek, but
are spoken of by Jesus Siracides, who lived about two hun¬
dred years b. c., as divided into three classes, and as of con¬
siderable antiquity.
At what time the canon of the New Testament was made
up we have not the means of accurately determining. We
arc sure, however, that from a very early age these writings
were collected, and were referred to in their collected cha¬
racter, as the received documents of the Christian commu¬
nity. Tertullian does so repeatedly in his writings, deno¬
minating them sometimes “ the New Testament,” and some¬
times “ the Divine Instrument,” in the singular number.
The collection was doubtless made gradually; and from
what we learn from Eusebius respecting a distinction be¬
tween books bgo’koyovpivu and books avri’kiyoyivu (Hist.
Ecclesias. lib. iii. c. 25, ed. Heinichen, vol. i. p. 244), it would
appear that the claims of every book were carefully weigh¬
ed before its canonicity was admitted.
See Cosin’s Scholastical History of the Canon of the Holy Scrip¬
ture, London, 1672 ; Jones’s New and Full Method of Settling the
Canonical Authority of the New Testament, Oxford, 1/98 ; Alexan¬
der’ Canon of the Old and New Testaments Ascertained, London,
1828 ; Ch. F. Schmidtii Historia Antiqua et Vindicatio Canonis Vete-
ris et Novi Testamenti, Lipsiae, 1775; Haenlein s Einleitung in die Schrif-
ten d. N. T., bde. i. s. 341, Erlangen, 1801 ; Henderson’s Lectures on
Inspiration, lect. ix.
The apocryphal books of Scripture may be divided into
two classes, the one containing those that are simply dog¬
matically, the other those that are both dogmatically and his-
torico-critically apocryphal. To the former belong the
books of Maccabees, Wisdom, Ecclesiasticus, and perhaps
5 G
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
Scripture, those of Tobit and of Judith, which are genuine, though not
" y'—inspired ; to the latter all the rest of the apocryphal books,
both of the Old Testament and the New, none of which are
inspired, or can be shown to be genuine.
Horne’s Introduction, vol. i., Appendix, p. 457 ; Rainold, Censura
Librorum Veteris Testamenti Apocryplwrum, 1611 ; Bretschneider, De
Libri Sapientue, &c. 1804 ; Josephus, Cont. Apionem, i. 8 ; Hierony-
rai, Brief at. in libb. Salomonis, et in Judith et Tobiam
Sect. VII.—History of the Original Text of the Old Tes¬
tament Scriptures.
The history of the Hebrew text may be divided into three
great epochs. The first of these reaches from the comple¬
tion of the Alexandrian Greek version to the times of Ori-
gen, Jerome, and the Talmud, b. c. 300—a. d. 500. Du¬
ring this period the use of the Greek version had very much
superseded, even in Palestine, the original Hebrew ; but
ample compensation for this has been rendered by the aid
which the existence of this and of other versions has afford¬
ed the critic in settling the Hebrew text. Important ser¬
vice was rendered by Origen’s critical revision ol the Greek,
and Jerome’s revision of the Latin versions. Nor were the
Jews behind the Christians in this respect, for we find from
the Talmud evidence that already had various readings be¬
gun to be collected by them.
In the Talmud, Ilierosol. Tract. Thaanit. fol. Ixviii., it is said of cer¬
tain various readings, that “ they have come down from the times
when the temple was yet standing.” Capelli Critica Sacra, tom. i. p.
444.458 ; Waltoni Prolegom. viii. § 20-28 ; Kennicott, Dissert. Genera-
lis, p. 275 ; Horne’s Introduction, vol. ii. p. 35, 36.
The second epoch reaches from the times of Jerome and
the Talmud to that of Ben-Asher and Ben-Naphthali, that
is, from the sixth to the eleventh century. About the com¬
mencement of this period the Masorah, or collection ot tra¬
ditionary observations, orthographical, critical, grammatical,
and exegetical, which had been accumulating tor upwards
of three centuries among the Jewish rabbin, was made by
a college of learned Jews at Tiberias in Palestine. To this
mass of scholia additions were continually made, as w ell as
corrections proposed on it, by the Lords of the Masorah
(rryiDnrr ''w3)* as they were called, until the time of Jacob
Ben Ha-yim, by whom the whole was completed and print¬
ed along with the Hebrew text in the year 1526. The
commencement of the eleventh century is memorable in the
history of the Hebrew text, from the circumstance of two
recensions having been issued by the heads of two celebrat¬
ed Jewish academies; by Aaron Ben Asher, principal of the
academy of Tiberias, and Jacob Ben Naphthali, principal
of the academy of Babylon. These have given rise to the
various readings denominated the occidental and the orien¬
tal respectively. By them also the last hand was put to the
pointing of the Hebrew text.
Capelli Grit. Sacra, t. i. p. 439-443 ; Simon, Histoire Critique, ch. i.
p. 24-26 ; Kennicott, Dissertationes, ii. p. 279 ; Buxtorf, Tiberias, 1610;
Marsh’s Lectures, lect. viii. ed. 1828 ; Walton, Prolegom. viii.; Horne,
vol. ii. p. 39, 40.
The third epoch reaches from the beginning of the
eleventh century to the middle of the eighteenth. About the
year 1040 many learned Jews, banished from the east, took
refuge in Europe, and brought with them their Scriptures
and their critical learning. Maimonides, Jarchi, Ebenezra,
Kimchi, and others, rendered additional service as to the
interpretation, so also to the criticism, of the sacred text.
In the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries Todrosius, Me-
nachem, and Sal. Norzi, collected various readings. In
1477 the first scriptural book in Hebrew, in 1488 the en¬
tire Hebrew Bible for the first time, was printed; the latter
at Soncino, the former at some place unknown. Of great
importance is the so-called Rabbinical Bible, printed at
Venice in 1526, and edited by Ben Ha-yim. Among Chris¬
tian editors, Sebastian Munster was the first who issued an Scripture.
edition of the Hebrew Bible, with various readings, Basil,
1535. The editions of Jablonski, Berlin, 1699, and of
Van der Hooght, Amsterdam, 1705, are worthy of notice as
critical editions. John Henry Michaelis published his edi¬
tion at Halle in 1720, for which he collated five manuscripts
and nineteen editions. In 1753, at Paris, appeared the edi¬
tion of Charles Francis Houbigant, for which twelve manu¬
scripts were collated, but the value of which is greatly im¬
paired by the editor’s propensity to conjectural emendation,
and by his attaching such undue importance to the read¬
ings of the Septuagint. The splendid work of Kennicott
(Oxford, t. i. 1776, ii. 1780) presents the largest mass of va¬
rious readings yet collected ; but the want of scientific dis¬
crimination as to their relative value has impaired the use¬
fulness of the collection. The same may be said of the va¬
rious readings collected by De Rossi, Parma, 1784-1788.
Marsh’s Lectures, lect. ix. ; Horne, ii. p. 41, 42 ; August!, Einlei-
tung, s. 85—92.
Sect. VIII History of the Original Text of the Neiv Tes¬
tament Scriptures.
In regard to the Greek text of the New Testament, the
first thing to be considered is the variety of opinion among
critics respecting the different recensions, as they have been
termed, or classes of documents containing the original text.
Of these documents, some more, and others less, closely re¬
semble each other as respects the nature and selection of
their readings, and not unfrequently traces of a common ori¬
gin in the older codices and versions are apparent. This
has led to the idea of arranging these into classes, or fami¬
lies, or recensions, an idea first started by Bengel and Sem-
ler (1), and which has been carried out by several more recent
inquirers. Bengel concluded that there are two families of
manuscripts, the African and Asiatic, of the former of which
the Alexandrian manuscript is the sole representative (with
which agree the Ethiopic, the Coptic, and the ancient Latin
versions), whereas the latter is very numerous. After Ben¬
gel came Griesbach (2), who contended for a threefold recen¬
sion, the Western, the Alexandrian or Eastern, and the
Constantinopolitan or Byzantine. Of these, the two former
are the oldest, and are by him attributed to the same age.
They differ, in that the Western text is more replete with
Hebraisms, with explanatory additions, and with occasional
substitutions of a perspicuous formula for one more difficult;
whilst the Eastern prefers those readings that are accom¬
modated to the classic Greek, corrects phrases that are less
pure, and is less deformed by errors of the transcriber,
though particles and synonyms are occasionally omitted
through haste. The Constantinopolitan has arisen from the
mingling of the readings of the other two. It properly con¬
sists of two recensions ; a senior (fourth century), even more
fond of pure Greek forms, and richer in glosses, than the
Alexandrian itself; and a junior (fifth or sixth century), which
appears to have been formed after a new collation of the
senior with the Eastern and Alexandrian recensions, by
the labours of some learned men of the Syrian Church.
Griesbach defends his system with great learning and in¬
genuity ; but it is open, as Schott observes, to the following
objections: ls£, His positions respecting the origin assigned
to both recensions are destitute of a solid basis; ‘Hdly, Many
reasons concur to prevent our admitting that any state ot
the text of the New Testament peculiar to the Western
Church, such as could from its singular character be entitled
to the name of a recension, existed (3); 3dly, The features of
the text followed by the very ancient Peschito version cannot
well be accounted for on the principles ot Griesbach; and,
in fine, all who seek accurately to arrange codices, versions,
and extracts found in the fathers, according to different re¬
censions, labour under this difficulty, that none of those do-
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
icriptum euments of the New Testament which are of great age ex¬
hibits any such pure and perfect recension (4).
1. Bengel, Apparatus Criticus ad Novum Test. p. 425, Tubirw*
1763 ; Ejujdem Introductio in Crisin N. T. § 26, &c., p. 385, Tubin¬
gs, 1734 ; Semler, Vorbereitungen zur Hermeneutik, Halle, 1760-
1 / 69.
2. Griesbach, Opuscula Academica, ed. Gabler, vol. L
3. From the writings of the fathers of the second century, we learn
that those various readings which are said to be peculiar to the west¬
ern and to the eastern texts respectively, do not, as respects their ori¬
gin, belong to different recensions. (See Eichhom, Einl. bde. iv. p.
265 and 269, &c.) Nor is it probable that the doctors of the Western
Church, who were but little skilled in Greek, should have thought of
preparing a recension of the New Testament.
4. Schott, Isagoge, p. 562—565.
A different theory of recensions has been adopted by Hug.
He thinks that the text which we find in those early codT-
ces which Griesbach referred to the Western recension, in
the oldest Latin versions, in the Sahidico-Coptic version,
in the quotations of the fathers till the time of Origen, and
in Origen himself, was the xoivri ’Udodis, or common edition,
conformed to no recension in particular, and containing
various readings of different sorts and of different origins
mingled together, especially such as serve to explain the
text. At the same time those codices which were written in
Syria and other parts of the east (the inhabitants of which
understood better than most others the Hebraeo-Greek
dialect of the New Testament) preserved. tlie primitive
text more correctly; and hence it happened that the oldest
Syriac version, though upon the whole belonging to this
common edition, not unfrequently dissents from the read¬
ings of the other documents of the same edition. About
the middle of the third century, Hesychius, an Egyptian
bishop, first set about correcting the errors of the recension
of the common edition used in Egypt, purging out all in¬
terpolations and glosses, restoring words that had been
omitted, but aiming too much at producing a text that
should be remarkable for its Greek purity and elegance.
Almost at the same time, Lucian, a presbyter of Antioch,
in Syria, revised the common edition as it appeared in the
Peschito version, following chiefly the authority of this ver¬
sion, but at the same time comparing other codices found
in Syria, and produced a text differing from that of He¬
sychius in this, that it showed less desire to amend the
Greek of the New Testament. Besides these, a third re¬
cension was undertaken by Origen in Palestine, based upon
the common edition used by the Christians there, which
conformed in some respects to that of Hesychius, in others
to that of Lucian, whilst frequently it differed from both,
and which subsequently became the one commonly used in
Palestine and the adjoining districts. Of these recensions
none is preserved in any of those documents which we now
possess, as the transcribers frequently compared their re¬
cension with the common edition and with other recensions.
Hug’s theory rests so far on an historical basis, that it ap¬
pears certain that Hesychius and Lucian did undertake
some such labour as he ascribes to them ; but that codi¬
ces of their recensions were either very numerous or very
widely disseminated, cannot be shown. The labour attri¬
buted to Origen is more than doubtful.
Hug, Einldtung, bd. i. s. 126 (Eng. Trans, vol. i. p. 134, &c.);
Schott, Isagoge, p. 566 ; Horne, ii. p. 56
Matthaei thinks that no recensions of the text of the New
Testament were anciently made, and he prefers dividing
the documents from which the text is to be determined,
into, Is#, Codices textus perpetui, in which there are neither
scholia nor commentaries, and which excel all the others
in the purity of the text they exhibit; 2d, Lectionaria, which
contain the lessons read in churches, and exhibit a text less
free from scholiary interpolation than the preceding; 3o?,
Codices mixti, which contain scholia and interpretations
partly on the margin, but chiefly interpolated. Matthaei
thought the Moscow manuscripts, which he had himself Script
diligently collated, the best; and this perhaps led him to a
very unjust estimate of the worth and authority of many
other documents of the text of the New Testament.
Schott, Isagoge, p. 570 ; Horne, ii. p. 50.
Scholz, the most recent editor of the Greek New Tes¬
tament, adopts neither the opinion of Griesbach nor that
of Plug. He concludes that there are two classes of cri¬
tical witnesses for the text of the New Testament, the Alex¬
andrian and the Constantinopolitan; to the former of which
belong all the codices executed in Egypt and western Eu¬
rope, the most of the Coptic and Latin versions, the Ethi-
opic version, and the quotations by ecclesiastical writers of
these districts; and to the latter all the codices written in
Asia Minor, Syria, Palestine, and eastern Europe, the Phi-
loxenian Syriac version, the Gothic, the Georgian, the Scla-
vonian, the quotations by the fathers living in these regions,
and all printed editions. To manuscripts of the latter class
he attributes superior value, because of their greater har¬
mony, and of their having been more faithfully copied from
original documents than those of the former, which often
exhibit a text altered at the will of grammarians. A two¬
fold difficulty presses upon this theory of Scholz ; for, first,
the Western text of the New Testament has a character
considerably different from that of the Alexandrian; and,
secondly, the text divulged at Constantinople by order of
Constantine and Constans was, as Scholz himself admits,
collated with the Alexandrian text, so that the readings of
both recensions were intermixed. It is, moreover, rather as¬
sumed than proved that that form of the text which, dur¬
ing the first three centuries, prevailed in Asia Minor and
Greece, was the same which was afterwards divulged prin¬
cipally in the Constantinopolitan codices; nor is it suffi¬
ciently clear that Alexandria was the primary seat of the
arbitrary corruption of the New Testament text.
Soholz, Proleg. ad editionem N. T. vol. i.; Schott, Isagoge, p. 570;
Horne, ii. 58-66.
The theory of Eichhorn is that which perhaps approaches
nearest the truth. He grants, that from a very early age,
different readings, derived from various sources, existed,
and were vastly augmented in the third century by va¬
rious efforts of an exegetical nature, so that as early as
the second century there were two species of texts, the
Asiatic and the African, but neither of them was deter¬
mined by any very certain critical laws. He denies that
Origen was the author of a peculiar recension, but admits
the services of Hesychius and Lucian in this respect,
although he questions the possibility of ascertaining accu¬
rately the primitive character of either recension from
ancient documents. There thus arose a threefold text of
the New Testament, the African (Alexandrian), the Asiatic
(Constantinopolitan), and a Mixed, which had its source
from this, that many, notwithstanding the authority ac¬
quired by the recensions of Hesychius and Lucian in the
churches of Africa and Asia, preferred following the au¬
thority of older codices. No change of a critical kind took
place upon the text thus formed until editions of the New
Testament began to be printed. No opinion so fully ac¬
cords with what may be regarded as best ascertained as
this of Eichhorn, though it is still doubtful whether the ef¬
forts of Hesychius and Lucian exerted a very wide or last¬
ing influence upon the form of the text of the New Testa¬
ment.
Eichhorn, Einleitung in das N. T. bd. iv. s. 183, &c. ; Schott, Isa¬
goge, p. 572, from which work the above account has been principally
taken ; Horne, ii. p. 57.
With the exception of some detached portions, the first
printed editions of the New Testament were those of the
Complutensian Polyglott, 1514, and of Erasmus, Basil,
788
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
Scripture. 1516. The next possessing any critical value were those of
s>'—Robert Stephen,1 viz. that of 1546, 12mo, commonly call¬
ed, from the first words of the preface, the “ O Mirificam”
edition, that of 1549, 12mo, and that of 1550, folio. Beza
was the first to issue an edition of the New Testament with
a copious critical apparatus; and his edition many of the
minor editions for several years followed. The beautiful
editions of the Elzevirs, which conform partly to the text of
Stephen, partly to that of Beza, became so famous that they
formed what has been called the textus receptus. In 1707
the edition of Mill was published at Oxford, in which not
only is there a larger collection of various readings furnish¬
ed, but also a more scientific discrimination of these aimed
at, than in any preceding edition. His example was fol¬
lowed by Bengel in Germany and Wetstein in Holland,
both of whom have rendered important service to the text
of the New Testament. All these, however, have been
outstripped in diligence, learning, and acuteness, by Gries-
bach, who issued his first edition, which embraced only the
historical books of the New Testament, at Halle, 1774-75.
In the mean time, the researches of Matthsei, Alter, Birch,
and others, had greatly enlarged the mass of materials for a
critical revision of the New Testament, and of these Gries-
bach eagerly and ably availed himself in preparing a criti¬
cal edition of the whole New Testament. This he pub¬
lished in two volumes large octavo, the former in 1799, and
the latter in 1806, at Halle. Subsequent editors have
chiefly followed the scheme of this recension, at the same
time exercising their own judgment upon the readings it
supplies ; but recently Professor Scholz of Bonn has issued
a new recension, for which he has subjected most of the
manuscripts already used to a new collation, and collated
some not hitherto examined. It appeared in two vols. 4to,
in 1830-36, at Leipzig. A beautiful and exceedingly use¬
ful edition of the New Testament has been recently issued
in this country by Dr S. T. Bloomfield, formed upon a care¬
ful collation of all previous critical recensions; the third
edition, two vols. 8vo, appeared at London in 1839.
Marsh’s Lectures, lect. iii.-vii. ; Schott, Isagnge, pp. 631-642 ;
Horne’s Introduction, vol. ii. part ii. pp. 11—35 ; Michaelis, Introduc¬
tion, by Marsh, vol. ii. p. 159 and 429 ; Erneeti’s Principles of Inter¬
pretation, vol. ii. p. 47.
Sect. IX.—Manuscripts of the Sacred Text.
Hebrew manuscripts are of two classes, the rolled and
the square ; the former prepared for the use of the syna¬
gogues, and written only on parchment; the latter for pri¬
vate use, and written sometimes on parchment and some¬
times on paper. In all the ancient manuscripts the words
are written continuously without any division, and in the
square Chaldaic character. They are divided by De Rossi
into three classes, viz. 1. The more ancient, or those writ¬
ten before the twelfth century ; 2. The ancient, or those
of the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries; 3. The more re¬
cent, or those written at the end of the fourteenth or be¬
ginning of the fifteenth century. The number of manu¬
scripts collated by Dr Kennicott was about 630, and by
De Rossi 479.
Kennicott, Dissert. Generalis; Tyelisen, Tentamen ck variis Codd.
Jleb. MSS. 1772; Horne, vol. ii. p. 76-90.
Manuscripts of the Greek New Testament were written
first on Egyptian papyrus, and then, as this was found too
subject to decay, on skins. Subsequent to the twelfth cen¬
tury, silk paper was used for this purpose, until the thir¬
teenth century, when common (linen) paper came into
use (1). For the first eight centuries the manuscripts were Script
written in uncial letters, large, erect, and not united either
by strokes or hooks. From the beginning of the ninth
century the cursive letters were employed, which are
smaller, more inclined, and united with strokes ; they have,
moreover, the iota subscribed (2). At first all the words
were written without any diacritical marks or separations;
but as this was found inconvenient, and productive of mis¬
takes, especially in the public reading of the New Testa¬
ment, a plan was introduced to remedy it by Euthalius,
then a deacon at Alexandria, in the fifth century, which
consisted in so arranging those words that make one sense,
as that they should compose one stich (tfr/^ov) or line (3). To
save room, subsequent transcribers, instead of arranging
these in distinct lines, marked the conclusion of each by a
colon or point; and thus by degrees arose a complete gram¬
matical punctuation, which is presented in manuscripts from
the tenth century downwards, though it was not till the six¬
teenth century that it was subjected to fixed rules in the
editions then printed. From a very early period the cus¬
tom prevailed of dividing the text into sections (xspaXa/a),
but until the time of Euthalius no uniform order was ob¬
served in this respect. About the middle of the third cen¬
tury, Ammonius of Alexandria, in preparing a Diatesseron
or Harmony of the Evangelists, divided the text into a
number of very short sections; and these having been
adopted with slight variations by Eusebius (4) (whence they
are frequently denominated xifaXa/a Ammoniano-Eusebi-
ana), they were in many manuscripts conjoined with the
Euthalian divisions. In the sixth century, some finding use
for a division of the text into larger portions, introduced
the arrangement by nrXoi or breves ; but in the course of
time these two modes led to so much confusion, that in the
thirteenth century Hugo de Santo Caro, a Spanish cardinal,
introduced as a remedy the division into chapters and verses,
which was afterwards perfected by Robert Stephen into that
now in use. Besides these divisions, there was another for
church purposes into vtpxoircu, uvayvuxsuf, or avctynus/xarix,,
containing the sections of the New Testament appointed
for lessons in the public service of the church on Sundays
and festivals. The commencement of each of these was
marked with an a («£%J5), and the close with a r (rtXoi) (5).
1. Montfaucon, Palceographia Grceca, p. 15.
2. Ibid. pp. 151-177, 269, 33, 134.
3. Zacagni Collectanea Monument. Vet. Eccl. Grceca, 1693, tom. i.
p. 403, &c. ■, Eichhorn, Einleii, bd. iv. p. 164 ; Marsh’s Notes to Mi¬
chaelis, vol. i.
4. See Mill’s New Testament, p. 181.
5. Marsh’s Michaelis, vol. ii. p. 889 et seq.; Horne’s Introduction,
vol. ii. p. 71; Schott, Isagoge, p. 577-584.
These historical facts are of service in determining the age
of the New Testament codices. These are very numerous,
but the most famous of them alone required to be enume¬
rated. Very few of them contain the whole of the New
Testament. They are arranged as follows .
1. Manuscripts executed before the stichometric mode oj
writing was prevalent, viz. the Cod. Alexandrinus (A2),
Vaticanus (B), Ephraemi (vel Cod. Regius 9, G), Dublin-
ensis rescriptus (Z).
2. Stichometric Manuscripts, viz. Cod. Cantabrigiensis
(vel Cod. Bezae, D), Laudianus III. (E), Claromontanus
(D, inter Cod. Paulinos), Boernerianus (G, inter Cod.
Paulinos), Augiensis (F, inter Cod. Paulinos), Coislinia-
nus (H).
3. Manuscripts written after the disuse of the stichometric
method. These are very numerous. The most valuable
1 This is commonly written Stephens, hut the correctness of this may be questioned. The French Etienne, which was the vernacular name
of this illustrious family, is equivalent to our Stephen, and the proper Latin form of Stephens would be Stephanius, and not Stephanus.
1 These letters refer to the nomenclature of the manuscripts adopted by Griesbach and Wetstein.
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
are the following, viz. Cod. Cyprius (olim Colbertinus, K);
Basiliensis, b. vi. 21 (E); Basiliensis, b. vi. 27 (vel Reuch-
linianus); Stephani Octavus (L); Winchilseanus (106);
Regius (M); Mosquenses Bibliothecae S. Synodi, iv. v.
xliii. xcviii.
Schott, Isagoge, p. 591-599; Horne, Introd. vol. ii. p. 111-196;
Hug, Einleit. [Eng. trans. vol. i.].
Sect X—Ancient Versions of the Sacred Scriptures.
These may be arranged either with respect to their his¬
tory, as Immediate and Mediate, according as they have
been made directly from the originals or from other trans¬
lations ; or with respect to the languages in which they ex¬
ist, as Oriental and Occidental. We shall follow the latter
arrangement, as the more convenient; at the same time
intimating, when it is possible, what place each version has
in the former.
1. Oriental Versions.—1. Chaldaic Targums. After
the return of the Jews from Babylon they brought with
them so much of the language of Chaldsea, that they were
unable to understand their own Scriptures. Hence arose
the necessity of accompanying the reading of these in the
synagogues with an interpretation; a practice first intro¬
duced by Ezra (Nehem. viii. 8), and which continued to
be followed as long as the Jewish service was maintained.
These interpretations were at first merely oral, and con¬
fined to a literal version of the original into the popular dia¬
lect ; but gradually they became more paraphrastic, and
the idea naturally arose of committing the more valuable of
them to writing. From this sprung the Chaldaic Targums,
or paraphrastic versions of the Hebrew Scriptures. The
oldest now extant is that of Onkelos on the Pentateuch,
composed according to some in the first, and to others in
the third century of the Christian era. It is the least para¬
phrastic, and the most correct, of any we possess. Next in
point of age and value is that of Jonathan Ben Uzziel on
the Prophets. The Jews make him a disciple of Simeon,
who took our Lord in his arms; but the probability is that
he was later. His Targum is more diffuse and paraphrastic
than that of Onkelos, but contains much that is valuable.
Both of these are printed in Walton’s Polyglott. The re¬
maining Targums, nine in number, are of comparatively
recent date, and of little value. Their renderings are very
harsh; and they are filled with idle and foolish fables.
Winer De Onkeloso ejusque Paraphrasi Chaldaica, Lips. 1820 ; Jahn’s
Einleitung, i. § 46, 47 ; Bauer, Chrestomathia e Paraphrasibus Chaldai-
cis et Talmude delecta, 1792 ; Horne, vol. ii. p. 198.
2. Syriac Versions. Eight versions of the whole or parts
of Scripture into the ancient Syriac tongue are known to
critics, but of these only two deserve particular notice.
These are, 1. The Peschito, that is, right or correct, not later
than the third century, probably as early as the second.
It contains the whole Bible, is pure in diction and faithful
in version, and appears to have been made immediately
from the original. 2. The Philoxenian, so called from
Philoxenus, bishop of Hierapolis, under whose direction it
was executed by Polycarp, rural bishop of the same dis¬
trict, a. d. 508. It contains only the New Testament, and
is literal to servility; but its renderings are not good. Its
chief value is to the critic, in helping him to judge of vari¬
ous readings.
Hirzel De Pentateuchi Vers. Syr. indole, Lips. 1825 ; Michaelis, In-
trod. vol. ii. p. 4-76 ; Horne, vol. ii. p. 220.
3. The Samaritan Pentateuch. This must not be con¬
founded with “ the Pentateuch of the Samaritans,” which
is merely a copy of the original Hebrew in Samaritan cha¬
racters ; whereas the other is a translation of the Hebrew
into the Samaritan dialect. This version bears a strong
resemblance to the Targum of Onkelos, and even some
have deemed it a translation of that. It is probably, how¬
ever, from the original, but cannot be dated earlier than Script
the second century. v
Winer Dc Versionis Pent. Samarit. indole. Lips. 1817; Horne, ii.
p. 42 ; Gesenius De Pent. Samarit. origine, indole, et auctoritate, Hake,
1815.
4. Other Oriental Versions. These are, 1. The Coptic,
embracing the Memphitic, or that in the dialect of Lower
Egypt, probably of the third century, published by Wilkins
at Oxford in 1716 ; and the Sahidic, or that in the dialect
of Upper Egypt, ascribed to the second century, and, with
the exception of a part of the Gospel of John, still exist¬
ing only in manuscript: 2. The Ethiopic, ascribed to the
fourth century, and printed in Walton’s Polyglott, but with
many inaccuracies: 3. The Armenian, made by Miesrob
in the beginning of the fifth century, very faithful, but sup¬
posed to be in many places interpolated from the Vulgate :
4. The Arabic, comprising the Pentateuch, and Isaiah, trans¬
lated by Rabbi Saadias Phijumensis, in the tenth century,
the Pentateuch in Samaritan-Arabic by Abusai'd, the ano¬
nymous version of Joshua in the London Polyglott, and the
Acts and Epistles published by Erpenius: 5. The Persic ver¬
sion of the Pentateuch, by Jacob Ben Joseph, surnamed
Dawusi, a learned Jew of the ninth century. All these are
mediate versions from the Septuagint or Syriac.
Horne, vol. ii. p. 226-234; Comp. Walton, Prolegom. ix.-xv.
II. Western Versions.—1. Greek Versions of the Old
Testament. The most important of these is the Septuagint,
as it is commonly called, or more properly the Alexandrian.
Respecting the origin and early history of this version much
uncertainty prevails, of which advantage has been taken to
clothe the whole in the mist of fable. The common story
of Ptolemy Philadelphus having sent, at the instigation of
his librarian Demetrius Phalereus, to Judaea for a correct
copy of the Hebrew Scriptures, and for seventy-two men
of learning (six out of each of the twelve tribes) to trans¬
late these into Greek, of his having shut them up in the
Isle of Pharos, apart from each other, and of their having
produced versions verbatim et literatim the same, is now
rejected by all scholars. The opinion commonly held by
such embraces the following points: Isf, That it is high¬
ly probable that the work was commenced during the pe¬
riod when Ptolemy Lagus and his son Philadelphus held
the joint sovereignty; 2d, that the motive prompting to
it was the multitude of Jews in Alexandria and throughout
Egypt, who were ignorant of Hebrew, and needed the Scrip¬
tures in Greek ; 3c/, that it was undertaken under the aus¬
pices of the Alexandrian Sanhedrin or council of the Jews,
who probably consulted their brethren in Judaea about it,
and from whom, being seventy-two in number, in all like¬
lihood the version took its name ; Mh, that the different
books were executed at different times and by different
persons, as is evident from the varieties in point of accu¬
racy and purity which they present, the Pentateuch being
that first executed ; and, 5/4, that the translators of the
Pentateuch were evidently Egyptian Jews, from their in¬
troducing into their version many Coptic words, and ren¬
dering many Hebrew expressions, not into their Greek
equivalents, but so as to give an Egyptian hue to the idea.
The version thus executed soon acquired great vogue, not
only in Egypt, but also in Palestine, where, in the days
of our Lord and his apostles, it had mostly superseded the
use of the original Hebrew. In the Christian church it ac¬
quired the same reputation. Few of the Fathers under¬
stood Hebrew^, and consequently almost all their quotations
from the Old Testament are made through the medium of the
Septuagint. The best editions of this version are those of
Grabe, Oxon. 1707, 1709, 1719, 1720, four vols. folio and
eight vols. 8vo, reprinted with the addition of various read¬
ings from the Vatican manuscript by Breitinger, Tiguri
Helvet., 1730-31-32, four vols. 4to ; of Bos, Franequerse,
HOLY SCRIPTURE.
Prcsfat. in lobum, fyc. ad Sophron. Opp. i. p. 833, ad Damasum, ii. 563 ; Scripture.
Hody, De Textibus, &c.; Walton, Prolegom. x.; Horne, ii. p. 234-240. J
2. See James, Bdlum Papale, sive Concordia Discors Sixti V. et Cle-
mentius VIII. circa edit. Hieronymianam, London, 1600, 4to, 1678,
8vo.
1709, 4to; and of Holmes, vol. i. Oxon. 1798, vol. ii.-v.
(edited after Holmes’s death by J. Parsons), Oxon. 1818—
1827, folio. ^
See Aristeae, Historia de. Legis Div. ex Heb. Lingua in Grcccam
Translatione per LXX. Interpretes, Frankfort, 1610; Van Dale, Dis¬
sert. super Aristeam de LXX., Amstelod. 1705 ; Josephus, Antiq., xii.
c. 2; Hody, De Bibliorum Textibus Original. Oxon. 1705 ; Walton,
Prolegom. ix.; Toepler, De Pentateuehi Interpret. Alexandrince indole,
Hal®, 1830; Horne’s Introduction, vol. ii. p. 203.
Of the other Greek versions, eleven in number, we have
only fragments or traditionary information. That of Aquila,
a proselyte Jew of Sinope, a city of Pontus, was executed
in the first century, for the purpose of discrediting the
Septuagint, which the Christians were in the habit of quoting
against the Jews ; it is very literal and Hebraistic. That
of Symmachus, an Ebionite, time uncertain, seems to have
aimed chiefly at elegance and purity of style ; it is very free.
Between these stands that of Theodotion, also an Ebionite,
and nearly contemporary with Aquila; more elegant and
idiomatic than that of Aquila, more literal and correct than
that of Symmachus. These, with three anonymous versions,
enumerated as editio quinta, sexta, and septima respectively,
were included by Origen in his splendid work the Hexapla,
a sort of Polyglott, which that distinguished Biblical scholar
drew up for the use of those who wished to understand ac¬
curately the Old Testament, and which contained in paral¬
lel columns the Hebrew in the original character, the same
in Greek characters, and the Greek versions above enume¬
rated, including the Septuagint. The versions designated
as 6 i/3ga/o;, o tfugos, vi ej./jjagurntov, and 6 iKkrivinbi, are known
to us only from being occasionally referred to on the mar¬
gins of manuscripts. The extant fragments of these ver¬
sions may be found in the sixth volume of the London Po¬
lyglott, under the title Flaminii Nobilii Notce, and in the
edition of the Septuagint by Bos.
Dathe, Dins. Phil. Crit. in Aquilce Reliquias, Opuscula, p. 1, &c. ed.
Rosenmuller, 1796 ; Walton, Prolegom. ix.; Horne, vol. ii. p. 216.
2. Latin Versions. Translations of the Scriptures in¬
to the Latin tongue began to be executed at a very early
period, for the benefit chiefly of the Christians in Africa,
and those parts of Europe where that language was used.
Some have supposed that, as early as the second century,
there was a commonly received or authorized version in
the Latin churches, but this opinion is hardly tenable. The
name Itala, which has been supposed to designate this ver¬
sion, was more probably an appellation including collective¬
ly the whole. Towards the close of the fourth century,
Jerome set himself to revise and correct these versions, and
in pursuance of this design issued revised editions of the
Psalter, the books of Chronicles, Job, and the writings of
Solomon. Unfortunately, the manuscripts containing his
revised copies of the other books were lost, either through
negligence or fraud on the part of some one to whom he
had intrusted them. Satisfied, however, that something
more than a correction of existing versions was necessary,
he undertook a new translation from the original; and
this he executed at intervals, and in the order in which par¬
ticular books were requested by his friends. At first his
undertaking was viewed with no small jealousy, and even
St Augustin sought to discourage it, from a fear that a new
translation, especially one from the Hebrew, would shake
the faith of the ignorant in the certainty of Scripture ; nor
was it till the sanction of Gregory the Great had been given
to it that the version of Jerome was able entirely to super¬
sede the old Itala (1). This version is that commonly de¬
nominated the Vulgate, of which the Council of Trent de¬
creed an immaculate edition ; a decree which gave rise to
a Papal dissension, to which Christians have not been slow
to point as fatal to the claims of the supreme pontiff1 to in¬
fallibility (2).
1. Augustin De Doctr. Christiana, lib. ii. c. 11, c. 15; Jerome,
3. The Gothic Version. Of this, which was executed
by Ulphilas, bishop of the Gothic tribes in Wallachia, about
the middle of the fourth century, only the four gospels, part
of the Epistle to the Romans, and fragments of the other
Epistles, are extant; the first in the famous Codex Argen-
teus, a manuscript in silver letters of the fifth or sixth cen¬
tury ; the second in a Codex Rescriptus belonging to the
library of Wdlfenbuttel; and the third in certain Codices
Rescript! recently discovered by Maio in the Ambrosian
Library at Milan. This version appears to have been made
from the Greek, and particularly from the Constantinopoli-
tan text, but to have been subsequently altered after the Vul-
gate. The best edition of the gospels is that of Lye, Oxon.
1750, 4to. The fragments were edited by Knittel, in 1762,
4to, and by Hire, Upsal, 1763, 4to.
Horne’s Introduction, vol. ii. p. 240; Hug’s Introduction (Eng.
Trans.), vol. i. p. 487 ; Schott, Isagoge, p. 613.
4. The Anglo-Saxon Versions. The history of these is
by no means accurately known. It appears, that as early
as the year 709, the Psalter was rendered into Saxon by
Adelme, bishop of Sherborne. A few years later, Aldred, who
styles himself “ Presbyter indignus et miserrimus,” “ over¬
glossed in English” the Latin of a copy of the four gospels,
which had been written by Eadfrith, bishop of the church
of Lindisfern, “ out-attired, and blazoned as well as he
could,” by Ethilwold, bishop of the Land of Lindisfern,
and “ smoothed, ornamented, and overgilded,” by Billfrith
the anchoret (1). Nearly about the same time Beda trans¬
lated the whole Bible into Saxon-English. About two hun¬
dred years after this the Psalter was translated by King Al¬
fred. A Saxon translation of the Pentateuch, Joshua, part
of the books of Kings and Esther, is attributed to Ealfric,
archbishop of Canterbury, in 995. The entire Anglo-Saxon
Bible has never been published. Alfred’s Psalter was edited
by Spelman in 1640; and a translation of the gospels made
from the old Latin of the Itala has been thrice edited (2).
1. See Henshall’s Disquisition prefixed to his edition of the Gothic
Gospel of St Matthew, with the corresponding English or Saxon, &c.
London, 1807, 8vo.
2. Newcome’s Historical View of the English Biblical Translations,
p. 1, Dublin, 1792 ; Horne’s Introd. vol. ii. p. 246.
5. The Sclavonic Version. The authors of this version
were Cyrill of Thessalonica, and his brother Methodius, who
in the ninth century introduced the gospel among the Scla-
vonians inhabiting Moravia. It seems to have been made
from the Greek, and from manuscripts having the Constan-
tinopolitan text. It embraces the whole Bible, and has been
frequently printed.
Henderson’s Biblical Researches and Travels in Russia, p. 50—102,
Lond. 1826 ; Horne’s Introd. vol. ii. p. 245.
These ancient versions are useful, both to the critic and
the exegete ; to the former, as supplying not a few various
readings which are wanting in all or in most of the codices
containing the original text, as serving to determine more
accurately the age and country of any particular form of
the text, and as helping to confirm or refute particular read¬
ings occurring in the Greek codices; to the latter, inasmuch
as every faithful version is not only a perpetual interpreter
of the sentiments of the original into another tongue, but
the authors of these ancient versions, from the time in which
they lived, and the locality they inhabited, had peculiar
advantages, both philological and historical, for the success¬
ful interpretation of the sacred books.
Ernesti’s Principles of Interpretation, by Terrot, vol. ii. p. 146.
SCR
Sect. XI. Quotations by the early Ecclesiastical Writers
from the Sacred Scriptures.
Besides the object to which these have been already
applied, as showing the authenticity of the sacred docu¬
ments, they serve also a useful purpose to the critic, in fur¬
nishing him with numerous readings, in assisting to deter¬
mine the age, origin, and country, of remarkable readings,
and in illustrating the whole history of the Greek texts of
Scripture. Care, however, must be taken to discriminate
between passages quoted freely from memory, or adapted
to the construction and sentiment of the writer himself who
quotes, and those which are formally cited from the codex.
We must also be sure that the work in which the quota¬
tion occurs is genuine, and that the common text of the
places in which the citation occurs is correct.
Ernesti’s Principles of Interpretation, by Terrot, vol. ii. p. 90-113 ;
Schott, Isagoge, p. 629.
Sect. XII.—Laws for the Determination of various Read¬
ings.
1. That reading is to be regarded as true, which is sup¬
ported by far the greater number of copies and witnesses;
but still readings supported by a few books are not en¬
tirely to be disregarded, especially when they harmonise
with the usus loquendi of the author. 2. That reading
which the better copies exhibit, unless special reasons pro¬
hibit it, is to be preferred to the one which the inferior co¬
pies exhibit, although most numerous. Neither the an¬
tiquity nor propriety of a reading, solely considered, al¬
ways proves it to be a true one. 3. That reading which
is more harsh, obscure, difficult, unusual, or delicately
chosen, if supported by the authority of a proper witness,
is preferable to one which is plain, easy, usual, and com¬
mon. 4. That reading which approaches nearest to the
popular and familiar method of speaking, if it be supported
by external testimonies, is preferable to one which is more
artificial and subtle. 5. The shorter reading, when sup¬
ported by testimony of importance, and not incongruous
with the style and design of the writer, is preferable to a
more verbose one. Still there are cases where the more
copious reading is to be preferred. 6. That reading which
gives the best sense is peculiarly preferable. But to de¬
termine this, the nature of the whole passage, and the ge¬
nius of the writer, not the mere opinions and sentiments of
particular interpreters, are to be consulted. 7. The read¬
ing which produces an unworthy or incongruous sense is
to be rejected. Good care, however, must be taken not to
condemn a reading as unworthy or incongruous, which a
more correct grammatical and historical investigation would
prove to be a true reading, or at least a probable one.
8. A reading which agrees with the usus loquendi of the
writer, is preferable to that which disagrees with it. It
must be remembered in judging here, that the style of an
author sometimes varies with increasing age. 9. A read¬
ing is to be rejected, in respect to which plain evidence is
SCR 79)
found that it has undergone a designed alteration. Such Scruples,
alteration may have taken place, first, from doctrinal rea-
sons, Matthew, i. 18; Mark, viii. 31, xiii. 32: second, from
moral and practical reasons, Matthew, v. 22 : third, from
historical and geographical doubts, Matthew, viii. 28, comp.
Mark, v. 1 '. fourth, from the desire of reconciling pas
sages inconsistent with each other, Mark, viii. 31 : fifth,
from desire to make the discourse more intensive ; hence
many emphatic readings have originated : sixth, from the
comparison of many manuscripts, the readings of which have
been amalgamated; seventh, from a comparison of paral¬
lel passages. Corrections of the more celebrated manu¬
scripts have been sometimes detected. 10. Various read¬
ings are to be rejected which spring from the mere negli¬
gence of copyists, and from those errors which are very
common in all kinds of books. To these belong,the
commutation of unusual forms for those of the common dia¬
lect ; the Alexandrine or common form, however, has the
preference over others in the New Testament; and this
dialect itself also admitted some Attic forms : second, the
commutation of single letters and syllables, by an error of
either the eye or the ear; the former resulting from ob¬
scure and compendious methods of writing, or from the si¬
milarity of certain letters, such as A A A, O 0, &c.; the
latter, from copying after the reading of one who was mis¬
understood, or who read erroneously : third, the commu¬
tation of synonyms : fourth, from transferring into the text
words written in the margin of copies, and thus uniting
both readings, James, v. 2: fifth, from the omission or
insertion of a word or a verse, by an error of the sight:
sixth, from the transposition of words and passages, whence
it may have happened that some error has crept into most
of our books : seventh, from words which ended with the
like sound, or appeared alike ; and from proximate words,
one ending and the other beginning with the same syllable :
eighth, from incorrectly uniting or separating words, which
naturally resulted, in some cases, from the ancient method
of continuous writing: and, ninth, from an erroneous inter-
punction and distinction of passages. 11. A reading is to
be rejected which plainly betrays a gloss or interpretation.
This may be a word or a whole passage. Sometimes these
glosses are united to the true text, and sometimes they have
thrust it out. All interpretations, however, are not spuri¬
ous glosses; for authors themselves sometimes add them,
in order to explain their own language. 12. Readings de¬
duced merely from versions or the commentaries of inter¬
preters are to be rejected.
The above are taken, with a few slight alterations, from Beckii Mn-
nogrammata Hermeneutices, Lib. Nov. Test. Lips. 1803, as translated by
Mr Moses Stuart in his Elements of Biblical Criticism and Interpreta¬
tion, London (reprinted with additional observations by E. Henderson,
D. Ph.), 1827. See also Michaelis, Introd. vol. i. p. 246-339 ; Er¬
nesti’s Principles of Interpretation, by Terrot, vol. ii. p. 114 ; Marsh’s
Lectures, lect. iii.; Horne’s Introd. vol. ii. p. 251-260.
For remarks upon particular books of the Bible, see the
articles in this work under the names of the different books,
or their authors, as Pentateuch, Moses, Joshua, Paul,
Peter, &c. (n. n. n. n.)
SCRIVENER, one who draws contracts, or whose busi¬
ness it is to place money at interest.
SCROLL, in Heraldry. See that article.
SCRUPLE, Scrupulus, or Scrupulum, the least of the
weights used by the ancients, which amongst the Romans
was the twenty-fourth part of an ounce, or the third part
of a dram. The scruple is still among us a weight, con¬
taining the third part of a dram, or twenty grains. Among
goldsmiths it is twenty-four grains.
Scruple, in Chaldaean chronology, is the yoVo^1 Part
an hour, called by the Hebrews helakin. These scruples are
much used by the Jews, Arabs, and other eastern people,
in computations of time.
Scruples of half Duration, an arc of the moon’s orbit,
which the moon’s centre describes from the beginning of
an eclipse to its middle.
Scruples of Immersion or Incidence, an arc of the moon’s
orbit, which her centre describes from the beginning of the
eclipse to the time when its centre falls into the shadow.
Scruples of Emersion, an arc of the moon’s orbit, which
her centre describes in the time from the first emersion of
the moon’s limb to the end of the eclipse.
792 S C U
Scrutiny SCRUTINY (Scrutinium), in the primitive church, was
II an examination or probation practised in the last week of
Scudding. Lent, upon the catechumens, who were to receive baptism
' Y " on Easter-day. The scrutiny was performed with a great
many ceremonies. Exorcisms and prayers were made over
the heads of the catechumens; and upon Palm Sunday the
Lord’s Prayer and Creed were given them, which they
w ere afterwards made to rehearse. This custom was more
in use in the Church of Rome than anywhere else, though
it appears, by some missals, to have been likewise used,
at a much later period, in the Galilean church. It is sup¬
posed to have ceased about the year 860.
Scrutiny is also used, in the Canon Law, for a ticket
or a little paper billet, in which, at elections, the electors
write their votes privately, so that it may not be known for
whom they vote. Among us the term scrutiny is chiefly
used for a strict perusal and examination of the several votes
hastily taken at an election, in order to find out any irre¬
gularities committed therein by unqualified voters.
SCRUTORE, or Scrutoir (from the French escri¬
toire), a kind of cabinet, with a door or lid opening down¬
wards.
SCRY, in falconry, denotes a large flock of fowl.
SCUDDING, the movement by which a ship is carried
precipitately before a tempest. As a ship flies with amaz¬
ing rapidity through the water whenever this expedient is
put in practice, it is never attempted in a contrary wind,
s c u
unless when her condition renders her incapable of sustain- Sculpone*.
ing the mutual effort of the wind and waves any longer on  
her side, without being exposed to the most imminent dan¬
ger of being overset.
A ship either scuds with a sail extended on her foremast,
or, if the storm is excessive, without any sail at all; which,
in the sea-phrase, is called scudding under bare poles. In
sloops and schooners, and other small vessels, the sail em¬
ployed for this purpose is called the square sail. In large
ships, it is either the foresail at large, reefed, or w ith its
goose-wings extended, according to the degree of the tem¬
pest ; or it is the fore-top sail, close reefed, and lowered on
the cap ; which last is particularly used when the sea runs
so high as to becalm the foresail occasionally, a circum¬
stance which exposes the ship to the danger of broaching
to. The principal hazards incident to scudding are gene¬
rally a pooping sea; the difficulty of steering, which ex¬
poses the vessel perpetually to the risk of broaching to ; and
the wrant of sufficient sea-room. A sea striking the ship
violently on the stern may dash it inwards, by which she
must inevitably founder. In broaching to, that is, inclin¬
ing suddenly to windward, she is threatened with being im¬
mediately overturned, and, for want of sea-room, she is en¬
dangered by shipwreck on a lee-shore.
SCULPONEiE, among the Romans, a kind of shoes
worn by slaves of both sexes. These shoes consisted only
of blocks of wood made hollow, like the French sabots.
END OF VOLUME NINETEENTH.
Printed by Thomas Allan & Co. and Balfour & Jack,
and Stereotyped by Thomas Allan & Co.
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ELF.VATION OF A LOCOMOTIVE ENGINE.
Emys ocdlata.
PLATE CCCCXXX.
REPTILI A.
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PLATE CCCCXXXJ.
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I
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PLATE CCCCXXXII
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Anolms vehfer.
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Bines lepidopodus.
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Chirotes mnuhc/jlatu.s
—
REPTILIA.
PLATE CCCCXXXIII.
Geo. Aikmun, Sculpt
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PLATE CCCCXXXV.
Fig. 6.
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